2014 STGOD Story Thread I

[RogueIce]

70th Floor, Shinra Building, Midgar
04 January 2014

Sketchy details of the tragedy currently befalling Orion were still coming in, with excited and probably wildly inaccurate reports from a variety of news outlets flooding over each other, trying to get the latest 'scoop' and 'exclusive story' as they were wont to do.

Still, there was some solid information, mostly provided through backdoor channels from official Orion sources.

"AVALANCHE? Are they sure?" inquired President Shinra.

Director Veld shrugged. "Sincere, anyway. Who knows how reliable their information is. Or if this is even our AVALANCHE or some group who took up the name after the Eulica raid."

President Shinra considered this. "I suppose we'll get more firm information later. Still, if it's really some segment of AVALANCHE that we missed - or even just some group claiming the name - we'd have to respond. There's not much choice. In the meantime, we can at least send the Healing Wind to provide support."

"Yes sir. And if it is AVALANCHE?"

"We should be prepared. Contact Corona. It seems both Rheinland and Cascadia are having commemorations about the War. Let's see if they'd be open to having out Battlegroup visit them in commemoration of our shared naval struggle against Apelia. That way we'd at least have assets close at hand, if we need them."

"Yes sir."

*******

Later that day

President Shinra was again meeting with advisors, though on a matter unrelated to the Orion Crisis.

"An international forum, Mister President."

President Shinra scoffed. "Because that'll accomplish something. Still...I suppose it can't hurt. Let's offer our support. I have my doubts it'll actually amount to anything meaningful. Still, if enough nations go along with the idea this forum the Rhenians want will become a reality - as useless as it may be. We might as well be in on the ground floor and influence what we can...to make sure it remains a glorified soapbox for various ambassadors to air their country's grievances while accomplishing little of actual worth."

His advisors chuckled. "So we should prepare an official statement?"

"Yes, and make sure you send some word through the usual channels to the Rheinland diplomats. Let's show them our 'support' early, demonstrate that we are completely on board with this idea and think it will be a valuable tool to ensure world peace."

Actions

• Hospital Ship SRS Healing Wind to be deployed to Orion
• Request for Battle Group in the "Atlantic" to make a port visit to various Corona cities made. Intention is to be close at hand to Orion, just in case they need any further assistance with aid...or in terrorist hunting.
• Initially favorable reception to "International League" made known through the usual channels to Rheinland, public announcement to follow on the 5th.

[The Romulan Republic]

Ministry of Foreign Affairs message to The Shinra Republic:

We have received your request regarding port visits in Corona. This administration welcomes cooperation with your government. Please inform us of the number and types of ships you wish to deploy and their intended destinations so that we can be certain of our ability to accommodate them.

Sincerely,

Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs Cordelia Young.

[Eternal_Freedom]

Royal Palace, Paradise City
January 4th, 2014

King Alexander was growing to hate the quiet knock on his door late in the evening. Whilst officially he was “off duty” from 9 pm so he could have some time with his family, crises usually occurred at most inconvenient moments. In this case it was whilst he was engaged in a brutal (yet friendly) wargame with his eldest son. The various Warhammer games were remarkably popular in Orion; Alexander supposed it allowed the logical, organized population a creative, chaotic and ultimately harmless outlet. His Space Marines had just reached a perfect flanking position against his son’s Eldar when the knock on the door came.

“Enter.” Director Greer walked in, just in time to witness the King fluff a vital dice roll and lose half his squad. He sensibly avoided commenting on the situation, instead quietly admiring the workmanship on the young Prince’s models whilst his King negotiated a temporary cease-fire. After a few moments, the King looked up at his OSA official. “Well James?”

“We’ve begun interrogating the prisoners Sire. Drugs have not proven necessary so far, they seem surprisingly willing to talk, doubtless because they wanted this to be a political statement. The five leaders have proven somewhat more tight-lipped; however detailed questioning has revealed they are, as suspected, an AVALANCHE splinter group that has been independent for two years now. They do not have definite information about any other splinter cells, but they are confident that such cells exist. Apparently the movement is everywhere. Normally I would say that is hyperbole, but one of them made a reference to several members of this cell mysteriously departing shortly after their arrival. We checked our records and they were never arrested, so it is probably they left to start other cells abroad.”

