NationStates Jolt Archive

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Captain Ernesto Hernandez of the Esparadan Republican Guard watched at the huge 10-foot-thick concrete doors -if you could call them that- ground open.

What stood before him was once unimaginable for such a small backwater Republic like Revolutionary Esparada. But now, thanks to him and his posse of military scientists, it had been imagined. In every perfect detail.

200 nuclear warheads sat in rows stretching across the large bunker, each one tipped with 10 kilograms of weapons-grade plutonium, packed into a fission bomb. Hernandez smiled.

Half of these, of course, were not for Esparada at all. But for selling to other nations and groups all around the world. They would make a hefty profit for his proud country. A very hefty profit.

Esparadan soldiers patrolled in between the weapons, checking them for flaws. There were lightly armed. Which was convenient. He shouted to them, "Hey! Camaradas!". They looked up.

On cue, a large squad heavily armed, Kevlar-clad elite guerrillas, rushed in through the concrete gates and surrounded the stockpile, aiming their silenced MP5s at the guards. The lightly-armed soldiers dropped their weapons and raised their hands slowly into the air - in total shock. Hernandez pulled out his desert eagle and strode over to the warheads. He inspected a few, tapping them with the gun occasionally, safe. Then he gestured to one of the guerrillas, who yelled in Esparadan Spanish to the others. The men began lifting the warheads out into the open, towards the waiting Hercules cargo plane.



OOC Summary: Rogue elements of the Esparadan Republican guard have hijacked Esparada's newly manufactured nuclear weapons. They intend to sell them on the black market to various rebel and terrorist groups around the world. Which is what we were intending to do, but the selfish bastards are keeping the profit for themselves.

They are currently on board a Hercules cargo plane escorted by 5 E-37 fighter escorts over the Atlantic ocean, heading for Africa. Your nation could intercept them, or harbour them. Or do something completely different, I don't know.

Also note, Esparada's government is currently unaware of the hijack.

OOC: I'll play and I'll take them from the gurellia's.

IC:

"Captain, we got something coming on radar," said an operator as the fleet were doing exercises over Lynx. "There's a massive heat signature coming from the middle one which suggests its a transport carrier of some kind. What do we do?"

"Dispatch the Endevour and the Hunter to intercept the squadron as well as a squadron of Sonic Fighter Jets," ordered the Admiral as he came into the room.

"Admiral Kennedy," saluted the captain who was in shock. "We were about to dispatch a pair of Hunters,"

"Let the small task force intercept it," ordered the admiral.

En-route towards the unidentify planes

"This is the Vamperial Lynion Navy Frigate Hunter calling unidentify planes. Identify yoursleves to avoid a fight or turn around and go back to where you came from," said Sky Captain Agnus into the radio.

ooc Lynion flying aircraft carriers and your other things fall into PMT not MT

Hernandez coughed, then spoke into the radio, "You cannot intercept us, these are international waters. And we are transporting humanitarian aid to Sierra Leone. It is against international law that you take us down."

OOC: sorry, forgot about it and I changed them to surface frigate and destoryer.

IC:

The captain waited for a moment and realised he was right. The radio frequency went quiet as finally, the unidentify airplanes were flying over Lynion waters.

"Correction, you're now flying through Lynion Airspace (OOC: presume its the same distance as waters). Now indentify yourselves please," corrected the captain the of the frigate as it broke through waves.

OOC: Plane's flightpath: http://img32.picoodle.com/img/img32/4/7/28/f_flightpathm_3f3cd48.png

Hernandez nodded out the window to the pilots of the jet escorts. The pilot nodded back and the squad peeled off from the cargo plane.

"Again, this is a humanitarian aircraft headed for Sierra Leone. We comply with WA law. Cease hostilities immediately or face Esparada's fire."

"Admiral, its escort is breaking formation," stated the captain.

The admiral looked at the radar as the escorts did break formation away from the transport plane.

"Put all Swatter's and airfields on a Code Orange," ordered the Admiral. "Ask them again and send a telegram to their government once you have a name..."

"This is Vamperial Lynion Navy calling unidentify plane. Please identify yourself so we can move on," said the operator into the radio.

