NationStates Jolt Archive

Manda and her mother found themselves laughing at Quigley’s antics.

"Nope, we're in the clear. They certainly wouldn't describe little ol'us. They described a more terrible version of themselves...at least that's what I'd say."

Manda looked dubious and wide eyes. She had very little interaction with law enforcement officers - and certainly not anything resembling the criminal element - She was after all, despite her looks, a well and properly raised eighteen year old Tanaaran.

But her mother catching her eye, nodded and she half shrugged and chuckled, "Then thats all to the good...I guess...but mom I hope this isn't something you make a habit of, it'd break Gra'mom's heart." She accompanied her mom as Hawk too headed toward the car and explained to Quigley as they went "We are the only close family she has left - Gramma Nell and Beatrice, Grampappa's Roy and Ken all died in an air car crash when I was thirteen. So she's broody about me and mom. Raised a real stink when mom agreed to sign my release waiver. She wanted me to go directly into the University instead of doing my Citizenship Service so early."

Amanda clicked the remote entry and the rental sedan's doors clicked open. Once they were all in it wasn't long till they were at the upscale hotel the Archon had secured for Amanda. The staff looked more than faintly scandalized at the tatty appearance of Quigley and Hawke, but they were too discrete to say anything as the trio moved quickly across the luxurious lobby and into the elevators that whooshed them up some fifteen stories to the penthouse level.

"It's got two bedrooms each with their own baths" Manda commented as she swiped her keycard. "Quigley why don't you take the left one and mom you the right. I'll call down for breakfast and bathrobes."

***************************

"How ya feel about this?"

Mercy's look told every one other than she and Errant to clear the stairwell. They could hold the doors above and below from the outside. Once she had the privacy she wanted...

Mercy then sat down, tidily tucking her skirt beneath her, on the top step leading to the landing they had just come off of, patting the step in an invitation for Errant to sit next to her if he chose. "How do I feel about this? Well as some one who knows just how nasty Imitorans can be I am very glad that their PTB sent one of the few truly good Imitorans there is. Weymuth cam close to being a prime example of their worst; Robert Fortier is just about an perfect example of the best they can be. He’s smart, cosmopolitan, courageous, and able to meet people on their level. He’s a friend I don’t see often ” She shrugged lightly then looked Errant in the eye.

“He’s the father of my son, and I did neither him nor Rob a favor by keeping them apart for so long. It was petty of me, something I should not have been. However that’s the past. You … Us…that’s what I want for my future. I don’t want or need a man that makes me doubt my worth, nor do I want a man whom I have to chase after or compete for. I don’t play - I refuse to play - those games. I want a partner, some one to share life together with. Not as someone subsumed by another, but a couple – individuals who choose to weave the paths of their lives together.

“And this is President Boris Lepedius and Vice President Jack Murphy from Assington.”

Boris knew the name Robert Fortier, as did most governments within the region. The man had a reputation for getting the job done and tended to represent what was best about Imitora. Besides that, Boris had to wonder why they sent this man to the conference. Removing Weymuth was evidently a good move but it would have been just as easy to send any other diplomat with an agreeable personality. He would have to ponder on that one.

Both Boris and Jack shook Fortier's hand, delivering a few brief words before returning to their seats. The pair was keen to have the conference underway again considering the second day was starting late anyway.

Booting up a laptop, Jack brought up a number of files to read over before the talks began whilst Boris simply sat back in his chair, observing the other delegates as they entered the room.

"Any idea what we'll be discussing today? Besides those behind the maser, of course."

Jack shook his head.

"Probably more of the same. We should probably give a little time to the demons too. As far as I know there haven't not been any major encounters since the war, which seems very strange to me."

"Agreed."

They rescued the crew of the Red Cross flight, but we are still in the initial stages of planing the recovery of the Maser installation. I think your presence will be greatly appreciated.

"Well," Robert spoke, contemplating his tea, "you can rest assured that Imitora already has a set of responses prepared for such an action, and if warranted, I'd be glad to discuss some of our assets later on."

He stood from his chair, returning the handshakes to the Assington delegates, and then turned to the Lady of Cat's Keep. He bowed just slightly, and greeted her with the same respect he did the others.

“Lady Ryath, Lord Thor, I’d be remiss if I didn’t introduce you to the new Imitoran delegate. Mister Robert Fortier…”

Ryath and Thor both departed their seats in order to move closer towards Fortier and Hardcastle. The pair were not aware of Fortier's reputation or even that of his nation, besides their military being well known for its effectiveness. Thor offered his hand first and delivered a few words before stepping aside to allow Ryath to greet the man.

"A pleasure to meet you Mr. Fortier. I understand your nation holds some territory to the south of Khadrim? Once we deal with the unrest within our nation we would be interested in establishing a close relationship with our neighbours."

Quigley nodded gratefully to Amanda. "Thanks, lass." He went in and kicked the door closed with a heel. He stripped out of his boots and hideous uniform. He looked at it disdainfully, wondering if there was a laundry in the hotel that would even want to deal with this. He found laundry bag and threw his clothes into it.

He went into the bathroom and turned on the water. While he waited for the water to get good and steaming hot, he wandered back out of the room and picked up the phone. He dialed a long string of number and sat down on the bed as it went through.

"Good morning, Captain. Calm down, Milquetoast. Fight down on the waterfront? Giants with jackhammers for fists, sledgehammers for feet, and steak knife teeth? Didn't see a lick of it, Milquetoast; I'm staying with an old friend. No, Milquetoast, that wasn't a duress codeword. Uh huh, I'll be fine."

Quigley flopped back on the bed. "I don't see why not. They arrived? Good, good, make sure they don't peek, Captain. Those briefed AFAPs don't take kindly to people lookin' in on their toys. When will I be back? Sometime before we leave at least. You'll be fine, Milquetoast....Milquetoast...Milquetoast, I am hanging up now. Yes, goodbye."