“That is most troubling.” The King looked pensive. “James, you have unofficial contacts with other intelligence agencies, yes? Including Shinra?”

“Of course Sire.”

“Then I want you to discretely furnish them with this information. Moreover, if further questioning reveals information of AVALANCHE activities in any other nation, you are hereby ordered to pass that information along to the relevant agency.”

“Understood Sire, I shall get on it immediately. One final matter Sire, an update on Hephaestus.”

“What’s the count now?” Alexander looked as if he dearly wished not to know the answer.

“They’re still pulling out bodies from the rubble at the various sites Sire, but the current count is 2,743, with another four hundred unaccounted for and probably buried. The SAR teams from Underwood have been a great help in that regard. Oh, and Shinra is sending a hospital ship our way, which is a ncie gesture at least.”

“Indeed. I think we need to set up a meeting with their President. It seems fate has more in store for our two nations than merely coexisting. I’ll discuss it with the Foreign Minister sometime. Now, if that’s all, I’m in the middle of a war.”

Whilst some might see that remark as overly callous, especially after the King learned the current body count, James saw it for what it was; a way for the King to cope with the painful truth by spending time with his son, focusing on life rather than death.

“The best of luck Sire.”

[Gill]

“Even if Belkan were to miss while shooting for the stars, it would at least make for a spectacular failure.”
-Belkan Physicist Tsolak Konssoulian (1810-1892)

A Brief Biography of Tsolak Konssoulian
From The Rhenania University Illustrated History of Astronomy by Michel Hoskins

Belkan, at one point, hosted a thriving center of astronomy in its rugged northern regions during its height in the 17th and 18th Centuries. Astronavigation and time keeping were critical in ensuring that its various armies could arrive at their intended destinations on time, and developing that skill set required tools and the knowledge needed to manufacture those tools. The creation of the first telescopes met with considerable popularity in Belkan, and they quickly found a spot alongside traditional astronomical instruments like Belkan’s famously massive quadrants and astrolabes.

However, the decline of the Belkan economy took all but one observatory along with it as the 19th Century crept in. The few astronomers left could not afford to compete with the rest of the world as the traditional manner in which Belkan manufactured optics was only viable for smaller scale lenses. One last attempt was made to retain some degree of authority in the discipline by manufacturing what was only to be the largest telescope in the world for a mere week, and the few remaining Belkan astronomers then turned to books and papers and into the theoretical realm of astrophysics.

One of the individuals whom became enamored in this field was the former Belkan captain of artillery, Tsolak Konssoulian. After having one of his legs blown off by a cannon misfire and the other made lame in 1823, Tsolak attended the Highland Academy (known for retaining the largest and last observatory in the nation) to seek a new career path. He was already acquainted with elementary physics on account of his previous occupation, and quickly found himself attuned to the world of orbital mechanics in particular.

Before he turned 28, Tsolak began publishing papers on the subject of Libration Points and the three body problem, and Tsolak’s further more argued that such positions would be excellent locations for bodies left over from the formation of the Solar System and for potential habitation given their remarkable stability. While such embryonic work was being discussed elsewhere, Tsolak was not well acquainted with international scientific community, and nor the latter with him.

As he arrived to his 35th birthday, Tsolak published a remarkable tome which discussed how one might go about moving in the vacuum of space, entitled From Tellus to the Stars. In the book, Tsolak envisioned that the solid rockets then in use by the Belkans as artillery, could be scaled up and staged so as to allow relatively smaller payloads to reach orbit and proceed elsewhere into the system from there. He independently discovered the rocket equation and, while he admitted that then existing rockets lacked the specific impulse to deliver anything but token payloads into space, he argued that the technology could improve and that prototypical sounding rockets could return samples from several hundred kilometers in the sky with little improvement in existing solid rocket propellant.

Tsolak was poorly received in Belkan, however, and utterly unknown to the world at large until long after his death in 1892. He took a break from astrophysics to help the Belkan Army develop new rocket artillery systems with some success before publishing his largest text, Mansions in Space. The latter was particularly fascinating in that it took his previous suggestions over habitation in space to their logical extreme, and it was to be followed up with a newer treaties on rocketry that was left a quarter finished before Tsolak’s demise from pneumonia.