The nearby naval bases and airfields were put onto Code Orange and being prepared to go to Code Red. The nearby naval fleet was still heading towards Lynx was put onto Code Orange and a possible attack might happen to Lynx.

OOC: Are you situated in the middle of the Atlantic ocean? Because that's where the Cargo plane is. And it's flight path is direct to Sierra Leone. It doesn't cross any R/L nations.

OOC: It's a small island off the coast of Africa. All its used for is for military uses. The Kingdom itself is in the Pacific Ocean as well as its second colony called Union. Maybe I'm looking in the wrong atlas because I see a small island in the middle of the Atlantic and Africa.

The Hercules turned and began a path around the island, where it would meet up with the jets again.

"Admiral we got a name but no title," stated the captain as he gave the admiral the report.

In the report was the last words of a transmission being sent to them. Among the report were the words: Cease hostilities immediately or face Esparada's fire and with that, the admiral sent a telegram to the nation called Esparada just to make a check.

TO: The Nation of Esparada
FROM: Lynx, Colony of the Vamperial Kingdom of Lynion, Sky Admiral Huttson.

I'm sending you this telegram because I had an unexpected plane attempt to fly over Lynx airspace before it changed course. I'm sending you this telegram because I would like to ask if there's being any fighter jets and a transport plane bound for Sierra Leone. The transport plane stated it was given aid to Sierra Leone but our database doesn't come up with the name and we were hoping you would help us.

------

TO: Lynx, Colony of the Vamperial Kingdom of Lynion, Sky Admiral Huttson
FROM: The Republic of Revolutionary Esparada

Apologies, but we have no aircraft bound for the African continent. That plane is not Esparadan, if it is, then it is not authorised.

"Admiral, they're still within radar and intercom range," said the lieutenant as he handed the admiral the reply from Esparada. "To make things a little more interesting, that squadron was never permitted to leave Esparada,"

"Get that Ace Sonic Squadron (OOC: made up of Ace Fighter pilots) to intercept them and find out where they're going. Corporal, get on the intercom and tell them to turn around and don't take no for an answer!" ordered the admiral.

"This is Lynx Airfield Command. Turn around or risk being attacked by a squadron of fighter jets. This is the last and only warning you'll get. Don't bother with referring to Esparada as your not Esparadan!" said the corporal in a command tone into the intercom.

TO: The Republic of Revolutionary Esparada
FROM: Lynx, Colony of the Vamperial Kingdom of Lynion, Sky Admiral Huttson

We will intercept the aircraft ASAP. Is there anything they could have onboard their transport plane? If there's anything you know about that aircraft we need to know what we're dealing with please.

Hernandez cursed, then thought. Hard.

He fumbled around in his trench coat pocket and brought out a folded piece of paper. Unfolded, Hernandez began to read.

"We assure you we are Esparadan. I am Lieutenant Diego Alandi of the Esparadan Republican Guard. Our registration number is 18590247484. In any case, we are out of your airspace. You cannot touch us."

FROM: The Republic of Revolutionary Esparada

Interception permission not granted. Leave them be. We don't want Esparadans dead today. Let us deal with them.

The Sonic Squadron was forced to return to base as they returned to their underground hangers and open airfields.

TO: The Republic of Revolutionary Esparada

If they come back over we'll deal with them. In the mean time, I'm sending you a few things you might find interesting.

Name of the responder: Lieutenant Diego Alandi of the Esparadan Republican Guard
Registration Number: 18590247484

------

FROM: The Republic of Revolutionary Esparada

Diego Alandi is dead. He was shot and killed in Bardar a year ago.

The Lynion destroyer's silhouette formed a stark outline against the sky as it made its way into the periscope's sights. Stealthily and as yet undetected, the brand new, tiny submarine of the growing navy of Verargertertyrannland eased closer to the Lynion vessels.

"Ve are vizin torpedo range, kaptain," the raido in the coning tower squawked. "Avaiting orders to fire."

Captain Gruckelburger clicked on his transmitter. "Hold fire until ve have received orders from fleet kommand."

Gruckelburger nodded to his radioman. He once again send out the message in furious dots and dashes:

"Lynion...fleet...in...sight...Threat...to...cargo...imminent...Orders?"

Gruckelburger brought his eyes to the periscope once more. They were getting closer to the destroyer. It wouldn't be long until they were discovered. Time was running out.

