NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC: This is currently closed to ODECON members only. The rules can be found on the ODECON boards for RPers, and remember that there is a maximum ship cap (2 subs, 2 ships, 2 aircraft). RPers, don't come in until it's obvious that you should (i.e., my government contacts yours). If you haven't signed up on the boards, you'll be relegated to an espionage role (use your imaginations) rather than a combat one.]


6:52 AM, Bundesmarine Headquarters
Hafenstadt, Leistung

The icy waters of Hafenstadt Harbor were gently parted aside by a massive black shape, moving slowly across the bay, a convoy of tiny escort ships in tow. From his perch on the cliffs overlooking the harbor, Großadmiral Beckenbauer gazed down at the solemn procession moving out of the sheltered harbor. He tightened his scarf around his neck and adjusted his thick winter mittens before straightening his back and bringing his hand to his forehead in a crisp salute to the submarine below as it slipped out of view around the rock formations of the harbor mouth.

BMS Oktober Himmel

“Did you see that, Captain?” the man asked, lifting the pair of binoculars from his eyes and facing the officer. “The Großadmiral sent us off once again.” The other man chuckled.

“Heinrich, in thirty-five years in the Navy, do you really think I need to witness every time that man freezes his ass off to make a statement?” the captain asked, an unhappy frown evident on his face. Despite the blistering cold air and moderate speed of the surfaced submarine, the captain was not in the least bit cold. He had lived his entire life on the freezing waters of Hafenstadt Bay—his career was here, his home was here…

…and his son’s grave was here. The tombstone read, “In Service to Country and Homeland,” though his father had disobeyed tradition and carved his own message into the stone, illegible to anyone but himself. On paper, Finn Reinhardt may have died for his country, but as a high-ranking military man, Captain Reinhardt had found the truth.

As any Leistungi knew, during the Waldenburger invasion of Hafenstadt, Großadmiral Beckenbauer demanded that all men in the city to take up arms and fight back the invaders—a strategy that, while crude, eventually resulted in the city being retaken. Unfortunately, the strategy involved massive civilian casualties, including, apparently, one Finn Reinhardt. The truth was much worse—in later months, it was revealed by secret report by Beckenbauer to the Chancellor that Finn had deserted his duty and tried to flee the city, just as Beckenbauer had been passing in his 4x4. To make an example of what would become of cowards, the Großadmiral had stepped out of his car, pointed his pistol at Finn, and fired three shots directly between the 24 year-old’s eyes. He had no idea that Finn carried the surname of the Republic’s greatest captain.

To cover up the story, the military covered Finn’s death as an execution of a citizen by Waldenburger marines, a story which held considerable water, seeing as the Waldenburgers had legitimately executed a number of civilian-soldier prisoners. Only the Chancellor and Großadmiral knew the truth of the death of the famous Captain Alfred Reinhardt, hero of the Republic’s son. Unfortunately for all of them, Alfred was not a man to have secrets kept from him, and on a visit to the Chancellor’s office in Hauptstadt, he had taken advantage of his position, looking up his son’s name in the Federal Archives for a picture to take home. What he found instead was a thick white parchment detailing the entire debacle. He had never been the same.

The words he carved on the tombstone were not words of kindness or comfort for the soul of his diseased son. In the dead language of Ethnic Leistungi, a language his son had been studying at Hafenstadt University, he wrote, “you shall be avenged, my love.”

“Captain, the escorts are peeling off. Shall we go below?” The voice of the COB broke Reinhardt from his trance. Heinrich’s face had become red from the wind chill, something that no longer affected the aged captain. Heinrich, as well as the rest of the crew, had been hand-picked by the captain for this particular patrol mission, just as had been done for every other mission in Bundesmarine history. Captain Reinhardt had been careful to pick only Hafenstadt residents, those who had lost family or friends due to the mismanagement of the Großadmiral, and who had no more ties to the nation as far as lineage went.

Before Reinhardt descended through the hatch into the conning tower of the Oktober (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=14119805&postcount=243)Class submarine, he stared intently at the twenty black doors on the hull of the vessel, each one containing unimaginable firepower. He thought back to the first thing his instructor’s at the Submariner Academy had taught him about his duties as a captain.

“I have become death,” he whispered inaudibly. “The destroyer of worlds.”

10:19 AM, BMS Oktober Himmel
Location Unknown

Captain Reinhardt picked up the microphone on the radio box located in the bulkhead ceiling in the conning tower, pressing the button once to send a brief crackle of static through the submarine’s communications system. The men immediately came to attention, realizing that the captain was about to make his ritual pre-dive speech. He brought the microphone to his mouth, pressing and holding down the button.