However, with the constraints of space in this encyclopedia in mind, it is recommended that readers interested in further information on the subject of Tsolak Konssoulian read Oleg Vratzian’s biography Tsolak Konssoulian: The Man and his Work published in 1994.


Belkan Highland Academy and Observatory, 6th of January

The Belkan Highland Academy sat atop a long since extinct volcano, a feature left over from an outburst of lava created by an even older tectonic interaction of the Belkan sub-continent with the rest of the land. It was one of the few real summits in Belkan, and its altitude and the dry air of the entire country made it an excellent location for an observatory.

However, the highland observatory was seldom used in any serious academic or practical capacity. Only a hand full of astronomers were left in the country, and Oleg Vratzian was the only astrophysicist of Belkan’s entire population of ten million souls. He mostly spent his time educating young noblemen whom would later shell out their money on expensive telescopes for use as amateurs, and the few astrophysics students he had ever taught had long since left the country in search of universities that would actually desired their services. That Oleg even stuck around was due to his other classes, and was determined not to die the last astrophysicist in poor Belkan.

Yet that meant keeping up with his work load, and he had since almost finished his the grading began prior to New Year’s Break. Nothing was particularly stand out in a positive way, and he was eager to confront some of his students over the tell-tale similarities in their papers. Oleg loved to kick high and mighty nobles down a notch or two despite being one himself, as he believed humility was a trait best acquired young.

Though his grading was interrupted by the ringing of his antiquated desk phone. He had grumpily dropped his inkwell pen, hoping they would tire and leave him alone to finish grading. Oleg looked out his rear window and onto the afternoon glow of the craggy highlands in frustrated thought before finally resolving to answer the phone in a distinctly terse manner.

It then surprised him to learn that the person on the other end was in fact crown prince Aghasar, whom had also been a previous student of his before the Three Month War took its toll. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it professor Konssoulian?” he said.

Oleg was absolutely mortified, of course, but he stammered out a reply. “I apologize for my rudeness prince Aghasar! It’s just the New Year’s Break grading crunch and- and-“ The prince played down the forgivable breach in protocol. “Well, it is nice to speak with you again for the first time in several years regardless.” Though Oleg finally realized how unusual the call was timing wise. “May I inquire as to why you are calling, dear prince?”

Aghasar was pleased to hear his professor was as straight to the point as he used to be. “As a matter of fact”, he began, “I have a kind of diplomatic mission for you to undertake.”

There was pause. “What?” said Oleg.

“Well if I remember you well enough, you don’t watch television or read the news” the prince remarked, which was a true enough statement. Oleg had, like many Belkans, never owned a T.V., and newspapers were a rarity in the nation. “Last night, the Rheinland Chancellor had announced that they are seeking nations to assist them in the construction of a space station.”

Oleg was at a loss for words, except one sentence’s worth: “How could we possibly help them with that?”

Aghasar was, however, prepared for such a remark. “While it’s clear we can’t assist them in a material way, I sincerely believe that Belkan can nonetheless provide meaningful assistance that could help Belkan get some say in the international community. I need you to go to Rheinland and submit all of your papers on the subject of spaceflight that you’ve penned over the years.”

Oleg nodded to himself: He was perhaps the only person in Belkan to have ever taken the topic seriously, alongside the crown prince himself and Minister Libarian. While the lack of supercomputing capacity in Belkan forbade them from publishing them anything advanced in astrophysics, Oleg had published more than a few papers concerning the practical needs and issues of manned spaceflight that others had often overlooked for lack of interest. “Well then, I think I have one last lecture left in me crown prince.”

Aghasar yet nearly interrupted the aging professor. “This is not a request for a lecture or two abroad, professor, it’s a request to start dialogue with Rheinland academia and their government on the subject and let them know we can help. You are one of the few individuals whom can be considered an expert on the field and the only such one in our own country, and Belkan needs to demonstrate its more than just an anachronism.”

If it weren’t for the prince’s quip about letting the world know that Belkan could help with something for once that didn’t involve how to best shoot something or march in close formation so as to present a better target for being shot out, he would swear Aghasar was being short with him. Nevertheless, he conceded. “Very well then, I’ll see if I can’t contact one of their universities and see what I can do.”