Quigley hung up and stared up at the ceiling. Milquetoast was a good pilot, hell on paperwork, but just not assertive or easy going. Quigley blamed himself. Milquetoast would have probably been a normal guy if he weren't around. He sighed and rolled off the bed and to his feet. He tried to calculate his effect on others as he showered.

~~~~~~~~

Errant took less care to tidly tuck his skirt...kama out of the way as he sat down next to Mercy. He listened, nodding along as Mercy calmly explained her feelings, beared her heart to him. When she was finished, Errant looked away for a few long moments.

Her words gave his rational mind more than enough leverage to extinguish that paranoid voice deep, deep down. More than that, while Robert Fortier would probably never be his favorite person alive, much of the anger Errant had was replaced by another emotion, pity.

From what he'd heard, Mercy and Fortier'd been very close. But when she'd popped the question to him, he'd turned her proposal down saying he liked things how they were. It seemed callous and stupid, but now, well, it was just pitiful in Errant's mind. The man had turned down Mercy for the fast life of a bachelor and a bit more blackops work. Maybe that made sense to Fortier, but to Errant that was hell. He'd lived that long enough, just a few years were all he wanted to suffer.

Maybe it was just he and Fortier were near polar opposites. Mercy loved him because, well, he was everything she'd said without any great effort. It wasn't immodesty because he had the very same standards, and Mercy met all those standards with the same ease of effort.

They'd really been through the wringers together. They'd had more than a few hitches and frights and more than enough teary embraces and not enough of those wonderful escapes entwined with each other and separated from the demanding world for at least a short time.

Jehovah and Mira, oh gods, how he loved her. The comfort she'd warmed back into his mindless sorrow last night...it was easy to express passion, it was a self-serving emotion. Expressing sorrow, taking one someone else's was selfless. He squeezed his hand down on top of hers. "Thank you, Mercy."

He just didn't have words enough to say what he wanted, what needed to be said. He glanced away down the stairs, slightly embarrassed for his lack of words. "We best go, or we'll be late."

Rob, Archon Tanaara, bounded in to the conference room, hand in hand with Aeris, but he let go her hand, as he moved over to greet his father. A wide, welcoming smile spread over his face. Rob seemed not only very chipper but bearing much less of a burden than he had in the wee hours of the morning.

He waited until Fortier and Lady Ryath finished speaking. "Dad, it's good to see you!" He wrapped Fortier in a brief, hard hug. He stepped back giving his father a discrete but thorough look over. The old man looked as young as he usually did, and was carrying as much ordinance as he usually did.

He then looked at the assembled others "We have some good news, but as it is Aeris's skills which garnered it for us, I'll let her announce it." He threw his lady wife a loving glance.

*********************

Hawke headed in the opposite direction from Quigley. Her daughter was much taller than she and and differently built, but Manda knew her sizes and would call down for something sent up from the hotels in-house boutique.

A long, steamingly hot shower took care of most of the hangover and she left the decadent bathroom to find both a warm terry cloth bathrobe and a complete set of clothing - lacy underthings and crisp linen slacks in cream paired with a flattering silk tunic top in deep peach. The low heeled pumps were in bone hued leather and fit perfectly. Victoria combed her still damp hair out and decided she wouldn't frighten small children.

The smell of breakfast was tantalising as she returned to the living room - the waiter had just departed and Manda was knocking on the other bedroom door with a half bemused, half frowning look on her face and a suit bag over one arm. "A Mister Adams sent this over for General Quigley." She tossed over her shoulder to her mother. "I don't smell any toxins or poisons or explosives that I know on it."

Her senses were preternaturally keen and she had taught herself - with friends aiding and abetting - to recognise a number of 'dangerous' scents. And the clothes appearing as if out of nowhere had her perplexed to say the least.

"Let me take that in Manda" Hawke said firmly as she scooped the bag away from her daughter and after tapping once entered the room closing hte door behind her.

"Matt? Do you know a Mister Adams? Who would be sending you spare clothing when it hadn't been aksed for..." She called out, not seeing him in the bedroom - indeed the shower was still running.

********************
"We best go, or we'll be late."

Mercy laughed lightly "I'd never mind being late if it were on account of spending time with you." She kissed the back of his hand and craddled it to her cheek for a moment, her eyes drifting closed. Then she stood, her hand still in his.

Once their security escort had rejoined them the couple headed down the last flight of stairs to the ground floor and crossed the crescent shaped lobby to enter the conferrence room. Mercy smiled when she saw that Rob and Aeris had arived and that Rob was speaking with his father.

Unobtrousively she headed Errant over to Fortier, coming to a stop next to her son who turned to her, his smile widening "Good morning Mom, Errant" He greeted them both. He looked over at Fortier "Let me do the introductions. Dad, this is Errant Mira’ad, Alpha Miraade of Catawaba, the newest nation in Fatal Terrain. Errant, this is my father, Robert Fortier, he arrived this morning replacing Mister Weymuth as the Imitoran delegate."

The shower stopped as soon as Hawke spoke, and then the shower curtain's rings could be heard scraping along the rod. "Adams? He's my cousin's chamberlain."

A few moments later, Matt came out of the bathroom wearing the terry cloth robe. He was patting at his hair with a towel in one hand. The odd thing being that though he'd most likely just gotten out of the shower moments ago. He wasn't dripping water. He was dry, and, in fact, his hair was only slightly damp. With his pointless drying done he turned and tossed the towel back into bathroom.

As he turned back, the vicious scar over his sternum revealed itself in the V of the robe. "Adams's what you can call a 'Radar.' He's got an almost supernatural sense for when and where his services are needed. Whether he's got a true sixth sense or he's just usin' the old adage that the help knows all the master's secrets...I don't know. SubRosa's been trying to recruit him for a while...for all I know they have, but at least officially he's turned them down courtesily, claiming duties to the Miraade."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Errant leaned and held his hand out to Fortier. "Su'cuy'gar, Mister Fortier."

A basic report on Catawaba in any diplomatic service would acknowledge that two languages were generally spoken in the country. The first being English and the second the native Taung'a. While fluent Taung'a speakers were not common outisde the lineage of the Taung allits, or clans, some of their phrases and words were commonly known. The word "su'cuy" was a generalized greeting equalivent to "hi." "Su'cuy'gar" was another greeting but a different stripe. It literally meant "you're still alive." It's figurative meaning was based on tone and context It could be used as a taunt towards an enemy or friendly sarcasm towards a long absent comrade.

Errant's use was neutral in tone. It was more a statement of fact and a respectful greeting between warriors.

Aeris looked around the room at the faces there, noting silently the new Imitoran delegate there today. Inhaling softly, she began. "As you can see, I am of elven lineage, and as a result of such a strong, hardly diluted bloodline, I am quite in tune with the world around us. I sense when changes are coming, the clues deeply hidden by nature, but not impossible to find. I sense when something has abruptly changed the natural flow of energy through this region and subsequently through people inhabiting it. For example, this island, although subdued immensely, harbors a natural central pathway of a number of smaller paths of energy. It cannot be disrupted for long, but it is possible."

She halted to let the information sink in. "However, earlier this morning, I received an anomaly of sorts, one that best fits with a poorly executed framework of portal transportation. It was weak, and I would have missed the telltale signals of such had I not been paying attention. I've reversed the path it traversed upon and it ceased to move beyond the now defunct lands of Central Worlds, east of here."

She held up her hands, "However much I tried, I couldn't derive much more information, other than the fact that whomever created the portal is still in the area, give or take a few miles. If it weren't for natural ecological dampers that distort arcane means, I'd be able to accurately tell you where the responsible party is and how much of a threat they can be. What I've told you thus far, you can rest assured and know it is reliable information."

She turned to her husband and studied his eyes for the briefest of moments. He wished to speak, and so she nodded once, smiled to the others and took her seat. The Archon would give out the remainder of details regarding the upcoming mission being quickly assembled.

Robert returned Rob's hug with a firm, but brief one, matched with a handshake. "Its good to see you again."

It wasn't that Robert was a bad father. No, it was more simply he had no idea on how to be a good father. He himself had hardly known his father when he had been killed on a rescue operation in Iansisle. Even then, Rob Ryan had been easily in his late teenage years by the time Mercy had informed Robert. He had always made sure from that point on that Rob Ryan had been without want, and beyond the Tanaaran and Catwabian security, a third, minute detail of the ISS had always kept an eye on him, just in case, and was more than open to hosting Rob Ryan any time he chose to visit Imitora.

He then extended a hand to Errant. "Pleasure's mine," he said, returning the mater of fact tone the other had used. "And yes, you could say that. It would take much more than a lucky shot to put down an Imitoran."

He hugged Mercy, offering a polite, and sincere greeting, and then returned to his seat. He recognized Aeris, the woman speaking, and knew that she and Rob Ryan had been married, but didn't really know her. He would make sure to change that.

Errant and Mercy took their seats and listened to the Tarlachian Empress' summary of her arcane investigation. The Miraade frowned as he muddled out what the Empress has reported. He was used to the mudane rather than the arcane or magical. He frowned and glanced down at his notes to try to answer his question for himself. He came up empty though and looked up. "Empress, you'll have to excuse me, but I didn't know that the Core Worlds was known for its mages. What do you think this means, ma'am, in connection with the incidents last night?"

What do you think this means, ma'am, in connection with the incidents last night?"

Rob looked at Aeris and she nodded. The work she had done last night hadn't been easy, not with her being pregnant - many female mages lost their powers entirely during pregnancy. For her it just left her more greatly fatigued than other wise.

"I can give you a bit on that. The Central World knows of arcane energy, their closest allies in the region were the nations that were home to the most arcane users in the region. But we've never had even the tiniest indication that Central World used arcane energies or produced any mages. What Aeris apprised me of earlier is thus." He smiled slightly, giving his wife a loving look "I know just enough to be smart and get it from the Empresses mouth"

"The way the arcane energies were used was not in line with the standard methods used here in the Region, or even the rarer formularies of the lesser known schools. It was clumsy, poorly done and 'alien' so to speak... and gated the crew and passengers of the plane out just seconds before the Maser destroyed it."

"Somehow it operated, unhindered by the regions anti arcane properties-emerging from and returning to the dead zone. We must assume that they have been captured by the group that holds the Maser. Though we have received no indications as to why, no communications from them of any demands."

"And that makes sending in a team, rather than simply striking remotely, a must." His voice was adamant. He was not going to allow anyone to even try and persuade him to just 'wipe the mountain and it's maser off the face of the continent'. And any one who tried would not like his response in the least.

“I am asking Argonia, Assington, Catawaba, Golden Simatar, Timzee, and Tarlachia to please send one to two of their finest to be part of that team. Tanaara will finance, train, and equip the team to their specifications. Lady Shalamar of Cats Keep has already agreed to get the team to the edge of the dead zone undetectably.”

He caught his father’s eyes and let him know that he would speak to him later – he knew that Fortier would convert his rough idea into something not only workable but a master piece of unorthodox tactics – he was uniquely skilled at doing that.
.

Robert nodded at Rob Ryan's look, though he doubted his son would appreciate his answer. They rarely did. Of course, he would give an honest assessment, and then offer a few ideas that might fit into the desired result. It didn't come from a jaded view, but simply having been on the shooting end of more special operations than most people could ever dream of.

He observed his tea for another moment, silently watching those around him. He had his own announcement to make, one that may upset some people in the region. It was no secret that Imitora wasn't exactly well liked amongst the more progressive nations, and that many would want to keep their general influence contained to the High Republic's island. If they knew that they had been supplying military and diplomatic assistance of an advisory nature to a small, young nation, it would not be out of the norm for the rest of the nation's in region to express a bit of distaste at the brewing of an "Imitora Jr."

Of course, it all depended on when, or if, the representatives he had asked for arrived.

Errant sagged in his chair slightly, a large weight seemingly lifted from him. They were alive. Whatever their condition, they were alive. It gave him hope. A moment's time after the relief welled up it was chased away by the sheer reality and implications of their present condition. A cold pit knotted in his stomach. No notice or announcement had been made about the passenger's capture. No ransom demands had been made.

It didn't make sense to Errant. He knew just as well as any military commander that you should never make a plan entirely dependent on the enemy. It didn't make sense for the maniacs in control of the MASER to not alert the rest of the region to the presence of their hostages. Those hostages were one of the few things certain to keep an orbital bombardment or surgical airstrike off them. It was suicidal to trust that the rest of the region would sense the arcane gate and figure it all out.

No, if they weren't using them as shields...then it didn't bode well for the survivors, not at all. Errant looked up from the point he'd been staring off into. "Rob, you'll have two Catawabans ready to ship out by tonight." Errant knew that he'd have to chose from the personnel he had here. It would take nearly a day to get anyone into theater from Catawaba.

"Rob, you'll have two Catawabans ready to ship out by tonight."

The Archon met the Miraade's eyes and nodded, pleased at Errant's willingness to join in without hesitation.

But he also knew the team would have to have some time to train together. He just hoped that five days would be enough, he didn't think that the hostages had much longer than that - and rage knotted stomach at the thought of his people in the hands of the terrorists...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

but at least officially he's turned them down courtesily, claiming duties to the Miraade

Hawke nodded absently, never taking her eyes off of the horrible scar that marred Matt's broad chest. Slowly she reached out and laid her hand lightly on it. Her voice was a whisper "I never did tell you...her...either of you, both of you..." She was silent for a moment "the noblest Medal of Honour I've ever seen."

Matt tensed under the slight touch of Victoria's hand. He reached up and took hold of her hand but hesitated to pull her soft touch off of his scar. He stood there and looked down at her hand on the horrific scar over his sternum. "It's hard to think like that, babe. There's too much behind it."

He closed his eyes against the memories. The very first time it had been inflicted upon him he'd been captured by the demons that overran his world, his time. Brought before his father, the Demonlord Leminice had slashed him, beat him, and other tortures too painful to recall beyond an uncomfortable shiver even after all these years. In the end when all else had failed and his father had done nothing but attempt to break his restraints and promise Leminice a gruesome death, the veranice demonlord had decided to carve out Matt's heart. Slowly, the demonlord had used an arm blade to carve down to the bone but had never gotten to cracking open his chest because his father broke free and allowed Matt to feebly escape. The second had been a repeat performance years later when Matt had failed in an attempt to kill the demonlord, and again Fortune had gotten him free, barely alive.

Sure the first time had come after he'd been captured while rescuing other humans from Leminice's clutches. The second had come in an attempt to rid the world of the demon forever. Both were largely failures. Was that enough to warrant a medal of honor?

"When I look at'em...I remember a bastard who screwed my life and won't let me forget."

“I am asking Argonia, Assington, Catawaba, Golden Simatar, Timzee, and Tarlachia to please send one to two of their finest to be part of that team. Tanaara will finance, train, and equip the team to their specifications. Lady Shalamar of Cats Keep has already agreed to get the team to the edge of the dead zone undetectably.”

Boris nodded in acceptance at the request. Even if Assington hadn't been asked he would have been willing to volunteer whatever was necessary to offer assistance in the operation.

"I have a man on the island that will be perfect for the job. He'll be ready when you need him."

Boris didn't like the image that was slowly being pieced together here. Firstly a group of renegade soldiers had taken control of a high powered weapon and now they were dabbling in magic, something Assington was unfamiliar and not particularly comfortable with. The fact the hostage presence hadn't been announced was also strange, generally hostages were a good bargaining chip.

Jack leaned towards Boris with a questioning look plastered across his face, an eyebrow raised as he muttered a single word.

"Anderson?"

Boris simply nodded. Liam Anderson was part of the Presidential Praetorian Guard but he'd also spent many of his years as a special forces operative and happened to be one of the first successful applications of the nano-soldier program.

Und joint post betwixt Elesyan and Imitora

The young lieutenant (http://www.atddm.com/nate.jpg) watched as the early morning mist settled quietly over the northern Elesyan foothills, running over the mission specific objectives one last time. He took another pull of tea from the cheap coffee mug, and popped his neck.

“Alright Nate, what we thinking?”

The question belonged to his sergeant, a thirty year old and 12 year veteran of the Elesyan Defense Force who had been fighting the rebel groups in the mountains longer than many of the lower officers and enlisted had been in the EDF. He was also one of the oldest naturalized EDF soldiers.

Nate was Lt. Nathan “Nate” Archer, twenty six years old, somewhat combat vetted, and doing his best to keep a group of well armed, fairly trained farm and mountain boys in fatigues holding some semblance of an armed force. The EDF was, to say the least, young, undertrained, under experienced, but well equipped. A chance encounter between some heavily armed and decently frightening Imitoran Marines and a few marginally armed yet determined to not appear too intimidated EDF soldiers had managed to get the regulars a large chunk of Imitoran made arms. Nate hadn’t been there for that meeting, but instead holding ground in an LUP in some swamp along the Chad/Sudanese border. Training was training, even if your first experience was baptism by fire.

“We are thinking its gonna go just fine.” His voice wasn’t Southern American in accent, but it held a tinge of what someone might consider specific to swampy Louisiana, but educated. Not the thick Cajun one would expect, but not Midwest generic, either. “We have the half the battalion moving on the target, all of Alpha and most of Charley. Bravo and the rest of Charley will be on quick stand by, and we have three of the turbo prop Cessna Lynxes loaded up to bring the rain.”

He ignored the fact that on stand by was coming via the same UH-1s that his team, and the rest of Alpha Company and most of Charley Company were using. He also was trying to ignore the fact that save a few of the EDF soldiers, himself included, had experienced little direct contact action. Those that had were, fortunately, split up in order to lead the teams full of those who hadn’t. Nate placed the mug down on the table by which he was standing, and his right hand absent mindedly drifted to the grip of his rifle.

The battalion was the Elesyan Defense Force 1st Reconnaissance Battalion, and the only thing in the EDF that could be arguably considered a special operations team. Six hundred soldiers loosely organized into three rifle companies and an intelligence company, armed with whatever they had bought on their own, and commanded by a white Rhodesian/Zimbabwean/South African merc who had been given the rank of Major by a country that desperately needed some experienced military leaders. He made a simple offer: two years serving under him in his own private conflicts, and he would in turn create a force perfect for dealing with the rebel forces. For two years, many of Elesyan’s first sons, and a few of the older, non naturalized citizens, traipsed around Africa, fighting terrorists, private bush wars, genocidal governments, and for the highest bidder. They left a group of unorganized, inexperienced young men who happened to be able to shoot. They came back the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion.

“Yeah, but how many of us are really gonna be able to handle some direct contact…”

“Brad,” Nate raised his hand to his sergeant. “Just keep your fire team in their area, don’t let them wander off, and make sure you shoot first. Don’t forget the rules of the gunfight.”

“Always bring a gun. Always have a second gun. And when possible, bring a bunch of friends with guns.”

Nate nodded, half smirking. “It’s a big target, an important one. We should be able to get a bunch of them this time through, and put a decent dent in their ops. Try to keep Woolzy from shooting anyone trying to surrender this time. We need more intel.”

Sergeant Brad nodded. Off behind the two, the sound of heavy rotor blades starting to turn over signaled that the UH-1s were getting ready. Brad sighed audibly, adjusted the way his rifle sat, and turned towards the helicopters.

Nate did one last check through. The rifle was loaded, sighted in, and he had plenty of ammo for it. The pistol, a Sig Sauer P226 loaded with sixteen rounds of +P 9mm Speer Gold Dot hollow points, was strapped to his thigh. His old style load bearing kit held more ammo for the pistols, as well as a few grenades. He tugged on his well worn boonie cap, the sides rolled up, and turned towards the helicopters.
__

Her hands came to her forehead in the traditional world recognized migraine salute. Victoria Phillips sighed loudly, pushing around another stack of papers as she attempted to come to a general idea of where the administration stood. She was much like the Elesyan military. Young, inexperienced, and not quite well equipped for the task at hand, but doing her best to get it all together. Being the Chief of Staff for the first real President of Elesyan didn’t help much either. Sure, there had been “presidents” in the loosest sense of the term before him, but he was the first to be actually elected.

“So,” President James McDanal asked, “we are short on cash, we have workers trying to get unionized in the south, the rebels up in the north, and only one nation in this entire region who knows we are here. Anything else.”

Victoria picked up a silver carafe, held it over a mug, and dropped her head. “We are out of coffee.”

McDanal nodded. “I need a vice president. Not one to give me advice, but one to boss around. You up for a raise?”
“Uh, no. I took this job because you are a family friend. Not because of political aspirations.”

“Well, I do need you to do one thing for me.”

Victoria nodded, looking up from the direct, hand written demands of the workers on strike in one of the southern factories. She was half tempted to just call in the EDF and tell them to start shooting strikers. McDanal pushed her a piece of paper, and she looked it over. A conference of some sorts, one that the invitation had been lost in the mail, or something along those lines. It was the chance, in a way, that the administration had been waiting for, the ability to walk out and say, ‘hi, just so you know, we are here.’ Victoria wasn’t entirely convinced it would work. Political bickering amongst nations was something she had studied often in college, and wasn’t something that, at 25 years old, was sure she was ready to do. Then again, her president was only 42, young by presidential standards, and he had handled himself well in the election.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go let them know we are here. The Imitorans do, hell, they almost invaded us.” He had been on the beach that day but two years ago, part of a group of volunteers that had gathered up, grabbed what guns they could find, and decided to secure the borders the best they could. They had been on the beach when the first two Imitoran Light Reconnaissance Dropships landed, and IMC Marines poured out with a collective look of surprise on their face. The intell had told them to expect light resistance, hardly organized, loosely trained, most likely under one of several warlords. Instead, they came up against a handful of soldiers, all wearing the same fatigues, following a basic rank structure, and armed with self purchased, yet well conditioned, Bushmaster M4s. Two years later, while preparing to represent Imitora at one of the regional conferences, this tidbit of history brought forth a chuckle from one Robert Fortier when he read that they had planned to “give” Imitora a chunk of land.

“Don’t go looking for hand outs. But the rest of the region needs to know we are here, doing our thing. We need to avoid anymore isolationist policies that keep us stuck behind. Of course, I didn’t honestly expect them to remember us. At best, one or two of the nations have probably done a quick intelligence briefing or such, letting maybe another know. So don’t expect them to understand everything that is going on, and sorry, but you’ll be going in blind.”

Victoria nodded, wishing that the carafe still had some black gold in it. “Dumping me into the shark tank with no idea what sharks I’m dealing with. It sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve done good so far out here. You think you can handle big dogs?”

Victoria nodded. “Call it cliché, but they all put their shoes on one foot at a time. As long as I don’t have to deal with any royals.”

Victoria was hard against the concept of a monarchy. If winning the sperm lottery was right to rule, then one could also randomly pick to people off the street, flip a coin, and call the potential ruler the same way. It was no different to her.

“You most likely will. It seems our report from the Imitorans says that lots of groups around here tend to think that your birth order is far more important than the will of the people. So just don’t mouth off too much.”

Victoria nodded. “Am I going in alone?”

“Nope. I was thinking about this the other night. We will be sending someone from the military to go along with you. We need to let them know that we aren’t a bunch of pushovers either. At least, I think that’s what we’ll get sending someone with some combat time. Maybe let them get a decent understanding of what’s going on in the mountains, that it’s a bit more than just a few noise makers.”

Phillips nodded again. “Alright, when do I leave?”

“Technically, this morning. We’ve missed the first day, but I’ll have you on the super red eye out tomorrow. The Major already has one of his men selected to go with you, he’s being alerted now.
__

Nate had no sooner stepped of the UH-1 when the Major stepped up and informed him of his new mission. The operation had been a success, taking out a good sized camp of rebels while sustaining only a handful of casualties. They had managed to capture fifteen high ranking rebels, a large cache of arms, and the Lynx pilots had gotten in on the fun to route out two light artillery nests and let loose some a handful of incendiary rockets on a poppy field.

The Major managed to get together a set of dress blues for the Lieutenant, and had given him another Sig P226 pistol, this time in a reverse two tone color pattern with custom, and decently ornate, wood grips. Nate had questioned his selection, but the Major informed him he was the perfect choice. He was a natural born and raised citizen of Elesyan, not one of the left overs from the previous umpteen countless regimes. He was educated in politics and history, while most all other officers in the military that were born Elesyan were studied in engineering or science. He had combat experience, and Nate was more than capable of presenting a straight on, no BS assessment of the situation. He packed a bag of casual clothes, made sure the dress uniform was in proper condition, and grabbed the first flight out. Nate would meet Victoria at International Isle in the Airport, and most likely be hard to miss as being the only human being there wearing a Elesyan Defense Force dress uniform.

Victoria had packed equally quickly, a modern but tasteful skirt and blouse with a jacket, another few sets of “meeting” quality clothes, and some casual night out clothes. She made sure it was all packed, and then went to work putting together a few files of relevant information. Economic information, policy standards if anyone asked, a quick rundown of the EDF, and other facts and figures that she may be asked for. She managed to get the earliest flight out to International Isle, and Nate was waiting for her at the gate. He gave her a generally appreciated, and well concealed once over, and offered a hand.

“Lt. Nate Archer, you must be Victoria Phillips?”

“One and only, lieutenant. Ready to go break some ice?”

“Lead the way Ma’am.”
__

Robert listened to the talk intently, while outwardly making no noticeable reaction to the news either way. Of course the bad guys wouldn’t let the good guys know they had hostages. Why would they? It made sense. The higher ups get the hell out, the good guys orty the entire mountain range, and then here come images of hostages, good people all tied up, getting massacred by the people who said they would protect them. The good guys end up looking like idiots, the bad guys say “hey, we were gonna give them up if you just asked for them”, and the world turned as usual. Then again, it would no matter what happened, and Robert held his tongue for now.

He would wait till later, getting Rob Ryan alone to discuss the matter as he knew his son wanted to. The entire thing reeked of mission creep. Take out the maser. Oh, get the hostages. Oh, look for this warlord. Oh, we also need some milk, and if you can, check out the local show times. There was absolutely no reason to not lay waste to the mountain. Level every square centimeter, and let God figure out who was good and who was bad. Yes, hostages would die. Yes, families would weep, and there would of course be public outcry. But time would continue on, the sun would rise, people would continue about their daily lives, and life would go on. There was far more to it than just that, but it was only the start.

He was about to mention Camp Casablanca and the relative ease that Imitora would have getting the team right where they needed to be once at the edge of the dead zone when his pocket elicited a small buzz. He excused himself, and stepped out of the conference room.
__

Out in the hallway, Victoria pocketed her cell phone as Archer absentmindedly fiddled with his uniform.

“It looks fine, everything is in place.”

Nate nodded, and still adjusted everything. He had worn the EDF dress blues twice, once when graduating from college and earning his commission through the ROTC program, and again at accepting his position as the CO of his team. He ran his hands through his longer hair once more. The EDF had a basic grooming standard: just don’t look to sloppy. If you wanted facial hair or long hair, then fine. It works. Just make sure it wasn’t sloppy, but trimmed and decent. The door creaked open, and he looked up at the man exiting.

“Robert Fortier, Imitora. You must be Ms. Phillips and Lt. Archer?”

“Yes, Mr. Fortier,” Phillips responded, stepping forward. “That’s us. But please, just call me Victoria.”

“Then just call me Robert. You haven’t missed much. A terrorist attack last night took down some aircraft, its being addressed now.”

“Anything we’d need to do?” Archer asked, knowing full well the answer would most likely be ‘yes, but don’t worry about.’

“We can discuss it inside. You ready to meet the peanut gallery?”

Victoria and Nate nodded, the later still checking his uniform to make sure it fit arguably well.
__

Robert led the two into the room, and quickly received the attention he was looking for.

“A little political and history lesson. Some of you know Imitora doesn’t exactly wait. When the governing bodies of the southern lands of the regions western most continent fell, we quickly stepped in to see the deal. I myself was part of a few initial recon missions into the area to figure out if the area was suitable for expansion. This had to have been around four or five years ago, maybe more. When one of our IMC Expeditionary Units hit the ground about two years back, we found that the area had actually started to get back some sense of governance. The land that you had planned to hand to us, at least, has for two years now been functioning quite well. They still have a few issues that we’ve been working with them on, but I’m sure that you’d at least like to know they are here. Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to present to you Miss Victoria Phillips and Lt. Nathan Archer, representing the Armed Republic of Elesyan.”

Victoria and Nate stepped forward, introducing themselves personally, and quickly took two empty seats.

Yellen listened intently, a smile formed on his lips. There were survivors, however the fact they were held around where the damn laser cannon was failed to raise his hopes much higher than a smile. His eyes flicked over to the Imitorian, waiting the expected response of 'we Imitorians can simply nuke the mountain, take out the maser and the whole thing'. Yellen waited and to his surprise, none came.

His attention was drawn back to Robert as he proposed a multi-national rescue operation. Yellen found that slightly odd since the day before it was agreed that there would be no multi-nation peacekeeping force. Even so, he looked over to Rhymer. Already his aide was working at his laptop, studying the deployment rosters for the 1st Airborne Corps.

"Well?" Yellen said.

"This is outta date by a few hours sir. The 17th and 83rd Airborne along with the Rangers and Night Diamond...basically the whole 1st Corps has been diverted to hunt down and destroy the insurgent camps. Most of the regular army is on peacekeeping." Rhymer continued to look over the roster. He stopped. "Here we go. Captain Victoria Escher, 504 Regiment, 17th Airborne Division. Acting as military liaison to the VIB for the past five months."

"National Guard took over military support for the VIB over a year ago. Why is she there?"

Rhymer's face twisted. He clicked on the laptop and turned the machine to Yellen. Those around the table could see the Simatarian President's face turn from curiosity to abject pain and horror as he watch the video on the screen. Rhymer stopped it. "That was Lieutenant Rathburn, son of Senator Vic Rathburn having Escher shatter his pelvis in the Karnotz Officer's Club. She claims he was sexual harassing her and she took appropriate action. Rathburn is still in hospital and Escher is with the VIB pending court martial."

Yellen shook his head. He sighed. He'd like to send someone with combat experience and someone who at least would seem capable of special operations. The President shrugged. "Alright, get in contact with the 1st Corps commander. Have him track her down, and get her prepped for this. If this mission is successful... I'll use my first Presidential pardon. Go on."

Rhymer nodded and rose, quickly departing the room. Yellen looked up to Robert. "We'll have someone ready for you. Currently the bulk of our special units are hunting down the insurgent camps along our border. So we just need to track her down and get her equipped."

Yellen looked over to the door as Frontier stepped through flanked by a woman and a military man. The Simatarian had to blink, stability was coming to the region without outside interference. He was sure however it wouldn't happen again without some kind of structured support.

Yellen smiled politely to the pair, shaking both of their hands. "President Yellen, the Golden Simatar."

Retaking his seat, a few moments later Rhymer reappeared. He sat down. "I got in contact with General Christian and she said...uh she's the 1st commander.... and she'll get this Escher for us. Said it'll take about two hours."

Yellen nodded. The Golden Simatar wasn't going to be sitting on the sidelines.

Abagail looked up from her data search for the best to loan to Tanaara for the mission to secure the maser, as the Imitoran returned to the conference room with two newcomers in tow. She recognized the uniform the young man wore.. They had almost no intel – and no active contact with - on the new nation. In fact the Operating Council hadn't been sure if it could be considered a nation yet.

Though, impressively, the rumors had proved true, Eleysan had both a university and enough of an airport to handle international flights - though the university was small and unaccredited outside the infant nation and they hadn't been doing any international flights save maybe one or two to Imitora. And Imitora had been playing their contact dammed close to the vest.

But more importantly they apparently now had a government unified enough to send representatives, and apparently impress Imitora enough so that those notoriously hardnosed people considered them a nation.

Abagail took a quick look at the Tanaaran Archon and caught the faintest of nods and the pleased look on Robs face.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Phillips, Lieutenant Archer. Welcome to the conference. I'm Colonel Abagail Hardcastle of The Militarized Zone. Those are our over flights and recon drones along the Shindassa River -we're your new neighbors to the east. Later we need to talk about those raiders that keep running across the Blackrock Gorge crossing." She said pleasantly moving over to shake their hands, then returning to her seat.

[OOC: Jolt's overactive filter has decided to filter the word "snig-gered" because there is a racial slur contained in its spelling. The word in question means 'snicker.' Sure, I could use snicker, but it doesn't have more negative conotation of the word That Must Not Be Written.]

While the rest of representatives examined their options in responding to the Archon's call for an international team to answer the dilemma in the Central Worlds or respectfully kept quiet, Errant leaned back in his chair, pondering other things. It was however hard to come any focus in the quiet lull.

His mind wandered to the unrest in the east of Fatal Terrain. It wasn’t until these last few months that he’d even been cognizant of what actually when on to his north. For the longest time, the eastern continent had been colloquially literally and figuratively dismissed as space on the map with “Here Be Dragons” scrawled across it and generally avoided. It wasn’t until Tanaara opened his eyes and the refugees began arriving to his shore that he’d looked closer to where the piracy his ships had reported had originated from. The Skull Kingdom was responsible for much of the poaching and threat all along the coast.

More than anything, he knew he’d have a duty act now. He and Catawaba were Fatal Terranean now. Neighborship might been very little outside Catawaba, perhaps not been even defined as a word. In Catawaba, Neighborship was a cultural precept that had required actions. Neighbors were near to family, if they were not in blood, they were in belief. Defense of your neighbor, his property, was required, expected. That was the cultural tie of reciprocity; your neighbor would do the same for you. Not just in defense but in work, labor, friendship, and celebration.

The last two years of freedom from Togovia, Errant was shamed to realize he and Catawaba had spent ironically in isolation. That would have to change, was changing. He would have to push Catawaba out of its cocoon out into the region. To the north, Vashnear seemed to be holding itself together. He didn’t know the situation on the ground. That would have to change as well, but perhaps with a bit of a support that might weather the storm. The Skulls now…that situation looked much uglier.

To all the divinities above, he never thought he’d be at this position not four years ago. Back then he’d been a buck sergeant, hoping for a bit responsibility and his live-in girlfriend’s patience, living in a broken down slum apartment rather than her blown up dreams of escape she’d concocted. Now, he was an autocrat two years into the ten year term. His people had elected him democratically to this position. He knew that in eight years, if all when well, he’d face another election, an evaluation of his service, or sooner than that if he screwed up hard and was recalled.

Those changes were still breath-taking two years later. The wind rush of the last months were still blowing around his ears as he tried to get them all sorted. He looked to the woman beside him for Mercy was the impetus for a good bit of that hurricane of transformations. He knew that some back home were questioning why he’d brought her with him to the conference. It was the same huffing that had come the past months. More than a few, quite a lot of his detractors in fact, s******ed and wagged that she was the power, stepped down from Tanaara to rule in Catawaba.

He’d not deny she was one of his closest advisors. For all his inexperience one of the best lessons he’d learned and his greatest strength was to recognize expertise and turn it loose on his problems rather than try to do everything himself. Personally and politically, he trusted her advice about ruling and about life. And to Jehovah and Mira, he held to heart that while he could live without her, he knew he would need to live for the duties placed on him, it wouldn’t be a life he wanted to live.

Ye gods, he wanted to slap himself. He tore his attention away from his beautiful love back to the conference. More reason than any other, he couldn’t focus on his job today with her beside him. He didn’t want to think about trying to do the same with her absent.

He glanced back around the table to clear Mercy from his mind for a few moments. He caught the Imitoran, Fortier, watching the table as well. Errant furrowed his brow. Though the man had the professional blank expression of soldier hiding his derision from his superior, the Miraade could feel the disdain flowing off the man. Disdain, disdain, disdain, was the emotions emanating from the Imitoran. Somewhere deep in him he felt he wouldn’t like what the man was thinking as he evaluated his fellow delegates. That suspicion made Errant glad he hadn’t apologized to Fortier for some of the things he’d said to Weymouth yesterday.

He watched Fortier accept a call on his mobile and leave the conference room. Just as his gaze followed Fortier out as did his suspicion until he returned with the two newcomers and introduced them as representatives of the Armed Republic of Eleysan, a new nation in the far west. This was certainly news to him, but then again he had hardly known Callisdrun, Vashnear, or anyone number of places existed not too long ago, and he was sure that many treated and considered Catawaba in the same light.

Errant waited to introduce himself and Mercy. There would be time for that during a break or a meal. He did want to talk them more than opening pleasantries. He might not like Imitora in most cases, but he figured that the Eleysan wasn’t some clone even if they’d emerged from under Imitora’s aegis any more than Catawaba was Tanaara’s clone because Mercy had encouraged him to join the larger region and given generous help for Catawaba to develop.

President Yellen, The Golden Simatar.

Victoria extended her hand first. "The pleasure is mine Mr. President."

So far, so good. All she had to make sure was the Lieutenant followed general protocol, and let her handle the diplospeak.

"Pleasure," was all Nate said, returning Yellen's shake with a firm grasp. He knew enough to keep quiet unless military matters were discussed, and even then he would tend to avoid any commitment. He was, after all fairly low on the food chain, both in the enlisted and commissioned sense. And while a few of the newer entrances held him, along with other officers and enlisted, in a high regard due to their early exploits, he knew full well that compared to some, most likely many, in the room, his exploits were just another day on the job. Though there had been that one time in Angola...

Pleased to make you acquaintance Miss Phillips, Lieutenant Archer. Welcome to the conference. I'm Colonel Abagail Hardcastle of The Militarized Zone. Those are our overflights and recon drones along the Shindassa River, we're your new neighbors to the east. Later we need to talk about those raiders that keep running across the Blackrock Gorge crossing.

His thought line was broken by another voice, this one decidedly feminine, belonging to a Colonel. As by habit, he stood up, not quite snapping but still standing, and saluted a crisp, smooth salute in , thumb tucked in, palm facing himself, tip of the middle finger to the forehead. When she approached to shake his hand, he broke from the salute and offered a firm, confident grip, but not challenging.

"We suspected they belonged to whomever was on the other side of the mountains, Ma'am. Even though the rebels we've been clashing with are decently equipped, we haven't noticed any drones or such. I wouldn't worry about them accidental getting picked up, our minuscule at best air force is mostly ground attack aircraft. And I'm sure those overflights could outrun a few Cessna pusher pullers. But I'd be glad to discuss the situation on the ground at your leisure, Colonel."

Victoria shook the Colonel's hand as well. "I'll have to defer to my counterpart on any such discussion," she offered almost apologetically. "We've been trying to deal with the rebels, and we are lucky enough to have a few foreign advisers with Counter Insurgency experience on our side. I hope they haven't caused to much trouble."

Boris and Jack watched intently as Robert Fortier introduced Miss Phillips and Lieutenant Archer, representatives from Elesyan. Assington had been aware a nation was forming in the area and had suspected Imitora's involvement. It wasn't a concern but since Assington had extended its territory to the forested land that lay west of the Elesyan border it was best to keep an eye on what was going on. The region was reasonably peaceful but wasn't entirely free of raiders and renegade soldiers.Jack leaned over to Boris once again, a somewhat satisfied smile on his face.

"I figured they would come out from hiding sooner or later. That land was either going to be a new province of Imitora or a nation that they helped establish."

Boris simply nodded, watching as the other delegates rose to greet the newcomers.

"Yeh, let's hope they are agreeable neighbours."

With that said, Boris rose to his feet and moved over towards the group gathering around the Elesyans. Jack promptly followed behind, in no particularly hurry since it would take a few moments for the crowd to dissipate.

"Miss Phillips, Lieutenant Archer, good to meet you both. I'm President Lepedius of Assington and this is my VP, Mr Murphy. Boris and Jack are fine though. It's good to finally meet our neighbours. I'm sure you're aware Assington holds land to the east of your border and to the far north. We'd be happy to cooperate with your forces to ensure our little portion of the region is secure from any potential unrest."

Aeris listened as the discussions continued, and input at the time indicated of her decision to send in two operatives, each specializing in separate fields, but entirely useful for the team being assembled.

She turned her attention downward to her stomach, tilting her head slightly as she ran her hand over her small bulge of a pregnant stomach softly. She had her future children to think of, and this pleased her. She wondered what they would look like, wondered how they'd grow up and make names of themselves. She was looking forward to motherhood, perhaps a bit too much, but she didn't care.

Her attention shifted now to her husband sitting next to her. She sighed silently, contentedly. As long as he was there, she'd be happy. She hated to think that this new challenge for their lives might bring unwanted strain over whatever might come.

Stop it. she scolded herself, turning her attention now to the other delegates. You've no need to stress over what has not happened. Just a few more months, and you'll see your children soon enough.

Lady Shalamr quitely introduced herself and her top aide, Valkidriss de la Mar, to the two from Eleysan, welcoming them to a more active participation in the region. But most of her thoughts were on what Aeris and Rob had revealed about there being survivors.

Cats Keep didn't have a military perse, there was no need for one, as the Guardians and the Watchtowers took care of what most nations militaries did. But Cats Keep little known, but flourishing, psi arms and armor industry had recently come up with some innovative new weapons that might be of use in the efforts to free the abductees.

She turned to Valkidriss and a series of whispered orders had her aide quickly leaving the room, as Shalamar turned her attrention back to what was being said.

Trying to discreetly make their way into the conference room, Sukri and Numura were momentarily stalled when they noticed a few new faces from the yesterday's crowd. Using the moment to do a quick mental rundown of the newcomers, Numura recognized one as an Imitorian by his dress, while the other two seemed completely off the map. He suspected that they were possibly from a new forming nation, but had no information to be sure of his suspucions. With little else to do, but to make a formal introduction or take their place at the table, Vakaras decided to take his seat and wait for the situation to explain itself, with Sukri following his charges' lead. Despite the pressing need to try and resolve whatever differences he had with the collected representatives, his inituition told him that it was wiser to err on the side of caution and let oppurtunities create themselves, than to be blunt and direct, risking a repeat of yesterday's mistakes.

Whiptail and his human compatriot had departed shortly after breakfast, more of the 'home office' business Whiptail had claimed earlier, leaving the lone Colonel Keltin to run the show. While a competent officer in his own right, he did resent being left by himself.

He approached Lady Shalamar in his usual quiet and respectful fashion, presenting her with a small envelope...

"M'lady I believe Commander Bray wanted you to have this. He also would like to pass his thanks along for allowing him to take part in whatever you've allowed him to take part in. The two of them disappear a lot when things of this nature happen, and I believe you and I both can assume why..."

There was an attempt at a grin as his oil-tank voice trailed off into nothing. The note itself explained something of his fondness for the Cats Keepian head of state and that he'd be more than happy to select a cinematic adventure when he returned from whatever business he'd been called away for, as well as a deep desire to continue their previous conversation. However, it had been written in Dekker's rather course soldier-slang in a very similar manner to that in which he spoke...

"I've also been selected to act as the liason for the Argonian interests in this operation. I am to assist you in any way possible..."

That final comment was delivered with a slight bow, an older Argonian custom when offering assistance to an old ally...

After introducing himself, Yellen had sat back down and opened the envelope. He pulled out the several page, quickly written yet concise, report concerning the elimination of the camp as well as what the military knew of the other camps. The Simatarian President read without much change in his face. He was still fuming over learning that the Tanaarans knew about the insurgents peppering his border. He was also still debating if he should inform the Joint Chiefs of Staff (and possibly the whole of Congress) when he returned of this. Yellen thought he might just limit it to the Joint Chiefs.

The President tucked the sheets back into the envelope and removed a stack of black and white photographs. The images on the pictures were crisp and clear. Most were of the various stacks of weapons (or what was left of them) as well as the crude buildings erected and training area. A few showed Simatarian soldiers checking through the crates and in several in the far back of the picture, Yellen could make out the forms of the new tanks idling on a field.

Yellen tucked the photographs back into envelope. Looking around the table, he noted it seemed everyone had arrived.

"Since it seems everyone has come. What is on the plate today?"

Rob moved around the table to greet the two new arrivals, a pleased smile on his face as he introduced himself and his wife "Thank you for coming, and we hope to see more of Eleysan in the future."

He turned to the rest of the table and gathered his thoughts for a moment. "What is on the table for today is a series of suggestion for taking care of the collapsed nations."

"Aeris has agreed for Tarlachia to assume Protectorate status of the northwest corner of our central continent. And I am going to send Tanaara into the southern central zone of the eastern part - between the Djeri Empire and The Golden Simatar. That covers the remains of the Central Worlds and Dragons Reach as well as the empty lands between them. We'll hold it as a Protectorate as well, and assist both nations into recovering if at all possible."

"However that stretches both Tanaara and Tarlachia no small amount. We were hoping that some of our fellow nations might be willing to move in and assist some of the collapsed nations in a smilar manner, a much more definitive effort that purely donating to and supporting the Red Cross."

Travis toggled a switch and the hologram of Fatal Terrain sprang to life, while Rob moved to where he could point various areas on the map out. He gestured to one, on the western shores of the eastern continent.

"President Yellin, The nation of High Port is just north east of TGS on the eastern continent. Their Ruling House was killed to the last known individual, as were most of the countries nobles, in the last major raid from Skull Kingdom. And the nation with it's barely post industrial revolution technology is in dire need of gentle easing into more modern technology. Our experts think you’ll pretty much be welcomed with open arms, give the ongoing depredations of raiders crossing the eastern border from Skull Kingdom.”

Another aid laid a thick dossier before President Yellin, both print out and data disc. It had the best information on High Port that Tanaara had been able to assemble. The country as a whole would welcome aid from TGS with little to no reservations, even if it was all but an invasion.

But the eastern border? Oh that would be a nightmare. And therein lay the reason he hadn’t had his people advise the TGSer’s of the small peppering of warlords seeping cautiously over Simataran borders. He needed to know just how much attention TGS paid to its own borders. And while it had been far laxer than he might have liked, they had picked up on the scum creep, and once found had acted with admirable quickness, and thoroughness.

He didn’t think the High Ports tiny population of non humans would be persecuted by TGS as they were Elvin and other sorts of minor fae as well as even more reclusive shape shifters. He rather thought that the ability to turn into a cat would be both fun and useful.

He'd give Yellin a moment to injest the request and take a quick skim through the dossier before asking for a firm answer. So...

He then looked at Errant, with a huge apology in his eyes. “I don’t know how much of an honor you might consider this, or maybe just the sharp end of the spear. Vashnear and Skull Kngdom. The Vashnearians are in the same boat as the Portians, Skull Kingdom is trashing them severely. While they are trying to defend themselves, the fact that the Felia don’t have a standing army and a low population means they are losing and badly. Skull kingdoms about where the U.S. was during Vietnam. ‘Modern’ as many would term it, but mid level modern. You out tech them, out train them, and outweigh them. But they have the advantage of being utter scum, with nothing in the way of virtues.”

Yellen looked at Rob as he requested the Golden Simatar to become an occupational and ushering into the new world force in High Port. Yellen opened the folder and read the opening page of the dossier. It gave him a brief description from its geography, economy, military and demographics. Leaning over to Rhymer, Yellen silently pointed out the note of a small Elf population in the country. Yellen looked at his aid and shrugged. The Golden Simatar had no issues with elves, simply because none lived in the country because of the popular vision of Simatarians oppressing every non-human.

Yellen casually flipped through the dossier, skimming over paragraphs and photographs. Yes, this would take some serious work. Especially with another nation making raids. However he did overhear about Skull Kingdoms' military. If they tried to do anything inside High Port or if there was an uprising, the Simatarians could flatten them.

Billions, no. Trillions of dollars would be spent to get this nation up to speed. Puroc had done some serious damage to the Simatarian economy that Yellen was looking to correct. Businesses hated him, but maybe he'd make some tax breaks to corporations that would instal facilities into High Port at a lower price. The Engineer Army Corps couldn't do everything. The Simatarian military would be no issue, it'd give them something to do.

Yellen handed the dossier to Rhymer. The Simatarian President sighed as he looked up to the ceiling. He called over a servant and ordered a chocolate milk, skim. After the servant had come back, Yellen drained the glass and had another one sent for.

Yellen looked over at Rob. "As you know....rather well...we are dealing with our own internal issues along our border with insurgent camps. Counted at least eight so far. Including one up in the north of our country at the Tarlachian border. That Lady Aeris I will have to speak to you about a joint operation to take that out. I'd rather not send our bombers towards Tarlachia, might look bad."

Yellen stopped as his new glass of milk arrived. He sipped some. "It is a daunting proposition of nation building. Especially one like this. My status with my own government is like walking through a hall filled with men ready to kill you. Even so, I've made my administration to be about change. It will be a fucking hard sell to Congress to give in billions of dollars and giving me control to send in our military. But if they can see a copy of this dossier...hopefully not an impossible one."

Errant had to snap himself out of his deep thoughtful trance to look at the map. He could read between the lines as to why Vashnear was being directed towards him. The large majority of the land was populated by felinoid Felia. He knew that Rob and Tanaara wouldn't think of letting the Simatarians into a land of magically endowed catpeople.

The Miraade mused that they would definitely fit beneath the stroke of the broad brush by which the GS painted "potentially hostile non-humans." Human and non-human relations were a relatively new issue to Catawaba, but Errant had everything in the works with the help of the vornskrari to help convince the populace that non-humans were just the same as them overall.

The Skull Kingdom was not surprise either. One, his people already had a beef with the Skulleries, the name by which Catawabans called a person of the Skull Kingdom. They had been raiding Catawaban shipping for a while now, and the animosity went back much farther here and there before and after Togovia colonized the island. Second, he had a shorter logisctical range to the Kingdom than anyone else.

And with an agreement with the Three Golden Kingdoms...the only direct route Errant reflected as he saw Vashnear's stopping block from the west. He looked from the hologram to the Archon. "It's always an honor to help ones neighbors. The Felia, if legends are correct, may have traded with my people four hundred years ago before the Togovians came. Perhaps we can restart that relationship, but I'm sure they'll be happy to see the Skulleries try pickin' on someone their own time period."

Errant's eyes strayed towards Aeris and then back to Rob. "That really isn't what I was thinking about just now before you starting talking. I'm sorry to go back previous business, but..." He stopped for a moment. "Do the blackhats that took down the airliner know that Aeris discovered their arcane gate? I mean how easy would it be for them to expect us to find out that they have hostages?"

Colonel Keltin had been listening with an abject silence and attention he had long displayed in his career, and that had brought him a long way. The Argonian military was smaller in number than most, but their training and equipment budgets easily matched those of larger nations.

The bulk of their numbers lay in the Marshlander militias, consolidated under the banner of the Auxillary Corps and commanded by a cadre of Special Forces operators. While an irregular unit by modern standards their part-time nature allowed the government to maintain a sizeable pool of manpower without overly taxing their already-strained coffers more than they needed to. They were, however, untested as a deployable force, like several newer sects of the Special Warfare Command, which he'd been recently promoted to preside over in place of Colonel Kerrich. Rob's little phone call had carried a little more weight than he'd thought, perhaps it was his close association with the rather mysterious Whiptail and his uncertain place within the new government. Either way, Kerrich had been reassigned to field work where he belonged and would probably see another deployment if Argonian troops became involved in regional politics. It would, however, be one of those off-the-books black operational involvements that allowed him to operate in his preferred lone-wolf method...

"I didn't think I had to mention this, but the Argonian people have readied themselves to take their place in regional politics. You have our support in whatever capacity you desire. We do not, however, have the transportation capacity that our larger allies maintain. We will require help transporting peacekeeping forces should that become an issue..."

Colonel Keltin had seated himself and taken up a rather neutral posture in his chair, clawed hands steepled out in front of him on the table top. He'd removed the deep blue beret and placed in to his left, folded neatly...

Aeris had been maintaining a quiet presence, keenly listening to everything being said and shared, but Yellin chose to address an issue that was indeed of at least some concern.

"As you know....rather well...we are dealing with our own internal issues along our border with insurgent camps. Counted at least eight so far. Including one up in the north of our country at the Tarlachian border. That Lady Aeris I will have to speak to you about a joint operation to take that out. I'd rather not send our bombers towards Tarlachia, might look bad."

She straightened herself slightly, one arm absently moving across to scratch the back of her other arm as she nodded toward Yellin, the only indication she gave outwardly to ackknowledge him. However, her words slipped softly into his mind, Yes, we'll discuss later on what to do with your insurgency. It's best for you to get a handle on them before they become too much. I'd hate to see your nation fall apart to mere...rogues. All this, she had said to allow the spoken conversations to be carried on without delay.


"Do the blackhats that took down the airliner know that Aeris discovered their arcane gate? I mean how easy would it be for them to expect us to find out that they have hostages?"

Errant's question ended that conversation and Aeris turned her attention to him, thinking for a moment before she responded. "The mage who created the gate did so with all the capabilities of a barely-able-to-walk child. While apparently capable to sustain a gate just long enough with considerable effort, that focus would deem the user incapable of sensing a probe of the sort I sent, even if they were trying to watch for it. Besides, that area is inundated with a highly abnormal level of arcane dampers. Their unintentional great defense is also their weakness. Additionally, because of that glaring weakness, I would even venture to say they are unaware that our international assembly here is fully aware of what they've done and how. It's likely they know of our satellites picking up the plane crash, but beyond that, nothing. We are at a great advantage because of that, and yet, they have strong damper protection in the earth that our collective technology cannot penetrate, which is why a team is being assembled as we speak."

Now, her eyes shifted to the holographic map and she considered the words of the Argonian. An idea came into her mind and she turned her head slightly to the side to speak to the Archon. "I think I know how the Argonians might feel most useful."

She keyed a section of the map, the southern central area that consisted of the eastern border of Argonia and the protectorate portion that Tanaara had laid claims to. She looked at Colonel Keltin. "Colonel, do you think your people might be able to handle a trip across the deep and fairly treacherous waters of the 270 mile-or-so width of the channel here? If not, I'll gladly loan out a number of our sea-going ships to allow you access to the lands here [the section that had a number of large rivers merging at a delta]. The vast majority of the lands here are marshland, and I know you all would feel quite at home in that terrain. She gave Keltin a wry smile. "Perhaps, if you're willing, Rob will give you a portion of their lands to the north of the marshes to have dry land staging grounds."

Colonel Keltin eyed the diagram closely. While he agreed that the area was quite like his homeland, he was at a loss for what Aeris intended them to do with it...

"Madam we would certainly be capable of crossing the channel. My only question is what you intend for us to do once we arrive..."

The Colonel pointed towards the same area Aeris had indicated earlier...

"We can establish forwards operating outposts here, here, and here..."

Keltin indicated three locations in a small arc across the delta spaced around ten miles apart...

"If you intend for us to engage in peacekeeping operations, that is. Otherwise it would be prudent for my people to establish a small settlement on this section north of the marshlands, provided the Archon would be so kind as to provide us with permission..."

With the amount of fertile farmland in the area it would make an excellent alternative bread-basket for the Black Marsh, considering the lack of vast expanses of farmland. Until now they'd supported themselves mostly on the bounty of the seas bordering their homeland. The addition of that much farmland would allow them to start exporting foodstuffs and take a bit of the burden off their strained economy...

"The choice, as they say, is yours Madame. Perhaps an arrangement can be made?"

While Keltin was there to be helpful, he was also rather shrewd...

Errant receded back into himself as he processed this new bit of information. He felt Mercy's hand on his arm. He cast a wary, worried eye her way. She nodded, urging him to act on his instinct with his gut. Errant pulled his arm back so he could lace his fingers with hers. He rubbed a rough thumb over the soft skin on the back of her hand, while he waited politely, remembering his interjections of yesterday, an opportunity to speak.

One of Rob's aides had brought Errant a pair od thick dossiers, such as had been given to President Yellin, with a quite apology for being so slow to hand them over. But they now held orbital surveillance, just minutes old, of a naval force gathering in Skeer Rodes Bay, the largeish bay were the capitol city of Darkfell was situated.

Rob glanced at Aeris. He had not gotten arround to discussing that plan of his with her, and it made him smile to think that they were thinking so alike.

He looked over at Colonel Keltin. "We had been tossing the notion arround, thinking it might be a protected haven for those Argonians who did not wish to stay within modernized Argonia - those who could not, would not, give up traditional lifestyle, but didn't wish to leave the planet. I know that both Mudpuddle, in the Tellian system, and Pacifica in the Aquaria system are drawing off a large portion of your population."

He subtly used that to remind the good Colonel that those planets were not to be discounted in the greater picture of things, despite the fact that they belonged specifically to Whiptail, not the Argonian government. However he nodded to Travis who with the input of a few parameters changed the map. (http://www.atddm.com/prcnewmap.jpg)

"Would Argonia be willing to undertake to colonise this uninhabited area?" Rob gestured at the now altered map. It had been the second division that had been discussed among he and his aides. He liked it better as it gave them more than just swamp - nearly a thousand square miles of fertile land that could be easily farmed and large swaths of tropical hardwood forests, and hills which orbital surveys established held sizeable ore deposits.

And he could insure in the treaty ,that if there were Argonians that wished to live primitive, that they would be left undisturbed.

Rhymer began his own skimming of the dossier after Yellen had handed it to him. It was as the President had mentioned 'a daunting task'. Looking over at Yellen, Rhymer had serious doubts in his mind that the man could pull anything off. He had only been able to axe Project Rebecca & Eclipse along with the corporation tax cuts and putting his own measures in place by signing an executive order. Precedence forced the military and Congress not to act against him. After those incidents, it wans't so much of a sell to Congress, it was more of the Almighty or Yellen becoming a dictator for anything to pass. The only support High Port could expect would be given after Yellen had left office. Either by losing election or by bullet.

Rhymer looked over as Yellen blinked and shook his head. "Are you alright sir?"

"What? Yes...had a...just a bit a ache." Yellen said. He looked across the table to Aeris. The Simatarian President had a rough knowledge of what the elves were capable of using their minds, however he hadn't expected ever to experience it. By the look he gave her, he wasn't angered by it, his look came off more annoyed of the surprise of it.

Yellen drank some more milk as his eyes studied the holographic map in the middle of the table. Yes, there was a lot of land, a lot of money and time would be needed if the Golden Simatar committed to fixing High Port.

He relaxed in his chair as he quietly listened to the proceedings.

Archer watched the map intently. “Now that’s just plain cool,” he muttered under his breath. The holographic map danced as it switched views, jumping around the region. His best map table had been the hood of a krylon green and black Land Rover that quite possibly had been the first Defender to ever see combat. He did have a laser pointer, though, and that had been nice enough.

The lieutenant snapped himself back to paying attention, and leaned over to Phillips. “We need one of those,” he whispered. She returned his suggestion with an unamused stare.

Nate looked back to the map, listening to the conversation, and was honestly disappointed he could offer no help. There was no way that Elesyan could commit soldiers to the situation, even if they hadn’t been involved in their own conflict. He and the rest of the Recces in the 1st Reconnaissance had to maintain their focus on the mountainous region on their side of the border. They were lucky enough to have some real combat experience, as opposed to the regulars, and they couldn’t just ship out and leave the fighting to fresh out of basic conscripts.

Victoria was thinking the same. Of course, she was focused more on the economic aspects of the situation, but they were no different. It was an unfortunate situation, but one that they would just have to accept. They couldn’t do anything. She glanced over at her Imitoran contact, who seemed to be more absorbed in a cup of tea than the on goings of the conference. She could tell by his look he was deep in thought, but what, she couldn’t quite place. Then again, everyone needed somewhere.

“If I may,” she spoke up, briefly. “I know we don’t have much time around here, and have been handling our problems internally for the most part, but, we have plenty of room if you need to move people.”

Nate looked over, confused for second, before understanding her offering. He bit his tongue in countering her. His job was to talk military, hers politics and everything else.

“Of course, they would have to go through naturalization processes, make sure we aren’t taking on anyone we don’t want around or,” she looked at Nate “are already having some problems dealing with.”

Nate nodded.

Vakaras nodded and stroked his chin as the discussion ensued around him, keeping an ear out in case something he deemed important was spoken, but his attention was squarely on the proposed map. His nation was now completely envoloped by lands now owned by the southern island neighbor. The Kingdoms had known of the southern neighbors but had largely ignored them due to more pressing matters inside their borders, but now with the new lands that they were being "gifted", it was clear that there negotations would need to be put up on the priority.

There is an opportunity here though, and with opportunity comes chance and luck and all the combinations that drive destiny. If ever the Kingdoms needed a touch of destiny it would be now, and this would be the moment to do so.

His eyes then shifted to representative from Catawaba, the Miraade, and tried to get a solid grasp of the soul behind the flesh. He could feel mutlitude of emotion flowing off of the man's soul and out into the open, with an undercurrent of worry. It was clear that the task again, as daunting as it seemed, weighing down on his shoulders. Vakaras had felt those emotions coming off many in his short time as a diplomat and he empathized with him and the situation that was now before him and his nation. Opening up a channel between their minds, he reached out to the Miraade.

Hello Miraade of Catawaba, it seems we have a bit of a situation on our hands. I believe it would be in the best interest of both of our nations if we were to converse later to discuss what possibilities there might be between the Golden Kingdoms and your own lands, if you would honor me in such a manner.

Robert looked at Yellen as he sipped his drink. Well, he thought to himself, Weymuth wasn’t shitting. He drinks chocolate milk. Huh.

He made a mental note about the comment the Simatarian made. As you know rather well. It seems that the President didn’t take to kindly to the Tanaaran and Imitoran intelligence and operations in the area. He had toured the Imitoran set up briefly at the urging of a private client, and put a few rounds down range at the time. It had been interesting, but nothing difficult. Simatarian involvement had been non existent in the area, and they had run into the Tanaarans a few times. Otherwise, it was just another nice low intensity conflict.

He would keep back his offer of intelligence sharing for now, and let Yellen keep some semblance of pride. It was important.

Robert then looked over the map as Keltin and Aeris spoke, listening to the ideas being tossed around.

“Colonel,” he offered. “If you need any help, we have a number of dedicated light transport ships. Pretty basic things, nothing to fancy that our Navy SWORD Crews like to use. Fast boats mostly, low radar signature, some pinnacle mounted weapons. One that they like to use for coastal patrol with some big guns. Good for going up and down river, getting out of bad situations fast. We can have our own crews take care of them, or if you’d like, we can give your teams a quick over view if you’d like them on hand. We also have a battle group on reserve stand by at the moment. It’s yours if you need air support.”

Robert was about to offer his own solution to the issue of the unclaimed lands when the Elesyan, Victoria, offered a better deal. If not better, at least more regionally friendly. The Imitoran also caught Nate’s look, the one he knew all too well. He wasn’t convinced, but it wasn’t his job to talk about these things. He offered him a we’ll talk later look, and would most likely do so at the same time he spoke with Rob Ryan. His idea could be a benefit to the young nation, and if it worked as well as it had in Imitora, it would do well for Elesyan as well.

Keltin was happy they'd listened to him...

"We will colonize then. I would also like some more information reguarding these two planets in question, so that the segments of the population that desire to migrate to space have access to it as well. These large segments you describe aren't as large as you'd expect. Most have no idea where these planets are located and few desire to live anywhere named 'Mudpuddle'. I do not mean to pry into the Grandmaster's affairs but are the entire systems under his control or does his influence extend only to the aforementioned planets?"

Colonel Keltin was aware that Whiptail had recently become something of a planetary baron and was curious to learn more. More planets meant more resources, and it was possible that Whiptail might be willing to sell some of the uninhabitable planets to the Argonian government for a nice profit, allowing them to begin to exploit the planets as they saw fit and again bolster their economy with new jobs in the interstellar mining and transportation industries.

There would also need to be protection from pirates and the like, and yet another branch of the Argonian military would need to be formed, creating still more employment opportunities...

"If we can persuade the good Grandmaster to perhaps lease mining rights to some of the surrounding planets then the Argonian people would greatly benefit. I do, however, need this sort of information to make things like that happen..."

There was a swift glance thrown in the direction of the Imitoran representative. He was on particularly good terms with the Imitorans after their assistance with the cruise ship debacle...

"I'm sure we'll manage. When I mentioned that we lacked mass trasnport capabilities I meant for long distances. We can transport some of our people across the channel, or we'll swim if we have to. We are, after, an aquatically gifted race..."

Hello, Miraade of Catawaba. It seems we have a bit of a situation on our hands. I believe it would be in the best interest of both of our nations if we were to converse later to discuss what possibilities there might be between the Golden Kingdoms and your own lands, if you would honor me in such a manner.

The Miraade was snapped from his thoughts by the sudden voice in the back of his mind. Even as he listened he searched the room for a moment before he recognized the voice of the representative from the Three Golden Kingdoms. He relaxed from his tension, and Mercy was givng him a wary look. He smiled to her and squeezed his hand. "Sorry, gotta get used to telepathy..." He pushed aside the oddity of that statement as he answered.

He closed his eyes to concentrate, actually he had no idea how this worked. He just talked in his head. <Lord Namura, I would be honored to meet and talk with you later...perhaps in a more conventional manner though?>

Robert nodded in response to the Argonian.

"I thought as much. If you do need anything, from logistic support, to weapons, to any more feet on the ground, don't hesitate to ask. I'm sure we can put something together for you as you need it."

He took a sip of his drink.

"And I seem to remember the Argonians being quick in the water."

Colonel Hardcastle gave the representative from Eleysan a surpirzed but pleased look. She remembered when TMZ was moving from merely an army into a nation. It hadn't been easy and they had immense backing from Tanaara and other established nations. She could only applaud the generosity of the offer.

And while she was sure that the Archon knew that the same offer stood from Timzeee, she'd reitterate it later.

"I do not mean to pry into the Grandmaster's affairs but are the entire systems under his control or does his influence extend only to the aforementioned planets?"

Robs grin was shark like. If Whiptail hadn't told the Argonian government much, he wasn’t going to spill the proverbial beans, save for a few touches...

"The name was given to the planet as a joke. It just so happened that where we landed had just come out of a large storm system and one of the mega herds of pseudo cattle had churned up a large wallow."

Mudpuddle was actually a very fertile, pleasant planet.

“I know we don’t have much time around here, and have been handling our problems internally for the most part, but, we have plenty of room if you need to move people.”

But he turned to other comments, his own grin morphing in to a warm smile towards Victoria - even more pleased than Abigail’s had been. "Thank you Miss Phillips, that is a very kind offer from Elesyan, and yes, I'd definitely recommend strong scrutiny of any one you allowed in. I’m not trying to insult any of the collapsed nations, but those collapses have seen the deaths of millions of fine people, and sadly the survival of much of the scum..”

He hoped that all of the representative had had a chance to look over the information. Piracy on the rise, in some places up over fifty percent – nations that never, in the past, had any piracy were now finding their coastguards and navies working overtime.

Thank you Miss Phillips, that is a very kind offer from Elesyan, and yes, I'd definitely recommend strong scrutiny of any one you allowed in. I’m not trying to insult any of the collapsed nations, but those collapses have seen the deaths of millions of fine people, and sadly the survival of much of the scum.

Victoria nodded. "I'm just glad we can help. I know we are smaller than most, but we will do what we can."

"Even if it kills us," Nate commented, taking a long, slow pull from a cup of coffee he had brought out.

"Now, lieutenant," Victoria started, looking harshly at her counterpart. "I don't feel that that is the best attitude to take. I seriously doubt that we are going to be sent the lowest of the low."

"Of course," Archer retorted, "why would they? A new nation, young, fighting its own war, no one would have the heart to send us their cast outs as they try to rebuild as we have done. What was I thinking."

"Lt. Archer," Vitoria's voice was firm now, "this is not the time nor place to discuss our internal affairs. You and I can do that later." She turned to the Archon. "My apologies. I believe that Lt. Archer here has excellent intentions, but may forget we aren't in the War Room."

Of course we aren't, Archer mused, outwardly offering his own apology. He had spoken a bit out of turn, and not as diplomatically as he should. However, it didn't belay the fact that their was a low intensity conflict looking to go quite possibly to full intensity, and Victoria was offering to take in more that may be just the type they were trying to keep out.

Nate let a small smile cross his face. If we were in the War Room, we'd have a big map.

"Actually Miss Phillips, I understand his concern absolutely. And it's a very valid one. However no one at this table has any desire to see your nation collapse. And that’s what sending outcasts, undesireable, would almost certainly lead to."

"However there are still many good people who want to live safe, secure and productive lives. And are willing to go where ever that chance can be found. Some of those nations that have collapsed have done so due to over population, some due to horrible misuses and abuses of their governments. And that does not make the populace as a whole undesirable."

He smiled to soften any sting in his comments "We want to help you build, and see you flourish, it's good not just for your nation but for every one in Fatal Terrain. You can ask Errant over there, or Abagail. Catawaba is the newest nation in Fatal Terrain, and The Militarized Zone is only a few years older."

He hoped he allayed some of the young mans concerns. Later on he’d offer Elesyan the same offers that had been made to Catawaba – scholarships at Tanaaran Universities, medical technology, infrastructure engineers. He wondered if they’d be open to nuclear energy.– safe, clean fusion rather than fission – that wouldn’t pollute like oil or coal.

Ket Keltin hadn't expected much better than he'd gotten. Whiptail had been persona non grata in the Argonian government for too long, and apparently his powerful allies had taken offense to this...

Errant opened his eyes at hearing his name and smiled. He nodded towards Miss Phillips and Lieutenant Archer. "Welcome to the region, y'all." The former sargeant's smile turned to a mischievious grin. "Lieutenant, I suppose you can undestand why I'm all to happy to pass on the torch of the FNG as fast as I can."

He glanced up at the holomap at the two sections outlined to his country's responsibility. "As for any refugees, I can only speak for Catawaba, but if I need to impress Catawaban authority or Catawaban authority is requested, I will ensure that law and order is upheld. That includes ensuring that no fugitives leave my sphere of control. I won't pass the buck onto another nation. Law offenders will be dealt with in-country."

Colonel Keltin resumed his tactical in-head talk-to-self routine, using the wonderfully detailed holo-map to configure positions for defense outposts for their new settlement as well as a refugee camp or two for the overflow that was bound to come their way. Why they'd venture towards a place called the Black Marsh was beyond him, but desperate people were often left with few options.

The Argonian Colonel then rifled around in one of his pockets until he located a PDA-like device with GPS photos of the area in question and began tapping away with his clawed index finger, using it as something of a stylus. The whole lay-out process took him a little under five minutes to complete, after which he sent it up the chain of command to be approved.

That was a short chain, however. Ket basically had the ear of the president herself...

Yellen ignored the various exchanges of dividing up the collapsed nations as he thought over his options. He could take the simple route and not take over High Port, leaving it to the Tanaarans or Tarlachians to take over. It wouldn't play well in the press, but it would allow the country to rebuild its surplus after the new tax laws went into effect...if they ever got past the Senate. Senator Kevin Callahan was keeping it tied up and kept knocking it back to the House. Going up against him would be hard, Callahan had friends in every corner of the government. And Callahan wasn't up for election for another two years...

There was the military to think of too, the Joint Chief's would be slow to move. They hated his guts after going after their programs. Even if he exerted direct control over the military, he'd only have 90 days to get Congress to allow the military to continue operations before they could have it withdrawn. Yellen knew he could sign an executive order...but that was the sort of thing they were waiting for, too many of those and he'd get himself impeached for misuse of the office.

As Yellen pondered, his mood was obviously gloomy. But then, a smile slowly formed on his lips. His eyes brightened. He adjusted himself. "I've decided. The Republic of the Golden Simatar..."

Rhymer looked over at the President as he started to talk. He'll probably turn it down, that'll maybe give him some grace with Call...

"...will take over High Port."

Rhymer gave a noticeable shudder, though Yellen didn't seem to notice. Yellen smiled. "Once I return home, I will set things in motion."

Lord Namura, I would be honored to meet and talk with you later...perhaps in a more conventional manner though?

As you wish, after the meeting would be as good as time as any.

A sparkle shone in Vakaras' eyes as a sudden spark of inspiration flooded his mind. He had a vision of a strong and power state capable of defending its' own borders with more than just cheap tricks with rockets. A state that could aid in the military endeavors of the region, a state undivided and stronger than it ever was. He was the key to this vision, a key that would ignite the flames of technology and propel the Kingdoms forward. It would take time, money, and an effort that had not been seen since Hero's rebellion, but it could be done. Yet he had one card to play for the masses still.

His gaze then focused back on the Archon, the very man he felt a rage of hate just a few hours before, and he smiled confidently as he begin to deal the hand.

"Might I interupt for but a moment Archon. We got off on the wrong foot yesterday, mostly due to my own actions and perceptions of what I believed to be. I had the offer of accepting a handful of refugees, a token amount at most, and likely nothing that would do any good in the long run of things. I might have been a tad misleading when I made that offer about the state of the Kingdoms as it is, and its' abilities to bring in the refugees.

It was true that we could only support that small amount, but that was just one of the three kingdoms. In truth, when the collective rescources of the Golden Kingdoms is taken into the equation, we could like house somewhere in the number of 10 million able bodies. This of course would be a burden that would even take some of the wealth out of the empress' own estate, but the cause is worth it. A few million eager new workers could very well be the country needs to help bring itself together again, and help us push through the technology tree.

So if I may be excused my severe lack of judgement and rash behavior, I would like for you to give me and my countrymen a chance to prove our worth. It is only homes and careers we can offer, but it is better than living in a refugee camp with the risk of the regional warlords."

His confident smiled remained and he that sparkle in his eye shone as the young diplomat knew that the cards had now been laid, and he only hoped that the river had an ace.

"Once I return home, I will set things in motion."

Rob gave him an intent look then nodded slowly. "Then we can turn over what we managed to rescue of their treasury. They were, like Tanaara, on the gold standard."

The kingdom of High Port hadn't bee very active in the wider part of the region, but Tanaara had kept a small cultural consulate there and had been alerted to the beginnings if the collapse. And once the collapse was unstoppable Tanaara had gone into secure what of the fiscal wealth that they could.

"We'll be able to turn over close to the equivallent of a trillion aurics."

He hadn't mentiond yet that they'd also gotten Skull kingdoms - much less though, the panic and looting had started earlier.

Yellen blinked at the massive amount of money Rob was going to be handing over. TGS itself had moved off the gold standard several centuries before, however it still kept a substantial gold and silver reserve.

He hadn't expected such wealth to be handed over, however after the initial surprise went away, Yellen found himself happier about this. Part of that money could be used to fund reconstruction and once a full government was in place and operating, the money could be transfered back to High Port.

"Well that is very good news. We can arrange a transfer once the conference has ended. I'm know of a few military storage bunkers that the money can be stored in."

Colonel Hardcastle sent a querry to President Lepedius of Assington, with copies to Lord Thor of Kahdrim, and Miss Phillips of Elesyan, via the network of laptops that each nation had been given at the start of the conference

Mister President, I have been authorized by TM's Operating Council, to make this offer. Given that we know that Khadrim is engaged in a civil unrest, and that the new nation of Elesyan is still forming. I think it would behoove us to offer to take over, to split between ourselves - TMZ and Assington that is- the anti piracy efforts for our continent. I meawn this as no insult to Khadrim or Eleysan, but both of our nations are far better equipped, and free to, at this time, to take over the anti piracy efforts.

Might I suggest that Assington handle the coast line from the west coast of Eleysan around to the northern Assington - Khadrim border. I think that gives us a roughtly equal amount of coast line.

Colonel Abagain Hardcastle

Boris and Jack continued to listen in on the conversation, taking note of any decisions, especially the fact that TGS would be taking over what was once known as High Port. Boris had a few doubts about how they'd be able to handle the situation, the government of TGS was a little messy, too much democracy and factions for his liking. Either way, that was their problem and not his.

A small flicker on the screen of his laptop brought Boris' eyes down to a newly received message over the network. Opening the message and reading the contents, Boris nodded to himself. Besides the unrest in Khadrim and Eleysan, the western continent was mostly free to warlords and the sort. Pirates were another matter though. There was a lot of ocean to cover in the region and there were a large number taking advantage of such. Noting who else had received the message, Boris opted to 'reply to all' so that everyone involved would see what he wrote.

Assington would be happy to enforce the law around the suggested coastlines until Khadrim and Eleysan feel they are capable of defending their own waters from piracy and other undesirable activities. Our continent has been relatively stable compared to the others and I look forward to maintaining that stability.

With the navy quite dormant at the moment besides occassional transportation roles, Boris had a significant force he could commit to the area and had no doubts it would be able to cover the designated coastline without too much trouble. There might be a lot of ocean and pirates but his military was well equipped and had no qualms with sinking a few unwelcome vessels.

"I've also been selected to act as the liaison for the Argonian interests in this operation. I am to assist you in any way possible..."

Shalamar had accepted the note with a pleased smile and a soft thank you to Colonel Keltin. "Thank you sir, your assistance is greatly appreciated. She was more willing - as she had had no dealing with Colonel Kerrich yet or indeed with the current government of Argonia - to give his nation a chance to prove themselves. Whiptail had always had her respect.

She looked up from rereading the note Oh yes a dinner and a movie sounds just wonderful. Even if he does make the offer quite colorfully... but it fits him She smiled to herself. However the smile vanished as her second returned with a folded note in hand.

Shalamar read it quickly, then waited for a break in the discussion going on about High Port.

"I would like to announce as of roughly five minutes ago, the borders of Callisdrun and Ravea were sealed, and the Guardians and Watchtowers of Cats Keep have begun taking control of those areas within the barrier. We have directly taken control of key infrastructure, the remaining military and what other national appendages that have survived the collapses. We have over one million Guardians ‘in country’.” Mentally she thanked the Divine for the weird time exchange with the Shadow Realm. They’d had a year to practice the maneuvers necessary for carrying this off with hopefully little attendance by Mr. Murphy.

They’d had a year to practice the maneuvers necessary for carrying this off with hopefully little attendance by Mr. Murphy.

If Matthew Quigley wasn't already down in his angst while he waited for Victoria Hawke to respond, he suddenly felt more depressed and unwanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Errant delved into the dossiers before him, paying close attention the satellite images of the massing Skullery fleet. He was taking notes and stealing glances at the map as he tried to marshal his thoughts. He didn’t answer Namura. They’d made their arrangement, and besides it was awful strange talking in one’s head, at least for him. He whispered a summary of the conversation to Mercy.

He kept quiet, listening to the proceedings off hand, while he made his notes or leaned over to Mercy to ask her a question. More than her beauty and melodic voice which was more than enough to pull him away from his notes, he valued her considerable wealth of knowledge about the goings on and history in the region. He made no attempt to hide the intelligence from her. It was after-all Tanaaran intel; if she wanted to see it, she’d just have to ask her son. However, the main reason was she was Errant’s partner in life, in all things. There were rare secrets he kept from her, but those were secrets that she understood that any ruler kept from his people, from foreigners, from everyone except a select few.

When he did break from his and Mercy’s plotting, he glanced up at announcements the other representatives made as they came to a conclusion in their deliberations. Yellen’s decision seemed sudden to Errant. He listened to the instinctive portion of his mind that had been bruised by Shalamar’s dream last night. He was too late to get a feel off Yellen as he spoke or he thought, but a deep pit inside Errant felt suspicious. Whether this was some mystical pronouncement or a something he was making up, he did not know. He just knew he wanted to keep an eye, or at least a few pairs from SubRosa, on Yellen. He made a note to that effect as reminder when he next talked to the Senschal.

Namura’s apology and offer of assistance brought a snort of amusement out of Errant because he felt the smugness leak way from the young lord. He glanced sidelong at Mercy. She suppressed a roll of her eyes to mere upward flicker of her eyes. He felt a wave of tired exasperation from her. She didn’t need empathy to recognize Namura’s motives. Errant smiled and turned his attention back on his notes to hide his amusement. “Now, now, darlin’, he’s just trying set himself on a better negotiating level for later.”

Mercy glanced down at Errant who’d sunk down in his chair and raised his notepad up to hide behind. “And he is oh-so-clever about it, Dear Heart.” Errant smirked.

There was no hiding that every other delegate that had pledged support in one way or another yesterday had been disgusted when Namura had staunchly refused to help. In Errant’s….emotionally expressive state during the afternoon yesterday, Namura was sure to have guessed that the Catawaban was utterly incensed that the Three Kingdoms would contribute to the flow of the boat people that risked life and suffered horrific hardships to reach his island because they’d been turned away on the mainland. From what he’d learned of the situation in Vashnear before the conference and now reinforced by a skim through the Vashneari dossier Rob had given him, the Felia, the people of Vashnear, had done everything they could with their decentralized government and resources. The Felia had not turned away refugees for lack of kindness but heartbreaking lack of ability.

Rob’s statement brought a bout of curiosity about any other piles of wealth Tanaara had managed to seize and safeguard. He leaned over to Mercy, still hidden behind his notepad with a smirk on his face. “So… what other national banks has the TMI's Robin Hood Command knock off?"

She chuckled at Errant’s names - he always made her laugh with his propensity for quipping titles that any Tanaaran would envy. “As many as Cats Keep didn't get to...but the Skullers got word back after the disastrous battle first and started looting quickly and with unfortunate skill. We not only lost lives, but only got about a third of their treasury.”

Errant nodded and made a note of that. He also jotted down a reminder to refer this on to SubRosa if he was going to act in the Kingdom, recovering that wealth as best he could would be a priority. He was silent, mostly trying to think up another quip. He did enjoy hearing her laugh, a chuckle was not enough, her laugh was musical.

He was, however, interrupted by Lady Shalamar’s pronouncement. He looked up at the map to get a gauge for Ravea. It was on the northern border of the Kingdom, and from the information he’d gotten from the dossiers Raveans and the Skulleries had a major hate for each other. He’d be willing to bet that the fleet forming up in the north part of the SK was meant for Revea. Errant straightened up in his chair and lowered his notepad. He looked to the lady from Cats Keep. “Lady Shalamar,” Even the relaxed nature of this morning’s meeting while he could called the Archon Rob, he did not think he’d ever be able to refer to the ruler of Cats Keep as anything but Lady Shalamar. She had that air of respectability of grandeur and seniority that made her more akin to Elizabeth the First of England come again. “Lady Shalamar, could you explain your barriers?”

He hesitated whether he should give out more at least here. Since she was administering the other side of this northern Azumari blood feud, he would tell her that Skullery Hatfields were massing their kin and party barges to give the Revean McCoys a real thumpin’. He knew he didn’t want to reveal his assets in the region out loud. Surely, his First Cruiser Squadron under the command of Saint Fabian veteran Admiral Nellie Mountalban was known to some to be steaming off the northwestern coast of Azumar to guard Catawaban shipping against any pirate activity. They were the nearest surface group. Another set of vessels, three former Tanaaran drone subs, now referred to as SASs (Submarine Artificially Sentient), were lurking in hostile waters performing reconnaissance…among other things.

No, he didn’t want to reveal where or even if the SASs Mermaid, Mako, and Herbert were operating. He’d be circumspect. “How would these barriers stand up to say…a Mach Two fighter bomber or…a missile?”

In response to Errant's question about how the barrier worked, she didn't explain the technical aspect deeply, merely saying that those with proper I.D. would be able to pas through safely. All others would be knocked unconscious for retrieval and assessment. "Animals, fish and such will pass through unhindered. Planes trying to enter or leave will be taken control of and returned to point of origin. We don't intend to just kill people haphazardly. Besides the Guardians that have gone in to keep the peace,I have nearly as many trained psi-techs doing that work.

"How would these barriers stand up to say…a Mach Two fighter bomber or…a missile?”

"You willing to lose a million dollar investment to find out?" The Lady of Cats Keep asked with pardonable smugness. "Air is getting in and out, as is water, and sadly treachery is always adaptable...But that fleet that means to try for Laveri just up the coast from Cape Shard, isn't and they can expend all the ammo they want trying to blast their way through. Less for your people to face later. Ravea has never had much of a navy oddly enough, and Callisdrun's military seems to be eminently sensible. They've been providing what stability they could, but are acknowledgeing that they aren't, and don't want to be, the government. If Vashnear needs naval reinforcements, I think if they would be willing to cover the expenses involved, the Callisdrunian Navy would be glad of something resembling their proper work. They have a huge coast guard branch due to their immense shoreline, all those fjords, and with the barrier up they can be used elsewhere." She offered, knowing that Catawaba was being asked to swallow a huge chunk of trouble.

"When I look at'em...I remember a bastard who screwed my life and won't let me forget."

Lady Hawke looked Matthew Quigley in the eye, her smile soft as his hand covered hers, and shook her head. Her voice was as soft as her smile, and while compassionate, it was also firm. "Stop it Matt. It's the truest badge of honor and courage there is. Stop letting him win. Your best, and most thorough revenge, is to not just survive, but to live... and live Large" 'And gods help me if I don't find you the sexiest man on the planet...and oh far more than simply sexy'She sighed to herlself ' And probably the most skittish. So go slow girl' Her internal musing didn't stop her from stretching up to place a kiss on his lips. An unhurried kiss but soon over, she sighed to herself and stepped away to lay the garmet bag on the bed.

Matt froze.

Oh God...oh God.

She'd kissed him.

What was he supposed to do? He hadn't expected it. She'd caught him with his defenses unprepared. He'd been open, vulnerable. What should he do?

He knew what sort of contrived response might be expected. A long smoldering love flash burns to intensity. He takes her into his arms, plants one on her, and throws her down onto the bed for ravishing.

Yeaaaaaaah....no.

He'd picked that osik'la choice before in the Choose Your Own Adventure book of his life. 'Turn to Page 69 to Ravish the Love Interest' hadn't worked out. Sure, he'd turned to a few more pages, but it all came to pages with "The End" at the bottom and the text above the finale made you want to curse the authors.

Matt closed his eyes to shut out the world for a moment. When he opened them he looked at Hawke and then at the garment bag and then at his scar. "Thanks, Victoria." His tone was as even as he could manage, but there was a scared, hurt echo in it. Thanks for what? The kiss? The encouraging words? The clothes? For stepping away? He gave no hint, and frankly he didn't know himself.

He just needed her to leave. He needed her to go before something happened. It'd all even out. Sure she might hate him, think him cold, or think he rejected her, but it'd be better than...

Wait.

That was another road of contrivance. He was hiding himself, what he was, what happened to himself. That never worked out...they also assumed something more likely but tragically wrong.

Matt groaned and spun away from Victoria to sit on the bed. He hunched over and put his hands in his head. Where to begin? Well, there was always his name. He looked up from his hands. "My name is Matt Murphy, not Matthew Quigley."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Errant's eyebrows rose at the description of the barrier. It was sure a handy piece of peacekeeping kit. "If any Skullery planes try to pass through to Ravea, I'd prefer they didn't return to sender. As I might have to face that later. If you can sequester it and the pilot, I can arrange to take it off your hands." He wouldn't mind a free A-6 Intruder from that Forrestal-class carrier. He might be able to use it himself or turn it back over to the Skulleries if any were willing to cooperate with him and play nice.

The prospect of letting that battlegroup expend aircraft, ammunition, and fuel futiley was attractive. Not only was it prime reasoning to sink that battlegroup because they were agressors against another nation, but if he needed to send in Cruisedron One to project surface power, his four advanced Tanaaran-built ships would be nearly on an even keel if not better.

He jotted a note about that down on his notepad with a bullet point shaped like maniacal smiley for emphasis. He looked back up from his notes. "What is the state of Callisdrun's navy? If I'm not mistaken...aren't they at a point in technology about...four hundred to five hundred years before the mean technology level? Wouldn't that put them at caravels and galleons?"

She heard that echo, and refused to let him eel away...she stayed

"My name is Matt Murphy, not Matthew Quigley."

Victoria sat down in one of the nearby chairs, regarding him with a calm, level gaze. "Are you trying to scare me away?" then she shook her head and moved to sit on the floor by his side, at his feet. "So you really ARE the Mister Murphy." She leaned against him, running her left arm around his calves, her head tossed back as she laughed. "You don't have to worry, your nome de guerre is safe with me."

Matt's face was pained as he looked down at Victoria. "It's no joke! I'm not The Mister Murphy. I'm A Mister Murphy, and gorramit someone thought it was damned funny when they heaped this all on me!"

He looked away and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He put his head back in his hands and talked through his fingers. "I'm not telling you to scare you away...I just haven't told anyone in a long, long time." His voice had an older, weary tone when he said the last few words.

He took another deep breath. "I've been mistaken for The Mister Murphy. I've been so many places and just happen to be there when manure went through the turbofans....and if I don't just happen to be there, I'm causing it, moving it all along with my presence, just trying to make it out."

He paused for a few beats. "...sometimes, I can't keep it separate...all those times, all those me's...if I'm really The Mister Murphy."

Colonel Keltin again pawed around on his little PDA, before coming up with some numbers...

"Madam Shalamar, I've just been given permission to place two companies of Auxillary Corps irregulars at your disposal, as well as two teams of STAB operators for pirate interdiction. You have but to ask..."

The Argonian government was rather unsure of setting itself out on the world stage like this, but they did have a rather large military built up from their long civil war and they might as well use it in as constructive a manner as possible...

Thor had commandeered the use of the computer provided to them by the conference since Ryath was not particularly competent or interested in using it. Eventually she would have to accept these new technologies as they would inevitably make their way into Khadrim but for now Thor was happy to deal with anything that ran on electricity.

As the conference progressed, Thor and Ryath remained silent and simply noted the various issues that were important to the region.There wasn't really anything left to discuss that was specifically relevant to Khadrim but it would be rude to leave after the hosts and other participants had been so accommodating.

A small flash on the screen before him brought Thor's attention to the messages being passed between Assington and TMZ detailing the protection of the waters surrounding their continent. Since Khadrim had no naval presence they had yet to fall victim to piracy on the ocean but he expected it wouldn't be long before they noted the opportunity to plunder in the war wrecked nation. Thankful that the larger nations in the region had anticipated these potential difficulties, Thor sent a message to all parties involved.

Your assistance during this time of hardship is greatly appreciated and you can be sure that once the difficulties in Khadrim are over we will be more than willing to do our share in maintaining stability in our corner of the region.

Thor
High Councillor of Khadrim.

Rob looked about the table satisfied for now that discussions of the collapsed nations was at a holding phase.

"The next point of discussion is the steadily growing problem of piracy. They are targeting every ones shippin, cruise ships, private yatchs, fishing vessels. I feel that this is no less of a problem than the collapsed nations, as many of the pirates are no more than maratime warlords, and a number have fairly formidible modern warships in their fleets."

He looked over at Colonel Hardcastle, who nodded "I understand that TMZ and Assington have just worked out an agreement to split the Norishima continent between their namval forces and work together to get control of their waters."

"I do not know if the Unseelie Sidhe, the Djeri Empire, Nexxus or Sanshyuum have navies so what I am about to suggest does not take them into account. This is purely a suggestion for the nations here at the conference.

He nodded to Travis who made some modifications (http://www.atddm.com/nzones.jpg) to the detailed holomap of the region. Assington was dark blue, TMZ yellow, Tanaara orange, Tarlachia purple, Argonia bright green, Cats Keep teal, TGS dark green, Catawaba black...

"It should be fairly evident which nations are which colors and zones. If we can each cover the zones on the map, no one nation will be stretched past their aiblities." Oh that was not necessrily true. Catawaba would be stretched horribly thin, but the Tanaarans would be backing them up the instant they asked. Though he wondered if Errant would ask.

"The numbers are were I am willing to emplace mobile bases for all our militaries to use as needed. I've only noted eleven, Tanaara has four more we can deploy." A hologram of a mobile base (http://www.atddm.com/TN2.jpg) ( pic. 1) came up

Yellen looked at the newly generated map. His eyes were drawn to the area the Simatarian Navy was designated to patrol. As he looked at what the other nations had to patrol, he quietly noted that second only to the Aragonians, the Golden Simatar appeared to have the smallest area to patrol. Probably will only need a few submarines

He looked at the mobile base and shook his head. The Simatarian warships would be close enough to home and immediate support, it wouldn't be a worthwhile endeavor.

"I am curious if you've managed to pin-point the areas that the pirates use for their bases."

"I am curious if you've managed to pin-point the areas that the pirates use for their bases."

Rob half shrugged. "Some more like a bare handful yes, but mostly no. Even Tanaara doesn't have the unlimited assets necessary for that sort of Intel. And that’s why I going to ask of another overall agreement among us. If say your warships are chasing a pirate vessel, and they head into waters Tanaara is patrolling, I'm not going to demand you stop and turn the chase over to us. We may not have any ships remotely close, and to let the pirates get away over territorial nuances doesn't sit right with me at all."

He looked very grim "Contact our ships and they'll help you with coordinating to catch the pirates - very much yes, but if we don't have forces available, you keep on after them. And I'll ask the same right, privilege if you will, in return."

He caught the eyes of the other delegates as he swept his glance around the table. "Tanaara's maritime boundaries mean less to me than catching those rapacious bastards. You have my word on that. The Tanaaran Navy already has my orders on that. I hope that each of your nations will agree in a reciprocating manner. I intend to also formally send word to those nations not here.”

He’d weigh the cost of arguing over punishments of the pirates later. If TGS wanted them to rot in a prison cell, paid for by the taxes on TGS citizens, fine. Tanaara would execute most of the ones they caught, the others would find themselves within the confines of penal slavery. Tanaaran laws on such illegal activities were very stringent.

"Tanaara's maritime boundaries mean less to me than catching those rapacious bastards. You have my word on that. The Tanaaran Navy already has my orders on that. I hope that each of your nations will agree in a reciprocating manner. I intend to also formally send word to those nations not here.”

Boris smiled briefly at Rob's statement. He'd been wondering whether national waters would be an issue in this situation and he was glad to see Tanaara had taken the sensible option instead of throwing a hissy fit about sovereign territory and other such nonsense like many other international bureaucrats would. Boris would always be in favour of a practical solution and it appeared Rob was of a like mind.

"Assington will also allow foreign naval vessels to pursue pirates into our waters. Keeping the regional waters safe is more important than a question of who has the right to do what over a patch of ocean."

With the land on the Noshirima continent secure from the warlords that are plaguing other areas of the region, piracy was the only real threat to the security and safety of the area and Boris intended to see that eradicated. Those committing piracy would likely be given a chance to surrender and if they decided otherwise then the navy was authorised to use whatever force they deemed appropriate to ensure the safety of regional waters.

Aeris had been listening to the proceedings of the conference and keeping her thoughts to herself as the others discussed things, notably piracy as of late. She approved of the distribution of the waters to be patrolled by each nation, and nodded positively as the idea of sovereignty on the seas became a minor issue, permeable when pursuit of criminals was in effect.

"I would presume that while the pirates may traverse territorial borders on the seas and our international cooperation is best here, the same does not apply to those that take their refuge on land. Not fully, that is. Pirates do not always work on the seas, after all." Aeris spoke when she had the opportunity. "We should set up an agreeable zone along all the land-locked borders to allow for foreign forces to maneuver without fear of international dispute. Beyond that zone in either direction, I feel must be surrendered to the natural sovereign authority of the respective nation."

She looked at the map, studying it for a moment, "Perhaps a zone of fifty miles across, twenty five on each side of the borders? Granted, the probability of piracy traversing land borders is minimal at best, but we should at least address this possibility."

Nodding at Errants request that any captured planes - and she'd include ships as well - be turned over to him, she made her own notes.

"What is the state of Callisdrun's navy? If I'm not mistaken...aren't they at a point in technology about...four hundred to five hundred years before the mean technology level? Wouldn't that put them at caravels and galleons?"

Shalamar tapped a few keys on her laptop and Errants bloomed to life oh yes they were classical sailing ships - lovely hand built wooden sailing vessels well accouttered with the best enchantments available. The recording was an overhaul and capture of what semed to be a PT boat of the type made famous by JFK. It was to say the least impressive. The cannon fire looked like lasers and the sails belled out full with a mage created wind that required no lost time tacking, or sloughed canvas.

Her soft comment "Don't underestimate majick, it can do just as well as material technology. And their ships are pretty."

I can't help but include this - it's not mine I can't claim ANY of this - It's all Catawaba's!

An image of some magician aboard one of Callisdrun's ships sending a message to one of Catawabas ships..

Aboard the Patrol Frigate CNS Daring "Message for you, sir!"

The Captain of the Daring looked up from the plotting table to see his comm tech wreathed in a circle of magical blue smoke, holding a rabbit with a message tied to its leg.

The comm tech pulled the message off the rabbit's leg and handed it off to an assistant. "And don't let this one get away or they'll be breedin' all about this ship."

The Captain sighed and looked to his XO. "Cant' they just send the scrap of paper? Do they really need the small woodland creatures?"

“Its is an emergency message, it's the correlation with speed factor”

“So a mere memo about the weather is sent with a turtle?

“Why, yes…”

"Sir! They've sent a badger!"

The Captain slammed his hand down on the plotting table. "Dammit! I told them not to engage with the pirates!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shalamar gave Aeris a most dubious look, but said nothing for the moment. She felt very certain that the majority of the nations represented here would not be in favor of that much border laxity.

Actually the images bloomed to life on the laptop/PDA that Errant's aide William Churchill was holding. Errant had abandoned it for an old fashioned notepad, which was more his level of 'user-friendly.' Churchill stepped forward from the wall and held it so that his miraade could see.

Errant whistled lowly. The beams from the Callisdrun man o'war blasted through and through the unlucky patrol boat. It was slow firing. Was that something having to do with the magic? He did know that guns and gun crews of that relative techological period were lucky to fire once salvo every minute or two. He made a quick note on his notepad to the effect of "Find out if an Abra Kadadra Gun would be feasible for refit on DEADDs...might need to change acronym...does Hocus Pocus count as directed energy?"

He rubbed his chin. "Ya can't blame me for underestimating something I really don't have a lot of time with, ma'am." He'd forgotten about Callisdrun's magic and been worryingly estimating the match up of a muzzle loading unrifled brass cannon and some warlord's seagoing technical armed with RPGs and machine guns. No, ships armed with John A. Dahlgren and Merlin's lovechildren had a considerably better chance.

Now, he was sure that Fleet Admiral Josiah Starkey was going to simply love him. Poor Starkey was going to have to be the one to figure out how to coalesce this into the Navy's plans. That was, however, mostly Starkey's concern. Errant knew that he did have over half of Azumar to patrol, but he'd already asked Rob and Tanaara for enough help.

The entire Catawaban Navy save twenty ships was a Tanaara gift. A good many Tanaarans were still training and in some cases serving aboard those ships as they were replaced with trained Catawaban sailors.

Errant thanked Churchill, and his aide stepped back out of the way. It wasn't just the navy. The Marines and the Air Force used a majority of Tanaaran equipment and utilizied Tanaaran instructors. He loved Rob as a brother and valued Catawaba's alliance with Tanaara dearly, but he needed, Catawaba needed to step out from that shadow. He was taking on a heavy burden, but Catawaba had to prove itself, not only to itself, but to the region.

While he couldn't take help from his Western ties, he needed to develop the ties to his Eastern neighbors to the north. He also needed to set the tone of their relationships as a partnership. He wanted develop the cooperation between their nations, and he knew, first hand, that crisis tended to cement the most unlikely relationships. He spared a glance towards Mercy for a moment.

Errant looked down from the point where the wall met the ceiling over Lady Shalamar's head. "I'd be glad to have their help. Their qualifications..." Errant waved towards Shalamar's laptop. "...speak for themselves. If they can handle the seagoing technicals, we can step in to handle any illegally appropriated capital ships. The Callisdrunians would be a big help in covering a big area."

The Miraade paused and listened to the exchange about cross border land pursuits. He was glad he didn't have to worry about that in Catawaba because his island home, but he knew he would on the continent. "I have no problem with allowing cross border pursuits, but I feel that the pursuer should be required notify the authorities of the territory being entered. Should forces be availible, both commands can coordinate to assit in capture, but also the courtesy works to alert civilians to the potential danger."

He glanced up at the map and over to Aeris. "I feel that any pirate caught with in the territory of a nation by another nation's forces should be surrendered to the authorities there. Extradition can be negoiated from there...but allowing another nation to pluck individuals out of that twenty-five mile buffer zone could be trouble."

Keltin spent a little longer laying out possible patrol routes for his homeland's Navy as well as ambush points in key entryways for his own STAB teams to board and slaughter whatever pirate activity they came across. They were, after all, an elite military unit and not a police force. Any pirate caught in the act of attempting to board or even being in an unauthorized area with the suspicion of being involved in pirate activity would simply be dealt with in the harshest manner possible. Part of the issue with the pirates around Argonia was that none had been taken alive for interrogation and a few of them were Argonians themselves.

The Auxillary Corps companies would be deployed in support of the incursion against the land-based pirate bases where their scouting and marksmanship talents would be put to great use. The Special Forces operators embedded within as cadre would also be supremely useful. This was all speculative after all, he'd need permission to deploy any troops, and that permission would most likely come from Shalamar or the Archon...

"If I may, I have a suggestion. I have two companies of Auxillary Corps scout-snipers authorized for use in this anti-pirate operation and I think they'd be supremely useful in locating any additional pirate land-bases. Their aquatic abilities would also allow them to scout surrounding coastal waters for mines and other traps..."

The Colonel had already sent orders back down the chain of command for his people to get out and get patrolling, in greater numbers than usual. The Argonian people had been combating pirates in their waters for some time now. He'd also sent his small bodyguard compliment back to the homeland. It had been composed of four of the most effective members of the STAB and Special Forces branches of the ASWC and their talents would be needed in the field and not sitting around with nothing to do...

"If I may, I have a suggestion. I have two companies of Auxillary Corps scout-snipers authorized for use in this anti-pirate operation and I think they'd be supremely useful in locating any additional pirate land-bases. Their aquatic abilities would also allow them to scout surrounding coastal waters for mines and other traps..."

Rob nodded at the offer, his grin sharp. Oh yes he kne right where such could be best put to uxe. "You all have managed to scare most of our targets of interest right out of Argonian waters, but not too far. He noddeed to Travis who again modified the map (http://www.atddm.com/nzones.jpg). Two red circles hovered over areas of interest.

"Just to the east, off the Djeri coast" He pointed out the easternmost, vividly red outline. Lots of small islands and no attention being paid to them by the Djeri. Perhaps they would be of interest now that you have a reason to be interested in that area." It was just to the east and south of the Argonian's new holdings.

Then he noted the other, just off the southern D.U.S. coast, and just barely west of the border with Argonia. "We can give you some good intell about the riff raff there and it'd take some of the load off of my forces."

He didn't figure that the Argonians needed any more permission than that.

Colonel Hardcastle waited until the Archon finished and looked over at Colonel Keltin, giving him a smile. "Sir, I'd like to add to that if I may. " She slid some coordinates over to the Archon's aide who modified the map further to include the island chain that lay off the east coast of the Norishima continent.

"Colonel Keltin, I know that the Operating Council will want to talk with your government about you conducting anti piracy operations with our teams amid those islands. Your teams are the best about and we'd be fools not to take advantage of any chance to train, work, and learn with your people."

Ket Keltin tapped a few more commands into his PDA device and sent the orders back along the command chain via wireless internet. Within a few hours there would be two companies of reserve-status Marshlanders headed into what was to be the first strike for the Argonians in the anti-pirate campaign...

"I really don't see why not , Madame Colonel. I can put you in touch with the right people, I only require a timeline..."

Although poorly equipped by modern military standards, Auxillary Corps reservists were full-time hunters and part-time soldiers. Their stalking abilities had been honed from nearly a decade of guerilla warfare and generations of stalking game in their damp homeland. As such they also made excellent snipers. Some of the best shots in the Argonian military, from any branch to include the special operations community, came from these very reserve units.

CH-47 Chinook cargo helicopters would drop the reservists off shore about a mile while they'd insert the embedded Special Forces troops were inserted onto the beach itself via fast-rope technique. With two operators per platoon and one platoon per island, they were less likely to be detected operating in smaller groups. The platoons would then be further divided into two and four man scout teams to better blanket the islands. Their orders were clear: determine the level of the pirate threat and deal with it accordingly. Fire support was limited in the form of a two frigates positioned four miles off the coast, able to bring their gun batteries to bear in the event of an emergency. In other words, it would be up the guys on the ground to eliminate the threat...

It took some time to get the troops into position and considering the number of islands involved they were spread rather thin. That wasn't an issue though. They weren't there to wage an all-out war. Marshlanders were survivalists, and had come for the long stay. The team of interest today was located on the southern-most island on the left-most side of the map. A certain reduced Colonel was commanding a small Marshlander force. The one-eyed Major lowered his short M1A from his shoulder, noting that his percieved threat was in fact a primate and nothing more. While he hated monkeys, he hated being discovered even more. Major Kerrich was in control of four two-man teams of scout-snipers, and he'd sent three of them to blanket the island while he remained with the fourth.

His second in command on this island was a tribal chief clutching a short-magazine Lee Enfield bolt-action rifle. He had a name but Kerrich had come to call him 'Mad Minute' or simply 'Double M' for short. The cheif had a radio and he was talking to Kerrich in his typical thick Marshland accent...

'Maja, dis Dubla M. We got a contact...'

'Go for Major Kerrich, go ahead Double-M...'

'Tree personnel, one Marsh-Brudda and two soft-hides. Packin' assault rifles, look like dey on patrol...'

'Excellent. Deal with them as you see fit...'

"Rog-a Maja. We kill 'em. Dubla-M out...'

The tribal chief was an excellent shot by most accounts Kerrich had heard. Double-M was lying prone in a tropical thicket with his spotter, who was holding an old 8mm Mauser 98K. Double-M slowly extended his weapon so that the muzzle was barely outside the foliage, tucking the stock firmly into his shoulder. His companion did the same. They'd kill the humans first, at the same time. The Argonian could wait to die. Double-M's front sight settled nicely on the cranium of the patrolling human pirate, a hispanic male wielding an old Israeli Uzi, before the black post centered itself in the rear sight...

'Tree. Two. Wun...'

The two gunshots sounded as one, and both men dropped missing large portions of their heads. Double-M worked the bolt on his Lee Enfield and put a .303 round above the Argonian's eye before the two others had even hit the ground...

'Maja, dis Dubla M...'

'Go for Kerrich. Go ahead M...'

'Dey dead Maja...'

'Excellent. Displace and take up a new position after you roll the bodies for intel and dispose of the weapons...'

'Rog-a Maja. Dubla M out...'

The campaign was off to a grand start indeed, and with Keyton Kerrich leading the purge there would be a lot more bloodshed before the end...

"The Golden Simatar has no issue with other nation's naval forces going through our waters during a chase. We do ask to have our own ships and aircraft along to help cut off the pirates and bring the chase to an end. They will be then handed over to the nation in pursuit."

Yellen recited the longstanding Simatarian policy on pirating. It wasn't a great issue, the operational area that the Simatarian navy had to control was small so it could provide an effect barricade against pirates trying to zip through to safety.

Yellen's eye flicked to Aeris as she proposed her fifty-mile zone idea. He found the idea completely ludicrous, it violated a nation's sovereignty and basically opened up a swath of land for another nation to trample around and do what they wish.

"Like hell anything like that will be passed in my country. Our borders will not be turned into free for all areas for soldiers from wherever to wander around. I think its a ludicrous idea."

Errant turned an eyebrow on Yellen. “Bandits and warlords already seemed to have done that for you, burc'ya*.” He said with a deadpan hint at the intelligence Rob had revealed last night about the incursions along Simatar’s southern border. “Do you have the forces to cover all your borders? The mountains in the north and south? Never mind the forests.”

He swept a hand around the table. “We are talking about government militaries and police forces here, burc’ya, not militias and vigilantes. There would have to be justification and real intel for any incursion across national boundaries by coalition…” He didn’t use the word ‘allied’ on purpose. “…forces. If there’s any meandering about, those wanderers are not faceless bandits but a fingertip connected to a large and recognized body whose very face is here before you. You have disputes and reasons to mistrust the forces, air them to the face of those forces here at the conference which is purposed for it.”

He set his notebook down and knitted his fingers over his stomach as he leaned back in his chair. “Since you and I are going to have our boots and wings and hulls staring at each other on Azumar proper, I’d kinda like to hear’em.”