He felt in all of his being that it was in his nation's best interest for that plane to land safely and its nuclear payload remained unharmed. His Verargerterfuhrer would be most displaced if the transaction between the Espardan guerillas and the Verargertertyrannlanden contact did not take place as scheduled. Verargertertyrannland was a small nation. Those warheads would tip the balance of power for them in their region quite nicely.

Sweat soaked into his peaked cap. He watched the other ship patiently, awaiting orders...

(NOTE: Obviously the sub commander is unaware of the transmissions between the Lynions and Esparadans.)

The fleet was crashing through waves as a flight of Hunter's deisgned to picked up submarines on their sonar soared over head. They came into the range of the radar on Lynx as several submarines were being dispatched.

"That fleet has cargo that's worth its weight in gold," said the Admiral. "I want it to come directly to Lynx with a submarine escort. If attacked, permission to go to Red Alert is granted,"

TO: The Republic of Revolutionary Esparada

We have a report being gathered that we have proof there is someone by that name. The report will be sent in the next telegram.

Meanwhile in the air above the fleet

A Hunter hovered for a moment over a destoryer as the sonar was starting to pick up something.

"Devil Leader to Home base, we've got something on sonar," said a voice over the intercom.

OOC: The cargo is a new fighter jet being put together on Lynx. Its to replace the Hunter Fighter Jet. So expect it to be highly escorted.

The Hercules was over Sierra Leonean territory now, heading steadily toward the airfield where the meeting would take place. Hernandez checked his watch. Just on time.

The cargo plane touched down, bounced a little on the rocky ground and came to a slow halt.

"Kaptain, ve have been pinged by zeir sonar," came the squawk over the radio.

Gruckelburger wiped his brow. "Surface ze sub und prepare to mach radio kontact viz ze Lynions."

Meanwhile, in Sierre Leone, a short, portly, bespeckled man in a cheap suit watched as the Hercules cargo jet made an unimpressive but safe landing. A smile stretched across his fat fae, and he clutched the suitcase handcuffed to his hand.

Hernandez straightened his beret and hopped out of the Hercules' cargo hold, which was still lowering it's ramp.

He strode over to the man, Desert Eagle concealed under his trench coat. "Greetings, sir! Are you here to do business?"

If so I'd like to play as well,
if not I'll delete my post

OOC: Just a bit of advice, but you might want to edit the original post, Esparada. 1 kilogram of plutonium is not enough to achieve "critical mass," AKA a nuclear detonation. What you have now would work as a dirty bomb, or you could just change it to 10 kgs of plutonium to make the weapons fully functional.

*I'm assuming it is. I just jumped in, so if you want to help advance the plot, sure.*

The fat man clicked his heals and held the briefcase up chest height. "Javohl! Ah em Herr Schnickenbachen, und I represent mein Verargertertyrannfuhrer. Ve have ze monies, heer."

From the shadows of the hangers emerge two uniformed guards, assault rifles in hand. With his free hand, Mr. Schnickenbachen gestures towards a small wooden table inside one of the empty hangers. The guads take their places beside it.

"Ve shall be doing ze business, ja?"

MEANWHILE, IN THE ATLANTIC:

Captain Gruckelburger grabs hold of his radio transmitter, orders his radioman to tune into the Lynion channel.

"Zis ist Kapitain Gruckelburger auf ze V-Boat Kriegfische to ze kommander auf ze Lynion fleet. Do you kopy?"

If so I'd like to play as well,
if not I'll delete my post

Yes it is.

OOC: Just a bit of advice, but you might want to edit the original post, Esparada. 1 kilogram of plutonium is not enough to achieve "critical mass," AKA a nuclear detonation. What you have now would work as a dirty bomb, or you could just change it to 10 kgs of plutonium to make the weapons fully functional.

Argh! You're right. Sorry about that.

*I'm assuming it is. I just jumped in, so if you want to help advance the plot, sure.*

The fat man clicked his heals and held the briefcase up chest height. "Javohl! Ah em Herr Schnickenbachen, und I represent mein Verargertertyrannfuhrer. Ve have ze monies, heer."

From the shadows of the hangers emerge two uniformed guards, assault rifles in hand. With his free hand, Mr. Schnickenbachen gestures towards a small wooden table inside one of the empty hangers. The guads take their places beside it.