The prince disagreed once more. “No. I have you booked for a plane leaving to Umeria tomorrow morning, and there you’ll make a connecting flight to Rheinland. I, no, Belkan needs you to do this” the prince pleaded considerable sincerity in his voice.

Oleg then gave up with his protesting and agreed. “Very well, let me pack my things and I’ll be in Galm by tonight.”

Aghasar almost sounded regretful. “I hate asking you to do this professor, especially over the phone, but the crisis in Champa has us all very busy at the palace and the Rheinlander’s announcement was unexpected.” He paused. “I hope you understand what this could mean for us, even if it’s just a page in the history books.”

Oleg let out a hopeful sigh. “Yes, well at least they might remember me instead of poor, dead Tsolak.”


Actions
1. Belkan sends local professor of astrophysics, Oleg Konssoulian, to Rheinland to participate in dialogue on its recently announced spaceflight efforts and to discuss the matter with its institutions of higher learning.

[Steve]

Portland Federal Disrict

"Is this for real?" Alex put down the paper. "A permanent world congress?"

"It would appear to be so, yes." SecStae MacKenzie sipped on some coffee.

"And moving hosts." Alex rubbed at his chin. "I can see the Tories and Stalwarts are already calling it a waste of time."

"The Stalwarts would unless Klavostan and its friendly states were excluded," MacKenzie remarked drolly. "It could prove useful, especially if things go truly bad in New Britonia."

Alex folded his hands. "Are the Crown-Loyalists really doing that well?"

"They're exploiting a popular well of discontent with Labour and Liberal policies," MacKenzie answered. "Events before the election could sway things, but I wouldn't be surprised if they end up with a plurality of the Windsor Parliament. OR even an outright majority."

"And if they get that they'll start commencing a constitutional change almost immediately," Alex grumbled. "What do we do about it?"

"With all due respect, Mister President... we do nothing. Interfering in New Britonian politics would only backfire and strengthen the Crown-Loyalists."

"And so I allow a half-century of progress to be undone by the Britonian diaspora." Alex sighed and thumped his hand on the desk. "Okay, and this International Space Station thing? He's not talking about Skylab is he?"

"No sir. I suspect he means something far greater in scope."

"Talk to Stormdancer over at NASA, see what they think. It would be nice to have something like that in hand when I attend that victory commemoration. And yes, I know that the war didn't end for us until the following year and the final defeat of the Britonian forces in New Britonia." He smirked. "Sophie already lectured me on that."

"Oh?" A small grin crossed the SecState's face. "Lecturing her father now, is she?"

"If it involves history? Oh yes. I should probably be happy that her idea of rebellion is to read books we tell her not to."

With two grown up daughters and a grown up son of her own, MacKenzie laughed quietly at that. "Oh yes, you should," she said, well aware of how grateful he should be.

[Skywalker_T-65]

Sholm, Glacian Royal Palace
January 4, 2014



Sitting at the center of the capital city of Glacia, a magnificent building rose into the sky. The old Royal Palace, built long ago for the Glacian Royal Family. While it still served its purpose as the residence for the Royals, it also had a much more recent purpose given to it by the famous Irene I. That purpose being serving as the meeting place whenever the Four Monarchs needed to gather to discuss events that impacted the entire Arcadian nation, as opposed to the individual islands.

Case in point, the recent speech by Rheinland's Chancellor. While Arcadia hadn't been mentioned directly (such was to be expected for a mostly isolationist state), there were two interesting aspects to the speech. And because of that, the Four Monarchs had gathered for the first time in months, seated in a spacious meeting room in the Palace.

"You have to admit it is an interesting proposal," King Gustav of Mannar mused.

"It is indeed," Queen Samantha of Larena agreed, "for other nations. I don't need to tell you why it is a bad idea here do I?"

"Difficulties thanks to our unique system aside," Emperor James of Glacia countered, "at least it could provide greater security. You did note that Chancellor Fischer said the seat would be rotated in alphabetical order of member states. Arcadia would be the first, in theory."

King Michael of Sarana frowned, "In theory yes, but we all know that each of our diplomatic corps would push for it to be placed in our own nation. And then we run into issues."