~~~~~~~~~

Your Taung'a word for the post: burc'ya = friend (used ironically)

"We currently have military satellites and reconnaissance aircraft scanning the areas where our borders have limited population or cannot be accessed except by jeep trails. Our First Corps has been deployed to deal with the insurgent threat."

Yellen retorted to Errant. The Simatarian President wouldn't back down on the issue. In the various "dump" committees he was tossed around in before landing the Vice-Presidency, he had always fought to maintain stable national borders. He'd also co-wrote a bill (that was killed only a day after it left his desk) that would make it a criminal offense for any non-Simatarian police or military forces to operate within the Golden Simatar without authorization.

Yellen glared calmly at Errant. "It certainly will not please the people of my country to see tanks and troops of a...foreign coalition...to roll into town. I know it will make people in my country sleep a hell of a lot better at night knowing that their borders are patrolled and protected by Simatarian soldiers and not soldiers of another nation. As for Azumar, that is another matter entirely, without governments the borders are only lines on a map. I'm speaking of borders of existing nations. We can protect our own borders, without foreign soldiers waltzing in anytime they like."

Rob had given Aeris a carefully neutral look at her proposal. To him sea lane openness was a far different matter than land boundary permeability. Tanaara had no issue with Tarlachian, Cats Keep, Catawaban, or Timzee forces, but those were the nations Tanaara had worked with, fought along side - trust and a knowledgeable relationship forged during Dark War and kept ever since.

And quite honestly he did not want TGS forces free to drive into the lands that Tanaara was about to take under it's wings on the cry of 'we're just chasing pirates'. Flat out he didn't trust TGS, nor was he overly trustful of the Argonian government. Despite his personal friendship with Whiptail, he knew full well that most of their government was thoroughly corrupt and murderous. Assington - though he'd like to get to know them better he didn't yet, though the pair that had represented Assington on the V838 Mons exploration had built a good foundation for a working relationship...Sidhe, Djeri, Nexxus and the others he didn't know well enough to trust them either. And despite the fact of Tanaara's historic debt to Imitora he'd consider any entry of their troops in to Tanaara as an act of war. He loved his father but not the rulers of Imitora. And trusted them not at all.

As if cued by his thoughts about Imitora, Rob looked up from his study of the map as his father abruptly answered his cell phone, listened hard for a minute then stood and with no explanation, save an enigmatic look toward Rob, left the room at a brisk pace.

[OOC: Please ignore the prefix names of territories slated to be under Catawaban control. As of the moment they are simply Vashnear and the Skull Kingdom. The Protectorate and Commonwealth status are not in play or even planned yet. They will be the titles but only after the events that lead up to the justification. As of the moment, the Miraadery has not designs other than to keep the peace.]

The Miraaade narrowed his eyes. "I don't consider those borders of the destablized nations meaningless, President Yellen. Those citizens care about their borders. I intend to go in and steward their lands until what point they can govern and protect themselves. The sanctity of their borders is as real and sacrosanct as ours."

"However, we do have rampant banditry and raiding along many of our borders, you included, President. I am saved by the grace of all Divinities, the Warding Sea about my lands, and the viligance of my people."

"Now you spit on a foriegn coalition..." He glanced at the map for a moment and then back. "Ain't that the purpose of all this?" He again waved a hand about the room. "By your language you don't seem to want to cooperate or lend your hand or your back to our collective burden. I wouldn't like people crossing my borders. It's an anathema, sure, but your borders and many others are proven porous. Will you not accept the help?"

"I have no problem with allowing cross border pursuits, but I feel that the pursuer should be required notify the authorities of the territory being entered. Should forces be available, both commands can coordinate to assist in capture, but also the courtesy works to alert civilians to the potential danger. I feel that any pirate caught with in the territory of a nation by another nation's forces should be surrendered to the authorities there. Extradition can be negotiated from there...but allowing another nation to pluck individuals out of that twenty-five mile buffer zone could be trouble."

Shalamar nodded at the wisdom voiced by the young Miraade. "I know all of us have our reservations about making our border permeable to any other nations military. However might I suggest a set of operational protocols that will affect much the same thing. And thus it will be no ones military just wandering aimlessly about border zones looking 'provocative'.

She went on "Errant’s suggestion about notification is very sound and not only courteous but most cognizant of those most vulnerable to pirates, warlords, and wandering bands of unallied miscreants- our citizens trying to simply go about their normal lives."

"Let us agree that it should not just be to contact their opposite numbers, but communication contact must before crossing the borders. There are plenty of frequencies that are available for us to decided on a communications system that we can all openly monitor for such "efforts to apprise". And the nation's whose border is being crossed into must make every effort to have their own troops joining in on the apprehension effort in a timely fashion "

Oh she knew that that term could be badly abused, but she didn't feel that it would be. Nations concerned about such activity as being a prelude to some sort of 'invasion' or set up for mischief would fall over backwards making sure they had troops there 'most rikki tik' or what ever the current phrase was.

“And if that pursuit looks to be extending past the 25 mile zone, the effort gets turned over completely to the entered nation’s troops, who will then have the duty to apprehend and deal with the pirates. The entering nation’s troops, of course, must depart the entered nation as quickly as feasible.”

She looked over at the Simataran President “President Yellin, I am as little eager as you to be invaded, but that is not what this suggestion is about. It is about a bit cooperation between our nations.. Now do you really want Rob here to drive all those pirates and warlords across your border and just stop, leaving them for you to deal with? I know your border areas are only lightly inhabited, but they are about to expand along the southeast “ She waved a hand as the noticeable ‘slump’ along the southern border – a roughly triangular shaped area of land that was some fifteen hundred miles long by about eight hundred miles at it’s widest. – over 750,000 square miles – a piece of land the size of Nebraska, the 16th largest state in the United States…It was well over three times the size of Cats Keep. And he had the smallest naval area to patrol… Or are all Simatarans just whiners who are in it only for themselves? She wondered behind a bland face as she continued “But it is prime staging grounds of the very sort of vermin we are trying to eradicate. You want to do it all by your lonesome, I am sure that can be a arranged. However cooperation would benefit you more than just the rest of us.”

Rhymer sat quietly as Yellen went at it with the Miraade, something had happened to Yellen since he left the man last night. In less than twelve hours he had grown a pair and wasn't backing down. He remembered back in Clarence Yellen was less confrontational, less willing to put up a fight. Then again, Yellen had been a publicity pawn by President Puroc, so Rhymer wondered if the true Yellen was revealing itself. If it was, things would be even more interesting when they got back home.

Yellen glared at Errant. "Well your Deities also saved you from national leaders failing to inform you of terrorist using the backwoods of your country as a camping spot."

Before he could speak again, Shalamar spoke. Yellen turned to face her as she addressed him. He grunted slightly at the mention of the Tanaaran Archon. Bastard will probably send them into the Golden Simatar and not tell anyone. He gave a slight grin to Shalamar.

"If a county cop chases a criminal into the next county, he is charged with contacting that county before he reaches the border but may continue. Same with state cops. But we're not talking about county or state police, we're talking about militaries. Tanks, troops, fighter planes...a little heavier than a squad car right? And if an operation is successful against an insurgent camp, there is no need for a pursuit."

Yellen reached into the envelope in front of him and flipped several photographs onto the table. On them were the pictures of the insurgent camp that had been destroyed earlier in the day. In one picture, a group of a dozen plus men were being led into a helicopter.

"An effective military operation against an insurgent camp, it was surrounded and destroyed...none got a chance to run away."

Yellen relaxed back in his chair and drank some of his milk. "However this whole thing about communication confuses me. The Tanaarans have been sitting on information of terrorists in my country for the past few months...whose to say there isn't more information being withheld by a so-called 'coalition' nations? I wouldn't be surprised if someone was conducting illegal military operations within someone's borders right now."

"little heavier than a squad car right? And if an operation is successful against an insurgent camp, there is no need for a pursuit."

"And I thoroughly agree that against an imobile base - a non moveable object by most all resonable standards - no one does not have pursuit. But surely you do not beleive that every encounter with pirates, warlords, terrorists or insurgents is going to be at such locations?" She snorted at the accusation Yellin leveled against Rob. They'd known of the warlords move across the border for only a couple of weeks.

However her smile was icy "You'll have to as talk to Imitora and Tarlachia about that. Do I need to talk to you about what looks very much like genocide occuring within your borders?" he didn't want to start trying to play hard ball with her. His hands were dirtier than most and she wondered if he'd really like to know what it was like to be hunted by his bedamned VIB gestapo.

Yellen's eyes flicked over to Aeris as Shalamar mentioned her. He wondered what she and the Imitorians could be up to, it may have something to do with the insurgent base just inside Tarlachia's border. He turned back to Shalamar.

"And surely you cannot think that a chase will occur over miles upon miles upon miles. If you want to end a chase early, plugging a missile up their exhaust pipe will certainly end it. If you want them alive, I can arrange for our police forces to ship you some EMP guns we use against fleeing criminals."

Yellen waved his hand, dismissing the subject of vampires in his country. "I'm rather busy repairing my nation's economy and don't devote all that much time to what the VIB does. I trust them to deal with the vampire situation in the best way possible to suit the country and population at large. But, I don't think this conference is about how we deal with Simatarian vampires."

Yellen fell silent as he stared calmly at Shalamar, the pair had been going at it for the last several minutes and so far no one had interjected. Yellen wouldn't back down from his position, he wondered if she would.

"If you want them alive, I can arrange for our police forces to ship you some EMP guns we use against fleeing criminals"

"I wasn't wanting anything to do with them. I was simply offering a suggestion on a set of protocols that might make such instances platable to all concerned."

Camp Casablanca was inside TGS, not Tarlachia, but she wasn't going to mention that, as were the terrorists the Imitorans hunted.

"I trust them to deal with the vampire situation in the best way possible to suit the country and population at large. But, I don't think this conference is about how we deal with Simatarian vampires."

She about laughed at that. Had Yellin suddenly begun channeling Imitoran First Speaker Cara Rydell? She dared a glance over at Mercy who had gone white herself. She also noted that Rob had stiffened slightly. Both of them had excellent memories and Yellin had just put foot in mouth, deeply.

She looked at Yellin her face coolly remote "Attempting to imitate Imitora and Cara Rydell will not save you when the accounting comes. And forgetting where the buck stops generally gets one a comeupance that one will not enjoy. You'd do better to keep an closer eye on your subordinates. Telling you that you sound like an Imitoran is not meant as a compliment."

Shalamar broke off her eyes no longer seeing Yellin, but she ws not at all sure what she Was seeing, only that it seemed familiar yet not...

Boris half listened to the ensuing argument between Yellen and whomever disagreed with him whilst also contemplating the issue himself. The idea of allowing foreign a military across his borders certainly wasn't appealing but he could see the benefit in doing so. Removal of the unruly forces in the region was certainly a priority for all, especially those that were consistently feeling the effects of these warlords and terrorists. That being said, whilst everyone was meant to be 'friends' in the region, Boris didn't exactly trust everyone to act appropriately. Tarlachia, Tanaara and Cats Keep could be relied upon as far as he was concerned and Boris was pretty sure TMZ would prove to be an honourable neighbour but so far he knew little to nothing of Khadrim and Elesyan still had to prove themselves.

Looking to Jack, Boris gave his VP a questioning look. Jack appeared to be deep in thought himself, evidently contemplating the issue at hand. The man had a knack for looking at these situations and considering all possibilities as far as foreign reactions and such.

"Well, objecting to it in that manner is not going to help. I suppose it could work but we need to consider some safeguards so this does not get abused."

Boris nodded, his thoughts following a similar trail. It wasn't his favourite idea but if kept in check it shouldn't cause any problems and he could live with that. At that point there was a break in the conference conversation and Boris decided to voice his position before the argument resumed.

"I can't say this my favourite idea, I don't think any leader would be particularly thrilled about seeing armed foreigners crossing their borders. But, I understand the need to deal with the lawless lot running around the region and if we properly regulate the situation then it could certainly work. As already mentioned, communication is a definite must and the foreign forces should have a native escort to meet them as soon as possible if a native military force cannot immediately assist. I'm sure we can agree on a few basic procedures to maintain our own sovereignty and the like."

Jack simply nodded in agreement, happy that his boss could deal with a serious issue when the need arose.

Before Rob could respond to the various commentary - he had been mentally preparing his agreement with Assington’s reluctant ascent - when Travis's head snapped up, going greenish white under his bronze shin he, his eyes wide with shock...Myriad, the Tanaaran Central Cybernetic Sentience had just passed on un filtered, unabridged flash traffic

"Hold" His strangled voice cut across every sound in the room as he went to pure cyber interface with Myriad and the hologram changed instantly from a map of FT to locking in on one nation specifically.

And as he did so a ripple of energy - an iridescent blue that was visible to all but utterly silent– shuddered through the island, the building, the room, and on - expanding outward at incalculable speeds, leaving disaster in it’s wake….

The iridescent blue ripple was traveling far faster than any natural earthquake shock wave, faster even than the P-wave of an earthquake wich through air travelled at the speed of sound - some 750 MPH–

The local disaster that the ripple left in its wake was a modest earthquake - only a five overall but also the beginnings of what would hours later be the first erruption of the International Isle’s formative volcano in over sixty five thousand years..

The room jolted hard about them, sending the chandelier above swaying - but the building had been built to standards meant to deal with a greater quake of seven plus

“Origin point…Rob… that’s the damned Rabbit Hole” Morgan triangulated instantly – the Strange place that Imitora guarded more heavily than their ICIA computers – was his bette- noir, a more than minor obsession of his and he knew their geographical coordinates like he knew his name…

Other data began appearing ...the voices anonymous, but all calmly, professionally…urgent…

“Focal Depth...six hundred and sixty six miles...Epicenter …” And the coordinates confirmed Morgan’s statement

”We have a P wave reading of six thousand miles per second in the Shayer Ridge” that was from the geosensor station that some Imitoran and Tanaaran researchers manned jointly in an under water habitat off of Imitora’s northeastern shores, it was in shallow waters, less than a sixty feet deep atop a mountain that had never quite summited to open air…

“They are reporting S- waves moving with the same velocity” this voice stunned, S wave’s were Only 60% as fast as P waves and did not carry though air or liquds…

“We can not support this as any natural geological event. Nor does this match the established parameters for Any Known Wapons. We have an increase of ninety five of I.M. flash traffic, they are using encryptions we do not have reliable value sets for . The quess is is that they have gone to Full Internal Def Con One.” This last was Sinjin, Lord Kincannon – yes the Four Horsemen had officially retired when Mercy had abdicated this spring, but no one who knew them had thought they had taken their fingers out of the Tanaaran advisory pie…

"I don't think many people would take to being called an Imitorian a compliment. I do keep an eye on my cabinet and my military commanders. However when your nation once had billions upon billions in surplus and all that has almost evaporated...priorities switch to insuring we don't have an economic collapse and not if a vampire is being shot by the VIB."

Yellen turned to the Assingtonian President as he spoke up. He listened quietly to what Boris had to stay, though Yellen wasn't interested in having any foreign militaries just roll into his country. He still found the whole idea silly, as far as he could remember if a foreign nation wanted to strike a terrorist that was hiding out in a neighboring country, they worked together to track him down. Not just sign off on a legal twenty-five mile run around area.

Before he could respond, the tone of the Archon's voice made the Simatarian turn to look. His eyes caught something melting from the walls, a blue thing coming for them. Yellen rose. "Jesus..."

Yellen grasped onto the table as the earthquake shook the building, but that didn't stop him from slipping and falling to the ground. Earthquakes were rare in the Golden Simatar, even then they were little more than mild tremors.

Yellen got back to his feet, his eyes wide and locked with the hologram in the middle of the table as it spat out a trail of information.

"What the hell does all this mean? What in God's name happened?"