"Ve shall be doing ze business, ja?"

Hernandez gazed, eyes-wide at the guerrilla beside him. Then nodded meekly and continued into the hangar.

"Sir, I got something."
"A sub?"
"Looks like it, sir." Three S-3B Vikings flew in a echelon, patrolling the waters from the VTN Noirsolei.
"Whose waters are these?"
"They're ahhh... Lynion waters, sir. They have a small colony here."
"Any other ships in the area?"
"Yessir, a destroyer."
"Send them a message."

--To: Lynion Destroyer---
--From: Flight Lieutenant Carter, 66th Squadron--
Lynion ship, just to give you a heads up in case you haven't spotted it yet you got a sub in your area. We're on patrol dispatch from the VTN Blacksun dispatch and are getting worried about that sub. Is it one of yours?

A 10,000 ton cargo ship from the Armed Republic of Cascade States
was headed home from the completion of a delivery to a country on the European continent.
On board it like many others was a small crew of Radar / Sonar operators
from the military to maintain a watch on the Sea Lanes.
They were tasked to monitor the movements of other nations Military's and
listen in on any Communications which might be picked up.

The C-130 aircraft flying towards Africa and the Radio signals being sent to it
by a Navy had caught their attention...

Hernandez gazed, eyes-wide at the guerrilla beside him. Then nodded meekly and continued into the hangar.

"Please, please, sit, ja?" Schnickenbachen gestures to Herenandez to have a sit.

Schnickenbachen places the briefcase onto the table surface. One of the guards produces a key and unlocks the handcoffs from the briefcase.

"You vill pardon ze armed escort, I hope," Schnickenbachen replies, motioning for the guards to back off a bit. they comply.

Schnickenbachen opens the breifcase. Inside are stacks of colorful money. "10 million tyrannmarks, as promised," Schnickelbachen says. "As you vell may know, ze economy of Verargertertyrannland ist on ze upsving, und zis currency ist fast becomming commonplace in ze veld market."

From out of his coat he produces a stack of papers. They resemble bills of lading.

"Und as promised, ve are villing to deliver ze 40,000 assault rifles, direct from ze military factories auf Verargertertyrannland herself. As vell as ze 5,000 kommandos...er...'military advisors' to help viz ze little insurgency in your country, ja?"

"Please, please, sit, ja?" Schnickenbachen gestures to Herenandez to have a sit.

Schnickenbachen places the briefcase onto the table surface. One of the guards produces a key and unlocks the handcoffs from the briefcase.

"You vill pardon ze armed escort, I hope," Schnickenbachen replies, motioning for the guards to back off a bit. they comply.

Schnickenbachen opens the breifcase. Inside are stacks of colorful money. "10 million tyrannmarks, as promised," Schnickelbachen says. "As you vell may know, ze economy of Verargertertyrannland ist on ze upsving, und zis currency ist fast becomming commonplace in ze veld market."

From out of his coat he produces a stack of papers. They resemble bills of lading.

"Und as promised, ve are villing to deliver ze 40,000 assault rifles, direct from ze military factories auf Verargertertyrannland herself. As vell as ze 5,000 kommandos...er...'military advisors' to help viz ze little insurgency in your country, ja?"

Hernandez looked at the briefcase, a blank look on his face.

"Sorry, but Esparada has... "relinquished" it's claims on the warheads. Me and my men shall be taking the cash for private services. We will gladly accept these terms, but the items and men will not be helping Esparada's government."

From behind Schnikenbachen, a quick snapping sound is heard. it's a sound unmistakable to a military man: the sound of a rifle bolt, a round entering the chamber. The two guards step closer to the table.

Schnickelbachen removes a handkerchief from his label and dabs away the sweat from his brow. "Zis ist a very unforzunate turn auf events. Mein Verargerterfuhrer vill not be pleased, to say ze least. I am afraid he vill demand some sort auf restitution."

Hernandez put up a hand. Five guerrillas rushed forward and riddled the two guards with bullets. He whipped out his Desert Eagle, pointing it directly in between the man's eyes.

"Listen, gringo. We either have a deal, or you can say goodbye to your beautiful face. Do we? Or do I have to pull the trigger?"