The issue the Four Monarchs were discussing, of course, was the proposal by Rheinland of an 'International Body of Dialogue'. It was certainly an interesting proposal. Nothing had been tried before, of that nature anyway. Alliance systems existed, but a centralized meeting place for every nation was quite a different story.

Of course, the problem for Arcadia was simple. While the nation was formally known as the United Kingdoms of Arcadia, the fact was that each island was basically autonomous. Case in point, the fact that there was no central King of Arcadia. As such, each Kingdom tended to have its own diplomatic services, which was every bit as problematic as it seemed.

And, of course, the Kingdoms and Empire were too proud to subordinate their diplomatic corps to the central authority unless it became absolutely necessary.

"I, at least, would be willing to put aside my pride and appoint a single diplomat as our representative," Michael, the youngest of the Monarchs, continued, "This idea has a lot of potential, and I don't want to ruin it with pointless squabbling. No offense intended, of course."

Gustav nodded, "I agree. Obviously, we would have to agree on who to appoint, but that shouldn't be too difficult should it?"

"Perhaps," Samantha conceded, "I admit I am leery of the idea, but if we are all in agreement, it is worth attempting. James?"

The single Emperor in the room sighed slightly, "I agree."

Considering the Glacians were the proudest of all Arcadians in their own nation, that must have taken quite a bit out of their leader to admit. Still, this was a step in the right direction...at least, insofar as getting the Arcadian Kingdom back on the world stage.

"Now that we've decided to agree with Rheinland's proposal, what of the other suggestion?" Michael added.

"The International Space Station?" Samantha asked, "I don't see an issue there. We already had plans to suggest something similar to Orion one of these days, so this just makes it easier."

While Arcadia may have been dysfunctional at the best of times, at least the Four Monarchs could agree on occasion...

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Actions: Arcadia supports Fischer's proposals.

[KlavoHunter]

Central Committee of the Communist Party
Muzaffer, Klavostan

"What are our options?" The Comrade General Secretary Masood Khorsandi asked, looking across the table at the men and women sitting around it.

"As soon as this committee authorizes it, the Foreign Ministry will dispatch an additional team to our Fuso consulate and pursue all diplomatic means possible to secure the release of our people and ship." There was a pause as the Comrade Foreign Minister reached for a phone that wasn't there in his pocket, the questionably-secure devices not allowed in high-level meetings. Shrugging without his prop, he continued. "Spontaneous demonstrations have already begun outside of the Fuso Consulate here in our capital."

"Begin immediately," the Comrade General Secretary ordered, looking around for disagreement in the body which he was first amongst equals. There was none to this. "And support these demonstrations, quietly."

"Suppose Fuso doesn't play nice, though. What then?"

"The Kingslayer battlegroup can set sail immediately and be in the vicinity of Fuso within a week."

"Fuso won't be threatened by a single Guided Missile Battlecruiser and her escorts. Not seriously."

"In a month, the Taylor Charles Day will be back out of dock. A carrier battlegroup backing up the Kingslayer's would be a threat Fuso couldn't bowl over so easily..."

"Then Fuso has a month to return our ship and people before we have to resort to threats."

[Steve]

Over the Pacific Ocean between Chuuk and Champa
10 January 2014


Flight Lieutenant Susan Ying, Air Force Reserve, took another gulp of coffee while observing the instruments in her K-2B Stratotanker. The old tanker aircraft cruised along at a slow speed to conserve fuel and increase loiter time, which meant hours upon hours spent in the air before turning back for Chuuk. The young pilot, a woman of Tianguo ancestry, shuddered at the thought of how much aviation fuel this "air bridge" was guzzling.

"Tanker Golf India Sierra 2938, this is Cargo Lima Charlie Delta 189, we are on course and ready to begin mid-air refueling approach in five minutes, over."

Ying's co-pilot, Lieutenant Karl Creighton, got on the radio. "We copy you, we are ready to lower the boom."

Ying put the coffee up and took up her controls again, ready to keep the craft steady as the T-65 Douglas aircraft coming up on them were lining up for refueling. A look at the tank levels told her that as soon as this was done, they would be heading back to Chuuk. She looked forward to the day of downtime before taking up another refueling patrol.

The pilots of Cargo Lima Charlie Delta 189 would be flying on, of course, taking humanitarian supplies like bottled water, food rations, and medicine to Champa to help displaced refugees from the nuclear accident.