Colonel Keltin, who had remained seated, simply toppled out of his chair in a rather undignified fashion, returning to his feet with a hand on his Glock 21SF, still holstered with a scaly finger hovering on the SERPA release paddle. It had felt very much like a bomb had gone off, and training doctrine dictated he be ready for a secondary ground assault if that was the case...

"Indeed. What just occoured? Is anyone injured?"

He was relieved to hear that the event didn't match any known weapons profiles, and even if it did his people couldn't fathom something of that magnitude, at least not yet. The concept of space travel was still new to the majority of the populace...

At the first jolt and shake, Errant let old training and earthquake awareness take over. Catawaba was on the north edge of its own tectonic plate with the volcano Tracyn over an active hotspot. Earthquakes were a very real and dangerous possibility. He shoved back his chair and pulled Mercy down out of hers and under the table.

William Churchill and the Miraaderic Guard in the room moved to the door way. They shoved open the door and stood there in the door's arch as the other three of the Guard fireteam retreated into the doorway, MORs nervously at the ready. Squad Sergeant Gold Mira'ad stayed in the windowed lobby, transfixed by a sight she saw in the distance.

With the tremors over, the Catawabans moved out from their places of temporary shelter. The Guards and Churchill stepped out of the conference room to see what the normally alert vornskrari was focusing on. They too were held motionless with shock and horror. Churchill rallied himself and skidded to the door. He leaned in and around.

The Miraade was helping his Ambassadress up from under the table. "SIR! You need to see this, Sir!"

Errant shot a worried look at Mercy. He could feel the creeping fright and fear in this room, and there was outright horror outside. He ran his hand to make sure his semi-automatic .357 SIG Bard Gun Company Police Operations Pistol was still holstered on his hip and went quickly to the door.

There he skidded to a frozen halt. "Mira, what is this..." He breathed in horror as he looked through the tall windows of the lobby. A broad crimson pillar of light rose from over the southwest horizon and up to the heavens. Deep in his core he felt a chill roll through him.

"What the hell are y'all gaping about get the Miraade under..." Errant turned to see Major Delaney fall silent and slow to a halt from a dead run as she took it all in. She looked over at her commander and chief. "Sir, what the hell's going on?"

Errant looked back at her and shook his head. "I have no idea." Those words comforted him less than any he'd spoken before. It wasn't a mere lack of information he lacked. He suspected he lacked the ability to even comprehend what could cause this.

OOC Pleased be advised that this post will cover responses from : Tanaara, TMZ and Cats Keep...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mercy scrambled up after Errant and was at his side as he looked out the front span of the conference hall. The whole building had swayed - terrifying but relieving at the same time to know that that sway was deliberate to roll with the resonance of the earth's crust moving unexpectedly beneath them. She swallowed heavily at what she saw, it remined her all to much of the night that had cost her predacessor, Holli Go lightly her life. Though this looked nothing like the grazer strike had.

Rob had snatched Aeris from her chair and thrown them both beneath the mass of the table, protecting her with his own body, unconcerned for himself as Errant had done for Mercy. Once the shock had passed he had helped her up checking her over carefully asking softly in a voice full of worry "Dear are you alright? I didn't hurt you or the children?"

Rob, still with his arm about Aeris, moved them to stand beside his mother and Errant in doorway so they too could see out of the lobbys windows. The look of shock and horror on his face matching the one on hers as they gazed at the dark scarlet beam ascending to the heavens and beyond.

Then he was looking toward Aeris and Shalamar who had hurried up beside them...

"Ladies?" He was sorely afraid that this was in their realm now.

Colonel Hardcastle had hit the floor like so many others. Though TMZ had occupied their island home for only a decade or so, it was volcanic in origin, and lay athwart a plate. They knew about volcanoes and earthquakes. as soon as the rock 'n roll had stopped she was on the phone trying to make contact with TMZ - the bloody light spearing the heavens looked nothing like she had ever been apprised a quake or volcanic eruption should look like.

Shalamar took a deep breath and let it out slowly - and without so much a by your leave- she needed too much to be in fullest contact with the planet - took down ALL the shields erected about the I.I.

Then, as she unlayered the fist sized matrix – it’s crystal, silver, blue and gold roiling in a fashion that was most disturbing to some –that hung at the base of her throat, what she wore changed, becoming the crimson silks of a Tenerista, and her powers flared. What she ‘saw’ scared her white, her figure bleaching out as she shifted with impossible for the eye to follow speed between realities, seeking answers. A shimmering all but transparent field of protective force rose instantly about her - protecting those near her from her and the energies coruscating about and through her – through the floor and through the ceiling – reaching down past bedrock and up through the atmosphere…

“I can’t Step through it” She murmured…and that worried her, for though she had never advertised it, even Arithon’s ‘dome of otherness’ had proved no barrier to her…but this was unlike any thing she had ever encountered

But then again this was unlike anything any of them, or any one in Fatal Terrain, had ever encountered. Imitora had been doing things no sane - and even the vast majority of un-sane beings - wanted done anywhere on their planet, much less in their nation. And now the piper had come calling…It would be a miracle if Fatal Terrain survived.

”Be advised that the energy beam is extra atmosphere,... extra solar. It does not fall into known laser, maser, directed energy frequencies, source unknown, compostion unknown. But it has impacted with and caused the total destruction of the Imitoran Marathon Class Cruiser Fallen Paradise" one of the remote voices still reading out information noted dispassionately.

"Firing engines on Habitat seven, emergency maneuvers"

"Shayer Ridge reports an abrupt rise in sea temperatures, over twenty degrees in five seconds."

"We have a cable seperation on the Stalk, G overload in Ascender 175 A"

"Torus One is stable no imparement of spin up proceedures"

"We have suscessfull lift off of NIRTS platform deployment in two hours."

As the quake hit Boris was rolled out of his chair and onto the ground. Despite being surprised he promptly rolled under the table in order to take shelter from any possible debris. Jack had managed to stay seated after the initial shock but had promptly joined Boris via a quick dive from his chair. The pair looked at each other in silence, waiting out the roar of moving earth. Once a silent stillness returned to the conference room, Boris and Jack crawled from underneath the table and rose to their feet, Jack looking around the room whilst Boris leaned forward on the table before him.

"Bloody hell... I can't remember the last time we had a quake around here..."

At that point the holoprojector in the centre of the table began relaying information about the cause of the quake, a lot of it not making much sense to Boris. So far he gathered that the quake sure as hell was not normal and it appeared to have originated in Imitora. Conveniently enough, the Imitoran representative was gone. Turning around to see Jack pacing a short distance from his chair, Boris called out to him.

"Jack, contact home and get a status report on any damages as well any information on whatever the hell that was."

Jack simply nodded, turning around to face Boris and display an earpiece attached to the right side of his head that was no doubt securing a connection as Boris spoke. Since there was nothing to do but wait, Boris made his way to the lobby where a number of other delegates were gazing out the window, speechless. Boris was about to ask what had everyone gaping when his eyes shifted to the window and he simply stopped, completely silent.

The sudden burst of energy that rocked the island caught Thor off guard and he lurched forward, half sprawled across the table before him and clinging to it for stability whilst the building around him shook. The last time he'd encountered a quake of such force had been in the early days of Xerxes' assault on his home nation and his first thought went to the insane deity, wondering if he could be attempting to spread his influence. Once the island returned to some sense of normalcy, Thor looked over to Ryath, perfectly calm serenity practically oozing out of her pores. She simply shook her head, answering Thor's unasked question.

As everyone began to return to their feet and reports of the incident were displayed on the table before them all, Thor felt the shields around the island dissipate. Eyes shifting to Lady Shalamar, he could tell she was employing her own gifts to gain an idea of what was happening and had likely dropped the wards herself. Now able to feel a much stronger Presence, Thor engaged his own gifts and his eye sockets glowed with a bright blue intensity as he used mage sight to observe the residue lingering around the island. Whatever had caused the quake certainly was not natural.

Whilst this ability to observe arcane energies, amongst other things, was known as mage sight, seeing was only a small component of the technique, it extended the senses far beyond the physical body and thus Thor's attention was immediately drawn to the beam of energy to the south, surging towards the stars. It wasn't familiar in the slightest and whilst Thor couldn't physically see through the wall, he could sense where it was accurately enough to place it somewhere in Imitora.

Ryath had been waiting for Lady Shalamar to drop the shields surrounding the island and upon her doing so she promptly reached out to Earth itself, removing her perspective from physical confinement. The region ached, that much she could tell and these unnatural forces was causing significant damage around the region.

Eyes closed, the vision in Ryath's mind gave her a birds eye view of the region and she watched in horror as Imitora was literally ripping itself apart whilst other nations suffered massive damage due to the energy shock waves and the physical quakes that followed. The region was destabilising and she wasn't sure if it could endure the forces at play here.

Demons were not familiar to the dragon but she had learned a reasonable amount of them since she left Khadrim and the energy spewing forth from Imitora certainly seemed to be what others had described as demonic. Life was quickly being depleted at an alarming rate and there was nothing she could do but watch.

Ket Keltin still had no idea what was going on, other than that the very fabric of reality seemed to be dissolving around him and there was nothing he could do about it...

Mere minutes after the shock passed through the II. Churchill's mobile phone buzzed. The dazed aide answered it and turned to his Miraade. "Sir, seismologists near Tracyn have reported the quake we just felt..." He glanced down at his watch and did the quick math. "...within the same minute?"

He asked questions to the voice on the other end. Errant reached out and took Mercy's hand. William looked back at Errant. "The monitoring station at Tracyn and the Earth Sciences Department at the University of Graceland...hold on, sir....they both felt it within a few...that shock was travelling at..." He looked away to concentrate on the other voice. "Are you sure?"

Errant looked back at Churchill. "Six thousand miles a second."

Churchill looked up and away from the phone, surprised. Errant nodded towards the door. "The Tanaarans were already doing the math. Anything else?"

His aide nodded as he listened. Errant looked back at the bloody pillar rising over the horizon. This was unnatural. Churchill spoke up again. "Yhe seismologists are saying that a P-wave from an earthquake should only be at most... roughly four miles a sec. This was going..." William stared off as he did the math in his head. "...God, over twenty-five thousand times the speed of sound..." He shook himself free. "They are also reporting that their detecting rumblings inside Tracyn...and some at the west fault line of the plate."

Errant turned away from the windows and looked back into the conference room and at the map. The large volcano at the northwest tip of his island was showing potential for an eruption, and whatever this thing was had destabilized the western fault line of the plate Catawaba (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v35/jedierrant/CatTectonic.jpg)sat on.

Damn.

"Will, tell the doctors they've done a good job and to keep us apprised. I need to talk to Jess." Errant said without looking back. Churchill relayed the message and ended the call. He then dialed the direct line to the Miraade's office. With the Beta Miraade, Rea Vipe, in Tanaara as the Catawaban Ambassadress and Errant here in on the II, his Cancellaria Jessica Lepur would be in charge in his place.

A moment later, Churchil handed the mobile over to Errant. He let go of Mercy's hand as he took the phone and covered the other ear against the panic and worry that was beginning to sound in the lobby as members of various delegations and the building's staff realized something was awry. "Jess?"

"Here. Have the scientists up at Tracyn already get a hold of you?"

"Aye, what are we looking at, Jess?"

"There's considerable damage in the older districts. Even the Mansion, Errant." That had to be expected. None of the older Togovian building were built with earthquakes in mind. The older sections of Graceland especially, was unsupported masonry construction. "Nothing bad here at the Mansion though, Captain Geoffries has engineers out inspecting just to make sure."

"Jess, all we're getting here is that this isn't a natural disaster."

There was a moment of silence. Then Jessica came back, an edge of anxiety in her other wise calm voice. "What is it then, Errant?"

Errant spared a glanced back towards the ghastly column of light. "I'd lay on towards Biblical, Jessica."

It wasn't as much the words that struck her to silence but that Errant called by her full name that got her concerned. They were friends, old lovers agreeably parted. He never used her full name. Errant glanced back into the conference room. "I don't know exactly what we're dealing with, but the seismologists are worried about further activity at home, and I'm worried this won't stay confined to earthquakes or volcanos."

He took a deep breath to keep his worries from running away with him. "The epicenter for this mess is Imitora by Tanaaran calculations. With that and the potential for undersea quakes out along the Western Fault Zone, we need to start bracing for potential tsunamis."

That directive was enough to break Miss Lepur's stunned silence. "I'll start Action Plans Six through Nine, sir."

"Full mobilization, Jessica. We'll need the manpower. We'll need to move citizens and vital assets up off the coast. Get Starkey working on getting any crews he needs over to the west coast ports and get our ships out to sea." Errant gave another bout of thanks that the disaster was happening in the west. The eastern coast was more heavily populated, and Graceland Bay which held most all of his navy was also on the East Coast.

They went onto other concerns and facets of preparation. There was so much, but they had warning, Errant had warning. Deep in his gut, screaming and roaring in the back of his mind was a will not his own. It scared him, but he knew what it wanted not in demanding words but in emotion. It was the emotions of a mother frantic after her family. She couldn't reach them, but their all father could, and to him she screamed.

Lord Numura was suddenly thrown from his chair and crashed hard into the ground, while narrowly avoiding a new scar as the writing utinsel he was working with flew just inches above his arm and straight into the wall. Despite the fall, the diplomat had enough sence to crawl under the table and wait for the violent shaking of the room to subside, before cautiously stepping out and surveying the damage. Vakaras had never expierenced an earthquake before, but he had read about them and their disasterous consequences. Still, as the hologram began to spit out bits of information, he could tell that whatever this earthquake was, it was far too powerful to be of such natural orgins. While he could not speculate as to what supernatural or perhaps even human means might have created such a monsterous disaster, his intution told him that the worst of it was yet to come.

With Sukri now ever more unnerved and standing worryingly close to his charge, the old warrior knew that something of the darkest origins was set loose upon this world. If this was to be like what had happened the last time he had fought something of the worst of origins, then he might be needing her assistance again. For the first time in over ten years, the bodyguard let loose a small phrase that only would be audable to the most keen of listeners,
"Alatariel Elethandria, perhaps we shall meet again..."

"This is not a one off event...I can't see what happening but I know that the lid's going to come off in roughly fifteen hours." Shalamar said slowly, only half 'here' as she sorted through probablilities...Then she found the most likely outcome...there was No best possible outcome and she inwardly cursed every damn purple pixie out there...

Her voice distant and her eyes glowing "Yellin, laterally moving tsunami, you'll get sideswiped- get you navy above of the ishmus and huggings it's northern shoreline....

Keltin get on the horm and tell your navy to get to sea but not any where near Imitora. If they get caught within the continental shelf it will be bad, move every one you can inland...

Ryath, Thor, you're going to get a lateral side swipe just like Simatar as the direct from Imitora wave rolls north...

Boris, get your people in the southern half well inland, Your 'portational technology will work well for that...

Aeris, the wave that comes up the Indomen will be large but relatively slow, warn your capitol though...and some one contact the Omega's - their volcano going to have babies...

Errant there is going to be some new volcanoes surfaceing in the next few hours and they'll break the wave travelling outward from Imitora."

Then her voice died off and she simply let everyone there 'see' what she was seeing..."Houston we have a problem" She whisperd to herself.

Two incoming helicopters, both within a mile of the Arklay facility burst into flame in mid air. All on board died. On the coast, two RIN destroyers simply vanished, gone without a hint of what came to pass. The RIN Northampton, Imitora's massive floating battle fortress inexpliciably cracked in half, all souls on board lost. As if by nothing more than utter chaos, the Imitoran military was destroyed within minutes, equipment, vehicles, ships, aircraft, weapons, and personnel, all bursting randomly into flame, disappearing totally, or in many cases, dismembered by invisible forces.

In Tanaara the Imitoran embassy exploded violently, spewing out shrapnel as far as half a mile away, leaving naught but a smoldering crater. Similar explosions followed in the Golden Simatar, Tarlachia, and Catawaba.

A third shock wave roared out from what was once Arklay, this one causing no quakes. Yet when it hit the coast, buildings were torn from their base and Imitoran citizens were thrown violently into the sea, now boiling.

The launch of Imitoran WMDs commenced. The variable yield plasma war heads were set to full explosive power, humbling even the most powerful of modern nuclear weapons. Yet the MRV warheads spiraled out of control, and brought down their cargo on the major cities of the island nation, death rates reaching close to the 100% mark.

Northampton burned.

The two building that were Arklay floated off the ground, tossing debris aside. No bodies were seen as the starless, moonless night sky turned a deep blood red. The air started to swirl in a dark cloud, similar to a hurricane. However, what fell from the swirling clouds was not rain, wind, and hail. No, what fell from the sky was dark, thick, and red.

It rained blood.

The land began to tip, the two halves sinking in slowly from the inside out. By noon on Saturday, the eastern and western most coasts now stood a clean ten miles in the air, slanting in sharply towards what had once been the center of island.

"There is a core of activity that I can not see into, something I've never encountered before" She whispered...

The Colonel was immediately on his cell-phone in direct contact with the President herself, warning her as best he could of the danger. With most of their navy already out to sea it would be an easy task to move them a little farther from the coast. As far as the moving inland would go, he had no clue.

Most of the population on the coast lived in villages, with the exception of two small naval bases that had begun trying to round up as many villagers as they could and convoy them further inland. It was, however, going to be a futile attempt. There were no decent roads to speak of and the sheer numbers of personnel being transported were daunting. Argonians were incapable of drowning, but getting hit with a flying truck or a crashing helicopter would certainly do them in. The choppers were being used to evacuate military personnel that weren't helping with the civilian evac, and trucks were leaving as fast as they could be filled.

Ket only hoped they'd get them out of there in time, and judging by what Shalamar was allowing him to see now, they weren't going to make it. He could only sit and watch at this point, he'd done all he could. There was no point rationalizing it now...

"Boris, get your people in the southern half well inland, Your 'portational technology will work well for that..."

Boris nodded in appreciation and turned to face Jack, who was still on the phone. "Get it done." Jack simply nodded, engaged in fast conversation with a number of people by the sound of it. Moving all those people was a big operation but mobilisation of nearby spacecraft would allow quick teleportation of anyone and anything that needed to be moved quickly.

Taking once last glance out the window, Boris spun around and made he way back towards the conference table. These events always ended up being lively somehow, although not usually in a good way.

Jack remained silent for a moment as he listened to damage reports in both Assingtonian territories. Structurally, the nation hadn't suffered too much recorded damage but a fair number of people had been killed by debris of various sorts. The coasts were already preparing for potential tsunamis and the navy was mobilising. Since the epicentre was in Imitora the northern land of Assington was reasonably protected by the southern Assington, Eleysan, Khadrim and TMZ. Despite such, all efforts would be made with the worst case scenario in mind.

Both men were shocked into silence when their vision took in what Shalamar was seeing.

"Ryath, Thor, you're going to get a lateral side swipe just like Simatar as the direct from Imitora wave rolls north..."

Ryath nodded in agreement as she continued to observe the events further south. She wasn't sure how Shalamar could be positive of what would happen but it was clear enough that almost every nation was going to encounter some sort of tsunami hitting their shores. No doubt Khadrim would fair better nations directly north of Imitora such as Argonia but it would be foolish to shrug off the potential danger.

Ryath sighed and her awareness returned to the limits of her physical body. There was nothing she could do to prevent the events in Imitora and Shalamar would do all she could to warn everyone here.

"I must warn those in Khadrim. I'll be back as soon as possible."

With that said, a brief flash of golden light signalled Ryath's departure, leaving Thor to remain as the representative from Khadrim. Whilst he was also capable of teleportation his ability in such was limited compared to Ryath. Where he required a beacon or something to fix his mind upon, Ryath could literally move herself anywhere.

Thor remained silent as he watched the images Shalamar provided. A silent horror filled the room as a combination of unnatural forces and advanced weapons of destruction laid waste to the nation that was Imitora. Thor had figured his nation was in a bad way but nothing he could imagine compared to this mayhem.

Errant punched the speaker phone feature on Chruchill's mobile and let Jessica hear what was in store for them. He heard her advice towards him, but he was sidetracked from replying when Jessica cursed. That was frightening on a whole. Jessica Lepur was not the type to smatter her language with explitives like they were adjectives. When she cursed, it was something extremely wrong. "Err," she was one of the few that shortened his name much less used his first name, "we have no contact with our embassy in Northhampton."

That was to be feared but hoped it would not occur. Errant felt burdened with the deaths of those he'd sent to arrange and organize his consulate to Imitora. He cut off the speaker phone feature and brought the mobile back up to his ear. "Get someone talking to the Earth Science Department at U of G, and get them looking for where we might get some seamounts along the Western Fault Zone. If they can pinpoint an area get our shipping away from it, in fact if we have any shipping, get them to deeper water. East Coast looks safe as does the Bay."

"I have it, Err. What about you?"

"I don't know yet. I"m checking that next. Good luck, Jessica."

"Be safe, Errant"

The Miraade hung up the phone and handed it back to Churchill. "Will, call Quigley down at the airport and get a sitrep from him. Tell him we might need to bug out." His aide nodded and took a few steps away as he dialed to the Air Force command post at the airport. Errant turned away back to the conference room and stepped back in.

"Rob! What's the projections on anything coming up through here?" Errant eyed the map. He knew something was going to come up here if Shalamar was going to warn Aeris about the Indomen Sea.

Churchill jogged into the room and whispered into Errant's ear. He groaned and rolled his eyes. Errant thanked his aide. "Will, if they really thing they can get the LA-10s, F-2s, and MC-1s in the air, get'em moving. We'll move the remaining personnel back here."

Errant took in the entire room for a second and raised his voice. "I've just gotten word from my people down at the airport. All runways are damaged. My pilots have already taken a look and they think that any thing short takeoff or vertical takeoff capable is still viable. If you have anything that can use unimproved runways, the grass aprons around the field look flat enough to try. Anything that needs a longer roll...you're going to have to write off." That pained Errant. He had five Kangaroos, C-141 analogs, and four KC-10 Extender air refueler and cargo aircraft stranded here. The Kangaroos as much as they were hated were still useful. And while the 'Roos had been relatively 'cheap' in that they'd been commandeered from the Togovians, the KC-10s were expensive in that the Air Force had actually bought those with national funds. They were more necessary to the new Air Force and hurtful to lose. If only he could get them up, but they needed a paved runaways, long ones.

Errant looked to the Argonian. "Colonel, I've got sixteen fighters that can get up out of here, along with two VTOL transports. If you can give them safe haven, I'd be more than happy to detach the two Swallow tranports to evacuating some of your people. Each Swallow can carry fourteen people."

The Argonian Colonel nodded slowly at Errant's offer. Progress was being made it seemed...

"We have a single aircraft carrier, and its out to sea. They're welcome to land there where they're safe. Grayrock International Airport should also work..."

Keltin was back to tapping on his PDA for a moment, seemingly lost in concentrated thought...

"Any help you're willing to provide would be readily accepted. My people would owe you a serious debt of gratitude."

Argonians were in the habit of standing beside those they chose as friends until death, and while that brand of friendship wasn't easy to earn Errant's offer had made the Catawabans an ally in Ket Keltin's eyes...

Aeris, the wave that comes up the Indomen will be large but relatively slow, warn your capitol though...

Grief could be seen in the eyes of the empress as she stared in numbness at the map that was constantly showing the latest updates and aftereffects of what was going on in the southwestern corner of their precious region. She heard the warnings being given to others and snapped her attention to Shalamar as one was directed at her. Nodding in understanding, she rose from her seat and silently yet quickly moved toward an outdoor patio through a nearby set of doors.

There, she knelt down, bowing her head slightly, all the while mindful of the children she was carrying. She lowered her mental shields one by one until at last she felt the earth's pain almost as if it were her own. She could hear the crust groaning and creaking, could hear the oceans roaring in the deeps, could sense the souls whose lives were now snuffed, their corpses committed to the eternal deeps. She blocked this now, turning her consciousness to the northeast, traveling up the Indomen Strait, surrounding the International Isle and at last to the shores of Tarlachia. She could sense many of her people whom were gifted like she facing the southern coast, ascertaining the troubles that had begun anew. These people sensed her then, and listened as she issued an order to evacuate coastlines.

Faster now, her mind traveled through the earth until it swept up from the bowels of the earth beneath the city of Turath, swept past the minds of those unimportant for her task and sought those whom were listening to early reports of the situation brewing at hand. Into their minds, she breached, apologizing quickly, but then launching into issuing directives to be executed immediately. She spoke to many people at the same time, able to direct a multitude of pressing thoughts to the appropriate audiences, and thusly making it that much quicker to get the ball rolling faster that a simple phone call would not have had the capability of accomplishing.

In the patio room, she tensed suddenly, turning her head to the left slightly, her eyes open but unseeing as she heard a high pitched screeching from deep within the planet's core. At once, she abandoned the minds of the people and focused her attention on that anomaly. Traveling to an old location, now abandoned for a number of years at the conclusion of the Dark War, she probed deeper, then deeper still. Memories of another quake surfaced, the epicenter of that quake having been located here. Another non-natural quake, one event caused by the invention of perhaps not-so-smart minds as a means of destabilizing enemy nation from the inside while at war with them on the international stage.

It was there she felt the forty-some-odd miles of deep, ragged rift in the earth's crust, a weakness that now her mind shifted to ascertain it's threat, was critically threatening to rip Tarlachia in half and send the Indomen Sea to flood the River Aria northward. The earth was primed for a domino effect, and the force and violence of such would cleave the earth with powerful waters, perhaps with enough force to rip through the whole lands of Tarlachia, between the hundreds of miles wide gap between the eastern and western mountain ranges, and ultimately to the northern oceans far in the north end of their region.

The gasp that escaped her was loud, and she fell back on her bottom, her hands instinctively planting themselves to arrest her fall. Hardly a moment had passed before she was upon her feet and moving quickly back into the conference room. She nearly sprinted to Shalamar and the Archon, pulling both closer to herself as she indicated they be quiet and see what she had sensed. Then, she had opened her mind to them and revealed the threat she had uncovered.

One last cruel strike from beyond the years and end of the torment of the Dark War... Had Abaddon foreseen such a possibility when he had possessed the mind of that sole Imitoran survivor whose mind held governmental secrets not meant to be known by outsiders, especially to the likes of him? No...not likely, for the 'quake bomb' had already detonated by the time he had forced the Imitoran to be his unwitting vessel to safety. He might have gained a small measure of satisfaction knowing that his actions in Tarlachia would possibly lead to such damage that even he could not have done alone. The abject horror of such a thought was detestable.

Now that they knew what she was so alarmed about, Aeris probed deep into Tarlachia once more to order another evacuation several hundred miles wide up the most likely path of worst-case scenario as she had sensed, correlating the evacuations with that of the educated predictions of Tarlachian geologists.

Speaking quietly, she informed them, "I've made necessary precautions, but something like this, I doubt the collective power of my people would be able to resist. We are strong, especially in earth-based arcane powers, but we are not all powerful. Gaia still remains much stronger than our collective strength."

Rob looked at Shalamar "Exit Strategy, please. Every one save for those with Mandatory status." That was the name of a long ago agreed upon - and paid for operation. Every Tanaaran Citizen had for the last twenty years carried a microscopic fleck of matrix within them, dormant, until time of need. Some eighty percent of the residents had purchased them as well. Now they would spring to life, allowing the bearer to be aported by Cats Keepian psionic technicians to a preset location. Only those with the Mandatory status- those manning emergency positions - would remain behind, and many of those would be in hardened bunkers. Property could be replaced, lives were what mattered. Though already physical evacuations were being put in to action for those not being gathered under Exit Strategy.

"Shalamar can we divert that old wound, send the tearing else where?" Rob then asked after hearing Aeris's fears about the damage done so many years ago.

The Lady of Cats Keep didn't say anything for a long moment. She already knew what the price for that would be...Then, her voice harsh "You willing to pay the piper?"

He answered without hesitation - he had his duty first, before his heart "No, for while My Lady's lands are as much in my heart as mine own are, I can not sacrifice Tanaara..." He hugged his beloved wife close to him for a second.

"I'll do what I can but the workings will be moving fast and hard. I may or may not be able to deal with it Aeris. Your mages and Adepts - put them to work doing as much as they can. " While Aeris may have been half Elvin with all an elf's attachment to their lands, Shalamar was at one with the planet, her gifts tapping directly into it's energy well.

Shalamar called out to catch every ones attention. "Any one that needs to get home, speak up now. I can psiport you home and most of your planes as well, though any that can get out of here on their own, it'd be better on me that way. This is a one time offer, as shortly me and mine are going to be too busy to evacuate any one else. Some one let the Isle management they have five hours to get every one assembled and at that time I'll do a gate for them to go through.

"Aeris have your mages open gates up to Tanaara's orbital habitats," send as many of your endangered population through as possible - we can get a lot done in nearly fifteen hours. We can be crowded for a bit while this plays out. Properly lots not lives" Rob offered

Ket Keltin shook his head. He was going nowhere. As much as he wanted to return home to see to it that his own people were cared for, he knew it would do little good. He would remain here...

"I shall remain, with your kind permission. I am, much as my troops were, at your disposal..."

Whilst Jack was still lost in discussion with a number of officials back home, Boris removed his on mobile and contacted the men still stationed in their suite. No doubt they were wondering what was going on and Boris wouldn't be surprised if they were on their way down here. After a single ring the phone was picked up.

"Captain, this is Boris. As you might have gathered, we're experiencing a little regional turbulence. I want you to take the guard and get out of here. We're not going to be attacked here and there's not much you can do to fight off earthquakes and floods so I suggest you return home and help prepare for any further events. Jack and I can beam out of here when the time comes, there's a cruiser in orbit waiting just in case."

With the handful of Praetorian Guard members now departing the island, Boris and Jack could remain on the II for as long as need be and still get out of there quickly.

"Any one that needs to get home, speak up now."

Boris shook his head, indicating they wouldn't need Shalamar's assistance.

"We appreciate the offer but it won't be necessary for us. We can offer assistance to any nations less capable of moving large numbers quickly, though. Most of our space fleet is in the system and can beam a lot of people to safer ground."

Errant nodded to Ketlin's thanks for the meager assitance of the two Swallows. Shalamar's offer to teleport his larger aircraft opened up new possibilities. Of the five Kangaroos and four KC-10s, one would need to go back to Catawaba. It carried sensitive cargo for the LA-10s and MC-1s. Errant, Mercy, and his entourage would pack into that aircraft and be teleported to Catawaba, hell even Air Force Base Vipe in Neshoba. Of the other eight aircraft, he could unload a good bit of the cargo...he'd leave the specialties to the crews.

He turned to William, "Who do you have on the phone?"

His aide tucked the phone against his chest. "It's General Quigley, sir."

Errant raised an eyebrow. Last he'd heard, Quigley had been spending the night with a lady friend. Either the night had wrapped up early, or Quigley was his usual, nick of time, in the right place at the right time self. The latter being more likely. He held his hand out for the phone. Churchill handed the phone over, and Errant took a moment to gather himself, knowing that conversations with his cousin were frequently odd. "Matt, what's it like down there."

Matthew Quigley had the uncanny ability to make himself clearly heard over the whine of jet engines. "Glad to hear from ya, cuz. I was wondering where I was going to send my fighters. The Spacepigs, Swallows, and Dragonflies..well except mine and my wingman's, are all spun up and ready to go. We're about to get ready to destroy the sensitive equipment from the Extenders and 'Roos."

"Belay that, Matt!" Errant could hear Matt lean turn away from the phone and yell to someone else and get them to stop the activity on the transports.

He came back on, "I do love when you have good news, Err."

"Lady Shalamar's offering to teleport any craft we have...but that's an offer to everyone. If it won't tax her as much, I'd like to teleport the KC-10s and 'Roos to Argonia. The fighters and Swallow can make their own way along the same way. The buttoned-up 'Roo, that's going to have to go back home, we'll pack in there and go."

"Roger, Err. We'll get on to it. What about the other 'Roos and Extenders' cargo?"

"Dump the Deuce and Halfs, keep the Myth'aliks. Personal gear...sundries...if can be replaced leave it. I want to open the planes up to passengers." The trucks were a dime a dozen, the beskar armored HMMWVs were damned expensive.

The line was quiet for a moment as Matt issued orders. Matt's silence went for longer as he listened to a couple of people argue. After a minute or two, Matt came on, you could hear the broad, proud smile in voice. "Errant, Captain...I'm putting you up for Major, Ollie...Major Milquetoast has been in my presence too long. He's suggested that if we wanted to tax Lady Shalamar even less, we could get the transports to go to takeoff power right before they get 'ported...this is where it gets good...'ported thirty thousand feet straight up in the air. Major Milquetoast says it'd be easy as a stall recovery and then the bigun's could fly on to Argonia under their own power."

Errant pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a moment. Talking louder to the more distant phone. "You are a bad influence on them, cousin."

He ignored the laughter on the other end and sighed with a hint of smile on his face. Quigley had things working and under control. His surety was comforting as was his rock solid strength. Errant handed the phone which was now leting loose a chorus of hip-hip-huzzahs for the no-longer mediocre, now Major Milquetoast, if this all carried off of course. "Will, talk to the Colonel, get the arrangements for our aircraft. The transports can hold..."

"Roughly eleven hundred, sir. Probably less." Churchill the Amazing Abascus answered back.

Errant noded to that figure. "Yes, that. If he needs spaces off this rock, go ahead. Detach those craft as well after they unload our people and cargo to evacuate Argonians along with the Swallows." Churchill nodded and jogged towards the Argonian representative.

The Miraade turned to Shalamar. "I'll take ya up on yer offer, ma'am. Give me an hour to get my people ready, and I'll need one plane 'ported back home to Catawaba, I can give ya the coordinates if needed. My other eight large planes...well, my pilots say they only need a boost up to thirty-thousand feet and they can take it from there." He didn't think that roller coaster ride was going to be fun, but as insane as Quigley could be at time, he didn't outright risk others lives with his insanity. He looked up and around the room. "My planes can carry somewhere around a thousand people, less after I get all my people on. If anyone here needs to get their people out, I can get them a hop to Argonia."


William Churchill rounded the table and extended his hand to Colonel Ketlin. "Sir? William Churchill, aide to the Miraade."

"Sir, the Miraade would like to thank you for offering our aircraft safe haven. He'd also like to offer you and your people priority on spots on our cargo aircraft that will be going to your nation along with our fighters. He has also detached them to help evacuate your people. Unloaded, they can hold around eleven hundred souls."

Colonel Keltin accepted the offered hand with a firm but friendly hold...

"As tempting as your offer is Mr. Churchhill I believe I will remain here. I do, however, have four security personnel that are in need of transportation homeward. I've already sent word to Grayrock International that friendly aircraft will be arriving with refugees from the coasts. Please thank the Miraade for his assistance in this darkest of times. Inform him he has made a lasting impression on myself and by extension my people. If you are ever in need you have but to ask..."

Keltin gave the hand one last good shake before letting go, like he'd observed on some old American diplomacy videos...

"And with capacity for eleven-hundred we can completely evacuate the coastal villages in a single sweep. Many have already been relocated for the time being further inland..."

"Excuse me but everyone is forgetting a whole set of capabilities that are available to us. " Karavel Sendai, Travis's right hand were tigress, spoke up stopping every on in their tracks.

"Number one" She paused and gulped "the Grazer is still up there, and could be used to counter force any earth quakes. It's mothballed but could it be gotten on line in ten hours? And what about "god rods" -with ocean impacts to create counter tsunami's, or land strikes at fault lines perhaps early to relieve any strain built up in them... We boast about their precision placement. Imitora's fleet was heavy with them, one of their primary weapons systems. We rely on them less, but we have not only our fleets but the orbital launch systems..." She looked at Rob and Aeris, then to Boris.

What good was all the money the various nations had invested in all their high tech wizardry if they didn't use it when it could do something constructive?

Rob's eyes lit up " Ice Fire in reverse"

Karavel nodded and added "Could we fit a drone with a starships shields in ten hours...bring them into atmosphere and use them to block the waves...that’s just what it is isn't it - a wave form traveling though the water - block the waves energy and dissipate it? Imitora is gone, I don't understand what they did, but I believe what Lady Shalamar sees"

She paused and stated firmly "We can not, indeed must not let them take us with them. Can we some how throw up a barrier around the whole of Imitora, or most of the way, let the results of mega tons of land flopping back into the ocean from ten miles up be forced to go out to the south, south west away from us mostly?"


She turned to the holomap and began in putting ideas, as Travis rolled his chair away, a pleased look on his face. Her fingers danced lightly across the board gaining speed as she found that Myriad liked the basics of her ideas…

“And Yellen, you say this deserves nothing better than genocide? Karavel happens to be a were tiger.” Rob said softy to the Simataran President

A scroll of projected strengths and times of earthquakes that would devastate Fatal Terrain– tear the continents apart among every fault line - if not stopped, massive hyper Tsunami’s that would roll thousands of miles inland, and endless raging as every volcano -even those labeled extinct – vomited forth seemingly endless rivers of lava, poisonous gas and clouds of ash that blocked the sun for a devastating fimbul winter. When the vast mass of Imitora that was ‘floating ‘ ten miles up fell down… no it wouldn’t have the speed of the impact at Chicxulub but the mass was far greater. She had no idea how the Lady of Cats Keep proposed to deal with that, she was afraid to ask…for it would spawn a true extinction level event.

“That’s the worst…and now modified to my best guess – and forgive me Lady Shalamar I don’t know the towers full capabilities - as to the best that the psionics and the mages can do…” That would leave the region habitable, but the losses would be indescribable.

[OOC: For those of you not so well versed in ancient asteroid impact events, Chicxulub is the name of the crater off the coast of the Yucatan Peninsula that is thought to be the impact site for the asteroid that caused the extinction of the dinosaurs.

Oh, and WA, Errant is a man.]

Churchill nodded to Colonel Ketlin. "I understand, sir. We'd be glad to take your security team. They'll be good liasons between our forces. One moment, sir" Churchill turned away to notify General Quigley of the new developments and his destination. Churchill definitely had an air of military service about him, quite observable to the Argonian officer.

It was unlikely Churchill's dossier had made the rounds of government intelligence as of yet. He was a recent addition to the Miraade's service, and before that he'd been diplomatic aide to Catawaba's World Assembly Ambassador, Hayden Seigfried. Besides his recent diplomatic and administrative duty, he'd been a Marine officer, first serving as a tank platoon commander and then a general's aide. He had a depth of experience from the rough days at the heels of the Marine defection from the Togovians when Army and Marine tank squadrons clashed in the coastal lowlands to the relative peace when his division had been reforming itself. His comission was now a captain in the Marine Reserves, but he stil held close all the organizational experience he'd gained and now used in the service of the Miraade.

Errant blew out a breath as he took in all the goings on that ran a levels much above his level of ability. He clutched Mercy's hand and waited. He turned to his Guard compliment. He focused on Major Delaney. "Margaret, get up to the room and get my staff onto packing it all in. I'll suppose John is already on it, but I want to be sure they understand the severity."

She nodded. "On it, sir."

"And send Mird down here." Delaney nodded again and Errant looked back at at the map. There was so much needed to get done. Even under this all, there were still the hostages and the downed airliner to think about.

OOC: Noted. I get 'Mird' and 'Miraade' confused. So many different official titles :)

IC:

While Keltin wasn't a government agent and didn't have access to all of the foreign intel dossiers, he did recognize that the man carried himself like an officer and not an NCO. Perhaps that was Kerrich's downfall. The man was an excellent NCO and a horrible officer. Oh well, that was why he was currently hunting pirates...

"Indeed. There is a Chief Warrant Officer by the name of Ravik Kolto on my detail, one of my best men. I trust his judgement, and I ask that you do the same. He'll serve as your liason..."

[OOC: Alas, but Mird isn't a title. It's a name of one of the vornskrari. :P It's shortened from Mird'shelbs, means "smartass."

Now what you should get confusing is 'Mira'ad' and 'Miraade.' One is a surname and the other a title. Both roughly mean the same thing but have different cultural meanings. 'Mira'ad' means 'child of Mira' and is simply the clan name Errant, the Miraade, has adopted for his family which includes the vornskrari. 'Miraade 'on the other hand means "one of the children of Mira" and culturally refers to the belief that clan chieftains are divinely descended from the Mother Goddess, Mira. Hence the Alpha Miraade, is the most powerful or directly descended 'one of the children of Mira.']

Churchill nodded to Ketlin and passed along the name of the Argnonian NCO to General Quigley. He hung up. "Thank you, Colonel." He took a card of his suit jacket's breast pocket and handed it over. "My contact information's there. Use my mobile number if you need to get a hold of the Miraade, I'll be near by." With that the aide turned and jogged back to the Miraade. There was quite alot he needed to get done. First, he called up to the Catawaban suite to make sure his staff was getting thigns ready to go.

OOC: F**k all that. I'll just copy that into the file...

IC:

There was a nod of thanks exhanced between the two as Keltin took the card...

Yellen got a hold of a phone, his fingers slamming into the digits to get in touch Central Naval Command in Clarence. The line went through. "This is President Yellen, put me into contact with Admiral Bullock!"

He waited nervously as his eyes fixed to the hologram of the wave moving towards his country. He knew the bulk of the nation would be spared from the brunt of the wave due to the Tanaaran controled areas to the south of the Golden Simatar.

"Mr. President?" Bullock came on in a calm voice.

"Admiral! Where's the navy?"

"The Sixth Fleet is currently in dock...First and Ninth are heading out on wargames in the Vanyiar Sea....the Eighth Fleet is currently on patrol out of the region. Eleventh is following Most of the submarines are on their patrols."

"Get them north! Send all of your ships north! Get them above at least the Cohkra Isthmus now. Get every ship you can north of the Isthmus."

"Whatever for sir?" Bullock came back hard.

Yellen's frustration was evident on his face. Damn military going against him. "God dammit you ass there is a tsunami wave heading north through the Vanyiar sea. It'll sweep nearly everything out of the ocean."

Central Naval Command: Clarence, the Golden Simatar

Bullock smiled. He, like many of those in the military, hated the new President. He did anything his power to block Yellen in anyway he could. This story the President was spinning him was ridiculous, a tsunami heading through the Vanyiar sea? Yellen was probably fishing for a reason to fire him, that's all this was...a test.

"Look Mr. President, there hasn't been any reports of any large waves heading towards the Vanyiar sea." Bullock said with supreme confidence. "But I'll check."

Bullock put the phone down on the desk and hammered onto his computer. Linking his computer to the meteorological readouts, he stared at a plain screen. He picked up the phone again. "Mr. President, I don't see..."

The screen reloaded, as the image came up, Bullock could see the shape in the south of the Vanyier sea. "...Jesus...sir I'm making the calls now."

GSN Cthulhu
Vanyiar Sea

Admiral Jessica Rollins sat comfortably on the bridge of the stealth carrier. She looked at the radar display next to her. Nothing, she sighed and flicked on the locator. Instantly the beacons for five carriers, three battleships, eight cruisers, thirteen destroyers and support ships of the First and Ninth Fleets appeared on the screen. Below the sea, she knew there were several attack submarines and boomers a few miles away.