“Men of the Oktober Himmel, this is your captain speaking,” he started, his voice taking on a gravely but firm tone. “I am honored to be aboard this vessel with you this fine January morning. As all of you doubtless know, this patrol mission is anything but routine.” He paused for a moment, realizing that he himself could barely believe where he was at this moment. He had prepared for this for months—picking the men, getting the commission, and of course, convincing the Chancellor that nuclear patrol still had a place in warfare.

“Men, within twenty-four hours, the Chancellor, the Großadmiral, and the people of Leistung will know our fury. For too long, corrupt and evil men have sat on thrones of gold, secure in the knowledge that they will never answer for their sins.” He paused once again, realizing how heavily he was breathing. “Men, today they answer for their sins. We will sail far from our icy homeland, far from the capitalist pigs who exploit the people they were sworn to protect. Today, we sail into history.” He released the button, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before turning to the Chief of the Boat. “Mr. COB, take us down, six hundred feet.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Heinrich responded. “Diving control, take us down, six hundred feet. Engineering, all ahead standard.” The men hurried to their stations, the pilot tilting upwards slightly on the throttle to dive the submarine beneath the waves. Captain Reinhardt gripped the periscope as the floor tilted beneath his feet, grabbing a pencil which had fallen off the map table in mid air.

“Moonlight Sonata, if you please, Mr. COB,” he said softly, wiping a single tear from his cheek.

“Of course, Captain,” the man replied, clicking down the play button on a tape deck which the captain had specially requested for this mission. Beethoven had been his son’s favorite composers, and while the other children had been playing in the streets, Finn had enjoyed holing up in his room and listening to the soothing sounds of Piano Sonata No. 14, a long novel in hand. The voice of the communications officer on the internal comm system broke him from his nostalgic thoughts.

“Conn, communications. We’re receiving a transmission from Bundesmarine Command, priority normal. Seems like a check-in order, sir.” Reinhardt picked up the microphone, a look of absolute serenity on his face.

“Communications, conn. Break radio contact.”

12:03 PM, Bundesmarine Headquarters
Hafenstadt, Leistung

“I’m just as curious as you are, Jonas. Yes, I’ll keep in contact.” Admiral Gottlieb hung up the red telephone in the Bundesmarine High Command (Oberkommando der Marine) office, cutting off his link to the Chancellery temporarily. Großadmiral Beckenbauer had been visiting the Chancellor in Hauptstadt when news of the Oktober Himmel’s silence had reached Bundesmarine Headquarters, and he was relying on his second-in-command, Admiral Gottlieb, to keep him in the loop.

Gottlieb picked up the other phone in his office, a pale white one linking him to the harbor below. “Lieutenant, this is Admiral Gottlieb. There appears to be trouble on the high seas, Lieutenant. Yes, again. Is the BMS Clay ready to depart?”

There was a hushed silence in the room as the Lieutenant below checked the status of the Clay. He returned to the phone a few moments later, giving the answer Gottlieb had been hoping for. “Excellent. Tell the captain to set sail at the earliest time possible—the Oktober Himmel has gone missing.”

5:51 PM, BMS Clay
Location Unknown

“Conn, sonar! Torpedo incoming bearing zero-ten-zero, speed 172 knots! Supercavitater, sir!”

The captain picked up the microphone, speaking frantically. “Weapons, deploy countermeasures! All ahead flank, right full rudder!” The men in the conning tower of the BMS Clay grabbed hold of anything bolted down to try to stop themselves from toppling over as the submarine twisted right.

“Conn, sonar! Torpedo has re-acquired target and is bearing zero-ten-four, speed 172 knots, distance 150 meters. Countermeasures failed, captain!”

The captain once again picked up the microphone, an almost calm tone taking over. “Men of the BMS Clay, it had been an honor serving with you. Engineering, brace for—” An explosion aimed directly at the center of the small SSN ripped the conning tower apart, killing the officer corps immediately and flooding the remainder of the submarine almost instantly. The crippled hulk slowly sank to the bottom of the sea, crushing completely as it reached almost 1800 feet below sea level.

BMS Oktober Himmel

A cheer went up through the command room of the Oktober Himmel as the sonar operator reported a hit. Captain Reinhardt could barely contain a cheer as well, as he picked up the microphone to confirm.

“Sonar, conn. Can you confirm destruction of submarine broadcasting Leistungi radio frequency?” he asked, as the conning tower became quiet, waiting tensely for the words they already knew were coming.

