NationStates Jolt Archive

A military officer was approaching the office of the Great Leader in the Songun Congress to deliver top-secret military documents. However, in leui of keeping this charade of secrecy amidst the rumors anymore, the Great Leader rose from his chair, strode across the room to a neurotically fiddling and apprehentious military official, and crossed out the stamp of 'CLASSIFIED'.

He slowly takes the paperwork out, making sure to preserve its' pristine uncreased state. On it stated the following,

3rd Taboksol Bureau of Technological Innovation,

To the concerned parties of the upper echelons,

Our glorious and wonderful nation under the Juche idea and Songun military methods has devised into immediate work the innovation of a new satellite type, a technological showpiece which will be used to make external nations in our world approach us with wear.

In preparation, we have closed the last of the open trade zones and returned autonomy of the semi-independent zones to their original proprietors under direct command of the Songun Congress. We will prepare for a Second Arduous March, much mirroring the first one of ours in the Arctic region, to help re-develop the goals of self-reliant economic function most crucial to the progress of this latest innovation. We thank you above all, Dear Leader, for your guidance on all of these matters as of this time of writing.

Yours sincerely,
Kim Han-cheol,
Head of the 3rd Taboksol Bureau of Technological Innovation.

The Ursavian Intelligence Wing headquarters in the southern half of the capitol of Saáry had been rather quiet that morning with only the occasional intercepted message of some kind or another dribbling through and holding litte importance to the nation of Ursava's well-being. That was until one of the 'secretaries' recieved an unmarked e-mail: a sleeper agent. Clicking it open she found that it read only "Here's something:" with a video link of some kind after that. The 'secretary' reached for her phone and called for higher command. Minutes later a young-looking man and a much older man stood behind her and watched the video feed.

It was from two perspectives, one after the other. One was grainy footage of a man in a military officer's uniform making his way to the front door of the Taboksol capitol building holding some sort of folder. Then that cut to black and the second part of the video was much clearer and through a window in to their president's office. Here it zoomed in and though at a great distance, at least the part of the new type of satalite could be picked up over the president's shoulder. The older man swore when the video ended and then turned to the younger man. Noth walked away conversing about something the 'secretary' couldn't hear.

[Several NS days later]

"Dear Leader, " the same loyal officer cries as he barges into the office.

"We've received intelligence from one of our moles in Ursava; an expat of Taboksol who works as a janitor for UIW."

The janitor enters the room in a comparatively slower manner.

"You're lucky that they give us holidays once a year; I would've never sneaked out of the country otherwise."

"It must've been a mistake, but the forward of an e-mail correspondence, from your own people no-less, accidentally made it's way to my inbox at the UIW. In short, they know..." the janitor said in absolute bemusement.

"May we take a retaliatory course, sir?" asked the officer beside him.

"They will suspect an ulterior motive. Let's bide our time," replied Dear Leader. "if these imperialists understand one language, it's suspense."

OOC: Since you said it was several days later. Also, I'll let you post how many guards/etc. are in the dock-yard they're swimming in.


The water was calm, nothing except for two figures in wet-suits disturbing the peace of what was below the surface. The slowly kicked along towards the coast-line after having been dropped off several miles out of Taboksol waters. Now they were in-sight of the coast-line and closing in. Of course, they would have been in-sight if they weren't swimming at a depth of eighty feet. Their mission was simple: they were to infiltrate the country, find out what this new satalite was designed to do, and send back the info to the homeland. They were Black Guard, the elite of the elite, and the deadliest of the deadly. They slowly paddled along through the water: approaching a dockyard with deadly silence and unseen lethality.