"Ma'am!" A young ensign, his headsets still latched to his ears, the cord dangling in the air. He held a piece of a paper. "Straight from Admiral Bullock at CNC."

"Tsunami?" She looked up at the ensign, the young man nodded before she could ask the obvious. She was a good sailor, she obeyed orders. "Alright, get me the weather charts now. Alert both fleets, turn north and move at flank speed. Helmsman, turn northward."

Within ten minutes, the First and Ninth fleets of the Golden Simatar were swinging northwards.


International Conference

Yellen smiled, though there was a heavy amount of anger in his face. "Thank you Admiral...or Mr. Bullock...I might decide to fire you. What about the sixth fleet in dock?"

"I'm trying to get those ships moving sir, but it might take a while."

"I want you to move faster, get those ships moving. Get in touch with the Secretary of State right now, get him to start an evacuation of the city and order evacuations for all seaside cities and settlements. Get every soldier mobilized, it probably won't deal much damage besides heavy flooding but we cannot risk it."

"Yes sir!" A new beat in Bullock's voice came through. "Right away!"

Yellen hung up. He would call the Secretary of State in exactly two minutes, just to make sure Bullock was moving. The Simatarian looked at the Archon.

"Our fleets in the Vanyiar sea are moving northward out of it. We have another fleet out of region on patrol, another heading out on patrol and another in dock. I also have evacuation orders given for the capitol and other seaside areas. Is there anything you need?"

"Could we fit a drone with a starships shields in ten hours...bring them into atmosphere and use them to block the waves...that’s just what it is isn't it - a wave form traveling though the water - block the waves energy and dissipate it?"

Boris took a moment to consider this. He was no scientist but he had been a general in the military when Assington developed a lot of the technology present on their starships and it seemed that in theory the shielding used could be adopted to extend a barrier around the north of Imitora in order to prevent any further backlash from leaving the area. It wasn't a sure thing but it was better than nothing.

"We could fit our shield generators onto fixed positions around Imitora. It would take a bit of time to customise them for ocean placement programming the field ranges but it's possible, I think. Approximately how many would we need?"

Jack had finished his phone calls and was confident the measures being implemented would ensure the safety of the nation. The talk of shield generators and such was going over his head but he continued to listen silently. Anything that could possibly mitigate the effects of this event was worth knowing about.

If these generators could block any further waves then perhaps they could also be established along vital areas of the coast, preventing millions of dollars in damage. Jack made a mental note to ask Boris about that, even if he wasn't sure it could actually be done.

Thor remained silent as the discussion moved onto potential means of erecting a barrier around what was left of Imitora. Talk of shield generators and space ships didn't mean much to him but he got the general idea of what the goal was. Erect a barrier that would prevent any further backlash from moving north towards the rest of the region. This was certainly something that Khadrim could contribute to, although he wasn't sure how many could be dedicated to the task. No doubt Ryath would have a report of the situation.

With a break in the discussion, Thor decided it was his time to offer some support. The conference had received Ryath and himself with open arms and offered support that would save their nation and thus is was the least he owed them.

"We may not know much about this shield technology but Khadrim should be able to offer magic users of some description that are quite adept at creating barriers designed to prevent things from getting out. We have done so in a number of locations in our homeland and would be happy to offer what assistance we can."

Once Ryath returned Thor would be able to confirm just how much support they could offer.

Colonel Keltin felt rather useless at this point. All this talk of shields and magic puzzled him. Barriers were walls and such, and even the greatest of engineers couldn't erect a wall around an area that size in ten hours...

"I feel rather useless in this reguard. My skills are limited to management and combat, and neither are of use at this time..."

The Colonel seated himself with a bit of a defeated look on his face. Bullets and blades were of no use against a natural disaster. The good news, however, was that the Argonian people could migrate off-world, and he hadn't thought of that. A certain Grandmaster otherwise engaged at this moment had ownership of two habitable worlds in different systems. Argonians had inhabited a small corner of the world for centuries, two worlds were an impossibly large second chance for his race.

It was an interesting option...

Rob saw the look on Keltin's face and moved over to him.

"Colonel I'll make no bones that I think your government is corrupt, those occupying high positions acting in their interests, not in the whole of your people...however I have come to know and respect your people though my friendship with Whiptail, and through my knowing Sir Daveed who has worked extensively with your military.

"I can't speak for Whiptail, but I can speak for the worlds Tanaara holds. One of the moons in the Aaru system, Laraune, is almost earth sized, has a 'standard' gravity, needs no terra forming. It has native foods and animal life that will be edible by Argonians, and humans alike. Climate is warm, almost tropical, humid, and since the moon as a lesser tilt than Earth does, milder climates."

"You say that you are good at organizeing - can you get five million of your people - or more - ready to go off word in ten hours? Because if you can I'm willing to reveal the other great find of our little trip out to V 838 mons."

He caught Shalamar's sharp eyed glance over as she keyed in on what he was offering, and shrugged "What good is it if we don't use it? My people are going to scream bloody murder, at moving and dialing in that big a Stargate in ten hours under these conditions, but they'll do it."

The PDA was out again, and in about ten minutes Ket had a plan worked up to divert five million willing refugees, who were under the impression their homes and property were going to be destroyed anyway, along with a single Argonian National Army Division to include aerial support and logistical elements and all associate family members ready to go and mobilization had begun, they just needed a destination...

"Your offer is most generous, and I fear that deploying a segment of our population into space could spark another conflict..."

Keltin paused, a look of foreign mischief coming across his features...

"But I am not afraid of war. Should my space-faring brethren found another government free of corruption I would gladly defect. I tire of my nation's reputation being soiled by the petty whims of diplomats..."

There was a little more tapping on the PDA...

"I only require a destination. You have five million refugees and an entire Army division to send where you will..."

"We have done so in a number of locations in our homeland and would be happy to offer what assistance we can."

"We could fit our shield generators onto fixed positions around Imitora. It would take a bit of time to customise them for ocean placement programming the field ranges but it's possible, I think. Approximately how many would we need

"Thor, could you consult with Aeris, and Mim here, she's my senior liaison to the Towers Arcana of Cats Keep." She then turned to Assington's President "Boris, we're going to need shields to cover at least eight thousand miles of arc. That will include your and Tanaaras mechanically created shields, the mage constructed and psi constructed. I honestly don't know if we can create that much as a 'solid' line but if we could create a dotted line, that should shatter the displacement wave - if what the techies have been telling me is right about tsunami's, hydrophysics and other geological physics that are as weird to me as psionics might be to a mundane.." The ancient woman smiled briefly. "I don't want any one pushing themselves into fatal energy drain.


"I only require a destination. You have five million refugees and an entire Army division to send where you will..."

"Keltin, you tell me where they are located. It's easier to move one thing than five million. It's just bulky and weighs a lot, but we figured out how to move it and power it....all your people have to do is walk, ride or drive thought it. Yes it's big enough to handle two MBTs side by side....and don't forget their pets." Rob replied with a small smile.

He looked over at the small side hologram running the projections on the Exit Strategy operation and was pleased to see the numbers rising steadily. He also knew that his aids had contacted the remnants of the Central Worlds flee and advised them to begin evacuating all of their remaining Central Words citizens, whether they wanted to go or not.

Five hours past, then ten as every one worked together to save their nations, and their regions from the building disaster.

Numura and the entire ship and crew from the Three Golden Kingdoms was teleported to the nearest body of water to that nations Empress. Contact had been made with the DUS, Nexxus, and other non attendees, advising them of the ongoing disaster and suggestions as to mitigate the calamity. In the midst of all of this Shalamar took three hours off to meditate…

A few more quick taps on the PDA brought up an image of Grayrock International Airport, where most refugees were being quartered on the far edge of the property, and that camp numbered around five million displaced individuals in total, a massive complex had been hastily errected to deal with the massive numbers...

"We'll shut down an airstrip and move the military into place first, send the troops and transports on in followed with the civilians. The operation is going to take a while though at two vehicles side by side. I'd say around five hours..."

Ket would have to visit this new planet at some point...

"And please sir, refer to me as 'Ket'. My official title is of little use at this point..."

"Boris, we're going to need shields to cover at least eight thousand miles of arc. That will include your and Tanaaras mechanically created shields, the mage constructed and psi constructed."

Boris whistled at the figure, realising just how large an area they had to cover. Obviously it was too big to cover entirely and the fragmented barrier was certainly better than nothing. It was simply a matter of how many they could set up in time and hopefully it would be enough.

"Alright, I'll get as many generators as I can to begin setting up. How far back from the hot zone do you wish to establish the perimeter?"

Jack was on the phone once again, attempting to gain an idea of how many generators could be spared from the various vehicles in the military and wherever else they were in use. Despite not being military minded like Boris, Jack had a knack for pre-empting what Boris wanted and gathering the the necessary information. It allowed them to work very well together despite their different personalities.

Boris certainly didn't know the maths and physics of waves and the sort but he'd have his own people crunch some numbers and work out just what sort of forces they were dealing with so they could get a reasonable idea of how much power the generators would need to hold.

Errant knew that he had nothing left to do here. He didn't have any magical abilities to wield, and his technology was good enough to get most of his people out of danger. He took in a deep breath and gathered his things.

It was time to go.

A glance at Mercy and a nod from her confirmed that she was thinking the same thing. Churchill was deep in conversation on his mobile phone. Errant caught his eyes and flicked them upwards and then nodded his head towards the door. Churchill made an okay sign and left the room, turning towards one of the stairways up to the Catawaban suite. Errant closed his notebook and clicked his pen to retract the tip and then slid the pen down into a pouch on his belt. That was one curse of a Taung tunic and kama, no pockets. Thankfully, his weapon belt was festooned with pockets. He looked around the table. He informed them that he and his people were going to skeedaddle.

He explained to Shalamar the preparations that he and his would be needing from her and her people. First, one Kangaroo transport was going to need to be teleported to the provided coordinates over Graceland. The coordinates were those for his Mansion. No one had any business flying over the Miraade's residence for the no-fly zone that was in place over it, a heavily, prejudicially, and anti-aircraft battery enforced no-fly zone to be precise. With an added Z coordinate of thirty thousand feet, his 'Roo was sure not to meet any other aircraft or any of the Mansion when it appeared at its destination. Another set of coordinates, this was the destination of teleportation for the other four 'Roos and the four KC-10s. They were going to be 'ported about thirty thousand feet straight above the airport here at the International Island.

He'd fly onto Graceland International and land. The eight other planes would continue onto Grayrock International Airport, accompanied by the sixteen fighters and two Swallows. He once again made his offer to take anyone who needed a ride out of here on the open spaces aboard his aircraft. He looked around the table once more and wished them all luck and the protection of whatever diety or force they believed in. He and Mercy swept out of there to wait in the lobby. He avoided looking at the pillar of light still issuing forth from Imitora.

His Guards closed in around him, and he turned his attention to them. They were nervous, tense, and anxious, but they were relieved that they were around him. Either that he was under their protection and eye or that he was here to give them the strength they needed. Mird was trotting up a moment later, and Errant turned to meet his brother with a smile. He looked from his brother to his sister. Gold was tense, her crimson eyes flashed around the room.

How discomforting it must feel to feel everyone all the time, Errant thought. He could feel emotions, but it was like pushing out of a mental shell to do it. He didn't get it easily. He figured his mind had long ago built him walls, perhaps when he was young, to shield him from what he might feel or discern from others. The emotions of others were a disturbing thing when you felt them as your own as they overpowered your own. He knew that was what Gold felt, and a glance towards Mird confirmed that he was feeling the same tension. They couldn't turn off their senses. They'd never built walls to protective themselves, if they had the Togovians had torn them all down.

Errant reached over and grasped the shoulders of his siblings. "Vode." He said firmly to bring them back to themselves and calm them. He continued once they looked at him. "Ner vode, those bastards with the MASER still owe us some blood." His voice was cold. "I invited them as guests. My hospitality put them under the aegis of our allit. Those bastards pulled off the road to our house. We are responsible for them. They are alive, but I can't imaginge they've come through this unscathed."

He was quiet as he looked between shining pair of their crimson eyes. "They can't have come through unbloodied. Their magic was green, or so the Empress said." They didn't need an explanation or elaboration to get a shiver at the mental images of the result. The two vornskrari's pointed ears flattened against their skulls. Their long tails went rigid in a S-curve low and near their legs. Errant brought both of his hands back and placed them over their heart. "I know what hostage takers do. I know, that a few are going to get smacked around and beaten, if they're lucky it ends there, but blood was spilled, I know it. I reckon lives are ended."

"They are our guests. Their skulls are on my heart as sure as they were family." He looked between them again and then down at his own hands before placing a hand over each vornskari's heart. "You are my blood as sure as we were born of the same line. You are my brethern by word and bond. The ash of their skulls is on my heart. I must take the blood price required of me as their host, but I cannot. You, my blood, must take that price in blood for me." He was silent again as he left the oath settle in over them. This was no ad hoc promise but a ritual as old as the Taung itself.

"I must send two of my best to hold up Catawaba's end of the rescue mission. I would send my blood because I know my siblings are the best in Catawaba. However with the unrest and calamity about to befall our home, I have not the time or ability to ask any other of our siblings. I ask you out of necessity but also out of confidence in your ability. Will you take up the debt of blood I owe?"

The vornskrari stared down at Errant. They didn't need to spare a glance to each other to make up their minds. They covered the hand Errant had over their hearts with their own and then placed theirs over his. Mird spoke for the both of him for he knew more of Taung ritual than Gold, and for once Gold was sheepishly guilty did not know more of the culture her siblings had adopted. "Ner vod, your debt is the debt of the allit without asking. We shall demand the blood that the enemy owe us, every drop and dram they took from our guests in as near as fashion as they took from our guest."

Errant felt their strong hearts pulsing beneath his hands for a long, hushed moment. He took his hands from their hearts and squeezed them over the hands they placed on his heart. He smiled even though he felt tears in his eyes. He was sending them to die. He knew...well, he didn't know, but he feared it. "Re'turcye mhi, ner vod'ike/" He said good bye and gave them one last squeeze. They gave each other a glance before sweeping their brother and Miraade up into a hug and telling him not to worry, as they knew was required of him but not likely to happen.

They released him and nodded to the rest of the Guards and Mercy before turning to leave. They needed to gather their gear which was fortunately just up in the room. Neither of them had rotated out to the airport. As they were leaving, a voice called out. "Hey, Pendejo!" Everyone turned to see little Maria Salva, the corporal in charge of fireteam currently protecting Errant, stride from the group and plant an accusing finger on Mird's chest. "You take care of yourself, amigo. Don't you do something stupid. Comprendes?"

Mird smiled. "You know me."

"Damn right, I do. You act like yourself and I will have your ass in hock, amigo." She dropped her MORS down to the end of its assault sling and gave him a quick bear...cub...hug and then pushed him away, hard enough for him to stumble. She looked over at Gold. "Watch both of your tails, Sarge." She was serious but it wasn't a threat.

Gold nodded with a little grin. "I know I'll have to." She pulled the slightly bewildered Mird along with her as she made for the stairs up to the suite. They passed the first of the staffers and the suite's fireteam as they passed by with bags and boxes of things to load into the Mytha'liks in the basement garage. Mird told his fireteam he'd been detailed off by the Miraade and said good bye. All of them wished each copious amounts of luck and threw a few quick verbal jabs to bolster their confidence as they went on their respetive ways. Salva took up her rifle again and returned to her spot, covering Errant. Salva's concern for Mird was a bit more than a comrade, but how far was uncertain. She'd opened up that worried side of her for a brief moment to say good bye to him and then slammed it shut as soon as she'd turned to Gold. From then on she was the same tense, pursposed aura that she'd had before.

Delaney ran down the stairs and informed them that she'd tasked one of the Swallows to come pick up the Miraade, one fireteam, and the members of his staff essential for dealing with the crisis back home. Space on the 'Roo headed home was at a premium since it also held sensitive Air Force equipment that could not be abandoned here on the II or taken to Argonia and stored there while the 'Roo helped evacuate the Argonians. The non-essential staffers and the other Guards would go with the planes heading to Argonia and pitch in with the relief efforts there.

Errant looked to Mercy. "You have anything you need to do?"

"Thor, could you consult with Aeris, and Mim here, she's my senior liaison to the Towers Arcana of Cats Keep."

Thor nodded and promptly made his way around the the table to where Aeris and Mim were standing, greeting them both. He knew very little of either nation or their methods but he figured it wouldn't be too difficult to sort out and coordinate arcane efforts between them all.

"I cannot say anything definitely until Ryath returns with a report on the status of the war but Khadrim has two potential resources that could be useful for this task. One is other human mages like myself that are versed in maintaining barriers around certain dangerous areas of our homeland and the other is the red dragon species, they possess a natural ability to control the elements and may be able to aid in redirecting any water that poses a threat to the region."

Thor's face was still hidden under the hood of his dark blue robes but it was obvious he was gazing at the two before him as his eyes still glowed with the faint light of mage sight.

Aeris's mind had been working overtime, and any whom might be daring to take a peek, would see that she was quite rapidly flipping through scenarios and ideas, some even absurd as quickly as a flipbook. Her thoughts dismissed some outright, and lingered on others, but at last, she came upon an idea. After the initial greetings to Thor and Mim, she launched into a quick lesson on physics. Quite basic enough really, but it would get them to the plan she had in mind.

"The kinetic energy of waves, and in this case, this tsunami relies on two different types of energy. Vortex energy and Longitudinal energy. Imagine a whole segment of ocean from the sea floor to the surface. The most activity one sees is on the surface, but the farther one travels downward, and depending on how deep it is, the harder it is to mimic the movement at the surface as a result of combined effect of gravity and surrounding pressure from other water molecules. Tsunamis are essentially larger forces of vortex energy that could travel, for instance, in a clockwise circular motion. Then, as a "fixed point" (like a ship for example) reaches the farthest point it can travel before returning and repeating the same process again, it is picked up by the next vortex and propelled forward. This movement forward is longitudinal energy."

Aeris glanced at the others, hoping they understood. She had done what she could to simplify it as best as possible. [[ooc: link from which I'm deriving all this from. You don't have to read the whole thing, but do look at the pics, they are quite helpful... (http://www.primasounds.com/PrimaSounds/ch14.html)]].

"Anyway, once a tsunami's kinetic energy reaches shallower waters, it rises upward, creating their fearsome height and destructive power. Then, to expend that energy, it must crash against an immovable object such as landmass and be repelled."

She upheld her palm now, her fingers moving back and forth a moment as she summoned a compressed collection of water. She repeated the vortex energy pattern, creating the waves. Glancing up at the others a moment, she spoke, "I think if we force a gravitational field directly down on the waves in question, we might be able to suppress and either minimize or outright halt the tsunami's progression and return it to its normal state." Now, a dark colored unidentifiable shape took place over the waters, pressing downward until the waves were compressed and forced to arrest their building energies. Then, slowly, she raised the pseudo-gravitational field until it was clear of the water, and all that remained were the normal waves seen out at sea.

"Perhaps if that is too difficult to do together, we can use the same method to redirect the wave elsewhere until it dissipates...but, I'd hate to inadvertently send this wave elsewhere in the world and accidentally threaten an outside nation of our region with it's destructive power."

The imagery of her plan continued on loop, allowing the others to see it again if they wished and think for a moment.

Karavel Sendai, who had been getting a quick lesson in tsunami's shook her head uncertainly "Thats a wave form in air, which as I'm being told is much different that one in water."

But she quickly submitted Aeris's idea to Myriad, who in seconds came back in agreement with her. Trying to compress the tsunami's energy with gravity would not work.

Tsunamis are unlike wind-generated waves, in that they are characterized as shallow-water waves, with long periods and wave lengths. A tsunami can have a wavelength in excess of 100 km and period on the order of one hour.

As a result of their long wave lengths, tsunamis behave as shallow-water waves. A wave becomes a shallow-water wave when the ratio between the water depth and its wave length gets very small. Shallow-water waves move at a speed that is equal to the square root of the product of the acceleration of gravity and the water depth. Because the rate at which a wave loses its energy is inversely related to its wave length, tsunamis not only propagate at high speeds, they can also travel great, transoceanic distances with limited energy losses.

"No... Not compressing it with gravity, that would just compress the ocean floor and not stop the energy transfer -but using arcana to create gravity based barriers along with the others - to stop it in it's tracks as if those barriers were a seashore."

They needed 8 thousand miles of hemisphere arc of ocean covered, in the fashion of a dotted line...and the breaks in the line would actually help, the 'edges ' of each dash of barrier acting to bring about a breaking up the waves...

"We're going to have to coordinate the creation and placement of each bit of barrier." Mim said thoughtfully "We can't ask any one psi, mage, or group to create and hold indefinitely. We're going to depend on observations from the orbitals to tell us the minute the waves begin, and that may be tricky. Hopefully our sensors will be able to detect the impacts and creation no mater how strange the forces working in and about Imitora are.

Few people ever realise that the nation of Cats Keep numbers over five billion. It is a naation sprawling over several Realities and physical places. Barely fifty thousand live in the heatland of the nation a tiny valley deep with in the towering uprising called located deep in the Lossefanyar Athan Snow beyond the Sky, a massive mountain system which splits the continent of Araelmen, and bests the better known Himalayas in breath and heights.

However in the last few hours all of them, no matter where they have been scattered, have been called home. A million Guardians and five full Towers had been dispatched to enforce Cats Keeps rule over Callisdrun, High Port and Ravea. But that was barely a drop in the proverbial bucket.

Five billion Gifted, psi, mage or both, though in reality the vast majority fell squarely into the minimal category. But even that was useful in the right hands, and Cats Keep Adepts had long trained to be just those right hands.

And now for over ten hours they had worked tirelessly to move people to safety. But now began their real work, work that would see a sizeable portion of them dead, giving their Gifts to the last measure...

At the fifteen hour mark Shalamar had seen every one still at the Conference off the island. She knew that the supposedly extinct volcano that formned the International Island was going to awaken, and render the island unsuitable for the effort to save the region.

She had sent them to their home nations, save for those that wished to stay with her and now, in a realm that was but half a step removed from reality she and the others began the final battle...

With her personal Circle arrayed about her - the monitors moving from one to another silently checking to make sure that the bodies they had left behind were not faltering -

She joined them as they made contact with the militaries of Tanaara and Assington, the Dragons and Mages of Khadrim, the circles of Elves and other Mages of Tarlachia, as well as all other beings through out the region who wished to lend their efforts to keep Fatal Terrain alive.

What was left of Imitora's military had no choice, and the launch of Imitoran WMDs commenced. The variable yield plasma war heads were set to full explosive power, humbling even the most powerful of modern nuclear weapons. Yet the MRV warheads spiraled out of control, and brought down their cargo on the major cities of the island nation, death rates reaching close to the 100% mark.

Northampton burned.

By eleven at night, the two building that were Arklay floated off the ground, tossing debris aside. No bodies were seen as the starless, moonless night sky turned a deep blood red. The air started to swirl in a dark cloud, similar to a hurricane. However, what fell from the swirling clouds was not rain, wind, and hail. No, what fell from the sky was dark, thick, and red.

It rained blood.

The suicide rate in Imitora, for that one hour, climbed dramatically. Bodies threw themselves from the windows of sky scrapers and high rise apartments. Others walked into the path of on coming traffic. Some used the traditional method of simply drinking a glass of water, and washing it down with a bullet.

Those that survived thought the worst had passed, that the end had come and it was time to rebuild. No, it was just the calm of the storm. Nothing more.

The rotating cloud mass emitted one last light, a second, dark crimson beam. The demons that came from the beam would put even the great demon lords to shame, and these were just the underlings. They tore into the survivors, ripping through anything that tried to stop them with violent abandon. None were even remotely human.

The final assault came at exactly midnight

Mercy had kissed her son and his wife good bye, hiding her fears deep within so that no one could sense them.

"You have anything you need to do?"

"No Dear Heart, I'm ready." She replied and took his hand and didn't let go of it though the ride to the airport. Little was said on the ride, she was busy marshalling her resources, searching in her thoughts for what she could do to help the Catawabans. She had taken a few minutes to record a message for the people she had ruled as queen for so long, and Rob would take it with him and see that it was broadcast. She had also given him instructions about her personal holdings in Tanaara. That was the best she could do now that she found herself in a position far reduced than the one she had once held.

She did her best to make sure that she was going to be a support to Errant rather than any sort of burden.

Celestial Maiden Starship
High Orbit Above Fatal Terrain

Boris and Jack both stood upon the bridge of the starship that had been waiting at their need. Once it became clear that there was nothing else that could be done at the conference they had said their goodbyes to the other delegates and promptly beamed aboard the spacecraft far above the region. The current heads up display screen that covered a large stretch of wall space on the bridge was displaying a combination of scenes composed from sensors and satellite readings, all observing the region.

Most nations were a frantic buzz of activity as transports scurried through the skies and across land, attempting to shift people out of the worst impact zones of the predicted mega tsunami and other catastrophic events that were likely to occur according to Lady Shalamar. Boris trusted the woman to act in the best interests of the region but he didn't know a thing about magic and psychics and all that supernatural mumbo jumbo. All that mattered was that she was sure something bad was going to happen and that everyone needed to be ready.

The majority of the coastal populations from southern Assington had been moved inland thanks to the quick military mobilisation and action whilst a number of shield generators had also been established at key points along the coast of all Assingtonian land. The military didn't possess enough generators to aid in erecting a barrier closer to Imitora and shielding the entire coast but it was enough to hopefully reflect the majority what may break through the initial barrier.

Boris smiled inside at the thought that Jack had come up with that idea. Jack was a great politician but wasn't really suited for quick ideas for immediate and practical implementation. No doubt someone else would have thought of it eventually but every minute counted in this situation and Jack had proven himself once again to be an excellent choice for Vice President.

"Captain, focus on footage of the generators closest to Imitora."

"Yes sir."

Captain Brian Fuller was a reliable man in his late sixties, greying hair cut closely to his scalp. The man had been loyal to Boris during the coup and seen his share of combat missions, many leaving him with somewhat uncomfortable disabilities. These days Fuller's duties involved ferrying around government officials and he was likely to retire soon. Regardless of such, until he stepped down he would continue to run a tight ship.

Within seconds the multiple images on the HUD disappeared as one screen grew dominant. On display were hundreds of small cruisers hovering in the air and a number of surfaced submarines, all surrounding multiple floating platforms where men and woman worked franticly to establish sea worthy shield generators designed to withstand the force of whatever would be unleashed. Everyone watched in silence before a communications officer broke the silence.

"Sir, we have a relayed transmission from a Lady Shalamar of Cats Keep."

Fuller looked to Boris for orders and Boris simply nodded. An extremely clear and vivid image of Imitora took over the screen, the point of view changing constantly to display the many horrors that were occurring upon the island nation. The destruction was like nothing anyone on board had seen before and the silence took on an eerie note. If people weren't being obliterated by nukes or slaughtered by what could only be demons, they were killing themselves. It was madness. After several minutes of watching the chaos, Jack spoke in a hushed tone.

"Almost makes you wish you were a religious man..."

Boris simply nodded.

"Almost."

Ryath had returned briefly to the conference an hour or so before everyone was sent away. After being briefed further on the situation she reasoned that Khadrim could likely spare two thousand red dragons but in order to be safe no humans could participate in the task, what little was left of the human resistance was hard pressed and did not possess the resources of the dragons. After brief discussion and saying their goodbyes to the delegates, both Ryath and Thor returned to Khadrim.

Opening his eyes, Thor found himself standing upon a large cliff top, Ryath next to him and a number of other dragons sprawled behind him. He was home and yet it saddened him. They'd been away from Khadrim for over a year and had utterly failed in their task whilst the people died and the land was torn to pieces by Xerxes and his mindless horde.

Looking down on the land before him Thor could see the massive black clad army sitting beyond what appearing to be a massive chasm between them and the dragonic mountains. Whilst the chasm was deep it wasn't very wide but a lack of building materials meant the arm had nothing to build a bridge with. It was a stalling tactic but the dragons were attempting to leave as many humans alive as possible with the hope they could be salvaged if Xerxes' grip on them could be broken.

Turning away from the army, Thor shifted his gaze onto Ryath. Her eyes also held a sadness as she gazed out on the land they called home. The situation certainly wasn't good. Knossoss was the only human stronghold remaining, the elves were still very much frozen in the forests, the dwarves had not been heard from and thus Xerxes' army had been free to ravage what was left of the human resistance and concentrate on attacking the dragons. After a brief silence she spoke.

"The south is shielded by mountains and the forests of the east are all frozen solid so we should not fear significant damage. The dwarven territory will likely suffer significant flooding but as you know there is little above ground to be destroyed. The land will suffer but not die, unless we stop Xerxes. We are lucky the natural geography of our land protects us from most of this wave."

Thor simply nodded. All they could do now was wait for word from Shalamar in order to coordinate the efforts of two thousand red dragons with whatever other forces would be employed to minimise damage to the region.

Fifteen hours passed in a whirlwind of activity. Then twenty and they still worked on as the beginning of the end began.

There was a reason that citizenship had to be earned. And it was the direness of times such as this that proved the effort was worth it. The citizens of Tanaara did not panic, but reported to duty stations and set about doing what was needed to save their nation - with all due haste yes, but with organized efficiency, with little complaint or confusion. They knew from the start that they were destined to loose – they were facing an event that would if unhindered tear a whole plane apart let alone a few close lying continents…but they would not give up – they had not been bred to. Their founders had cut themselves off from all they had known to breed that hardiness and enduring strength in to their descendants.

Things could be replaced, but lives could not and those in the danger zones were evacuated first, then the rest, most by the Exit Strategy planning agreed upon between Tanaara and Cats Keep. Other were moved via mass transporter beam up to the many orbital habitats – they could quadruple their populations for a time with no ill effect…

And the many vast orbital Arcologys – even larger than the modified Island Three /O’Neil habitats - mothballed since the Dark War, were hastily brought on line and opened for those from Tarlachia needing refuge. They had once been home to over five billion people and could be again, if with few amenities than before - not unexpected given the suddenness of their reactivation…But the basics of food, water, power and residences were available.

Else where Tanaaran technicians struggled to modify shield generators just as Assingtonians ones did, and often the curses dyed the air blue, but every one ignored that. In orbit weapons platforms calculated and recalculated impact points for their Fingers of God, and ran simulations, their faces set in stone as they ‘fired’ on their own nation, or allies. Impact to deny a natural earthquake with an artificial one would have to come so precisely…

The Tanara’s had given Tanaara all of their own shield generators from the ships they had in orbit, along with technicians to install them, but even those they knew would not be enough.. Their transporters too were being fully utilized moving those of The Militarized Zone off of their tiny island nation.

And every zoological institution with in the coastal zones was being emptied as well.

But how does one understand the enormity of what was going to happen….

Canary Island Mega Tsunami (http://www.rense.com/general56/tsu.htm) That’s one small chunk of a relatively small island simply sliding into the ocean

KT Event (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cretaceous%E2%80%93Tertiary_extinction_event) That’s just one part of a mountain hitting, though it was going faster…

Yellowstone Mega Volcano (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yellowstone_Caldera) That’s just one volcano…

Then the Horseman appeared...

The final assault came at exactly midnight. It came not from the sky but the ground. A humanoid figure, standing a solid eight foot six, covered from head to toe in a dark black cloak. There were no hands from the end of the sleeves, instead five long tendrils in place of fingers. Upon close examination, one would see the tendrils were actually a variety of snakes, each one acting as a different finger.

A hard wind, an unnatural wind, blew the cloak open, revealing no flesh, but exposed bone, with chunks of muscle hanging from the bone. A spine connected somewhere to the upper skull, but it had no lower jaw. Flesh, dark, cold, and grey, covered the skull, but no eyes were visible. Instead, a cold, dark green flame, tipped purple flickered from each socket. The cloak rolled back around the figure.

Behind it came a equine figure, equally looking of nothing more than bone and exposed muscle. What little flesh covered it was a dark, dirty green, and each time it snorted, flames flared out from its nostrils.

The rider climbed the mount, surveying the hell on earth that at one time had been the High Republic of Imitora. No more. The horse reared up, and as it came back down, more small shock waves flared from its hooves.

It spoke, or, more or less emmited words, with each a similar green and purple flame flaring from where its lower jaw would be.

And his name, that sat on him, was Death. And Hell followed with him.

The hose reared up, but did not snort. From the mouth of the horse came an ear piercing screech, audible as far away as Montgaurd. When the hooves came back to the ground, the island cracked, clear from north coast to south coast, deep to the base of the earth.

The land began to tip, the two halves sinking in slowly from the inside out. By noon on Saturday, the eastern and western most coasts now stood a clean ten miles in the air, slanting in sharply towards what had once been the center of island. The air stunk of sulfur, and the sky still burned a deep red. The swirling cloud had done nothing to recess, and was still pouring forth demons of all sorts.

The entire population of Imitora was dead. A few souls had escaped to other lands, but those numbered in the tens, and there was no intention on returning to reclaim the land. Demons roamed the fall out, the ruins of once great cities, killing any survivors they found. There would be no resistance, no push to force the beasts out.

At the center of it all was the horseman, armed with a wicked looking sword that promised death to anyone it touched.

Arklay had served its purpose well, finding a way to easily access other worlds and dimensions. What it had done, though, was to unleash those other worlds upon Imitora.

Imitora burned.

Though tense and anxious to be home, the Catawabans still performed well in preparing to leave in a hurry. With all the teleportation, space was still open aboard the transports. That relieved a lot of people. While it might have been necessary to toss of personal possessions and nonessential equipment to make room and the soldiers and airmen would have done it professionally and quick, no one wanted to leave their things behind, and crew chiefs were content to know that every bit of equipment that had been assigned under their responsibility was going to make it to its destination…eventually.

The baggage and gear nonessential to the running of Catawaba’s government was loaded into the Mytha’liks down in the garage, and three Guards split off to drive them to the airport to be loaded onto one of the waiting Kangaroos. Errant, and Mercy, the other Guards, personnel, and essential baggage waited as the two Swallows swooped into the helicopter pad behind the conference building. The two tilt-wing jets were running low and fast.

Urgency was the watch word, but you could feel that the Swallow crews were enjoying their chance to prove their worth and that of their beloved ships. The two Swallows’ wings began rotating upward as they closed in on the pad and then noses tilted up as they used their now vertically facing engines to slow their forward movement. The wings rotated independently in opposite directions to spin the Swallows’ tails around to face their crouching passengers. They sent down with a last roar of their engines and a massive gust of their wash as it spread over the ground. Then the throttles were yanked back, the blast died, and the aft doors rose and the ramps lowered.

The crew chiefs scrambled out of their craft and came to their passengers. Bellowing over the engines, they directed their Miraade and his people into one Swallow and helped the Guards load the baggage and gear into the other. A few minutes, and everyone was belted in and gear was netted and lashed down. The eight engines of the two Swallows roared to life as the tilt-wing transports jumped to the air again. A whine of hydraulics and they were zooming along the trees and roofs on the way to the airport.

Another few agonizing minutes later of worried glances and silence both due to the noisy aircraft and because of the tension, the Swallows repeated their landing dance and set down near the C-141 Kangaroos. Errant made sure to climb up the narrow passage way to thump the pilot on shoulder and yell thanks down to the gunner. He scrambled back down the passage and back out of the Swallow. He threw a salute to the dark helmeted pilot and gunner of the other Swallow while the other Swallow was being unloaded of its cargo.

He spun around the flight line. The KC-10s and C-141s were winding up, readying to take off. All ground crew and Air Force personnel were aboard their rides out of here. The LA-10 Spacepig pilots were ready with their canopies cracked, waiting. Spacepig wasn’t the official designation of the LA-10. In keeping with the tradition of aircraft created by Republic Aviation Company having official names that are never used again except by bureaucrats and anal-retentive historians, the LA-10 had been designated the Thundersquall, and the name was hardly mentioned again by pilot or mechanic.

Most of the FB-2 Dragonflies were closed up already, mostly owing to their better environmental systems which made them more comfortable sitting on the tarmac. One two-seat Dragonfly-B was still open. Both crew members were standing on their ejection seats. One was unmistakable, even his flight suit, gear, and helmet; that was his cousin General Matthew Quigley. He turned from his survey of the flight line and his planes to loft a hand up in a wave that turned in not quite flippant salute that Errant was more than used. Errant waved and returned the salute. Matt’s backseater he was less familiar with. It was a woman. The curves were also unmistakable even at this distance. He glanced at the other Dragonflies which were fully crewed, but the other Dragonfly-B only had a pilot. He dismissed it. Matt knew his business.

Errant felt a tug on his arm, and Mercy was tell him that the crew chief from the Kangaroo taking him home was saying that they were ready to go. He went with her and boarded the plane. They belted themselves into the jumpseats along the bulkhead and waited for takeoff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Matt stood in his Dragonfly watching the Miraade’s Kangaroo close up and begin taxing towards the damaged runway. All the pilots followed the Roo as it cruised away to be the first of the strangest flight of their lives. The Roo moved quickly and smoothly to the runway. While it was damaged nearly halfway down its length and unusable to larger planes, it did have enough distance unmarred for the larger aircraft to build up some forward movement. The pilots had talked over with the Cats Keep casters that had come to perform the teleportation and had agreed that giving the big planes a bit of headway would help them get to full power and have some forward velocity to make the stall recovery after the teleportation easier.

Even though he had the confidence of Quigley in his plan, it was after all just crazy enough to work, Matt was nervous to put his cousin in the first attempt. He held his breath as the young lieutenant flying the Kangaroo moved the throttles forward and released his brakes. He gave a countdown as he sped down the runway. He let himself hurtle towards the uplifted and subsided concrete ahead as much as he could stand before calling to the casters to teleport.

One instant the big transport was there, and the next instance it wasn’t. They stood hushed and communications equipment switched over to a tactical channel straight from Air Force Command.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One second they hurtling down a runway for takeoff, and the next they were freefalling. Negative G forces pushed them up into their harnesses. Even expecting it, there were still curses, yelps, and a scream quickly ended by a comrade clamping a hand over the Guard’s mouth to protect a fellow Guard’s dignity. They plummeted for what seemed like an eternity before the Kangaroo’s nose rose and fought upward for altitude. After a terrifying sensation of being flung back into their seats and having the hand of a giant pressing down on their chest, the plane leveled out. There was a chorus of cheers, the loud Hu-Roos of vornskr hunting howls, and promises to buy the pilots rounds, get them women, or go to bed with them.

The Roo banked down in a smooth controlled fashion as it headed for Graceland International Aerodrome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The flight line back at the International Island sagged with relief and rose with cheers as the news of the Miraade’s Roo’s sudden appearance over Graceland. The plan had worked, and the plane was safe. Matt acknowledged the report from up the chain and switched back to the local channel he and his command was using. “Alright, y’all, we’re gonna owe Milquetoast a good callsign for this one. Keep that in mind when ya can, but first let’s get into the air. Remember to watch that first step, it’s a doozy.”

He pushed the laughs over the radio as he turned around and instructed Victoria on how to belt in. He pointed out what she could touch, what she shouldn’t touch, and what she should never touch. He also went through the procedures for ejections. He didn’t assure her that they wouldn’t need to use that knowledge, that’d just insure that she would need to use that knowledge.

With her situated, he turned back to the flight line. Another Roo was taxing down the runway, lead by two LA-10s. The LA-10s could make it up in the undamaged distance of the runway, and Matt had thought it prudent that since they had eight heavies and sixteen fighters that two fighters accompany each transport. The Spacepigs roared down the runway, rotated upwards long short of the damaged stint, and soared upwards. The Roo throttled up and charged down the runway.

Further short of the damage than the Miraade’s Roo, the pilot called for the teleport. The C-141 vanished, and, then as Matt craned his head upwards, reappeared thirty thousand feet above the field, falling fast. It was another tense moment. The LA-10s veered off to the right fast and poured on the power to clear the area in case the Roo didn’t recover. It was a valid safety precaution but unneeded as the Roo pulled up and remembered it could fly. The fighters rose to a position off its wings. The trio turned slowly and made their way west towards Argonia.

The two Swallows rose on their own and made their own way towards Argonia. They were unloaded and unescorted. With their forward chain guns, they could handle themselves, and they already had destinations on the coast of Argonia to pick up evacuees. The heavies would have to go to Grayrock, unload their Catawaban cargoes before heading to other airfields and airports to pick up evacuees.

The other Roos and then the KC-10s got off without incident with their escorts. Matt waited until the second to last KC-10 was away and clear with the two other Dragonflies in his flight. He dropped down to his seat and strapped in. He closed the canopy, made sure Vicky was ready before, calling his wingmate and telling her to start moving. He fell in behind her Dragonfly, and the Extender fell in behind him. Lieutenant Williams swung her Dragonfly onto the runway and Matt took a spot beside her. Their wings were swung fully open for maximum lift. They vectored both vectored their thrust down and ducted some of it through down facing ports.

Matt raised a thumbs up to Williams, and they shoved their throttles forward. Matt and Vicky were shoved back into their ejector seats as the Dragonfly swept down the runway. Matt’s head swiveled from his instruments to the damaged runway and to the spacing between his wing and that of Williams’s. Finally lift from the down ducted thrust and air rushing over the wings built to a point where the Dragonflies jumped into air. Matt let his airspeed build as he shifted thrust away from the downward ducts. When he had securely gotten airspeed above the minimums for level flight, he switched it all the way and hauled back on the stick. He rolled over and saw Williams do the same as they made a banking turn away from the runway.

Matt saw over his shoulder the massive tri-engine KC-10 running down the runway behind just before it disappeared. He leveled out and swept his gaze up to the point he’d been watching with the seven aircraft. The airfueler appeared high above him and fell. It seemed headed for the ground like a homesick mole. It too however pulled up and after a moment to catch their breath the crew turned the plane to the west. Williams joined up on Matt’s wing, and they both caught up with the KC-10 and accompanied it away from the II.

Matt spared a glance to the south and the still spine-chilling column of light. He shuddered and turned attention back to the flight before him. He, Vicky, and his command were on their way to safety. That was most important. Everything else was secondary at the moment.

[OOC: I've still got some more to post. This is just enough for one post. I know it's a bit long for a simple departure post, but hey, I like planes and flying.]

Mercy turned sharply in her seat and buried her head into Errants shoulder as the 'Roo dropped out from under them. Only he would hear her thusly muffled gasp, and know how tightly she held his hand. Mercy did not like falling, which was surprizing in that she adored flying up in the null g zone in the Tater. But then again she had control over the falling there. Here she did not.

Hawke listened carefully to Quigley and setled herself in for what she was sure was going to be an amazing flight. Once they were airborn and the larger planes were teleported - oh that was awesome, and she'd have to remember it clearly for the story she planned to write.

"Matt, why are we going to Greyrock? It's barely above sea level, all of Argonia is barely that, save for some low hills in the east at the border with Tarlachia. Any tsunami's will sweep arcoss the whole of things I'm afraid."

The Miraade’s Kangaroo landed without incident at Graceland International and taxied over to the newly repaired military half of the field. Even before the plane came to a stop, the rear cargo doors opened. With the plane stopped, the two flight engineers and the loadmaster unbelted and began moving amongst their passengers helping them up and moving them off the C-141. The loadmaster broke off once they’d cleared passengers of his sensitive cargo and began working on unlashing the cargo and readying it to be unloaded. The flight engineers stayed with the passengers and conducted them out of the plane.