OOC: Hernandez is overconfident and paranoid. Easy to intimidate and aggravate.

A 10,000 ton Armed Cargo ship from returning from an arms sale in the European theature was headed for the Panama Canal and was just about to reach the Azores when it's military crew on board picked up radio signals from a series of other ships in the area.
At least some of them were coded, but atleast One was uncoded and aimed
at a C-130 plane which was within 100 miles of them.
All signals were recorded, and then a message was sent to the Naval Intelligence Office of the Armed Republic of Cascade States.
The Message was sent and via Microwave Encryption to a Government satellite .

keeping it in view

Or is this a dead thread?

"Sir, I got something."
"A sub?"
"Looks like it, sir." Three S-3B Vikings flew in a echelon, patrolling the waters from the VTN Noirsolei.
"Whose waters are these?"
"They're ahhh... Lynion waters, sir. They have a small colony here."
"Any other ships in the area?"
"Yessir, a destroyer."
"Send them a message."

--To: Lynion Destroyer---
--From: Flight Lieutenant Carter, 66th Squadron--
Lynion ship, just to give you a heads up in case you haven't spotted it yet you got a sub in your area. We're on patrol dispatch from the VTN Blacksun dispatch and are getting worried about that sub. Is it one of yours?

TO: Flight Lieutenant Carter, 66th Squadron
FROM: Flagship Cruiser Seeker, Lynx Guardian Fleet, Admiral Araon Jones

We do realise there is a bloody submarine lurking about in our waters and its about to get a taste of a Seeker! We thank you for your concern and it will be noted in my report when I land at Lynx.


*I'm assuming it is. I just jumped in, so if you want to help advance the plot, sure.*

The fat man clicked his heals and held the briefcase up chest height. "Javohl! Ah em Herr Schnickenbachen, und I represent mein Verargertertyrannfuhrer. Ve have ze monies, heer."

From the shadows of the hangers emerge two uniformed guards, assault rifles in hand. With his free hand, Mr. Schnickenbachen gestures towards a small wooden table inside one of the empty hangers. The guads take their places beside it.

"Ve shall be doing ze business, ja?"

MEANWHILE, IN THE ATLANTIC:

Captain Gruckelburger grabs hold of his radio transmitter, orders his radioman to tune into the Lynion channel.

"Zis ist Kapitain Gruckelburger auf ze V-Boat Kriegfische to ze kommander auf ze Lynion fleet. Do you kopy?"

"Code Lightning, Code Lightning!" shouted an operator as the captain came over.

"What is it corporal?" asked Captain Sonar.

"We just picked up a submarine on sonar just 1 kilometre from the destoryer its tailing," replied the corporal. "We can re-route...."

"No," said the voice of the admiral. "Captain Sonar, dispatch the entire squadrons of Seeker's. Give orders for two squadrons to go after this submarine and the remaining to scan a 30 kilometre range of the fleet and order them to scan for anymore sub's!"

"It will be done sir," replied Sonar as the voice faded.

Minutes later

The Seeker's on the aircraft carrier and on other frigate's were being scrambled. 16 Seekers were divided into four squadrons while a flight of Dingo Fighter Jets equipped with sonar were going to aid the seekers. Two squadrons (8 planes) of Seekers hoved over the submarine while the submarines formed a battle formation around the carrier and cruisers.

""Zis ist Kapitain Gruckelburger auf ze V-Boat Kriegfische to ze kommander auf ze Lynion fleet. Do you kopy?" came a voice over the intercom.

"This is Flight Captain Andrew Linkston! I copy you, I can see you on sonar and if you don't convice us why we shouldn't sink you, then you better make a run for it!" replied Andrew over the intercom as the Seekers circled above the submarine position.

The ship continues on its way home as the reports back from Head Quarters
was to ignore the situation unless something developed.

I still need the reply from my client... :rolleyes:

Lt. Taliz of the Republican Guard strode into the bunker and looked around, seething.

The warheads were gone, and 10 dead soldiers lay in front of him. He gestured to the guards beside him to look around, to see any traces of the culprits. None were found.

Just then, a young female lieutenant rushed through the door, informing Taliz of an unauthorised Hercules departure, with a heavily radiated cargo.