“Conn, sonar. Destruction of target confirmed, captain.” A second cheer went up through the submarine, and the captain pressed the commo button, opening a channel with the communications officer. “Comm, conn. Will the communications officer please report to the conn immediately, with a ballpoint pen and paper?”

The communications officer, a pale stringy lad of 24 who had immigrated to Leistung only 6 years ago, ascended to the command room a few minutes later. The captain patted him on the back before dictating a message to be sent to the Chancellery in Hauptstadt. He took down every word, a grin on his face as he wrote.

Message to Chancellery
Priority - Urgent

Hello from the Oktober Himmel, Chancellor [stop]

This message comes to you directly from the only free ship in the Bundesmarine [stop]

My missiles are fueled, Chancellor [stop]

My men are determined, Chancellor [stop]

You will pay for your sins today, Chancellor [stop]

Are you frightened [stop]

You should be [stop]

Your allies should be more frightened [stop]

You made a mistake crossing me, Chancellor [stop]

Now those Leistung holds close will pay [stop]

I suspect most of them hold nuclear weapons as well [stop]

Murdering a child may have been easy [stop]

Murdering you and your friends will be easier

[full stop]

5:55 PM, Office of the Chancellor
Hauptstadt, Leistung

Chancellor Ringkampf’s secretary was just about ready to pack up for the evening when a message began to type itself in a typewriter-esque machine behind her red mahogany desk. The machine had been installed a few years ago, and was essentially a direct link to officers in the field (or captains on the high seas). She picked up the thick yellow parchment stamped with the Falcon seal and placed it in a folder, which she subsequently sealed with a wax stamp. She walked briskly into the Chancellor’s office, placing the folder before him.

“Thank you, Mary,” he said, not looking up from the bill he was reading. He stamped veto sticker on it and placed it in the OUT basket before picking up the folder his secretary had placed. A pang of fear hit him immediately as he glanced at the cover—the folder was used for urgent telegrams only, and considering the events of that morning, he already feared the worst. With a letter opener he swiftly cut the top of the folder, slipping the paper out and bringing a glass of gin to his lips. It had been a long day indeed, and even Chancellors deserve treats once in a while.

He began to run his eyes over the black text, taking a sip of the gin as he did so. He continued reading, slowly lowering the glass back to the desk as he went on, missing it entirely and watching as the crystal glass hit the floor, shattering instantly. His hands gave out and the paper dropped as well.

With quivering hands, he reached for the red telephone on his desk, trying to press the pound key, which suddenly seemed very far away. “J-Jonas? It’s Gregor. Jonas, I think we have a situation here.”

Open Message to ODECON Member Navies
Priority - Normal

Our ships are currently undergoing a planned training exercise 1200 km
southwest of Leistung [stop]

Do not be alarmed by missile fire/explosions in the specified area

[full stop]

OOC: This is the cue for ODECON intervention. Though the Chancellor does not know it, Reinhardt has sent the same message to each of your leaders. I.e., the Chancellor is about to look very stupid...

INCOMING MESSAGE...
FREQUENCY FOUND.
MESSAGE AS FOLLOWS:

[[[Message to Chancellery
Priority - Urgent

Hello from the Oktober Himmel, Chancellor [stop]

This message comes to you directly from the only free ship in the Bundesmarine [stop]

My missiles are fueled, Chancellor [stop]

My men are determined, Chancellor [stop]

You will pay for your sins today, Chancellor [stop]

Are you frightened [stop]

You should be [stop]

Your allies should be more frightened [stop]

You made a mistake crossing me, Chancellor [stop]

Now those Leistung holds close will pay [stop]

I suspect most of them hold nuclear weapons as well [stop]

Murdering a child may have been easy [stop]

Murdering you and your friends will be easier

[full stop] ]]]

CLASSIFICATION: NUCLEAR THREAT
DESTINATION: OBSERVATION SYSTEMS ADENIA
PRIORITY: ONE/ALPHA
SERVER: 547.LEWIS.48A

----

The message arrived on his laptop with an ominous buzz. Reserved solely for the most important of messages, usually declarations of various sorts (normally war, though it had been a long while since on of those of any importance had passed through his view), the noise reminded him of the one time he had taken a tour on a naval vessel - the only time. The trip had left him utterly seasick, confined to his cabin for the entirety of the war games he supposed to be observing.

Pressing the screen, he brought up the notification. LEWIS. The Levelled Encryption Information Sorter was a relatively complex sorting system for electronic post, deciding, through level of encryption, searches for key phrases in the message, tone and source where each intelligence report and unaddressed declarations should be sent to. Today was Oliver's day.