Windsor, New Britonia

Alvin Harris looked up as the figure entered his office. "How may I help you?", he asked.

"You can explain this," Charles Shaw-Cross responded through clenched teeth, throwing the paper on the desk.

Harris picked up the January 10th edition of the Times. As he checked the column on the page laid out by Shaw-Cross, the other Crown-Loyalist leader began to rage. "We agreed to keep this on hold! That Parliament would negotiate the issue!"

"No, you said we should, and I demurred," Harris answered irritably. "I did not commit to holding back on the issue of our national birthright."

"This is exactly the kind of thing that will cost us tthe election!", Shaw-Cross thundered.

"Good heavens, man, do you not understand your own electorate?", Harris retorted. "They love these thoughts. Speaking of returning to our homeland and restoring its independence makes the heart of every loyal Britonian swell with hope and pride. For all the Kagars* have done to extinguish us, we still survive, and we will not surrender before their threats."

"Not every exile is as devoted as you are..."

"Then they should be," Harris rasped. "We are the victims, no matter what decades of Kagar propaganda claims about the bombings. We wouldn't have bombed them if they hadn't declared their intent to conquer us utterly. It was self-defense, and our people know that!"

"In case you haven't noticed, Harris, I'm not a journo or academic, you don't have to reiterate this point again," Shaw-Cross protested. "But you've got to understand that this won't get us anywhere. This pronouncement will only worry the electorate and give us trouble with the Cascadians as well as the Rhenish. If it causes the Libs and the Pinks to patch things up, we'll never gain the government even with the new election. Unless the party outright recognizes Rhenish sovereignty over Britonia..." Seeing Harris about to explode he quickly appended, "Which we won't do, of course, even I wouldn't. But we could be thrown back to the fringes over this, Arthur."

Harris steepled his hands. "So what is it you wish me to do?"

"Just a press release," Shaw-Cross answered. "State that you overspoke. Stand with the party position on the issue and that you will focus your efforts on restoring the Princess to her rightful place as ruler of this country."

There was silence for several seconds. Harris finally nodded. "It shall be written."

"Good show, Arthur. The others won't forget this. You're definitely in line for Defense Minister if we control the Government." With that Shaw-Cross walked out.

Harris remained quiet for a moment. He quickly wrote out the desired press release and had his assistance deliver it to the papers.

Afterwards he pulled out a manuscript and began to scribble in it again.

"For indeed the world owes a debt to the people of Britonia. Though we were ultimately subjugated and placed under the boot of the Rhinelanders, our desperate attempts at self-defense inflicted great damage upon their country, ensuring they were forced to spend the decades following the war in reconstruction instead of slaking their thirst for blood and conquest. How many nations might have fallen to their banner if not for our heroic bomber crews? I shudder to imagine..."



Seattle Post-Intelligencer

Crown-Loyalist leader retracts inflammatory news article

WINDSOR, NEW BRITONIA - Just hours after its publication, an editorial column article by Crown-Loyalist leader Arthur Harris was retracted in a press release by Mister Harris. He stated his words regarding the issue of West Rheinland, once the nation of Britonia, were "poorly considered" and "undermined the crux of this party's purpose in national politics". The fiery speech-writer and speaker had published the article in the Times of Windsor newspaper, where they caused a furor over their blatant remarks regarding the fuure of West Rheinland.

"I will redouble myself to he matter of restoring the proper ruler of this great country to her throne," he wrote at the end. "By the Grace of God, isabella shall be Queen of New Britonia before the year is out."


*=I figured that with no Huns, another "bad nickname" was needed for Germans much like historically they were called Huns in the WW1-WW2 era. Since Paul indicated the Kagarians were "Mongol" in some way, I figured why not them?

Also, as for the Crown-Loyalist position on Rheinland and Britonia, I figure they've adopted a precarious "neutral" position. They recognize Rhenish control of Britonia as it is now, an established fact wrought by force of arms which is unrealistic to undo in the short and medium-terms and fairly unlikely in the long-term. But if they outright do what the Rhenish want and completely and utterly recognize eternal sovereignty, the party would explode. So they walk that tightrope of not challenging the Rhenish sovereignty over Britonia without recognizing it in perpetuity.