One near Mercy and Errant yelled over the still running engines of the Kangaroo. “Sir, Ma’am! There’s been a change of plans! The People’s House has been declared structurally unsound! You’ll be taken by Wallaby to an alternate location!”

Errant clapped the airman over the shoulder and thanked him and asked him to carry that onto the rest of the crew. Errant took Mercy’s hand, and they crouch ran under the spinning blades of one of the two waiting helicopters. Most of their party could pour into one of the Wallabies, while the remainder and their baggage went in the other. The helicopters that were trying hard to not be called heliplanes hovered up into air and headed out east.

Errant frowned and grabbed the spare headset and mic hanging up in the passenger cabin. He keyed the mic. “Pilot, where exactly are we headed?” All the military branch headquarters buildings were still west of the airport.

The pilot, a sergeant, didn’t look back as he kept his attention on the flight. “Sir, they didn’t tell me much more than the location, let alone the reasoning. We’re headed for CNS Ardent in the Bay.”

Errant raised his brows and looked over at Mercy. “We’re headed for one of my battlecruisers in the Bay, darlin’.”

Mercy looked slightly surprised. She knew that the branch headquarters buildings were newer construction. The Navy had just completed an entirely new building while the other branches and the War Office itself operated out of buildings built after World War II. Any one of those buildings would be supremely suited to allowing Errant to direct the evacuation and preparatory efforts. “Something must be awry.” She said and then realizing what she’d said smiled at the irony of her statement.

Errant shook his head with a slight smile. The Wallaby swung out over the Bay. Boats and ships of various classes and types swept under them. The vast majority of the Catawaban Navy was at anchor in the nearly two hundred mile wide Bay. It was protected from storm and tide and, more importantly, the coming tsunami. The larger ships like the missile cruisers, battle cruisers, and landing ships had larger crews that took longer to train and make ready. Other ships like the Tanaaran destroyers were destined for another future that put them to the backburner on staffing priority. It was smaller ships like the corvettes, patrol frigates, and frigates that were prioritized for training. Those ships were fast and primed for patrol and interdiction along the coast of Catawaba.

The two Wallabies slowed to a hover over the helipad at the rear of the massive battlecruiser. They hovered high up as they waited for another pair of Wallabies to lift up and run straight out and low. They landed and unbelted. Errant hopped down from the helicopter and helped Mercy down out of it. They turned to see Captain Geoffries, the Guard’s second in command coming up to them. He saluted Errant and then Major Delaney how jumped down to the deck.

He waved for them to follow them as the rest of their party got themselves and their gear off the helicopters. As soon as they were clear and inside the Ardent, the Wallabies lifted up off the deck and turned back for land, and Geoffries explained why they were here. “I apologize for the lack of headsup, sir, ma’am. Engineers declared the Mansion structurally unsound, and I ordered the evacuation of the building. We’ve left a platoon there to guard the perimeter. But here’s the kicker. While you were in transit, SubRosa delivered actionable intel that the Liberalists were planning to move on your beta location if they spotted you entering.”

He directed them down into the big ship. “I figure they were scoping the branch HQs maybe some of the admin buildings. I placed a call to General Waverly for another location. He suggested the Ardent here. It’s out of range of anything the Liberalist’s are packing, and it’s enough of a curve that with the platoon of Guards I’m bringing, I can’t imagine us having much of a problem.”

Errant glanced back at Margaret and nodded congratulations to her. Geoffries was a good soldier and a better Guard. Margaret gave a rare smile. “I can’t imagine the Liberalists give us much grief on a navy battlecruiser packed with sailors and Guards and surrounded by a couple of miles of sea. Good work, Geoffries.” She said as they came the Ardent’s Command Information Center.

The Captain was doing a very good job of concealing his pride as he led them in. “Since the Ardent’s not active, she doesn’t have a squadron CO or a squadron to command. We’ve used the slack to reroute all the feeds from the Mansion’s Situation Room here to the CIC.”

Errant took it all in. “Damned good work, captain.” He stepped forward to a horizontal screen displaying a map of Catawaba like an old chart table. He took a breath. “Okay, let’s get to it, people.”

They fell right down to business. The Navy had rushed crews over to the western ports to get all of their ships out to sea and even detailed off sailors to help civilians get their ships to sea. What couldn’t be sailed out under its own power was towed. In one case, the frigate Wendigo had hooked chains to a container ship was dragging it out to sea. The Air Force and Marines had shifted what equipment and vehicles they could to higher ground before adding their effort to moving evacuees. Air Force transports and helicopters crisscrossed the island moving entire villages and hamlets in one plane load up to safety. Marines filled trucks with coastal citizens, stuffed them into APCs, and even piled them on the roofs of tanks heading to the uplands.

To Tanaara’s credit, after the civilians and nonessential personnel had left endangered zones via their Exit Strategy, Mercy had directed that any Tanaaran government assets be allocated to Catawaban evacuation efforts. It was no secret that Tanaaran soldiers whether they are training officers and crews aboard the gifted naval ships, the instructor pilots at the air bases, or drill instructors at forts and posts were already helping despite the lack of orders to the effect. However, Mercy’s order freed those soldiers up to act in concerted effort, and other Tanaarans to lend their assistance, muscle, and transportation to get Catawabans out of danger.

Errant and everyone in the CIC knew they weren’t going to get every one out. There was no way, but they were making headway, and they had warning. There was still so much to do. With the evacuation under way, they had to turn their attention another powder keg before them.

Jessica Lepur, the Miraade’s Cancellaria, leaned away from her phone. “Sir, Lolimba says that she still can’t raise the Imitoran embassy. They’ve locked down tight, and Graceland constables say they can’t get anyone to answer the gate buzzer.”

Errant looked over at Mercy. They both knew from Shalamar’s vision that in a few hours the embassy would explode. It was ominously likely that something of what was ripping Imitora asunder could be affecting the embassy. He could simple let that building explode. There was too much danger in the sort of explosion Shalamar had seen. He cursed himself for allowing the embassy to ship in bulk cargoes and not checking them because they were ‘diplomatic packages.’ Diplomatic packages, his ass. They were shipping scuttling charges because they knew something might get out.

Well, Imitoran efficiency had shown to be damned useless thus far, no reason to trust it now. Errant looked over at video display of Tom Waverly. The general was ensconced in the undisclosed bunker near an undisclosed city in an undisclosed county in Catawaba that they colloquially called ‘the War Office’ because it was shorter to say. “Tom, I need you and Margaret to get something together with assets we have here in Graceland. We’re going to need to break into the Imitoran embassy and stop whatever’s going on there, lest that place blow and spread it anyways.”


~~~~~~~~~

Matt pushed himself up and to the side so he could look around his ejector seat. “It’s WHAT?”

He let his harness pull him back down into his seat and uttered a word best expressed in asterisks and ampersands. He stared out the canopy for a moment. Then he keyed his mic. “Command, this is Smaug One dash One. I have a problem, Command.”

The reply from Command was a second in coming and stereotypically static filled not because of distance or subpar communication equipment but mostly because people expect that. “Smaug One dash One, this is Command. What is your problem?”

“Command, I’ve been informed that Greyrock International is nonviable for a base.”

Silence stretched for a few moments. “The Argonians have given that location, Smaug One dash One.”

“They forgot to tell us it’s barely above sea level, Command. We’ll be washed out if we land there.”

Again the silence stretched, and he was sure the chain of words expressed with asterisks and ampersands passed all the way up to Air Marshall Tom Waverly and his cousin. Matt decided he’d best continue. He had a slight plan formulating. “Command, I’m going to keep my aircraft moving onto Greyrock. We can land, refuel, and load as many Argonians as we can fit in with current load, but we’re going to need an alternate. We can operate from that alternate on the previous mission the Miraade gave us.”

“Understood, Smaug One dash One, we’ll get a word up the line.”

“I’d talk to the Tanaarans or Tarlachians, Command. They’ve probably got bases in their south that could work for our purposes.”

“Will do, Smaug One dash One.”

Matt sighed and turned his attention back to the moment at hand. “I knew there was reason I brought you along…other than your stunning good looks of course.” He was looking at her by the mirror situated above him at an angle so he could see her behind him and she could see his face up in front.

If there was a word to describe the general atmosphere and attitude of the general population of Tarlachia, from the eastern borders to the western mountains, it was simply Indescribable. Some whom had not endured past hardships on a national level were exhibiting fear and terror at the doomsayer reports came in from news and from the grapevine of an aqueous wave rising from the depths of the sea to the heights of the heavens, intent of swamping the whole region and commit as much of to the depths as it could. For them, they figured that perhaps they had enraged the gods, or Gaia, or any other deity they chose to believe. Most just preferred to believe the carefully weaned news coming from the farthest reaches of the region, whispers of a nameless horror.

The annihilation of Imitora.

"If Imitora is gone, what hope do we have?" some would whisper, or cry aloud in panic. They usually got a prompt slap across the face, or some other similar form to re-institute a grounded and stable mindset.

"There is always hope." would be the reply. "You give up, you die. Are you giving up?"

Silence would follow for a moment as the odds were weighed. "Hell no!"

So, aside from the people whom were naturally afraid, the general population knew to move as swiftly as possible to the nearest extraction sites; giant portals set up by those with arcane abilities to facilitate the exodus of Tarlachians to orbital habitats or to locations further north in the region, beyond the stretch of the mountains that split the original and oldest lands of Tarlachia in half, save for a narrow gap. This gap did raise some concerns, but it was determined that should the wave reach that far, it would be minimal at best. Of course, that was before taking into consideration the efforts of international communities to exert their willpower against this riled force of nature and cease its ravenous warpath.

Communications were kept between other nations through various means, and when word came to those in a position to do something about it, they opened communications with the Catawabans in need of safer airports. They were directed to the free use of a half dozen large scale airports scattered in the north of Tarlachia. There, they were assured that they would both have safe berth and much more safety from the destructive wave.

Already, in the Indonen Sea, waters could be seen beating a slow but steadily growing rate of retreat to the south and through the chokehold of the sole inlet. On the shores of Tarlachia, fish flapped in distress. Land creatures, whom were well attuned to the ways of the natural world had long sensed something amiss and had instinctively pursued higher ground and safety, though they knew not why. In the southern skies there was a rare sight. Thousands of dragons having emerged from their cavernous homes in the mountains were moving back and forth, having been employed to assist the aid of Tarlachians and friends alike. They were capable also of knowing to stay clear of aircraft, keeping to lower heights to that end.

On the southern shore of the International Isle, Aeris gracefully moved through a series of motions, appearing as if she were dancing some form of an exotic dance. Her husband was nearby watching her in silent admiration and an equal mix of fear, for her safety and for the safety of their unborn children. Yet, he had been unable to persuade Aeris to move to a safer location. Only when she had assured him that she could get the two of them out of harm's way in a split second did he leave her to do as she felt compelled to do.

What Rob could not see was that Aeris had been reaching out to the countless strands of energy that flowed through the earth, and at the moment, violently through the seas, rushing toward the gathering wave. She was pulling, interweaving, and in general compressing the waters that remained as best as possible to create natural levees within the seas at various locations and depths, all for the sole purpose of breaking apart the impending doom.

Yet, even she knew that even with the aid of all her fellow Tarlachians to do this, it would not be enough. The combined efforts of an international community would do what it could to do similar measures of defense, but there was just too much to overcome. The best they could attempt for would be to break the gathering energy, force it to break the wave, and give greater odds of survival to the region.

Panting fairly heavily from the exertion as if she had been taking a brisk jog, Aeris at last slowly came to a stop and turned to Rob, nodding silently. She had done all she could do here now. It was now time to leave.

Lifting her hand she turned it in the air as if grasping a door handle that did not exist, and they watched as blades of grass swirled up from the ground and spun about the exterior of the portal she had summoned. Taking his hand, they stepped through, finding themselves a few moments later in northern Tarlachia in the midst of a bustling refugee camp. Nearby were temporary military personnel working quickly to move the incoming people to organized locations.

While satisfied with all she was able to do, she was still worrying, still fearing the destruction of her homelands, the Aria Forest and its great river. The fault within the earth following the northern stretches of the river were in particular a worry for her. Only time would tell if the wave would trigger a powerful enough earthquake that would rattle that fault and set a destructive chain reaction with smaller faults that reached all the way to the northern seas. Naturally, having the sense to take the worst into account, Tarlachians and refugees were directed to remain far away enough from the known fault lines to prevent unnecessary deaths.

A silent tear escaped her eye, and she quickly swept it away with an angry brush of her hand. A slight growl kept beneath the level of hearing was released. She did however clench the Archon's hand tighter.

The evacuees and military personnel had been busy. A mile or so from the city of Grayrock they'd been stacking sandbags as high as they could manage, and military engineers had been occupied blasting some ditches and trees into makeshift barricades to absorb as much of the incoming water as possible. Fallen trees were covered with as much dense marshland mud as could be managed to be air lifted in by helicopter and dumped to form a crude beaver dam.

The process continued for as long as possible, stacking barriers of mud and trees fifteen feet high, and massive barriers of sand-bags five-deep up to at least that high. Grayrock itself also had levees around it, much like New Orleans. The difference was that they'd been reinforced with enough concrete and steel to build a large bunker, and they stood much taller.

It had been a requirement to construct a modern city of the relative size the Argonian capitol had reached. Skyscrapers didn't stand on beds of mud and quicksand, the area had been drained and all the buildings were required by code to have reinforced concrete bases to provide additional support.

The airport proper was located on a slightly more elevated area east of the city itself, built there to counteract the morning mists that played havoc with any sort of conventional navigation system. It should be high enough to resist anything but a massive flood reaching that far inland. As the largest airport in the country, it was also partly a military installation, and as such fortified with enough concrete walls to repel anything but a determined assault.

Ket Keltin had done his homework when selecting the airfield and the refugee collection point. It was the most defensible location in terms of floodwaters and tropical storms...

"The airfield should be fine. Engineers had been busy setting up a series of barriers designed to slow the tidal wave down as much as possible before it collides with Grayrock's levees and the airport's emplaced fortifications..."

Just as all the other nations of Fatal Terrain had been busy evacuating those they could and protecting property as best they could, so had TMZ, but they fewer options when it came to the islands their nation inhabited.

They were volcanic in origion. And the terrible stresses placed on the planet would bear firey fruit there. They knew through the virtue of Shalamar's foreseeing what would happen. And while they mourned the loss of all they had built in the last decade, they still would have their people.

No they'd have to build new lives elsewhere and while the emergency plans swung into action, the Operating Council, the ruling body of The Militarized Zone, met briefly. They had but one item to discuss and that was the proposition of merging with Tanaara, since the land TMZ held were either going to vanish under erupting volcanos, or vansih beneath the waves as the south eastern part of the Norishima continent submerged as the tectonic plate on which it rested followed Imitora down the drain - and more than just metaphorically.

They were in complete agreement and dispatched the O.C.'s Director, General Ian Hardcastle, to deal with the Tanaaran Archon Robert Ryan Fortier ~ Hexx directly.

Celestial Maiden Starship
High Orbit Above Fatal Terrain

It was nearing zero hour and the tension in the air was thick enough to choke everyone upon the bridge. Boris and Jack had been working tirelessly for hours on end to ensure all aspects of the evacuation were running as smoothly as possible and that everyone would be prepared. It was incredibly difficult to do such things with a nation sporting over eleven billion citizens and the pair looked physically drained from the effort.

Captain Fuller had taken to pacing up and down the bridge, glancing over the shoulders of communications officers and other various technicians. There was little for him to do besides wait on the call of Boris or Jack so he had taken to inspecting the work of his crew, which was making them nervous and even less comfortable with the situation. According to Lady Shalamar it was all going to happen within the next ten minutes and the suspense was slowly killing everyone watching from the safety of high orbit.

"Shit, it's happening."

Boris, Jack and Fuller all whipped their heads around to stare at the visual censors operator that had spoken. He was staring at monitor before him with blank but obviously worried expression. No one needed to say anything as he quickly transferred the image on his monitor onto the main screen projection. Everyone watched in silence as the massive chunk of land holding the Arklay base that had been rising into the air finally began it's descent back towards the ocean. The plummet itself took several minutes and that was horrifying enough. All personnel had been withdrawn from the area and the generators activated. No one really knew if the shields would hold but hopefully they would do enough.

There was no describing the impact of so much land hitting the ocean at such a speed. No one had ever seen anything like it as corpses, water, rock and whatever else composed the debris was flung in all directions. For several moments only water was displayed on the screen as it reached for the heavens as if it wished never to return, until gravity robbed it of the option and it all began to fall. Multiple angles allowed everyone to see the initial surface wave created by the impact but that was less concerning than the forces working underneath the surface. Boris sighed audibly and turned to face Jack and Fuller.

"We've done everything we can now. Captain, I want the Maiden ready to move into the atmosphere above Noshirima and stand by."

"Of course, sir."
__________________________

Assington
The Southland

The land simply referred to as Southern Assington was covered in trees, it was almost one giant forest. Whilst this certainly hadn't bothered the government as they were happy to acquire new land it had slowed the spreading of development that was considered modern and civilised. Trees had to be cleared and in some cases the land itself altered before cities could begin to crop up and all of this took time.

Robert Page considered this fact to be a good thing, considering the current situation. There was one burgeoning metropolis that would be considered a city by those from the north and it sat on the bay between the north and south lands sovereign to Assington. Robert considered his job a nightmare, a well paying nightmare but scary and difficult nonetheless. Despite such, he had fought hard for the job, Governor of the Southland and felt he had done a reasonable job so far. His job wouldn't last forever though, it was limited until the Southland were developed enough to be devised into states and form their own local governments. Until that point though, Robert was in charge.

Fortunately the Southland was sparsely populated and the nation of Elesyan was directly to the south-west. Of course it wasn't fortunate for Elesyan but they no one could help that and Robert had immediately offered shelter within his domain to anyone that wished it. At this point he wasn't sure how many had taken up the offer but at the moment he wished it had been all of them.

The wave had struck perhaps an hour ago and the results were shocking to say the least. Elesyan was gone, swallowed by the fury of the ocean and there didn't appear to be any sign that it would return. Of course the waters hadn't stopped at Elesyan but the population of the south had been promptly shifted north into safety, away from the predicted impact zones. No doubt any that had stayed behind would be dead but otherwise it appeared human casualties in the Southland would be minimal whilst the real victims would be trees and animals.

Robert shuddered as he read reports and watched over footage. It would be some time before he was handed an accurate casualty report and he refused to accept anything that wasn't so for now he could only assume and hope. The towns and cities under construction in the south had been lost but that was expected. Better some half built skyscrapers and houses than the people that were going to live there.

The true effort would be helping nearby neighbours recover, or at least what was left of them. Despite sitting in a rather large and comfortable office, Robert couldn't help but feel the continent had just become a little smaller.
____________________

Assington
The Northland, East Coast

Due to being shielded by Southern Assington, Elesyan and Khadrim, Northern Assington was one of the most naturally protected nations in the region as far as tsunamis were concerned. There was essentially no threat to the south, west or north of the nation and thus efforts could be wholly focused upon protecting the east. This task was made easier due to much of the east being lined with mountains and less populated than the rest of the country. Regardless of such there were many towns and cities that would be within the impact zone if nothing was done to divert the raging fury of the ocean.

The predicted impact zone said the wave would strike the east coast but most of it would be held at by the vast mountain ranges and thus the only significant entry point existed on the north-eastern corner of the nation. The elves had been warned that their home, Emerald Forest, was directly in the path of where the flooding would begin and there was little that could be done to stop it. They had simply acknowledged the warning and returned to their homes. A significant amount of water was also expected to sink into the Wasteland, the mysterious desert below Emerald Forest that everyone avoided. Evidently that wasn’t an issue but the water that didn’t sink into the desert or stop at the forest was heading for Emerald City.

With the risk to such a major city in mind, the best minds the Assingtonian government could gather had been put to the task of minimising the damage caused by wave impact and the flooding that would follow. Initially it had been assumed that a shield generated wall would be the most effective but there was no accurate way to guarantee whether the shields would hold out under such forces. Instead of merely creating a wall, the team devised the fast establishment of an aqueduct, the walls created by strategically placed shield generators. This aqueduct directed any water heading to Emerald city into the nearby Emerald River that naturally ran south-east. More shield generators lined the river in order to prevent the banks from expanding and thus the water was clearly directed down the right fork of the Emerald River that eventually led through the mountains and back into the ocean once again.

Cities and towns built across the river could not be salvaged and whilst the damage was in the billions of dollars, the human life from such places had been promptly evacuated. Though somewhat bitter when informed their homes would be destroyed, the government had figured they would get over it considering they were alive to do so.

Whilst the flooding had been effectively dealt with, the fact that almost half the continent was plunging into the ocean created severe tectonic instability on Norishima and earthquakes began to rock the south around Ruby and Sapphire cities, boulders spilling down from the mountains and fissures swallowing roads. Little could be done to predict where such disasters would strike and early reports had estimated over a hundred thousand dead across the south from unexpected quakes. There was also growing concern about potential volcanoes, although none had given any sign of eruption yet.

With the initial threat of the tsunami over, Assington was now abuzz with activity, attempting to rescue any survivors from impact zones that were not fully evacuated and dealing with the damage caused by quakes. With what they hoped would be the worst of it now over, the nation of Assington was thankful their loss had been so small, considering the apocalyptic scale of the disasters that Fatal Terrain was experiencing.

Outside the Dead Zone

After receiving their instructions about the portion of ocean under their guard, the two thousand red dragons from Khadrim had taken to the skies in a mass of flapping wings and nervous roars. They had been briefed by Ryath herself and knew very well that the well being of not only Khadrim but the region depended upon their efforts combined with that from other nations. Whilst not as strong in the use of magic as other species of dragon, the red dragons of Khadrim possessed a unique ability that made them perfect for the task of holding back a wave of water. Each one could manipulate the elements at their will and thus divert water where they wished.

And so when the mass of land that was once part of Imitora plunged into the ocean the red masses of teeth and scales began their work from the skies above. As the wave passed beneath them they took control of the waters and began to alter the direction of the forces, a portion of the wave to simply fold in on itself in a giant collision of sprayed water that effectively dissipated the forces at play. Whilst in theory it sounded simple, to countermand such strong forces took the combined efforts of all two thousand dragons and once completed their tasks involved ensuring any backlash was safely diverted away from the region and back towards Imitora.

Once the threat of water had been dealt with those still able to fly began moving about the ocean, probing the elements around them for any indication of further threats such as massive earthquakes or volcanic eruptions. Knowing full well just how volatile their world could be, none would rest until they were sure there was nothing they could do to help minimise the threats to their homeland and neighbours.
__________________

Khadrim

Khadrim was another nation offered natural protection at the expense of land held by The Militarised Zone and Elesyan to the south. As the ocean stretched forth and swallowed those below Khadrim, the massive mountains of their southern border stood firm against the tidal onslaught. Rock and water clashed in a contest of wills and whilst water could claim a victory given enough time and effort, a single assault even of such strength was not enough to displace a mountain range.

The water that made its way through the mountain passes and into the human and elven territories was further hindered by drying river beds and valleys that were happy to take in the waters. With all elven forests sealed in some form of arcane ice that could not be chipped or melted, any water meeting the forests was simply directed westward, into rivers that would lead back into the ocean or through the mountains once again.

Those at most risk were the dwarves living beneath the mountains. The ranges in the south did not sport any permanent settlements but they were rich in mineral deposits and thus humans and dwarves alike worked diligently to harvest what they could. Unfortunately for those trapped in there since the commencement of the civil war, there was no warning of the impending floods and with little room to run, many would surely drown.

Further north, the east coast of the dwarven lands was completely bare of any natural barriers and thus flooded promptly, water surging over the land in a relentless rampage of destruction that appeared to be unstoppable. That was until the dragons from the south had arrived. To the trained eye many were exhausted beyond measure but their determination remained strong as ever. Many unable to fly, the dragons crashed into the various mountains that littered the dwarven lands and directed the flows of water from the safety of high land.

Whilst the infrastructure on the surface was minimal compared to that of the human territories, dwarven cities lay sprawled out underground and were at risk of being flooded. The fact that most entrances were sealed off thanks to Xerxes was an ironic assistance that saved the trapped dwarves and assisted the dragons in direct the water flow into rivers and lakes. They could only hope the loss of life was minimal.

And the nation, the land once known as Imitora, a continent sized island and more, tilted up, stone ten miles thick of the earth’s crust, pulled nearly vertical.

And then it fell.

How does one describe it when the very bones of the planet cry out, and shudder under the damage. An avalanche of stone, soil, loose rock, the remains of trees, grasses, wild life and worst of all the people. The weight of it momentarily tilting the planet on it's axis, staggering it's centrifugal force, as with gathering speed the plate upon which Imitora rested fell, pulled into a completely different dimension, a reality elsewhere, another section of the multiverse. And not one well disposed towards the intrusion.

The vastness of that hole strained against Shalamar’s will, sought to draw in more and more of the planet, to swallow all of it. But that she would not allow. Her gifts allowed her to manipulate, to dominate the energy well of the planet itself and she used it to barricade that relentlessly hungry maw, to little by little draw it closed, tightening the drawstring of its edges. Until nothing more could fit though. She couldn’t close it completely, not at this time, too much of her was needed for other efforts…


Cats Keep, the small valley nation high in the Lossefanyar Athan Snow beyond the Sky- the massive mountain system that bettered the better known Himalayas in breath and heights - would not escape changes wrought by the Fall of Imitora, though their losses would be mostly in the loss of personnel. The efforts of many Towers would lead to deaths from over taxing themselves, in quiet defiance of orders. A defiance that would save many other lives and much more. But a sacrifice willing, for when Cats Keep had returned catastrophically to Reality from Shadow, those of Fatal Terrain had helped them without stint those many years ago. And now it was the Keepians turn to help.

The massif too would shudder and sway as the tectonic plates under it parted, where one they surged together. And the valley that was home to Cats Keep would grow- lengthening almost triple it's former distance north south, and perhaps half again as wide.

Vast tracts of southern Tanaara - land that would be ruined as fault lines shifted and allowed the land to be submerged beneath the encroaching waters of the M'hendo Kahai Sea and there for lost – were 'grabbed' and transplanted wholesale. Down hundreds of feet to bedrock, trees, shrubs, animal life encapsulated by pure will and moved across the distance to be laid in the newly open rift.

All of the activities of Cats Keep were supervised by Lady Shalamar and her personal circle, an effort that would leave them comatose for many days

The news that Imitoria has slipped beneath the waves like Atlantis hit the Simatarians in a strange way. On one hand, the two nations had never been mistaken for friends so there was no personal sense of loss. However this didn’t mean that the Simatarians felt pity for the billions were killed in this way.

The resulting earthquakes and waves had wrought terrible damage in the less protected cities and towns. All major seaside cities (to include the capital Clarence) were equipped with and overkill of flood control and prevention equipment. However the earthquakes that had hit before crippled immediate response. They were spared the full brunt of the tsunami wave, however the flanks of the water were no less powerful.

Numerous ships, big and small were smashed into one another, tossed ashore, and crushed into their docks. Flooding was horrific in many areas, whole blocks turned into lakes. However the worst damage was on the far west coast on the Idonen Sea.

The waters flooded and tore through hundreds of miles, the city of Hotlin, once a major tourist location was completely overrun. Surrounding towns and counties were also struck. The water did recede, however not far. Hotlin and much of the old coastline were now underwater.


Senator Kevin Rouse Callahan, a mountain of a man, sat in Khurin Square. Callahan was the most powerful man in the Simatarian Congress. Numerous Senators and Representatives were in his proverbial pocket, whenever he needed votes, he had them, he knew all the right people, knew every square inch of the government. He had plans for his son to become President, but now the sniveling little worm was cooped up in a psychiatric hospital after some weird experience. He couldn’t care less, as far as he was concerned, his son was dead.

His only immediate plans were to stop the current President.

He had been planning to derail Yellen’s plans of occupying and rebuilding Sanshyuum to the north. It was nearly three months since the President had returned from the Regional Conference. He had come back changed; he was more forceful, more direct and blunt with his approaches. He came back, dangerous.

But, this wasn’t overtly needed. The country had united and Yellen was acting more in control than he ever had before. The whole of the military had been mobilized and was conducting security sweeps and protection for the damaged areas, the engineers were aiding in the rebuilding, everything was going fine. Yellen’s approval rating was shooting through the roof.

Then exactly one moth ago the overconfident ass sent a full army group with air support and small naval support northward into Sanshyuum. Without approval from Congress, Yellen would have 90 days of direct control over the military before Congress could vote to keep the military moving on its objective or order it to be removed.

Yellen had made a long case to the Simatarian people, subtle at first, but growing slowly more obvious, at while their situation was bad, it was nothing that within a year, they would be stable again and in another two years or even three, rebuilt. He pointed out the situation of those in Sanshyuum to the north, how they had weathered the same storm, but without a government, their impoverished and desperate citizens were at the hands of ruthless warlords.

Callahan simply had scoffed at Yellen and his little scheme. Simatarians always came first, not second. Even though the military had enough in its full strength (to include all National Guard units) plus civilian law enforcement and companies to hold down the fort as it were in TGS while sending troops overseas….to Callahan, it was a simple matter of crushing Yellen any way he could.

“Kevin?” Isaac Rhymer’s voice caught Callahan’s attention. Rhymer sat down next to Callahan, a newspaper in his hands.

“Isaac. So what’s the news?”

“I want to know if you’re still planning in fifty-seven days to have Congress vote and get the military out of Sanshyuum.”

“Of course I am.”

“Well, look here.” Rhymer handed Callahan the newspaper. He heard the man give a scoff. “Never underestimate the Simatarian capacity for pity. Eighty-one percent support of troops in Sanshyuum to deliver humanitarian aid and protect their people while starting construction.”

“Bah, none of my concern.”

“Oh yes it is…what happens in sixty-three days?”

“Surprise me.”

“I’m surprised you forgot. Half of the House of Representatives, plus a third of the Senate…plus those Senate seats of those men who were indicted with Puroc go up for election.”

Callahan chuckled. “And do you know how low the turn over rate is for either house unless people want a radical change?”

“Well, how about when the eighty-one percent see their Congressman vote to remove military forces from up north, what stops them for voting for the other party as long as they promise to put troops back in?”

Callahan’s smile disappeared. Fifty-seven days to decide either to remove troops or keep them there. Six days later, a good chunk of Callahan’s support goes up on the block, if they vote the first option, most will be gone. Replaced by cronies ready to do Yellen’s bidding and keep the troops there. And vote positive whatever else Yellen wanted.

Rhymer nodded. “Yeah, smart move if you ask me. I think he was planning to pull this stunt anyway before Imitoria went under. Your hands are tied Kevin, you gotta vote to keep those men in Sanshyuum.”

“Bullshit, we can vote to let them stay, six days later, vote to remove them.”

“Brilliant, just shatter the faith in the government. Then you’ll find every damn seat voted out next go round…your turn is next after this bunch Kevin. Don’t forgot, Yellen can block a vote by Congress if they vote to keep the military moving at the ninety day mark.”

Callahan’s jaw twisted. He had a backup plan to impeach Yellen for abuse of office because of his unprecedented amount of executive orders…but now wouldn’t be the best time. “Fuck.”

“My thoughts the same.” Rhymer slapped him on the leg. “I got to run, my break is almost over. Call me later.”

Rhymer rose from the bench and walked off. Callahan sat alone for a few seconds before he rose and headed back to the Congressional building.

Fifty-Seven days later, Congress voted to keep Simatarian troops in Sanshyuum.

[OOC:...I'm sorry for your eyes and patience which will probably be about as abused and tired after this. What can I say, I had a lot to say. And there's still more. I figured I'd just get this up.]

Existing at a point in time indeterminate but before the ‘Big One’

Quigley was careful to make sure he wasn’t broadcasting when he cursed, so only he and Vicky could hear it. He waited a moment. “Command, northern Tarlachia? The only thing I got that’s going to make that is the KC-10s if I leave everything else behind. My estimates,” It was quick math done in his hea,d but it sounded more authoritative when he called it ‘his estimates,’ “are I can make four thousand miles even with the Extenders.”

He looked down at his moving map display. “Command, ask them if they’ve got anything in the south near their border. If they don’t, talk to the Tanaarans too. I’d like something close enough where I can make short hops between Aragonia and safe zone. If I can’t, I’m only going to be able to get one maybe two evac flights in before we need to pack it in and tie down.”

Matt signed off and glanced up at the mirror that let him see Vicky. “I betcha never thought you’d see this glamorous side of a fighter pilot’s mission. It ain’t all afterburners, lock tones, and high speed passes on the tower.”

Command came back a few minutes with an update from the Aragonians. They’d laid out the specifications of their reinforcements about Greyrock. Matt’s lips pressed together as he painted the image in his mind. It might work. Greyrock was inland, and those barricades might be enough to stop it. He’d have to see for himself when he landed. He’d have enough time to get his planes refueled and launched again if he didn’t like it.

~~~~~~~~
The two VTOL Swallows had already rushed their nearly two hour flight from the II to the coastal village they’d been directed to. Never rising above a few thousand feet they saved a little time and fuel climbing out. The Aragonians had routed them to a remote fishing village they’d had trouble reaching but was directly in the two Catawaban tilt-wings’ course.

They rotated their wings up and landed in a clearing of solid ground in the tidal swamp. The Aragonian liaison they’d been assigned jumped out as the ramp lowered and began directing fourteen civilians into each Swallow. The engineers shook their heads and waved for more evacuees. One of them moved close enough to the Aragonian soldier to yell over the engines, “The Miraade’s been reading the specifications for Miraaderic Guard ops! The Guards go in geared to the gills in case they gotta hold out for a while or support an insurgency. Regular Marine ops we can fit more than twice that number!” He glanced over at his fellow engineer and the other airman flashed all ten fingers three times. The first nodded in agreement and turned back to the Aragonian. “Thirty! We can each take thirty!” The reptilian sentient turned back and pulled another thirty-two of his people into line to board the two strange craft. That didn’t get of the villages inhabitants, but it did get the young, the old, the injured, the pregnant women, and families with young children. The rest of the adults left behind could make it to safety quicker on their own, knowing their families would be safe.

The Aragonian soldier boarded the Swallow he’d come in on, and the tilt-wing roared into the air. The Swallows climbed to get above the trees and resumed their course for Greyrock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The plan the Catawaban brass had hammered together in those few hours after the Miraade bammpfed back to Catawaba was heavy-handed with everything readily available in and around Graceland. Corporal Pepper Mira’ad shook her head as she went over the plan again. Errant had rousted together Dog Company of the Guard, Pepper’s company, because Alpha was protecting him and the Mansion, Charlie was scattered around the city looking for Liberalists, and Baker was assisting the evacuation effort, and the Headquarters Company was relocating to secure a permanent Beta site for Errant to stay.

Yes, Pepper was a vornskrari, and she was in Dog Company. That stays funny about as long as the two other vornskrari in Dog Company, her brother Solus’yc and her sister Boudicca, join in to stare your laughter into silence. While the short, pint-sized Yorkshire-terrier inspired Pepper might not engender much silencing power without flashing claw or teeth, her brother Solus was over six feet with almost regal, dignified authority, and Boudicca was nearly seven feet tall and built like a worst nightmare wolfwoman a horror director could think up.

Anyways, Pepper knew this wasn’t going to be a fun mission, not like the easy sweeps against the Liberalists who couldn’t mount a proper insurgency even if the Guard gave them proper training to do it. The whole order of battle was enough to hint that something was up. Not only was there the one hundred and eighty Guards of Dog Company but a company of Coorsotan-made M-1A1L Lariat tanks, a squadron of A-10 Warthog fighters, and the fire support of the naval ships in the harbor that had their gun crewed trained and manned, which included the battlecruiers Tumult, Ardent and Dauntless, the frigates Implacable, Impregnable, and Indomitable, and the patrol frigate Echoyla Dala.

In short, Errant, Major Delaney, and General Waverly had gotten the heaviest hammer they could hold over the Imitoran embassy, but what they could tell the Guards, those going into the embassy, was very light. They were frank and honest. They had absolutely no idea what to expect out of the building. They had minimal intelligence garnered from the Tanaarans and other sources that suggested that the Imitorans had dabbled in every single subject and field that was best left alone but populated with maniacal, cackling madmen too used to playing god and too unused to common sense.

Meaning…expect anything and everything and be ready to drop anything and everything down on top of it until it stayed down or dead or went back to being dead or at least left Catawaba with its tail(s) between its leg(s). The Dog Company’s HQ and Support platoon had already created a perimeter around the embassy, cleared the nearby buildings, and set up a CP and heavy weapons position in the old mansion across from the embassy. Pepper felt the Dragon Tooth IFV she was riding sway as they took a corner quick. She looked up, and the DT’s commander was waving her forward. She got up from where her fireteam was sitting at the back of the IFV. She made her way between the knees of the other fireteam and up to the vehicle commander’s station. The vehicle commander, a specialist, was a friend of hers, and he waved her forward to take a look at the display from the DT’s Remote Weapons System’s camera. Their DT was in the lead of the rest of the company’s fifteen IFVs. They were coming down the street from the embassy was the five DTs of the HQ and Support Platoon, all of the fifty cal machine guns and the thirty millimeter grenade launchers mounted in their ROWS trained on the embassy.

Ahead of them the twelve Lariat tanks of Able Company of the second battalion of the First Armored Brigade were splitting up. Four peeled off and headed between the embassy and the next building over to take up positions behind the embassy compound. Two got out of line and took up positions on the sidewalks, covering the east end of street. Two more got out of line and kept charging towards and then past the DTs. They were going to take up positions covering west end of the street. The final four Lariats turned sharply towards the Embassy gates. The lead tank had swung his turret around to the rear to protect it as it barreled straight for and through gates.

The two trailing tanks took up flanking positions outside the gates while the two lead tanks bulled into the compound and stopped on either side of the gate. Pepper reached up and took hold of the hand hold above her head as the DT slid into the sharp turn through gates. When the IFV straightened out, the vehicle commander slapped her on the shoulder and wished her luck. Pepper carefully made her way back to her fireteam as the Dragon Tooth turned sharply and came to a stop. The rear ramp lowered quickly, and Pepper just kept going, riding the ramp down.

She reached down to the end of her assault sling and took hold of her rifle. Unlike her twin who totally bought into the mythical superiority of the MORDual’s .357 SMG attachment, she wielded the truly superior MORShotgun with its beautiful, magnificent 12-gauge shotgun attachment. It was a universal lockpick and close-quarters problem solver. You could also trust it to rearrange whatever was close to you with a mere squeeze of the trigger. She swung it in a slow arc checking for targets as her fireteam and the other fireteam exited behind her. A second DT stopped briefly, dropped its ramp, and let off the last fireteam in her squad along with her squad sergeant and the squad medic. The second DT then pulled up its ramp and raced around the corner after another DT.
A fourteen member squad of dismounted infantry generally needed one and half Dragon Teeth to carry them all. A platoon needed five Dragon Teeth to carry the forty-five soldiers. So as it was, Pepper and her squad, First Squad, was deposited at the main entrance with the support of one DT and the four Lariats at the gates. Second and Third Squads went left and right after the gates around the building to cover other entrances and breach those secondary entrances if needed with the support of the two DTs with them.

Pepper finished her scan and looked back at her fireteam who had formed up behind her. She took a deep breath and looked at the embassy in depth. It was awful and imposing. She wished her siblings were with her, but Boudicca and Solus were the squad sergeants of Third and Second Squads respectively. Her squad sergeant waved her forward to take her position beside the door.

So this was it.

She pounded up to the door, feeling the weight of her Beskar’gam protective vest with all its pouches, her tactical half-helmet modified for her cranial structure snug against her head. She took a deep breath as she thumped against the stone of the embassy. She felt and heard her fireteam’s chorus of three quick thumps as they stacked up behind her, ready to enter.

The second fireteam lined up across from her on the other side of the doors, and the third came to rest behind hers. The all-too young platoon commander was with the second fireteam, and the platoon sergeant, who was comfortingly grizzled, was behind her with the third fireteam. She took another deep breath surpressing the butterflies in her stomach. She was going to be the first one through the doors, the first one to see whatever Imitora had unleashed. She’d been raised for this, trained for this, created for this, but it still didn’t prepare her. If it’d been regular humans on the other side, she didn’t think she’d be as nervous.

The platoon commander waved forward the two man demolitions team. One of them all but skipped forward and started affixing the breaching charge to the door. The second stayed with him and covered him as he set the charge. With the charge ready, the duo retreated back to their positions, detonator held ready in steady hands. Pepper forced herself to focus on the door and the embassy past it. She opened up her mind and sought out with her instincts. She and her kin like the jungle vornskr could sense things humans could not. They could sense life, emotions, among other things and home in living beings.

However when she focused on the embassy, searching for life, for shooters laying in wait as she had done many times before in training and in actual operations, she felt nothing, absolutely nothing living just inside the embassy. She thought she felt someone, weak, and small far away and behind her like it was in a rear wing of the building, but nothing in the embassy proper. There was supposed to be nearly a hundred people inside, counting the staff setting up the embassy and their families. Pepper suspected she was only feeling a handful.

Her platoon sergeant, PS Mathers, noticed her hackles raised and moved up the line. He’d served with Pepper and her siblings for more than two years before the vornskrari became public knowledge. He knew their body language was linked to their instincts, and he’d taken to heart that obeying a vornskrari’s instincts was a life-saving measure. “What have do ya feel, Pep?” No one called any of the vornskrari by their allit name in conversation. There were twenty-six Mira’ads in the Guard. You couldn’t even use their rank and name because Corporal Mira’ad also referred to sixteen other Guards and Sergeant Mira’ad referred to the other ten. She was Pep or Pepper to nearly everyone and Corporal Pepper Mira’ad in an official sense.

Pepper didn’t glance at her PS but closed her eyes as she focused. “There’s only a handful alive, and I think they’re on Third Squad’s side.” She pressed herself to discern anything else and found herself issuing out a ripsnarl that even caused the PS to take a half step back. “Bad shit in the lobby, Sarge.”

The sergeant was half-startled some of it was from the Yorkie-vornskrari’s cursing. Even though she knew all the words and used them as often as any member of military, it was always a shock to hear from the cute, little muzzle the Togovian had engineered. The rest of his shock came from how strongly she was reacting to whatever was inside. Her certainty just filled out the sketchy gut feeling he was having. He reached up and pressed in the wings of his throat mic. “Lt, Pepper’s pinging off something bad in the lobby.” He reported over the platoon’s communications network.

The Lieutenant nodded and requested sitreps from Boudicca and Solus. They were both covering the secondary side entrances, but both of their voices were low, severe, and growl-filled. Pepper could feel their raised hackles. They were feeling the same things she was. They’d triangulated the location of the few living survivors to a spot on the second floor on the east side, Boudicca’s side. The platoon commander took all this in and ordered them to unstack from the door. He had all of them move double time behind the Dragon Tooth which was maybe thirty feet from door before he ordered the breaching charge blown. The sound of the charge reverberated through the IFV to them crouched on the other side. A few beats after the explosions they split up and rounded the IFV to check the smoky door.