Pausing over the message, not quite able to decide whether this was an elaborate hoax or reality, he tensed. A nuclear threat? From a random Bundesmarine submariner claiming to be "free"? The decision was one of better safe than sorry. The message continued it's journey up the chain - it's potential severity landing it on the desk of Allan Street.

His Monday meeting was halfway through when the secretary gingerly knocked on the door. It had been a quiet week, and Street was just beginning a section on the latest Ralkovian insistence upon selling their populace across the world.

Street sighed as the knock came, his morning being difficult enough as it was. The traffic that morning had been like something out of an apocalypse film, the Ministerial Mile being as gridlocked as he had ever seen it. The pile of paperwork on his desk had finalised his original assumption that it was, indeed, going to be one of those Mondays.

"Yes..."
"Mr Street, a report from Observation Systems has just arrived."
"Put it on my desk."
"Mr Street, the Commissioner-General was insistent that you read it now."
"Was he really. Very well, give it here."

Street stood, addressing the table.

"Gentlemen, get me the Ambassador to the Court of St Paul."

OOC: For the moment, I'm keeping this diplomatic. Next post will include me dispatching the two frigates and activating 308 sqn to full combat readiness, and beginning patrols.

Oh, and the Ambassador to the Court of St Paul is the Leistungi ambassador. As if you couldn't guess. All ambassadors are Ambassador to the Court of St Something-or-other.

In the general area cruised one of the many submarines of the Crimm navy. It was standard procedure to deploy at least two submarines to bolster patrols around allies.

The sub halted engines and allowed themselves to drift as they heard the sickening death of a submarine. A sound they knew very well, from being in war. Within a half hour, they received word that this was supposedly part of a training exercise.

"Bullshit." The captain muttered as he stared at the helm of his boat, the CSS Abyss. "Who blows a submarine away in a training exercise? Well, lots of nations, I suppose... but one that is actively taking evasive maneuvers and releases decoys?"

He looked around and got uncomfortable looks in return. This was going to be a long day.

He sighed. "Hold position and let's see what happens." With no way to contact the Empire without revealing themselves, they had no other choice but to sit and watch.

OOC: Street’s actions RPed with BA’s permission

7:12 AM, Office of Mr. Allan Street
Brittanican Adenia

Ambassador Lehrer tightened his tie and adjusted his flag lapel as he walked briskly through the doors of the office. He extended his arm and shook Allan Street’s hand firmly before taking his seat across the desk.

“My secretary mentioned that this was urgent, Mr. Street. What seems to be the trouble?” Lehrer asked innocently. Lehrer had been an ambassador for close to twenty years, and the first rule when meeting a foreign dignitary was to never, under any circumstances, put words in their mouth. Street cleared his throat and handed Lehrer the transmission. He ran his eyes over it, coughing nervously.

“Your government issued a statement that this was a training exercise, ambassador. Is this part of it?” Street asked, leaning over his desk. “I can hardly imagine why a submarine in training would send such a message to our fair nation.”

“Ah, well yes, that does appear odd at first glance,” Lehrer stuttered, attempting to regain his composure. “Let me assure you however, the Captain’s actions were entirely within naval protocol. His submarine, the Oktober Himmel, is the aggressor, and perhaps he was…ah, using the wrong frequency for his transmission.”

Street raised an eyebrow. “The wrong frequency, ambassador? I could have sworn your nation prided itself on naval traditions and discipline. And for that matter, why choose now to hold training exercises? Aren’t ODECON exercises planned for later this month?”

Lehrer sighed, realizing that the truth was going to come out one way or another. “I suppose you’re right, Mr. Street. Realize however that I am tied by what Hauptstadt chooses to relay to me, and at the moment information is scarce. What I do know is that at six o’clock PM local time last night, Captain Reinhardt of the BMS Oktober Himmel engaged and destroyed one of our patrol submarines in the area before issuing this statement back to the Chancellery in Leistung.” He paused, trying to figure out how best to word the next sentence. “Because of Bundesmarine protocols, he has picked his own crew and officer corps, and…and he may have the capacity to secure the codes for the Oktober’s missiles.”

“And why in God’s name didn’t you inform us, ambassador? A rogue captain aiming missiles at Adenia? A nightmare scenario to say the least, and one you should have approached us with the moment it became apparent,” Street said, frowning. “We have a navy as well, you know.”

“Yes, again your logic proves infallible…” Lehrer muttered. He raised his voice back to a normal tone quickly. “Mr. Street, we may require the help of that navy.”

“Of course, ambassador. How can we be of assistance?”

7:42 AM, BMS Einigkeit
North Fyre Sea

"Set course to one-nine-zero, reduce speed seven knots and initiate sweep." Captain Fiedler spoke loudly and clearly, relaying the orders to engineering office on the bridge. His ship, the Einigkeit (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13915998&postcount=15), was flanked by another Taifun Class destroyer--the first two ships on the scene when the order from Bundesmarine Command came in. The two destroyers had been sweeping the North Fyre sea all night, searching for some signs of Captain Reinhardt's missing submarine, but their search had so far been fruitless.

Captain Reinhardt peered through his binoculars at the jet airplane (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13473991&postcount=347)flying several hundred kilometers to the north, an iron cross painted on the fuselage. The jet was dropping what appeared to be metal cylinders with parachutes in a line, which, to the untrained eye, looked like a parachute landing in the middle of the ocean. These cylinders, or sonobuoys, emitted an active sonar signal deep under the water, capable of picking up the sounds emitted by a nuclear (or conventional) submarine.

"Dear God, Lieutenant, how many buoys do we need to drop?" the Captain muttered idly, not really expecting the young sailor beside him to answer.

"A man could walk from here back to Leistung with the number they're dropping, sir," he responded, not catching on the rhetorical nature of the question. "I suppose they aren't taking any chances."

Captain Fiedler lowered the binoculars slowly, squinting to make out an object in the distance. On an anti-submarine patrol, every speck in the ocean seemed like a conning tower, and Feidler was paranoid to begin with. "That's why they called us, Lieutenant."

"S-Sugar, pull your finger out."

RAS Merton was the home of 308 Squadron, a Nimrod MRA4 Maritime Reconnaisance and Attack Squadron. The first line of Adenian maritime defence, two aircraft, H-Hellzapoppin' and S-Sugar, had been seleected for this unusual submarine sweep.

Even more unusual, both aircraft were carrying the Sting Ray torpedo and sonobuoys - the Operations Assistants weren't informed of the purpose, but the pilots had been taken into a special briefing; flight crews were instructed not to release the information given to them. Pale faces were seen as they left the briefing room, expressions were grim on the faces of electronics operators.

Laughs came back over the radio, a curse from the pilot of S-Sugar cutting them off.

"You can forget that priority laddering too, 'keep that up!"

Playful banter was the norm on a mission, along with the busful of female auxiliaries that now lined the taxiway in their uniforms, handkerchiefs waving as they saw "their boys" off. The military was one of the best places to find a man, as far as the women's magazines were concerned, and a vast majority of the Royal Auxiliary Aeronautical Service applications were single women. Normally breaks and leave were taken on base so as the pilots could be flirted with, and although promiscuity was rife, inevitably most relationships found themselves ending up in the married quarters.

The Nimrod's engines roared, the aircraft pulling forward slowly, picking up speed before finally leaving the safe earth and beginning the climb to 35,000ft before they their descent to sea level and the search for their elusive prey.

---

HMS Alma, HMS Emperor, International Waters

"Duly noted. Full ahead, helmsman, let's not spare the horses. Commsman, relay the message and our actions to the Emperor."

"Aye captain, full ahead, course made."

"Excellent. We're informed the Leistungi fleet is operating in this area, make efforts to contact them on as secure a Leistungi channel we can get ahold of. Following message..."

"All Leistungi assets operating in this area, this is the HMS Alma, Brittaniate Royal Nautical Service designation Delta-Zero-Four. We operate with our sister ship the Emperor, designation Delta-Four-Seven.

We are intended to aid the search for the Himmel, and have been tasked with liaising with you and aiding you in your own searches. Elements of 308 Squadron will be assisting us in sonobuoy despatch and, in the event of acquirement, the elimination of the target. Please respond."

OOC: TGLT, why would we yell at you...

And yes, I am aware that the quote is "I am become death", but frankly, Oppenheimer should have taken a few more English classes. It just sounds moronic. And no, I had no idea that you had an RP by the same name--there's tons of RPs on NS, so some are bound to have the same name.

The Abyss studied the various radio communications, before her captain decided that sitting around was solving nothing. And perhaps he could get a reaction out of the forces in the area, to see what their intentions are...

The entire area reverberated for a second or so with the piercing PING from the submarine, then another eight seconds later... it appeared the vessel was headed towards the area the Clay sank in. Now that it was known to be in the area, a good sonar man would be able to pick out the sub's sound signature. It was a Supremacy, most definitely.

Meaning it was either from Crimmond or Automagfreek.