Pepper decided then and there she’d enshrine the name of Second Lieutenant Cinderous Orlo, a young, strapping, handsome Taung soldier, forever in her heart as one of the most brilliant, perceptive officers she’d ever had the honor of serving under because of what came pouring, stumbling, and moaning out of the smoke. It was a mob, a doorway-full press of bodies, and that was what they were, bodies. They were ripped up, groady, wounded, hell’s bells…the first rank had splinters from the blown doors just sticking right out of them. They were pale, cooling, and Pepper couldn’t feel them. They were dead.

She was sure everyone just about lost control of their bowels at the sight and no one would blame or ridicule them afterwards. Zombies, Zack, Zeke, Zeds, Zed-heads, Ghouls, Gs, Zs, Zonbis, the Living Dead, the Undead, Draugr, Revenant…many names for the same frightening, yet supposed to be fictional thing. As one, they opened fire, they didn’t need an order. It was a gut reaction. They had guns and were trained to use them, that training could be summarized down to ‘threat appears, shoot threat until threat ceases being threat.’ And the living dead were definitely an almost subconscious threat. 6.5mm rounds, .347 rounds, 12-gauge shot, .420 rounds, and even 25mm grenades blasted into the onrushing horde. It tore them up plenty, but most of them staggered back or fell over but then put themselves to right or as close as they could manage and kept coming.

Just then Pepper remembered conversations with her cousin, General Matthew Quigley. Most people don’t pay much attention to him. He’s sort of the crazy old uncle of the family, the Air Force, and the military as a whole. He says plenty of crazy things and believes them as truth, but he’s spectacular at flying and commanding a combat air wing that most people choose to ignore him until his madness actually affects his duty performance. Pepper and her twin Mird, however, still think of him as that crazy uncle, but they think he’s also the fun, crazy uncle. They liked to hang around with him for laughs and entertainment. They take what he says to mind, mostly to remember as jokes, but there were times like this when Crazy Cousin Matt wasn’t perhaps as crazy as most people thought he was. She remembered him explaining after a couple of beers one night,
“Okay, I’m up against a horde of zombies stumbling down the turnpike right towards the base’s gates, and everyone panics and opens fire, just spraying fire into center of mass. Oh, don’t laugh. You’re trained to shoot that way. On instinct you’ll do it. Oh, they train you to take headshots in the Guard? Lovely, good, count on body armor, every jumped up mook has it. Anyways, if I hadn’t been there to yell ‘shoot for their gorram heads’ every one of them would have been devoured and grazed under by that mass of undead. Yes, that was the entire reason I was there. You always need that one brave and perceptive schmuck to yell ‘shoot’em in the head,’ or even the most highly trained special operator is going to be as effective as a GI Joe redshirt trained by the A-team…you don’t get any of those references? Damn…alright, you two, I’m putting the both of you on the fast track to genre suavity. Why? Because I want someone to talk to who’ll take me halfway seriously.”

She’d take him more than halfway seriously from now on. She turned her head to the side and made her cousin proud. “Shoot’em in the gorram head!” She adjusted her aim up and placed the pip of her MORS’s combat optic between the eyes of one of the ghouls and squeezed the trigger. The 6.5mm round made a neat hole in the head of what used to be some sort of military attaché, and the uniformed corpse dropped to the ground. The rest of the Guards around her adjusted fire, and they did an admirable job thinning out of the front ranks, but it was sixteen, scared shooters against a fearless horde of dozens coming out of the embassy perhaps numbering the full embassy compliment.

As the zombies neared, the gunners in the tanks and the DT finally snapped out of their horror and opened up. For the sixteen grunts in the open it was reassuring to hear the .50s in the ROWS atop the vehicles start chattering. However they weren’t truly effective. Sure they ripped and threw and spun the dead about, stopping their progress, but they didn’t destroy them. They were still getting back up, crawling, and dragging themselves. In a panic, the 25mm coaxial autocannons alongside the main guns of the tanks thumped out rounds, straight through the doorway. Explosive shells scythed through the crowd, passing until they struck something hard enough to detonate, but they did rip the ghouls in half.

As they closed on the Guards, Pepper fired until her main barrel ran empty. She took a pace forward and nudged her sight a tad higher and pulled the trigger on her shotgun attachment. The zombie before her fell back. She shifted fire and did it again. She fired her five shot magazine and retreated back to the line. Everyone was inching back. They were having effect but not enough. They pulled back abreast the DT again, and then the grenades arced over their heads, exploding amongst the horde, accompanied by a smattering of accurate fire and then the chatter of crew served guns.

Pepper glanced behind them and saw that the Headquarters and Support Platoon had lined the windows of the building across the street and was giving support now that the squad had cleared their line of fire. The MORPrecision rifles in the hands of that platoon’s Designated Marksmen were competing for lethal accuracy with the two sniper teams attached to the HQ&S Platoon. While the sharpshooter’s .420 rounds and .50 rounds (from their Barrets) played alongside the 6.5mm of the rest of the platoon, the 25mm airbusting rounds of the M307 Airbusting Weapon System were uniquely effective as they sent showers of shrapnel straight down into the skulls of the advancing revenants. The majority of the grenades came from the ROWS mounted atop the HQ&S’s Dragon Teeth.

Pepper ejected her magazines and reloaded under the confidence building fire support of her fellows. She spun back around to take aim again, and saw her sister Boudicca form her squad up at the east corner of the building. She hefted her Squad Automatic Weapon, being a sergeant her weapon choice followed the WtHTW or “Whatever the Hell They Want”policy, and ordered her troops to open fire. Her group cut into the horde with enfilading fire.

Pepper returned fire herself. She didn’t really recall when happened or how long it took, but they did eventually hear an order to cease fire. She was sure the Lieutenant and the Company Commander had to yell it repeatedly until it filtered through the haze of adrenaline and fear. When the fire did finally die, they were looking at a bulwark of corpses, some still wriggling, that blocked up the door. It wouldn’t have worked even with all the heavy smack down they’d brought without the chokepoint of the doorway and the old fashioned stone construction that kept stray shot from widening it too much.

The cease fire allowed everyone to take a breath. The Lt. ordered Third Squad and Second Squad to close up and cover the doorway and police the corpses outside. Covering the doorway was basically taking a single aimed shot at any head that popped over the mound. Policing the corpses amounted to taking out your sidearm and putting a round in anything still wriggling. Pepper and First Squad were allowed to stand down, rearm, and rest. All of them had shaking hands. They’d be close to a horrible death, smelling the rot of their moans close.

Pepper leaned back against the Dragon Tooth and slumped down to the ground. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and looked up the DT’s vehicle commander, her friend was holding out 6.5mm magazines and a couple of spare MORS mags. Pepper smiled weakly, “Thanks, Tony.”

Specialist Antony Aviotti squatted down next to her. “Shit, babe, you were the one standing out here in the open. I had DT wrapped around me that’ll take 14.5mms all day long much less those…things.” He glanced over at the pile. He’d added to it, fired his .50 at it, and seen it all through his ROWS display, but it was entirely different being out in the open and looking at it. “The Captain’s all over the tactical channels talking to the Major and the Miraade and so on, tryin’ to figure out what to do next. God, I hope they don’t put y’all back in.” He prayed while watching her brother Solus walked up a few paces from a zombie and sight his .357 Police Operations Pistol, or POP gun as it was jokingly called, at a zombie. Without much reaction, all emotion squirreled away for expression another time Pepper knew, Solus squeezed the trigger and splattered the thing’s head across the pavement of the driveway.

Solus looked up and walked over to her. “You okay?”

Pepper nodded and forced herself to remember her camelback. Hers was modified with a sort of hand pump that squirted water into her mouth, since she couldn’t exactly suck from a straw like a human. She made sure she wouldn’t dehydrate then answered her brother. “I think so. Where were y’all?”

She held her hand up, and her brother pulled her to her feet. He nodded towards the west corner of the building. “Pulled my people back when the heavy stuff went through the door. Had to move further back so Boudicca wouldn’t hit my people when she fired straight from the corner.” Pepper leaned around him and saw the pile of magazines that had marked Second Squad’s firing position. One of Solus’s guys was already gathering them up.

Pepper leaned back against the DT but stayed on her feet. Tony excused himself and returned back inside his IFV. Solus was looking over at their tall, silver-furred sister Boudicca. She was talking to the Lieutenant and pointing back towards her side of the building. “She wants to go in her side.” Solus translated.

Pepper looked up at him. “She’d have a better read on those survivors. Maybe she thinks she can get them.”

“I gotta wonder if they’re worth getting.” Solus glanced back at the mound of dead. They hadn’t lost anyone to everyone’s surprise when they did the quick headcount at cease fire. Pepper thought she should be shocked and offended that her brother would want to leave those Imitorans to die, but after what she’d just been through, it sounded shamefully like good advice.

They watched the Lt. listened to Boudicca’s entire case and with their hearing heard the only thing that could have gotten them to want to go back in: Children. Pepper pushed herself up off the DT and followed Solus to Boudicca’s side. The Lt. had finished listening to someone over his comm and nodded to no one present, just an odd habit. He looked up at the three vornskrari and took their presence for a volunteering step forward. “Command says they’ll allow a squad of volunteers. The rest of the platoon’s going to pull back out of the compound.”

The vornskrari nodded. They’d all just volunteered to head back into hell after some children. “Just know that if you get overrun, Command will not allow anyone to come after you. We’ll begin sterilizing the compound." Orlo looked each of them in the eye to be certain. Their crimson eyes stayed adamant. “Choose your fireteams.” The three of them saluted their commander and went about gathering their choice troops. Pepper returned to her fireteam, who were sitting around the side of the DT. She explained the situation to them and asked them to volunteer.

They looked amongst each other and then up at her and then at the pile of corpses and then at the embassy as if trying to see through stone. The three vornskrari were going in, their team leader was going in regardless of what they said. They looked at each and one by one raised their hands for Pepper to pull them up. She did and clapped each of them on the upper arm as she did. These were her guys, nearly brothers. She made sure they’d gotten extra mags for their weapons and encouraged them to load up on grenades.

In a few minutes, she and her fireteam were standing beside the teams chosen by Solus and Boudicca. Orlo looked them over and told them to fallen behind him. He was going to lead them in. They double timed it around the side of the embassy as the rest of the platoon loaded back into their Dragon Teeth and booked it out of the compound. The two DTs that had carried Third Squad were still there and now idling, ready for a fast getaway.

Boudicca ordered two of her guys off to one of the DTs. The pair climbed into the IFV for a moment and came out with a rocket launcher. They set up and armed the launcher and took aim at the second story of the embassy. Boudicca stopped beside them and directed them to shift their aim two windows to the left. The rest of the ad hoc squad took up positions in clusters to either side of the rocket crew. One of the DTs shifted into gear and began pulling away and turning towards the building. Boudwyn nodded to the Lt, and Orlo gave the command to fire. The racketeer depressed the firing studs, and a gout of fire flicked out in a long tongue from the rear of the tube as the rocket roared up at the building. The rocket specially designed by the Bard Gun Company’s Cruel and Unusual Detonations Division was meant to blow open holes in exterior walls and create alternate entry points.

The rocket rammed into the wall and exploded split moment later. Now the special thing about this warhead came in two parts. First, it was the brainchild of brilliant but incredibly unstable man named Julius Kladius Explodem, who’s genius and madness were created at the same Togovian facility that Pepper was created at. The second special part of the rocket came because it was created by JK Explodem and was revealed with the smoke cleared. As soon as they could see clearly, they found that the rocket had somehow blown a nearly perfect square hole in the exterior wall of the embassy’s second floor. Though odd and hard to explain it was hard to argue with…well except by Explodem himself. It wasn’t a perfect square, it was a rhombus.

Anyways, the Dragon Tooth that had been waiting pulled itself up as flush against the wall as the driver could manage. Lieutenant Orlo gave the order, and the fourteen volunteers followed him in a sprint to the DT. They all grabbed on to the bird cage armor and hauled themselves up on top of the IFV. The four Guards that reached the wall split up. Two boosted the other two up to the top. The two at the top cleared the room and then turned back to help up the next two that the Guards at the base of the wall boosted up. They repeated this over and over to get the squad up.

Solus’s fireteam was the first up in full. He moved them out into the hall. They swung to the right towards the children and they all snapped off a couple quick shots. They’d briefed over plans of the embassy so it took Solus a moment to get his bearings, and then he turned his people left and moved towards one of the stairs up from the bottom floor. They made it there just as the remaining ambulatory zombies were starting to head up the stairs. A volley of fire sent them back down. Solus tromped down the stairs and peeked around the corner and saw more coming and many more dragging themselves along. He pulled a grenade off his vest and removed the pin. He flipped the spoon off and counted down. He heard another spoon flip off as he threw the grenade and ducked around the corner. He saw another of his fireteam throw a grenade and duck back. Two booms overrode the moans momentarily, and Solus and his fireteam retreated back up to the top of the stairs to hold there.

Pepper’s team was the next up. She swept into the hallway and saw no threats. She heard the explosions down the stairs and saw her brother come back up and set his men to a firing line at the top. She turned right and headed down the hall. The room in which they’d felt the children was wreathed with a couple of zombies that hadn’t been drawn off by the assault at the door but had been killed when Solus’s team first entered the hall. To be careful her team put another round in each of the zombies and then dragged them clear of the doorway. Two of her team covered the hall while she another Guard prepared to enter the room. She pounded on the door to the rhythm of ‘shave and a haircut,’ she didn’t expect that the dead were going to have the coordination, and yelled, “We’re Catawaban Military! Stand back from the door! We’ll get you out!”

She tried the handle just to be safe and wasn’t surprised to find it locked. She turned her shotgun attachment on the lock and fired a shell into whole thing. It blew apart, and Pepper could see through into the room. She braced her and kicked at the door. She actually ended up pushing herself back into the middle of the hall when she’d fully extended her leg. She stared at the door for a moment as did her battle buddy. He stepped up and laid his shoulder into the door, and it only budged a bit. “They’ve got braced and barricaded!”

“Leave that to me,” came a deep, husky voice from the room they’d all entered through. Pepper turned and saw her big sister Boudicca striding down the hall. She was still in the same black armor and uniform as the other guards, but while most had a short Taung kad sheathed over their shoulder, she had a claymore diagonally across her back. For the full Celtic effect, she’d even dyed her half of her silver facial fur blue with woad. It was actually simplistic. She’d only had time and warning enough to get half her face solidly dyed. With more time and effort she liked to create whirling patterns or even pictograms or faces on her face. Pepper shook herself out of her sister’s quasi-bezerker air and moved her fireteam down the hall to cover the other approach.

Boudicca saw the door cracked open slightly. She nudged it to get an idea for it and then laid her shoulder fully into it and pushed. Another Guard, a small one, managed to fit around her in the doorway and add his effort to the job, but the rest stood there watching as the nearly seven-foot vornskrari female grunt and shove the door and all the furniture stacked behind it backwards. There was a reason no one really wanted to play an opposing lineman against Boudicca when the Guard played football.

The moment Boudicca and her helper got the door open the others in her fireteam swept into the room and declared it clear. Well, they managed to say clear after a moment or five of silence and then curses. Boudicca entered behind them and saw what despair can do to a person. There had been perhaps ten adults in the large office along with six children. Only one adult and three children were living when the Guards broke into the room. It was pretty clear that the adults had all committed suicide and left the one living adult to do the same to the children. It wasn’t a shining moment of humanity or sentience for that matter.

The surviving adult, the one unlucky git who’d drawn the mircoscopically short straw, was in a bad state. She, a woman…that couldn’t have been easy to do the dirty deed she’d been stuck with, was lying on the floor with her neck propped at entirely wrong angle for anatomical correctness. She was still alive somehow, barely breathing. The office looked like a tornado had been through it. Things were tossed everywhere, and papers lay in a thin layer over the bodies of the dead, so it’d been done after they’d offed themselves or been offed. Perhaps the woman had just lost after killing three of the children who weren’t older than their teens, one was maybe seven, and torn the room apart in her madness.

It was however clear that the last able child had decided she didn’t want the woman’s ‘mercy’. She was petite preteen who could have been the Imitoran reincarnation of Shirley Temple with her curly golden and blue dress. However little Shirley Temple might have been hard pressed to even play the part of the Imitoran girl as she stood between the three heavily armed and imposing Guards that entered the room full of bodies and the two babies behind her. “Go away, or I’ll hurt you too.” She said calmly, dispassionately.

The other two Guards looked between each other, Boudicca, and then the bodies around them. They figured that girl was the most disconcerting thing at the moment, but the bodies were a close second. Boudicca ignored it all and took a step towards the girl. The girl took a step back but then froze as a moan filled the room. The girl’s eyes flashed down and beside Boudicca. One of the Guards caught it moment later and yelled a warning. Boudicca was already moving.

She could feel the mockery of life rise. She could feel her hackles rise and in her mind she knew exactly where it was. She pirouetted away from the moan, surprisingly agile for a woman of her size. Her tail snapped up and away from the hands of the rising corpse as it lunged for it. It fell short and started to get up to its feet when Boudicca finished her spin. She brought her SAW up to her shoulder and fired a long burst. The corpse’s body ended at the neck when it fell back down. Boudicca stood there in the midst of the shocked room in the aftermath of that quick, graceful moment of violence.

One of the Guards broke the silence. “Sarge, what if they’re all infected?” Infected, that was the assumption. They’d seen it in the movies. T-virus, Solanum, Rage Virus…most zombies were virus based. It was strangely comforting. Mystical means, demon possession, Evil was shoved aside despite the potential open portal to a realm of hell in the basement. Viruses were science; they were logical. Mystical means were anything but logical. They were hard to predict, anticipate. It. Must. Be. A. Virus. It just had to be for the sake of their sanity.

Boudicca looked at the blonde girl, at the children, and then at the adult who was barely hanging on. “The children are not infected, but the woman is.”

The Guards looked doubtful. The woman’s eyes gave off a helpless look of fear. She knew what would have to happen. The mouthy Guard spoke again, “Sarge, we can’t even be sure…”

Boudicca fit him with a glare that shut his mouth with a click of his teeth. She was perhaps the third female down the list in the pack, but that was mostly by choice. She was utterly intimidating figure when she wished to be. “Take the children out, Private.”

The Private nodded and made a move towards the children, but the preteen stood in the way. Boudicca fixed her eyes on the girl but with a much softer looker. “Let him by, child. We’ll take of you all.”

The girl stepped towards Boudicca and let the two Guards take a child each and leave the room. Another Guard entered to take hold of the girl, but the girl drew closer to Boudicca. The vornskrari looked at her subordinate. “Murdoch, tell Pepper we’re done here and pulling out.” The Guard left the room. Boudicca finally turned her attention to the paralyzed woman. Her lips drew back in a snarl. She let her SAW drop down on its sling and drew out the claymore from her back.

She stepped up over the woman, whose frightened eyes followed the caninoid’s movements. Boudicca stood over her and glared at the woman. She pronounced very levelly and condemned her in Taung’a. She ritually denounced the woman as worthless, no better than camp thief. She’d failed her most sacred duties as an adult: to raise children. Strictly to the Taung ‘raise’ means quite a few more things. It also means love, care for, educate, protect among other things. Boudicca condemned ever other coward in the room for not protecting their children. If they could not, she would, then she brought the heavy two-handed sword down and cleaved into the woman’s head. She would not return from the dead, and Boudicca was sure she would return to the living with Mira judged the woman’s deeds in life.

The vornskrari looked down at the girl. “You follow me closely. Take hold of my tail.” She swung her silver tail in front of the girl. The little blonde took hold of the over meter long tail and followed Boudicca out into the hall. Solus and his team were already back away from the stairs, shooting any head that popped up. Pepper likewise had drawn her team back from the other stairs and was firing sporadically in that direction. Boudicca made it to their entry point and watched the Guards hand down the babies gingerly and then jump down themselves.

She nodded towards the hole in the wall. “Go on, cyar’ika. I’ll be right behind you.” The girl didn’t know what the vornskrari was talking about, but she could understand the kind tone and the affectionate lilt on the strange foreign word. This large and frightening female was at both moments scary for her violence and severe attitude but also sweet, comforting, and protective. The girl thought she should be more scared, but after what she’d experienced, the dog woman was reassuring.

She went to the edge of the hole and looked down to the soldier who was waiting with raised arms to catch her. “Jump, sweetie.” He was a squat dark man. He was very fearsome with his weapons, armor, and helmet, but she’d always noticed that the most fearsome soldiers usually turned soft as feather down pillows when they caught sight of her. She’d gotten a lot of candy bars and pats on the head. Guns fired a lot, and the girl looked up after the dog woman.

She had turned back towards the embassy’s interior for a moment. She looked back down at the soldier. “Murdoch, button up and get them out of here. We’ll be out in the second DT.” Murdoch took hold of her and handed her down to another soldier who carried her into the military vehicle. The ramp at the rear closed and then they were off, roaring somewhere…somewhere away from the embassy, to safety and yet away from the only real safety she knew…the dog woman.

Boudicca turned back to the hallway and rushed back, claymore still in hand. Solus’s team was stil moving back slowly with each couple of shots at the heads that poked up the stairs. Solus however was turned towards the other end of the hall. Boudicca felt Pepper’s shock and anger with the fear of her team. She turned and saw the source of it all.

It was a pack of wolves, right size for them, but they were pitch black except for the burning eyes and mane of flames. Hell hound was the word that came to mind. The Hell Hounds came charging around the corner that Pepper and her people had drawn back around. The four Guards fired heavily into the pack and downed two before the dogs hit them. Two Guards went down under the weight, Pepper’s MOR-Grenadier and MORP troops. Pepper moved point blank to the one on her MORP man and fired a shotgun shell into its head. The Guard was kicking the corpse off him when another swept over the line of Guards and slammed into Pepper. She was knocked back and down onto her back.

As the hound reared back to bite at her neck, she jammed her arm up in the way. Pepper howled as the thing snapped down on her limb. She scrambled to get at her rifle which was pinned under her, she couldn’t get at the kad on her back, and her pistol was on her right. Her right arm was in the creature’s maw, and it shook her like a squirrel. She clawed at it with her freehand and shifted her tail free, the skin of her tailbulb drew back exposing her venomous barb. She whipped her tail about, stinging the Hound repeatedly. The neurotoxic venom in her barb took effect quickly with no surprise due the number of times she’d stung the damned beast (literally damned, dontchaknow?).

She pushed the thing off of her, and her arm exploded in pain. She bit her tongue to ward off yelps and whimpers. She rolled to knees, ignoring the pain or at least doing her best to. Pain was a warning from the body to avoid damaging it further. It was surmountable to a degree, eventually it’d shut her down like an overheated machine, but that threshold was far off. She knew. The Togovians had made sure she knew.

She felt a presence and flicked her eyes over to glance at the slathering muzzle of another hellhound a big one, the alpha perhaps. He was looking at her either like she was a tasty morsel who’d just killed a few of his pack…or that she was an awful cute dog girl and the fight had done wonders for its sex drive, both had a sort of hungry look to them. Pepper was going to ensure both didn’t happen. She reached behind her for the kad. She’d kill the thing if it lunged. She didn’t get a chance. A round whined behind her head and slammed the thing’s head to the side. Blinded, probably lobotomized, but what did that matter to a soulless mockery of dogkind, the hell hound stepped around Pepper to get whoever took a shot at it and stepped right into the battle-cry driven swing of Boudicca’s claymore.

It staggered, actually staggered back from a full two-handed stroke from the biggest vornskrari surviving. Boudicca yanked her claymore from the thing’s skull and looked wide eyed at thing’s exposed brain. It stepped around Pepper to put the smaller vornskrari between it and the faux-Celt. The hound forgot Pepper’s pervious hostility. She’d gotten her kad out and when she whistled and drew the hound’s one-eyed, half-brained attention she swung the heavy short sword down into the cleft Boudicca had made. It sagged tried to straighten up. Pepper had had enough.

With an explosion of rage she drew her sword back out of the thing’s skull and then slashed down hard two more times until it finally realized it was dead. Pepper was breathing hard and fitfully from the rage, the pain, and exertion. Solus moved up beside them and kept the corner under cover. Boudicca knelt down and helped Pepper pry open the dead hound who still held her arm captive. They freed her arm, and Pepper waved off Boudicca’s help to get to her feet. She had all her gear. It was still strapped or attached to her, and she was holding her kad loosely. She staggered to her feet and looked around her. Only one other of her fireteam, her Fireteam Designated Marksman with his MORP, still stood watching the corner like her brother. She looked down at the bodies. There were five hell hounds dead, cleaved or ripped apart by the Guard’s fire. Whatever buoying satisfaction she had at the sight of her enemy dead at her feet was crushed by the two other bodies in the pile. Her MORG man, Private Neeip Brevvin, and her MORD man, Private Sailas Jay’na were both dead, throats ripped open. Pepper felt her despair and failure slam into her as hard as her exhaustion. Her surviving fireteam member, her FDM Private Nelson Winthrop, steadied. Boudicca sheathed her claymore and nodded to Solus. They knew what they’d need to do.

While she brought her SAW up and covered the hall, Solus and Winthrop stopped at the bodies of their comrades, whispered an apology, put a round into their heads, and then picked up the bodies. They carried them back to the entrance. They weren’t going to live any of theirs in this literal hell hole. Pepper followed her and her fireteam to the entrance. Boudicca called Solus’s fireteam back to the door of the room they’d entered through. Two of Solus’s Guards moved past them dropped down onto the roof of the second Dragon Tooth that had pulled up to replace the first.

They accepted their charges with quick dignity. They passed them down one after the other to the roof of the DT. Solus and Winthrop dropped down to the Dt and then relayed them down to the first pair who carried them inside the IFV. Solus helped her down out of the embassy, and then Winthrop helped her down from the DT. He supported her into IFV, and then in short order the rest of the Guards were inside. The DT’s engine roared as the driver gave it all the throttle he could even before the door closed. The vehicle commander was keeping a close eye on the battle map. He yelled at his driver to go faster. The driver took the turn out the embassy gates at speed. The DT skidded and tilted as he drove hard. The commandeered turned back to make sure the ramp was closed, which it was, and then yelled for everyone to hold on tight.

[OOC: Did you know that the most characters you can post in any one go is 50,000? I didn't...huh...I bet y'all hope I never have to determine that again. So do I.]

Deep in the Ardent Errant, Mercy, Margaret and Geoffries watched the operation from its near disastrous beginning to the tense firefight and then the final, victorious and yet tragic stage. They had the most horrific and complete view of the operation. Sea Hawk UCAVs from the patrol frigate CNS Echoy’la Dala orbited overhead giving a real time map of the battle. Uploads from the targeting optics of the tanks and DTs gave one part of the combat itself. However, the clearest depiction of the entire confused melee came from the MORP cameras. MORPs are basically .420 barrel instead of the normal 6.5mm barrel. It has not weapon attachment like other frontline versions of the MOR. Its attachment was a streaming video camera. MORP and the FDM that wielded them were often used as scouts and the camera attachments allowed them to send back visual data of what they were seeing. The camera attachments sent back the whole shock of the zombie horde, the hell inside the embassy, and then the hell hound blitz.

After the real life horror film he’d been made to watch, Errant had no qualms about ordering the next stage of the battle plan. If there had been any other living Imitorans in the embassy that the vornskrari had somehow missed, Errant felt no guilt about them. He would not order his people back into that. He turned to the video connection to General Tom Waverly. “Cauterize that wound in my island, Tom.”

Waverly nodded and turned to someone out of range of the camera and issued orders. Moments later the Ardent shuddered. Errant turned to another Sea Hawk’s point of view. This was higher up, camera not as focused. It was giving a wide angle shot of Graceland and the bay. He saw the ripples rush out from the Ardent as it fired its two main railguns and then the two smaller broadside turreted railguns on the side facing the shore. There were little noise, mostly like large champagne corks popping, as the main guns of the ships in the harbor fired almost all at once. Their barrels were pointed high with the first salvo. There was very little fire for there was no gunpowder combusting, but there was a bit of a streak of sparks and flames as the hypersonic round went skyward. All the operational guns in the harbor lowered fractionally and fired another salvo. They lowered their barrels again and fired off one last salvo.

The battlecruisers had fired their two sixteen inch guns and two of their four six inch guns. The frigates had fired off their two six inch guns. The Echoy’la Dala fired its one six inch gun. Nineteen guns in all fired off fifty-seven rounds all total. All of the guns were hooked into fire control computers that took GPS into account along with a multitude of other factor to fire their rounds with as much pinpoint accuracy an artillery system could manage, and beyond that every shell was of a new generation that had GPS guidance. All fifty-seven fell onto the embassy, but they did it in an evenly dispersed and preplanned pattern.

Like they were welded together into one mass they slammed down into the roof of the embassy and penetrated deep into the building’s subbasements before exploding. They obliterated anything around them, cut the support pillars all at once. The embassy collapsed in on itself with roar shattering stone and groaning metal. Before the dust could settle, the A-10s that had been loitering on the edge of the kill box Command had drawn around the area wheeled about and dove towards the fresh pile of rubble. Whether it had begun to burn of its own accord and the naval bombardment was mute as the twelve Warthogs streaked in with their deadly cargoes. The first flight of four dropped a pair of fuel air muntions. The intense blast waves shattered any glass that had withstood the shockwaves of the infantry and mechanized battle in the embassy courtyards. It also pulverized the rubble and anything that might have been left. The intense heat seared at the rubble with a strength that might have rivaled some realms of Hell and then the vacuum left behind sucked at the lungs of anything that might have needed to breathe in the wreckage. The last two flights, all eight of them, dropped canisters of napalm right in the wake of the first airstrike. While the short intense fire of the first bombs had dissipated, this second firestorm burned and burned.

Errant stood watching the display for a while as the Marine that had assaulted the embassy formed a wide cordon around the inferno and watched for anything that might step from the fire. Marine units were appearing to augment their vigil. It would be a long time before he turned away. The evacuation and disaster preparations were proceeding as planned and as much as they were able. He had nothing left to do tonight, just brace for the coming wave and destruction.

OOC: I'm not as eloquent as Catawaba...
Hours ago…

Shalamar had taken a moment to pull Abagail aside. One look at the deadly seriousness in the older woman’s eyes, told the young colonel much of what she needed to know. TMZ was going to get hit the worst of all the other nations. She was smart and well educated, and it was no secret that TMZ's home islands were all volcanic islands.

She listened to the details that Shalamar could give her and her shoulders slumped. Her nations was going to cease to exist in the end. Even if they had only had their homelands since the end of the Dark War she was surprised at how much it hurt.

Now…

Abagail watched from one of the Tanaaran orbital habitats – the two ‘island three’ tubes filled to over flowing with her fellow TMZers as well as two others habitats all holding as many as their life support/ eco systems could handle– others had been sent to Tanaara, or to the far inland areas of the lands that would be the new Tanaaran Militarized Zone, Sent on a mission – ride out the shockwaves and the minute the earth rocking and rolling stopped, they were to take the assault to the warlords that were infesting the region. The last of those of the fallen Central Worlds had been evacuated by the remnants of their space fleet, and so any one left was either Tanaaran military, TMZ military or potentially hostile.

Now as Zero hour approached she watched as unimaginably vast parcels of land ripped for the face of the planet hovered some ten miles above the angry seas that had rushed in to fill those voids. That was unbelievable enough then to see them fall, taking several minutes. Now she knew the gut level horror that those watching the loss of the Challenger must have felt, watching it fall, fall, fall forever to the hungry sea below.

She couldn’t look away however, that would be to dishonor the loss, Then as Imitora slid down the rip in the fabric of Reality, she witnessed Eleysan and the new lands TMZ had hoped to colonize get torn from their place abutting southern Assington – their landmasses had, but on the surface only, looked to be a part of the Norishima continent. However they weren’t. They were on the same tectonic plate as the continent of Imitora and were pulled with that devoured land into a another realm, gone forever along with several million that had been unable to be evacuated in time.

Tear poured unheeded from her face – indeed down the faces of all her brother and sister officers gathered in the impromptu command center as the might volcanoes that had formed their new homeland awoke with a spiteful vengeance and destroyed all the TMZ had built, had poured heart and soul and future into . All gone as the terra firm danced like a drug crazed spastic.

Her father roared, the totally unexpected sound of his bull chested anguish catching all of theirs attention. “Snuffle those tears, we have to much to do to let our people down by standing around and not getting it done. Lets get to work. We need a full causality list, materials lost list, and most of all we just sent a huge hunk of our people to fight in a combat zone that rocking and rolling from more than just the rumble of our K-Max’s” Their lates advance, grav tanks produced a vibration that one could feel in ones bones. But they were fast, agile and could go places no land bound tank could…

It would take them, acting in concert with Tanaaran forces, less than a year to bring the region under control, wresting it completely from the hands of the infesting warlords. Then began the rebuilding of trashed infrastructure. That would take far longer, but they set to that with the same will.

Thanks to the Lady of Cats Keep, the Tanaarans and others knew an overview of what was coming, and that had been of invaluable help. Especially when the Imitoran Embassy exploded. It did not do nearly the damage it could have, for a dome of protective energy shielding had been raised about the grounds. The generators whined shrilly, for they had been but quickly jury rigged. They would not hold for long, but they would not be needed for long. And human soldiers stood ready as well. The 501st Tanaara’s elite mecha division had dispatched a company of mechs and their elite light infantry detachment – 72 mechs and 216 infantry – their finest to surround and provide the military presence about the Imitoran embassy.

No, the real protection was the small group of people just outside the edge of the energy shield. Four of them were tall, slender, faintly aura wreathed figures who had vast, resplendently argent wings that, even folded tightly closed, rose well above their heads – and when opened would span over twenty feet. The five others floated, sitting serenely cross-legged in mid air. A Circle of nine, four adult, fully come into their powers Celestials and five young girls with twilight amethyst eyes – the youngest nine and the oldest thirteen - turned their attentions, if not their eyes, to what lay behind that shimmering veil. The explosion, shielded though it was, still made them flinch. Wings ruffled slightly and the girls bobbled in their floating for a moment, but all regained their composure quickly. Those that were their support group – nearly a dozen monitors and healers - had ducked and gasps rose from them, ignored by the Circle as they prepared for what they knew would come. They could sense it, clearly now that the containment efforts of the Imitorans had so thoroughly failed. As one a low growl rose from their throats, a purely instinctual reaction that they weren’t even really aware of. It was only natural as what had breached though was the closest thing to their natural diametric opposite – the Foe that was their raison d'etre – as they had ever encountered.

What followed the explosion was not the normal gout of fire but a wave of beslimed water, foul stinking and tainted, that poured in a seemingly endless fountain up from the basement of the wreckage. When the corruption boiled out of the remains of the Embassy they acted as one, under the direction of their leader, the tallest of the Celestials. She was now naught but a column of light lancing to the heavens as she wove their response into a weapon/ Heatless blue flames arose, ethereal azure veils that enfolded the Contagion that slithered bonelessly forth from the wreckage.

The Master (http://www.atddm.com/octo1.jpg) - it’s vast bulk fleshed in leprous flesh of a sickly olivine hue and dotted liberally with seeping pustules - surrounded by its tentacled underlings, was carried into the open by that vase wave but it had it’s own ability to move, as had the octopoids. And they swept out ward. Forms that had once been human scuttled after their new masters, but were even more unprotected than the octopoidian beings. They fell convulsing, the tentacles that were all that remained of their faces knotting and tremmoring uncontrollably. But there were many of them, far more than the official population of the embassy over all…

The octopoids moved across the rubble strewn embassy grounds as fast as any octopus would in it’s native environment, but the living curtains of fire sought them out and enveloped them, the water about them turning to steam as they died. The invaders were not without their own fearful abilities and attacked in turn. And they lashed out with tentacles twisting in arcane patterns.

Sigils formed, hung in mid air and some of the soldiers present found their minds trapped in horrifying nightmares from which they would never find release in this life. Other’s found their flesh dissolving as they were smothered under layers of acidic jelly. A few Mechs staggered as their pilots lost control of their psi-symbiot relationship with the mechs and a handful of the infantry turned their weapons on each other. The 501st had it’s share of healers and medics and they moved quickly to attend their comrades, or to keep them from harming others. The order to fire was given as the shields over loaded and the field collapsed. The greater majority had been unaffected and acted almost as one to rain accurate and devastating fire on the invaders.

With the clench of a fist, and a flaring of anger glowing in her eyes, from one of the floating girls – she could not have been more than eleven - the first set of sigils dissolved, then the second. But seconds later she collapsed to the ground and the Circle’s monitors and healers rushed to her prone form. She would live, but would be unconscious for many days.

The others moved slightly, shifting to cover her share of the effort. It was not visible to the worldly eye, but in realms beyond human sight an intense war raged. Forces contested with one another, yielding here to attack unexpectedly there, subtle ambushes foiling blunt force attacks there, a defense collapsing to reveal yet another layering of reactive armor. For those without, the Circle seemed to be doing little more than standing there, save for subtle shifts in posture and facial expressions, but those with the eyes to see saw far more and knew what was happening. Though mostly those about were far too busy with their own concerns.

The octopoids and their Master shuddered suddenly and the various weapons fire directed at them suddenly began having a visible effect. The stuttering, eye searingly blue lightening of a phased particle cannon whipped over the Master and the immense bulk – it had swollen, growing to the size of nearly the embassy building itself – shuddered in turn but before the discharge could do more than halo the entity, it was flung off, redirected at the Circle that opposed it’s malice.

In a split second the leader of the Circle, spun in place to face the crackling, lethal energies, to place herself between her Circle and harm. The manmade lighting pulsed about her, forming a corona about her and forcing her back into physical form, a form now grievously damaged and falling comatose to the drenched ground. However her Second was there to take the strain and though he was much younger and less experienced he took up the mantle and under his direction the Circle resumed the offensive.

The titanic struggle lasted for hours, both sides close to evenly matched but in the end the Circle prevailed. More had been injured and there were many fatalities among Tanaaran defenders but the Master and the octopoidal beings that accompanied it were gone, their remains stinking as they dissolved – the remains as well as the bodies of the mutated Imitorans were being immolated by psychic fire, heated to the surface temperature of the sun behind arcane shields.

[OOC: Another long post, but this is very close to wrapping up what most of what I have to say. And WA, I hope I was vague enough not to offend you in some way when I was writing about Argonia.]

The Big One

Actually, Catawabans hate calling it the “Big One.” “Big One” requires more than one tsunami created by the destruction of an island…oh…the size of Catawaba. There hasn’t been One before, so must require there eventually be another, lesser tsunami created by the destruction of an island a little smaller than Catawaba. Catawabans don’t want a Smaller Big One. Calling it by that almost asks for another one.

Catawabans mostly call it the ‘The ISNAFTH’ pronounced “Is-na-fith” but meaning ‘The Imitoran Situation: Normal, All Fekked To Hell.’

~~~~~~~~~~

The ISNAFTH

In the aftermath of the assault on the Imitoran embassy, warnings went out to every nation with an Imitoran embassy or consulate. The Catawaban War Office gathered together their visual feeds and set them onto the concerned parties in Tanaara, Tarlachia, and the Golden Simitar. The accompanying message from the Counselor for War and Air Marshall, General Tom Waverly advised all governments to level their Imitoran embassy and do all that is possible to ensure nothing survived including and heavily suggesting burning the entire compound to sterilize the environment. The chance for a undead outbreak or another demon invasion was too real for anything less. Waverly even took a deep breath and suggested that no attempts be made to rescue any Imitoran personnel. The risk Catawaba took on was almost too much.

The Dog Company, the DT crews, and the Lariat company were relieved as Marines in full NBC gear arrived to take responsibility for the vigil. They were immediately ordered to an old army post outside of the city. The Lariat crews were thought to be fine because of the considerable NBC filtration and seals on their tanks. Biological warfare teams sprayed down their tanks with sanitizers and then ordered them out. The crews were sequestered in their own barracks and left alone for the most part. Few problems were anticipated from them. The Guards and the DT crews were taken out and put through harsh chemical showers and scrubbed down for fear of a zombie or demon virus. They were all broken up into smaller groups. All were watched like hawks by medical personnel. The team that actually entered the embassy and the survivors were sequestered in smaller group as their risk was thought to be greatest.

The two babies, the girl who said her name was Mathilda Greirson, and Pepper were to be put in their own rooms and isolated. Solus and Boudicca shot that down right off. The two babies were asleep and frankly too young to even be crawling about. They were little risk to anyone and slept most of the time. Mathilda was a frightened young girl, orphaned and had been literally put through hell. Boudicca was not going to let her be stuck in a room all by herself. When the medics tried to keep her outside, the imposing pseudo-Celt stared down at them, and said she was the girl’s guardian, and then pushed the medic aside and strode into the room unprotected. The medics then couldn’t try to remove her, even if they’d wanted to try, until both were cleared.

Solus did the same for Pepper. He shoved his way past the medics. There was no way he was going to leave his injured sister who MIGHT be infected with a satanic virus alone in a room. She was exhausted, injured, and dealing with losing half of the men under her command all in medical quarantine that strayed close to her laboratory upbringing. Solus let Pepper lean against him as she cradled her broken which merely had a splint and a sling until she could be cleared and moved to surgery for the multiple breaks caused by the hellhound’s jaws.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The First Air Expeditionary Force as command labeled the aircraft fleeing the International Island had no problems as it made for Greyrock. In turn, each flight of Catawaban aircraft touched down and taxied to a stretch of tarmac that the Argonians had laid out for them. The fighters rolled off to the side and out of the way. When the transports touched down, attention was first given to them. Ground crews rushed out to help the aircrews unload their planes and refuel. They were already in the middle of this rush when Quigley’s flight slipped into the pattern. The KC-10 he and his wingmate were escorting went first. The two Swallows had joined up with his flight to refuel from the Extender and followed them in. The tilt-wings were able to split off and cross to the helipad where they could discharge their passengers.

Quigley watched the KC-10 touch down before he and Williams slid into the downwind leg and then onto final. As he traveled the pattern slowly and applied flaps, he took a moment to get an aerial layout of the airport’s protection. It was on higher ground than the rest of the capital city and surrounded by earthworks topped with a concrete wall. The entire setup looked very tight at least from the air. The general could also seen on his flight in that engineers both civilian and military were working around the city of Greyrock itself and the surrounding countryside to slow or deflect the tsunami’s might.

Quigley lowered his landing gear, added in the last of his flaps, and radioed that he was coming in for a landing, full stop. He throttled back to lower his altitude and dipped his nose so he didn’t bleed off to much speed as his controls did that odd yet familiar switch as he came into landing. He held off as long as possible to bleed off speed before letting his gear kiss onto the runway. Williams tried to emulate, but she still had a bit of a bounce in her landing. It was an art of his, landings so smooth you hardly knew you’d stopped flying.

Actually, he couldn’t blame Williams. They’d been doing a hell of a lot of carrier landings in training. In fact every Catawaban pilot had been doing a lot of carrier landings because every aircraft of a size to land on an aircraft carrier could land on a carrier, and every pilot had to know how. The Dragonflies, the Firebirds, Harpies Warthogs, and Spacepigs were all navalized fighters. The Swallows were designed to be as well. And when a carrier qualified pilots lands a carrier qualified fighter on a carrier, the pilot has to slam the pilot down onto the deck to catch one of the handful of arrestor cables. Smooth landings were an Air Force pilot’s bragging point; Navy pilots bragged about catching the first cable every time.

Once his Dragonfly had slowed to a stop, Quigley ‘cleaned up’ his aircraft by raising his flaps and then throttled up to get his plane off the runway. Williams followed in close behind. He moved off to the patch of tarmac set aside for his fighters. When they arrived and shut down all their systems and raised their canopies, ground personnel had moved a set of stairs up next to the cockpit. Matt climbed out and helped Vicky out of the aft seat. They had enough time to stretch before they were met by a subaltern of the base commander. The junior officer apologized, saying that the base commander was understandably busy. Matt waved off the young lizard’s apology and asked if they could take the officer’s vehicle to take a look at the wall surrounding the base.

The officer quickly agreed, and they piled into the car which zoomed off towards the wall. Quigley leaned forward and asked to see the stretch of a wall facing the intended course of the tsunami. The officer made a correction to his driver and then turned back to the Catawaban general to explain the situation. Matt’s planes were already being unloaded and refueled. The transports had first priority as discussed, so they could get back in the air soonest. Feeder airports closer to the coast capable of handling the transports had been alerted to expect arrivals. Last of all the fighters were to be refueled, and the Catawaban War Office was still in negotiations with the Argonian government to arm the LA-10s just in case there was trouble after the ISNAFTH.

Matt nodded at each point in the quick briefing and thanked the officer for the prompt response from the Argonian government. The young officer dutifully waved off the thanks and returned those of his people and country for Catawaba’s willingness to aid them in a time of need. Matt couldn’t think a diplomatic way to shrug that off besides a canned answer, but thankfully he was saved when they pulled up to the wall. Matt got out and climbed up the earthwork to the wall. He surveyed the earthwork up and down the line. As the officer began explaining the wall’s construction, Matt decided he must be an aide to have such a store of encyclopedic knowledge and the joyful willingness to spout it to any who could stand it. Matt, ignoring the speech somewhere around how much rebar per cubic foot used in construction, ran along the wall for a moment until he planted foot hard on the wall and threw himself upwards. Matt fully extended himself and grabbed onto the top of the wall. He scrambled up and then stood atop the concrete wall and looked out over the surroundings.

He nodded appraisingly. It would stand the wave. The Argonians were moving heaven and earth, and the airport would stay dry, even if only for his presence. Matt turned around and looked down at the two Argonians. “What? Never seen a guy wall run a twelve foot barrier? It’s not that hard.”

He ignored the amazed stares as he let himself lowered himself to the ground. Okay, so might not be hard for someone like him, but then most soldiers didn’t expect generals to be running up walls like sprite gymnasts. Go figure. Okay, so maybe they might not expect it of a human general. Frankly, Matt had no real idea was an Argonian command officer was capable of. He asked to be taken to the base’s command center where he could coordinate his planes’ efforts.

The next hours were a flurry of activity…no that’s too calm, it was a fekkin’ madhouse. As much as Quigley wanted to be in the air taking a turn at the yoke of one of the transports, the command center was the place where he could do the most good and least damage. If he was out flying a transport of refugees on the last flight out of some podunk airstrip with a tsunami bearing down on him, he was guaranteed to get everyone into trouble, but back at the command center he could let the work of saving be done by brave pilots with very little back story and reason to attract danger and trouble.

Matt arranged for Victoria to stay close to the nerve center of the relief effort and disaster preparations and to wander nearly wherever she pleased by instating her as an embedded reporter. During any break, he’d give her the best update as he could get, drawing from the intelligence of the whole region. As he gave her the run down on the different events happening in Imitora and the greater region, he’d watch the transports, his transports land and take off. He watched hundreds of Argonians climb down the stairs and off ramps and be directed to emergency shelters set up around the airport. When all eight transports touched down and disgorged their full loads, a thousand refugees were brought from certain danger near the coast to potential danger here at the airport.

Matt watched them all be bundled off to cots and sleeping bags when those ran out. Little by little his planes filtered in and were secured. Time was running out and Matt didn’t want to risk having planes out and up in the air if all the runways took damage. Most of the planes were able to get five trips in, some six or seven, but in the end all landed and were secured. Matt gathered all the Catawabans and one Tanaaran into the shelter that had been set aside for them. The pilots, ground crew, and the diplomatic personnel that hadn’t gone home looked rightly nervous. He stood up before them and assured them as best he could, “Y’all, I’ve seen the defenses the Argonians set up, and I’ve got the best confidence in them.”

A wag in the back of the group spoke up, “Sir, we gotta put our lives in the hands of a bunch of Seabees, sir. A bunch of Seabees that ain’t even our Seabees. We’re gone get wet, sir.”

Matt actually knew who the wag was. Airman Third Class Thomas Gallowsbrid was not as inconspicuous as he thought, at least not to Matt who was a fair more accomplished wag and smart-aleck. At least, Gallowsbrid’s objection was interservice between aircrew and groundpounder and international rather than racial because there’d been no mention of lizards, walking pair of boots to be, or some such. “There isn’t a safer strip that we can get to within in range and time, but I swear that’ll mop up any water that makes over the wall and into the compound personally.” They looked at each other and rolled their eyes at his bravado.

However when the notification that Imitora had collapsed into the sea and that the Wave was on its way was received, Quigley left the safety of the Catawaban-commandeered shelter, spinning a mop in his hand. His troops watched from windows and doorways as Matt whistled and spun the mop about him like it was quarter staff, seemingly undeterred or concerned by the wall of water heading their way at speeds faster than their transport aircraft could fly. They yelled at him, begged him to come back, insulted his sanity. Matt kept going.

Argonians watched the seemingly crazed human walk calmly across the tarmac and the inactive runway to the levee nearest the coast. He climbed the broad levee and repeated his performance of running up the wall. He threw the mop atop the wall and dragged a leg up to lever himself up onto the wall. He picked up his mop and stood astride the wall and picked out the oncoming Wave in the distance. It’d slowed somewhat as it come ashore. It wasn’t going five hundred miles or more, but it was still rushing on quickly.

Someone was calling for him to get down from there. Matthew Quigley ignored them…no Mister Matt Murphy ignored them. There wasn’t much point to be thinking in that identity right now. Matthew Quigley, irreverent and irascible Air Force general, wasn’t much use here and now. He was just as useless as the rest of the men Matt had been and might be again. At their core was Matt Murphy, the one that had everything they knew and could do. The voice called him insane, that he was crazy. Ha! He might just survive, because now what he planned to do was just crazy enough to work.

Mister Murphy threw aside the mask he’d taken up in this life. He raised his mop up to the heavens and then slammed the mop stick down on the concrete which produced a more booming sound than either thing should have. He shook the mop back into the air and yelled to the heavens. “Alright, you lot! And I’m especially talking to you, ya grandstanding git!” He called out to and called out the invisible. “Y’all had to get yer heads together, but mostly you, ya ponce, and thought it’d be right brilliant to fekk the entire kit and caboodle! Well, this is one popsicle stand that ain’t gonna get flooded out, okay? I’ve killed one of ya before, and didn’t rightly enjoy it, but it ain’t like mythology’s devoid of ways of killin’ ya, and I swear I’ll do it again if ya give me one damned ounce of trouble. I’ve just about had enough of the lot of ya!”

All the while he harangued the powers that be, the Wave crashed and rolled towards him inexorably. When he felt he’d said his piece, Matt squared himself to the Wave and planted the mop stick next to his foot like a spear and put his other hand on his hip, waiting, glaring at the Wave. He could feel forces beginning to gather around him. His leather jacket fluttered as a wind appeared from nowhere and for no reason more than to increase his Badassitude. Good he was causing his own local weather systems. This might just work out.

The Wave roared at him as it leaped over the berms and ditches the Argonians had lain in its path. When it filled all the land before him, he swept the mop up and across and away from him, his other hand joining in a motion that was like opening a curtain. The first exertion of the Wave ramped up the levee and up against the wall, but it rolled off to each side and a lot of its power was deflected around airport. Not to be outdone by biblical mimicry, the Wave kept its second effort coming, faster it seemed. It surged up over the wreck of the first surge and up the levee. It crashed up towards the wall. Matt growled. “I ain’t worked gettin’ all my karma clean and back Catawaba on its feet to be ended by a hopped-up ripple!” With a roar that sent cowing ripples through the remnants of this tendril of the megatsunami, Matt reared his arm back and launched the mop like a pila into the very gut of the wave.

According to the stories that began spreading and growing from those that watched or could hear the screamed ramblings, the wave never topped the wall at the airport, the levees held, and any water that got into the compound was dripped by the drenched Quigley after he climbed down from the wall and grumbled about finding another mop.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elsewhere in a Forest Eternal,

Mira watched painfully all the devastation that appeared in the crystal egg that showed the horror in the realm of Her children, Her fragile, mortal children. More and more of Her children joined her. Even the herculean efforts of the Miraade, his government, and the people of Catawaba could not save everyone on the island let alone the region. She knew many more would die if She did not act, but even one of Her power was not really omnipotent. Power had to be shepherded and used with discretion. Not in the past, it used to be that power was more ready and great acts could be done a dime a dozen. Faith waned and now such acts of power were best held back to the most dire of times.

No time was more dire.

Mira lifted Herself from Her nest. The dead gave room and way to Her. She turned Her reptilian bulk and looked over Her children passed and waiting to pass on. “Lend me your strength, ad’ikae. Help your Mother for I have much to change to save those left behind.” Those wispy spirits touched themselves to Her cool coppery scales and melded into Her in a little flash of light. Mira was haloed in light and spirits as She began running through the trees. She came to the ever still, cool, and fresh waters of a spring in Her realm and with a leap splashed down into a dive that carried her down deep. Her body which was slightly clumsy on land was graceful and smooth, undulating beneath the waves. She dove and She dove, finding the source of the spring and riding it deep into the earth.

When she came out she was surrounded by the seawater of the Ah’ron Sea in the mortal realm. She swam away from the orifice She’d emerged from and turned west. She couldn’t really see it as much as sense the Wave as it came towards Catawaba. She twisted and dove towards a long chain of seamounts that were nascent in the midst of the wide sea. They were still more than a hundred feet beneath the waves, a mere speed bump to the Wave. She would have to change that.

She met the rock with a pulverizing collision and passed through and deep into the earth. Magma swept around and behind Her as She burrowed deep. She reached the font of all the land building magma, Her destination. She gathered Herself and roared out, thumping Her tail down and arching her back up. All the seamounts rumbled and shook and were thrust upwards at Her bidding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Admiral Aden Peqoud was second in command of the entire Catawaban Navy and had the honor of commanding the second Carrier Battle Group with his flag flying above the country’s second aircraft carrier the CNS Harrison Mayhew. He’d commanded the second half of the Catawaban fleet at Saint Fabian but had to leave at the last second to escort the freighters and patrol vessels home. There were quite a few seconds in his career.

He did however have a few firsts. He was the first Taung admiral in the Catawaban Navy, which he took a great deal of pride in. He was also very likely to be the first Catawaban admiral to lose his entire carrier battle group. Peqoud pushed himself away from the railing and walked back into the bridge. When Lady Shalamar’s vision had reached the Naval Office, orders had been cut immediately to leave his station off of Djeri and make for deep water. Intel had it that not only would there be a mega tsunami from Imitora, but Djeri, a land with its own portals to nether realms torn open, had joined in a lesser repeat performance of Imitora. Aden had whole heartedly followed the Naval Office’s recommendations and set out at best speed for a course to the southeast.

It had seemed like the correct course of action until seismologists near the volcano Trac’yn had reported another set of deep ocean earthquakes centered around coordinates directly underneath his battle group. A check of the charts showed that there were a series of seamounts beneath the surface, and that opened up all sorts of unlikely yet all too possible scenarios. All he could do was keep his ships moving as fast as he could for the deep ocean beyond.

Aden paced the bridge as he watched the satellite updates of the Wave as it raced across the ocean. He knew that the wave would ramp up when it hit the chain of sea mounts, but it would top them and keep going. It might be lessened a little, but it would be devastating still to Catawaba and still have the sort of power and height to swamp his ships.

He heard his communications officer report another message from the seismologists that they were detecting a suddenly stronger earthquake at the seamounts. Then a lookout yelled for the captain’s attention to stern. The ship’s captain sped out of the bridge and a few moments yelled for Peqoud to come have a look. The admiral stalked around the duty stations outside to the island’s railing. He almost asked for binoculars when he saw the long band of bubbles and steam rising astern of his battle group from horizon to horizon. He looked beyond the band of bubbles to spy the sea rising up as the Wave moved up the flanks of the seamount chain.

The Harrison Mayhew’s captain called for everyone to brace of impact before turning back to the impending train wreck. Higher and higher the Wave rose as it neared closer and closer the band of steam, and right when it was about to touch the bubbles, an explosion, a roar that sounded as if the very earth rebelled against the wave, burst out. The force of the explosion was aimed westward into the very teeth of the Wave, and with a calamitous rumbling, mountains of steam, and the bright red flash of lava the earth rose up against the sea. From as far as he could see, Aden saw land thrusting itself from the brine in defiance and defense. The Wave threw itself high, high into the air and wasted much of itself overtopping the new island chain. That which flowed over was proceeded by the wave made from the island’s formation, but both were far, far less than the megatsunami had promised to be. No wave of epic height of a hundred meters or more would reach Catawaba.

Aden held fast to the railing as the Wave bobbed his fleet like bath toys in its frustrations. To a chorus of curses he watched as an F-1 Firebird that wasn’t as secured as it should have been toppled over the side of the flight deck and disappeared into the roiling foam. The CAG was particularly livid as Aden passed him to get an update from his battle group. He knew there’d be damage, but he hoped for the best.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Errant excused himself from the Ardent’s CIC when the Wave was nearing the shore. He went up on deck and leaned on the railing. He would see enough of the destruction in the coming days. He didn’t think he really needed to see it all happening in real time. Anyways there was very little he could do now. Everyone was bracing.

He looked out over the bay to his capital. The glow from the Imitoran’s embassy’s fires was still bright enough to be discerned at distance. He let out a breath he hadn’t know he was holding. This wasn’t how he’d thought the day would end, but could anyone have? Gold and Mird were heading out to an uncertain mission with the least support that the stretched powers in Fatal Terrain could provide. Boudicca, Solus, and injured Pepper were under the pallor of whatever deviltry Imitora might have brought to his shores. Most of the other vornskrari were spread across the island performing various duties. Besides them, Rea was doing her best all the way in Mont Gard to locate Catawabans abroad and coordinate their relocation or rescue. His heart and fears went out to all his family, along with his prayers and wishes for their safety.

He felt and warm, strong body slide up beside him as he hunched over the railing. Mercy arm slide around him and pulled him to lean against her. He closed his eyes. “So much, so much coming between…” he mumbled.

“Coming between what, dear heart?”

Errant half turned towards her. “Between us, Mercy.”

Mercy knit her brow. “What are you talking about? Nothing has happened that would make me love you less…”

He shook his head. “It’s not that…it’s…it’s just that since you came back with me after your abdication…these six months…I’ve been so busy. We’ve been so busy. We’ve had nights and the occasional day, but it hasn’t been easy to find time.”

Mercy frowned as she became worried. “We make time when we can, Errant.”

“No, it’s not that…it’s more. It’s supposed to be more, but…” Errant shook his head. He was tired. Last night hadn’t been restful, and today had been exhausting. “I thought things would be calm at the conference…a vacation of sorts. That’d I’d have time to make it perfect…but like every other time perfect was pushed aside for the utterly imperfect.” He stared out at the firey horizon. Part of his capital was in flames, the rest of it shaken to its core by a series of earthquakes. The West of his land was bracing for a wave of biblical proportions. A portion of his navy was fleeing for deep water. His air force was entirely grounded.

He glanced over at Mercy, the woman he loved, that he wanted to spend his life with. He'd wanted perfection for her, but he was just beginning to understand that perfection was not within his grasp. Perhaps in his children's or their children's, but Errant thought that his life was merely a stepping stone. There was so much destruction and strife left behind by the Togovians that his job was to do his best to make a dent in it all. He wasn't opposed to it, but it was a burden to bear.

But if perfection wasn't to be his...why was he waiting for it? It was a good question. The answer was simple enough.

Errant pushed himself off the railing. He took in the deck and the massive gun turrets around him. He turned back to Mercy. "This isn't how I envisioned it, darlin'. I'd wanted somewhere nice. A garden, a beautiful building...a breathtaking vista...something suitably romantic..." He glanced behind him at the turrets again. "I didn't think to be doing it on the foredeck of battlecruiser in the shadow of sixteen inch guns..."

He turned back to his love. "...but I don't think I'll get a much better time." He took a deep breath. "I don't think we'll ever, really, find an ease." He waved a hand towards the city. "I know if I left it all tomorrow...which I can't, I'd still find a way to put myself directly in it all. Our people, Tanaaran, Catawaban, Fatal Terranean, mean too much to me, and I know you feel the same. Being near me isn't the only reason you took up as ambassador."

"I love you, have loved you since you stepped off your HST. It was only made more certain that night when we talked into the wee hours, and then in the morning when you chose to try on my shoulder. I loved you enough to be ready to step away from the Miraadery and follow you to the stars, but thankfully all I had to do was play hooky and interrupt your swimming."

He sighed. "I have no token to give you as is traditonal. If everything's right, it's in a hangar in Greyrock with my other nonessential baggage."

Someone cleared their voice behind him. "I'd also thought I'd be able to do this private like..." Errant turned. Captain Geoffries and the other Guards stood a respectful but still alert distance away. Mister Adams, however, was immediately behind Errant. The Miraade had been training himself not to jump, not react when Adams did his tricks. He managed to limit himself down to a half step backwards. Adams held out a band of overlapping beskar scales in his hand. Each scale had a Taung character on it, spelling out the Taung'a word "riduurok," meaning love bond.

Errant looked up at his chamberlain. "Thank you, John."

The glorified butler simply nodded. "Thought it might be essential so I packed it in with the essential bags, sir."

Errant ran a finger over the beskar scales. They were heavy, heavier than steel and definitely gold, but that was the point. A love bond, marriage was a heavy burden to bear and promise to keep. It was also difficult to obtain and forge, so the devotion of the giver was manifestly demonstrated. He turned back to Mercy. He wanted to do this right, as much as he could given the circumstances.

He dropped to one knee. That was how it was done, right? That was how he'd read about and seen in the movies. He looked up at her into her warm blue eyes and raised the beskar bracelet up to her. "Mercedez Merrideath Hexx, will you marry me? Allow me to be yours as you will be mine?"

Lady Victoria Hawke was strong for her merely average size, but didn't look it. And she was also as agile as a slickly wet cat, and so the hands - attached to the Catawabans whose unit she had been embedded in - didn't hold her back for long. Though they tried. And she ignored their frantic calls for her to return just as Matt had. Her camera and holovid equipment thumped at her side as she ran after him, about a half a football field behind, but gaining.

She wasn't going to miss getting close ups of this. Besides the safest place to be was next to him. She wasn't able to do his wall running bit, but she was one determined journalist, and managed to haul herself to the top - though she ruined her jeans and skinned both knees down to the patella’s themselves...She wasn't going to be walking off that levee later when she started feeling what she'd done to herself. Just then she was too busy to notice

He never knew she was there, but she got every single word, inflection, action the whole damned drama lama - no not the beast - the bedamned priest. Though some how she knew that the Deities didn't dare do a thing to the Guardian standing on the bridge, the irreverent Barbarian at the Gate.

Then the wave froze, and slunk back into its watery bed as - no not as if it had never been, but as if it had been firmly rapped across the nose and told "Bad Dog, no biscuit" in no uncertain terms.

Then a sopping wet Matt was heading back down off the levee, still not noticing her presence...

She also knew that she would have to edit - though she'd keep an unexpurgated copy just for him - but to let it all hang out might...No not might, definitely would be...dangerous for Matt. Now how do I get him She cut her thoughts off quickly she wasn’t sure what he was capable of at that moment and didn't want to risk it.

She turned and the pain in her legs hit her full force and she went down on her ass. "Matt! Matt! Damn it!!" She got a good look at her legs and the curse became a wail.

In the Shadow of the Gun...

The conventional wisdom said pause, think about it, to make them wait, make them cringe inside a bit with worry. Mercy didn’t do conventional, and she didn’t hesitate a second. And make Errant, her love, cringe? Never, anathema to her.

She wasn’t conscious of it - for all else had fallen away, unimportant, a swirl of ephemeral motes in a stray beam of sunlight - but she slid down to her knees, sliding her hands into his. The slight bit taller she stood than he was in the length of her legs and now their eyes were completely even. Her heart was in her eyes, and her eyes were locked on his, her face radiant.

“Yes”

The Chevy's back in Neshoba, and the levee is most definitely not dry.

Matt was shaken from shaking himself to get rid of the aqueous reward of his damnably damp daring-do. He spun about and looked back up the levee. "Vicky!" He squelched back up the side of the earthwork to her side. He knelt down, bewildered out of his momentary nirvana with the this thread of reality by the shock of not noticing Victoria and then the horrible injuries she'd done to herself. He hesitated to touch them, horrorified at seeing the scratched white of her knee cap.

He glanced up at the wall and saw disturb swatches and patches of crimson, now with red rivulets running down with the splashed water of the Wave. He looked back down at her injuries, and despite his soaked clothing and hair felt shivers down his spine from this only.

He pushed that away to a corner of his mind to be addressed later. Action was needed. Everything he had and, now that he was kneeling over her, everything she had on was wet. None of it was good for dressing the wounds. While bad, they were not life threatening in the immediate sense. He would need to get her to base's hospital. He looked over his shoulder for a moment to get his bearings before finally looking at Victoria's face. "Darlin', this is going to hurt like hell, but I'm gonna need to pick ya up."

He ran his arms under her knees and under her arms. He gathered her to him and lifted her, cameras and all. Actually, this should be more painful and potentially more damaging to her knees, if it had been done by a mere man, but this was a man who'd cowed a megatsunami with a mop and a stern talking to, a man who'd beat an alligator to submission and depression with his fists, a man who'd been torn from reality, come back as a woman, and shamed a gaggle of intergalactic puppetmasters. Real medical science had tendancy to suspend its own disbelief and nod along as point blank rifle rounds only incurred flesh wounds and a lost eye simply increased rakishness without any loss of ability.

Matt turned around and made the bumping, jerking descent down the levee as slowly and easily as he could manage. He adjusted his grip under her knees once they were down on even ground. He moved his arm under her thighs and his hand cupped her rear without a hint of lechery. He held her close as he stepped up onto the tarmac and made his way first towards the Catawaban barracks.

He didn't even make it half way before he spied tiny figures moving in the doorway, pointing and gesticulating. They scurried in the distance, and then two figures broke out from the barracks and ran towards them, carrying a stretcher between them. Matt nodded. He had good, quick thinking people. He idly wondered who'd put it together first. His fighter pilot pride asserted that a Dragonfly or Spacepig wingpair was running towards him, they had the quickest reflexes.

Matt turned his attention back to Victoria. "Was it worth it? Grating yourself get up there, darlin'?" There was a mixture of emotions in his voice. There was still the shock of her injuries, his worry and anger at her for hurting herself, and somewhere, lesser but still present was a twinge of a tired inner voice asking about the pointlessness of it all. That tired voice knew that the things he did were amazing, mind blowing, and boggling to others, but for him they were mostly humdrum like brushing his teeth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A shotgun wedding sure...but a RAILGUN wedding?

Errant held her eyes for a long moment after she answered, "Yes." His mind ran at speed double checking, triple checking her answer in his memory to confirm that he had really heard her.

He had.

She had said yes forcefully, quickly, and her eyes only backed up the sincerity of her single word. His world slowed down, and he squeezed her warm, soft hands. He reined himself in and forced himself to let go of her for moment. He unlatched the love band and taking her hand again, fit it around her wrist and latched it again. He ran his hand over the cool, sturdy beskar scales. He always loved that about beskar. It was such a poor conductor of heat that it took a long time to change temperatures. His ballistic vest of thing beskar scales, when chilled over night, kept him cool during all but the very warmest days in Catawaba.

He looked up from the wedding band to Mercy's deep blue eyes once more. Still holding her wrist, he pulled her to him and sliding his other hand up her side and closing his eyes as he kissed her. The warm shock as their lips met drove the slowness from his world, and happiness, utter and complete happiness rushed over him.

She had said yes.

The Guards smiled and nudged each. They were quiet and kept their distance to give the couple as much privacy as they could have, but they were immensely happy for their principal and his love. The men remarked quietly how lucky the Miraade was to have Mercy, and the one woman, Corporal Maria Salva sighed, hoping again that the male she pined after would get home safe and get his head from out of his rear and take a look at the woman in front of him.

Not really a man and definitely not a woman, the Chamberlain John Adams smugly smirked. He had done it. He had done a thing of which butler legends were told. He had not only enabled this proposal to be done properly through great butler skill, but he would now get to organize and arrange the wedding whether his master wanted it or not. Best of all, domestic servants throughout all realms and reckoning would know that John Adams, the Miraade's Man, had done it.

"I know" Vicky nodded soberly, not minding that she was soaked through

Then her bite down drew blood from the inside of her cheek rather than let him know that, indeed, getting picked up Hurt! Amazingly so.

But she would not have exchanged that pain for all the tea in Fatal Terrain, not for what she just had the privilege of witnessing. Besides while it might get her a very thorough chewing out later, it did get her into his arms for the moment. Though she had not done it to get this result, she wasn't the type of woman who thought like that. But while she was too honest to manipulate him into such, that didn't mean she wouldn't enjoy being carried by him. She made sure that not only were the arms she'd put around his neck were no too tight, but were also helping him balance her. Then she laid her cheek against his shoulder and let her eyes drift close.

Was it worth it!? Victoria Hawke could have laughed at that. Neither Matthew Murphy, much less Matthew Quigley, had the full knowledge of how determined Lady Hawke could be, though most people did underestimate her - she looked too gentle to have such an iron, no, adamantine will.

"Matt Murphy!" Her voice was low but firm - as she laid that question to rest, once and for all. "Matt, I'm a Skald, the witness for and singer of the doings of Heroes. How can I not be what I am? "

"Worth it... oh Matt, I am your Herald, in the oldest sense of the word. Your chronicler, found you a little late, but better late than never. And if you think a little danger, a little injury is going to stop me, you have another thing coming."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mercy's eyes slipped closed as well, as their lips met and joy envelped her, making the moment timeless.

But eventually their lips parted and she laid her head for a second on Errant shoulder. Her eyes opened slowly to take in the look on John Adams face. And she blinked, suddenly certain of exactly what that smile prophesized.

And that thought filled her with dread. Keeping her face buried in Errant's neck, she whispered "Errant, dearest, were you wanting a small wedding?"

Something about him made her draw back to get a good look at his face, and her eyes went wide. Then she started laughing. "Love, it's usually the bride that wants the big wedding, but if thats what you want we will."

Inwardly she sighed, that meant it would be forever and a day before they could get married. But if that's what he wanted, she'd agree. Thought she was determined that there wouldn't be a single ruffle on the wedding dress, not a one! I guess I can endure a two year engagement She thought as the ship rolled as a long, low swell passed beneath the Ardent. We've got more urgent things to deal with.

Silence filled the vast endless void of space, and a single satellite, normally used for TNASA operations of home planetary study, was being used now to continuously monitor the entire Fatal Terrain region. It's feed was being fed into an array of video monitors, one of which was seated before Aeris at this time. She watched in silence as Fatal Terrain steadily tore itself apart. She was focused on Tarlachia and its largest and longest river, the River Aria, that was growing massively in size and length, following the deep fissure in the earth's crust. The river tore northwestward more and more and it became clear that Turath was going to be struck, but how much damage it would take remained to be seen.

Then, a fissure in the earth, a new delta tore southward from the northern coastlines, and the seas rushed in to fill the void, the force of the movement breaking apart the earth even more. Aeris instructed the military to ensure there were no one in harm's way. With each opening wound and groaning cry that the earth gave, Aeris felt as if it were something happening within her. Tears stubbornly slid down her cheeks though she retained her resolve. A new breach of the sea occurred in the northeast, struggling against the rocky landscape to reach the Bay of Fire, but was held back. In the delta of this arm of the sea, were a number of islands newly formed; countless small ones overlooked by two massive islands that seemed to be sentinels standing watch.

What troubled Aeris the most was the demonic realm of Arithon had grown, no doubt by personal craft of the Demon Lord himself as he watched the events unfolding on Fatal Terrain. However, even his growth was hampered by the great mountains and the now long standing barriers set in place by powerful mages to limit such growth. Arithon would not grow any more now, for it had reached all possible limits of expansion.

Hours passed, and it was some time until at last the earth's cries from the assault of the collapsed Imitoran islands finally came to silence. Weary in a way that was more of one tied to her soul rather than her body, Aeris collapsed to her knees, to the alarm of her subordinates. She waved away their alarms and attempts to assist her. They watched as she wrenched her fingers through the hard packed earth, tearing grass and dirt free in a vice-grip. Tears fell and stained the earth dark, tears now of relief. Tarlachia and the greater Fatal Terrain had survived. At long last, Rob's gentle and firm arms wrapped around her daringly, and she did not retaliate, but instead curled herself into them. She did not care what the others thought as they witnessed this frailness of her. To some, it surprised them, even shocked them. Others were not so shocked, having already come to the conclusion that every person would have had such frailty at some point in their lives.

Aeris looked up at the Archon and gave him a weak smile, one that was glad to see the end of this nightmare coming within sight, and also glad that he was there with her. No words were needed, but she did give him a kiss that would've made any man watching either feel uncomfortable or even envious. Most were considerate enough to simply turn away for a few moments, even forcing others to look away.

A glance back to the map, now one that was showing three dimensional geographic outlook of the final results of Tarlachia's change. Turath was still there, but had lost nearly a third of its original lands and property to the raging waves of the now massive River Aria. The elven homelands that had been there since the dawn of time had lost nearly half of their lands, but the greater chunk of land to the west was spared. A narrow ford now stood at the southern reaches of the mountains, earth rising high still on either side. There was rock here, and even the force of water was not enough to break their hold. Time was rock's only true enemy. Anything else were just pests.

Rising to her feet and still wrapped in the Archon's loving embrace, she rested her head sideways on his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat and deep breaths. They comforted her as she watched the people around her now move to coordinate the next stage of tasks to be done in the revival of their homelands.

Holding his bride while she cried, Rob too had tears trickling down his face, and he didn't care who saw. Their nations, both his and hers - as well as all the others within Fatal Terrain -were being so damaged. Yes they'd survive, but with so much horrific loss. True the vast majority lost were merely places and things, but those places and things had meant much to people, some of those his people. People that he had sworn to defend, preserve and protect.

And it felt so much likie he was failing them.

He was a lart of the land, it's strength his, his weaknesses it's, and the reverse ever so true as well. His nation his people would never be the same again, and repairing what they could of the damage would take a generation if not longer.

And there were the lives lost - for while they had long planned Exit Strategy, there were, as there ever would be given human nature, hold outs, those who refused to go, refused to be saved. Or those who lived so far isolated, so far 'off the grid' that they had no idea of Shiva's footfall descending. And ever and always those that ran to, those that went towards disaster as their nature and training asked of them - those willing to put themselves in harms way. He would grieve for all his dead but those would touch his heart the hardest.

Yes he knew, as all Tanaarans did that the Compact would bring them back, see to their rebirth, but to know that lives were cut short, that they lives they lost so soon would never be truly replaced.

And so he wept unashamed, holding his love, the other half of his soul as Fatal Terrain shuddered under the Fall of Imitor. And he cursed Imitora for it's insane doings, it's arrogant pride, it's utter selfishness.

Matt stopped and looked down at the woman in his arms as two of his people ran towards them with a stretcher. "A skald are you now, Sigra Haukr?"

He shook his head. "I don't know if my story needs to be told. I'm not the mover in the threads I travel down. I am the fulcrum. I am the point which things move about, I can move myself further or closer to aid or hamper the mover...but I'm not more."

Matt looked up towards the sky. "I don't want to be known. That novelty wore off a while back. Just want to live, a little more normality, less pain...and it ain't a matter of late or early, darlin'."

He looked down to gauge how long he had until his people could hear. He lowered his voice. "I don't live linearly. I might have met a past you last life or a future you the life before that. I cross and go where needed and placed by powers above."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Errant's cheeks warmed a bit. "I know, Mercy...but I've always wanted the whole thing. Call me a romantic. I always dreamed of the big deal. Family, friends, and strangers who need inviting...just getting to brag in front of those many people. I ain't much for displays...that's the one I wanted."

"Then darling we shall have the 'big deal' with everything romantic. You should even have a stripper pop out of a cake at your bachelors party. I heard some where that thats traditional." She teased him softly, wanting to let him know that nothing would please her more than to see him happy in this. She grinned as his blush deepened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vicky shook her head slightly "You may not want to be known, and I respect that. But some one still needs to chronicle your work." she then whispered more to herself than anything, "Mere fulcrum my pretty pink" She blushed fiercely when he responded.

"Okay, so I'm not a mere fulcrum. You try and figure it out. I'm not always the mover..but sometimes yeah...I guess I'm the proverbial straw."
"I like that better. The Straw."

Lady Hawke looked up at him and laughed softly. "Thats better than mere fulcrum, but you know the old saying 'give me a lever long enough...and that lever won't work without the fulcrum..."

Matt glanced down at her. "Who do you think ol'Medes was talkin' about when said 'and a fulcrum'? The bath tub was my idea. So was the Murphied mirror laser thing he turned on the Roman navy."

That turned her smile into a wry grin and the laugh into a giggle "Oh of course, it had to be you"

"And the circles he was asking when that dumbass legionnarie cut him down? Those were for me. He was trying to figure out where my life was going....brilliant man and a nice guy."

The wave came and went, and its’ touch was going to be felt for years to come. Menion was completely wiped off the map and it would take months for Tingqui to be even half of what it was before. Still, the casualties were at a minimum, thanks to the efforts of Lord Numura. Mudoma was almost completely evacuated, with many making the mad dash to the Gregorian mountain range in the northwestern edge of the nation. Yet the biggest challenge now was going to be feeding the nation. Over half of the farms in the country were in Mudoma’s southland, and that was the kingdom that had taken the brunt of the force from the tsunami. Starvation was looking them squarely in the face, and there was nothing that they could do about it. Even the Empress’ own food stores had its’ limits, certainly not enough to feed the entire country for over a year as crops were replanted and potentially grew.

“We will be forced to look outward milady, though I don’t think that anyone else is in any better position than we might be. Our only other option would to be ration it at best we can and hope that what we have stored can last the year. As sad as it is to believe, we are going to have to let some of our citizens die of hunger in order for the nation to continue on, or else we are all doomed.”

Hot tears slid down the empress cheeks and her deep brown eyes had showed the despair that had consumed her. As she contemplated the fate of her nation, her people, and the entire region, her mind kept going back to a tale her father had told her. It was about how she had supposedly came to the family, through the prophecy of the elven goddess of Elune.

The Sylan will kneel to her, and when the world is turned to ash, she will bring the rains that will cleanse the world. This is my gift to you of Firo Fortuna, I give you this child, protect her as you would your own, and the Havens will also accept you family."

“Where are the rains now Vakaras, where are the rains?”

"The rains Elsie? I do not follow you?"

As she released a sigh and moved her eyes back towards the diplomat, she remebered that she was the older of the two, by two years. He would not have known of the prophecy nor the actions that supposedly brought about her being. Was she becoming that comfortable around the young man that she forgot of his lack of expierence and age? More likely was her worry over the future and things beyond her control.

"It does not matter Numura, it is all legend likely." She looked once more out of the window and into the horizon where the waters were still receding. "Prepare the army once the water is gone. We will do the rations, and with luck, wont perish into the night as our crops are replaced. A curfew will be set and enforced by the army, seatravel is hereby banned unless given written promission by myself. Have the Sylan riders relay the message to Lord Kian and Misota. We don't know how the rest of the region is, and we are best serving them and ourselves by stabilizing as best we can. Anarchy holds no sway here, and with luck willing, we will get through this to a brighter day."

Errant cleared his throat as if it would force away his blush. "Strippers in my cake piss me off. I like cake, and uncaked strippers, if it's alright with you?"

~~~~~

Matt grew quiet as his pilots approached. They held the stretcher out for him, and he gingerly set Victoria down on it. He told them to go on towards the nearest aid station the Argonians had set up to deal with the influx of refugees. He jogged alongside the stretcher, holding Victoria's hand as he thought about what she'd said and what he'd just done.

The Fall of Imitora has had a profound impact on the Fatal Terrain Region.
The Imitorans were known for so many things and they will be profoundly missed. We learned much from them - both good and bad - and their effect on the region was unquestionable.

The Fall of Imitora has forever altered the regions landscape and the lives of those who survived.

Forts Forego, Desolation and Superstition - massive military complexes that cover between the three over 666,666 square miles - have been constructed solely to keep guard over the defiled remnants of the continent that was Imitora and the poisoned waters that fill the bottomless pit where Akrlay once stood.

Post Fall Map (http://www.atddm.com/newmap.jpg)

Before the Fall (http://www.atddm.com/oldmap.jpg)

The climate is just now, some twenty-four months later, recovering from the enormous amounts of ash that the multiple volcanic eruptions threw skyward. The Oceans are still recovering from the damage multiple tsunamis did to the ocean floors, coral reefs, bays and marine life. Forests and farmland beaten by torrential rains that brought unprecedented flooding, a fortunately limited version of a nuclear winter, and widespread wildfires in the wake of the multitude of volcanic eruptions and massive earthquakes.

But we have survived – a little leaner, and perhaps a little meaner.
But then again what should you expect?

We did survive the Fall of Imitora…

The first beam of light pierced the roof of the main building. A crimson red beam of light, flying straight out to the atmosphere, and not stopping there. By now, no single military facility in Imitora could reach Arklay.

The second was not a vertical beam but a shock wave, an iridescent blue that fired out from the building. It took not a second for it to start in the geographic center of Imitora, and fire out towards the coasts. The entire island shook, violently, bringing about chaos and havoc in the cities. There was not a single active fault line in the entire nation, and never once a earthquake in the entire written history.

Oceanographic monitoring equipment recorded an increase of twenty degrees in the water by the time the shock wave hit the coast, the temperature sky rocketing in less than a second.

That had been the end of it for the time being. An emergency response team was sent to Arklay, and the geographical survey posted signs advising beach patrons to stay out of the water.

Fifteen hours later, it happened again. Two incoming helicopters, both within a mile of the Arklay facility burst into flame in mid air. All on board died. On the coast, two RIN destroyers simply vanished, gone without a hint of what came to pass. The RIN Northampton, Imitora's massive floating battle fortress, cracked in half, randomly, all souls on board lost. As if by nothing more than random chaos, the Imitoran military was destroyed within minutes, equipment, vehicles, ships, aircraft, weapons, and personnel, all bursting randomly into flame, disappearing totally, or in many cases, dismembered by invisible forces.

In Tanaara, as by random incident, the Imitoran embassy exploded violently, spewing out shrapnel as far as half a mile away, leaving naught bu a smoldering crater. Similar explosions followed in The Golden Simatar, Tarlachia, and Catawaba.

A third shock wave roared out from what was once Arklay, this one causing no quakes. Yet when it hit the coast, buildings were torn from their base and Imitoran citizens were thrown violently into the sea, now boiling.

What was left of the military had no choice, and the launch of Imitoran WMDs commenced. The variable yield plasma war heads were set to full explosive power, humbling even the most powerful of modern nuclear weapons. Yet the MRV warheads spiraled out of control, and brought down their cargo on the major cities of the island nation, death rates reaching close to the 100% mark.

Northampton burned.

By eleven at night, the two building that were Arklay floated off the ground, tossing debris aside. No bodies were seen as the starless, moonless night sky turned a deep blood red. The air started to swirl in a dark cloud, similar to a hurricane. However, what fell from the swirling clouds was not rain, wind, and hail. No, what fell from the sky was dark, thick, and red.

It rained blood.

The suicide rate in Imitora, for that one hour, climbed dramatically. Bodies threw themselves from the windows of sky scrapers and high rise apartments. Others walked into the path of on coming traffic. Some used the traditional method of simply drinking a glass of water, and washing it down with a bullet.

Those that survived thought the worst had passed, that the end had come and it was time to rebuild. No, it was just the calm of the storm. Nothing more.

The rotating cloud mass emitted one last light, a second, dark crimson beam. The demons that came from the beam would put even the great demon lords to shame, and these were just the underlings. The tore into survivors, ripping through anything that tried to stop them with violent abandon. None were even remotely human.

The final assault came at exactly midnight. It came not from the sky but the ground. A humanoid figure, standing a solid eight foot six, covered from head to toe in a dark black cloak. There were no hands from the end of the sleeves, instead five long tendrils in place of fingers. Upon close examination, one would see the tendrils were actually a variety of snakes, each one acting as a different finger.

A hard wind, an unnatural wind, blew the cloak open, revealing no flesh, but exposed bone, with chunks of muscle hanging from the bone. A spine connected somewhere to the upper skull, but it had no lower jaw. Flesh, dark, cold, and grey, covered the skull, but no eyes were visible. Instead, a cold, dark green flame, tipped purple flickered from each socket. The cloak rolled back around the figure.

Behind it came a equine figure, equally looking of nothing more than bone and exposed muscle. What little flesh covered it was a dark, dirty green, and each time it snorted, flames flared out from its nostrils.

The rider climbed the mount, surveying the hell on earth that at one time had been the High Republic of Imitora. No more. The horse reared up, and as it came back down, more small shock waves flared from its hooves.

It spoke, or, more or less emmited words, with each a similar green and purple flame flaring from where its lower jaw would be.

And his name, that sat on him, was Death. And Hell followed with him.

The hose reared up, but did not snort. From the mouth of the horse came an ear piercing screech, audible as far away as Montgaurd. When the hooves came back to the ground, the island cracked, clear from north coast to south coast, deep to the base of the earth.

The land began to tip, the two halves sinking in slowly from the inside out. By noon on Saturday, the eastern and western most coasts now stood a clean ten miles in the air, slanting in sharply towards what had once been the center of island. The air stunk of sulfur, and the sky still burned a deep red. The swirling cloud had done nothing to recess, and was still pouring forth demons of all sorts.

The entire population of Imitora was dead. A few souls had escaped to other lands, but those numbered in the tens, and there was no intention on returning to reclaim the land. Demons roamed the fall out, the ruins of once great cities, killing any survivors they found. There would be no resistance, no push to force the beasts out.

At the center of it all was the horseman, armed with a wicked looking sword that promised death to anyone it touched.

Arklay had served its purpose well, finding a way to easily access other worlds and dimensions. What it had done, though, was to unleash those other worlds upon Imitora.

Imitora is no morem but we remain.

And remember.