As for Mister Harris... I don't think he quite likes Rheinland.

[Steve]

USS Martin Kemmish CVN-44, Puget Sound Naval Base and Shipyard
Bremerton, Olympia
13 January 2014


The newest active aircraft carrier in the United States Navy was covered in green-white-and-blue buntings, assorted VIPs and the ship's crew gathered on her flight deck and facing the raised platform and podium set up for the day's speech. Naval enthusiaists were quick to note the Kemmish's advancements over the prior Defiant design. The "island", the tower with the ship's bridge and topped with the sensor and communications gear, was further back on the frame. The steam catapults of prior designs had been replaced by electromagnetic catapults. And other clear, myriad changes.

President Penton walked up from where he was chatting with SecNavy Dale, Fleet Admiral Charles O'Connor. and Captain Reginald Anderson, the ship's first operational CO. With the appointed time having come the audience fell silent.

"My apologies to the sailors if I mess the pronouns up," Alex began, keeping his speech notes on the podium for occasional glances. "It's hard to think of a ship named for a man as a 'she'." There were chuckles and laughter from the assembled. "I'm proud to be here today, regardless. We stand on the newest carrier in the United States fleet, a standing testament to the ingenuity and brilliance of Cascadian shipbuilders. The question is what kind of testament it will be to our nation, and to the man she's named for. It's easy to think of this vessel and all that she carries as a means of destruction. So many nations long for carriers for that same reason."

He paused, making a show of shuffling his papers.

"But that is not what this ship is for."

Alex focused his eyes on the crowd. "The Martin Kemmish wasn't built to be just a weapon of war, God forbid we ever need her to serve as such. She was built for the greater cause; to maintain peace and to bring aid and comfort to those in need. The power of the Cascadian Navy has always been intended to provide peace and security for the states of the Pacific. We stand ready to provide aid to any who ask of it, whether they suffer from natural calamity or a man-made disaster, or if they are faced with an attack by an aggressor."

"Senator Kemmish was a man of peace. This vessel will spend her life fulfilling his mission for peace, by protecting it, preserving it, or if need be, restoring it. The people of our country would expect no less."

"It is with this spirit in mind that I accept the invitation of Rheinland's Chancellor Fischer to attend their victory celebrations this coming November. And it is why I extend my own invitation to the Victory-in-America celebrations for this October. I extend them to the leaders of all the countries that fought in the Great War, including..." He shuffled his papers again. "...General Secretary Khorsandi of Komradistan."

A hush fell over the crowd.

"I invite Secretary Khorsandi to attend not as a representative of the nation that invaded our's, but as the representative of the Klavostani people, who were pulled into a war of aggression by a fascist government that cost them millions of lives. I invite the General Secretary to come and join me and the other leaders so that all former enemies and allies can stand together and show the world that we have moved beyond the Great War."

There, Alex thought. I did it. I said it. Now he had to see what the results would be.

Even as he continued the speech, he wouldn't be disappointed.


Los Angeles Post

President Penton invites Klavostani Communist General-Secretary to V-A celebrations

BREMERTON, OLYMPIA - At a speech to commemorate the upcoming first operational deployment of the new carrier Martin Kemmish, President Penton invited Secretary General Khorsandi of Communist Klavostan to attend along with other world leaders. Stating he wished to show the world that "we have moved beyond the Great War", President Penton went on to say that "the dead of the war must be left to rest".

"This is a travesty," Stalwart Party Senator Miguel de Soto of Sonora declared. "This is a betrayal of all of the Sonorans who were murdered by Klavostan in the war. It is a betrayal of the people of New Granadia who still toil under the boot of Klavostani oppression. The people of Sonora will remember this shame in the next election."

"Granting legitimacy to the Communist regime of Klavostan is not what we elected this president to do," agreed Conservative Party Representative Michael Oloupo of the Navajo Republic.

Other commentators felt more confident. "The President's bold invitation joins Chancellor Fischer's proposal of a permanent world dialogue body as a sign of the advancement of our times," Labor Party spokeswoman Juanita Alvarez said. "The common Cascadian would be better off with a lasting world peace brought on by such brave decisions."

Preliminary polls show a wary populace accepting the President's speech, with 50% in favor, 45% against, and 5% "undecided".

[Siege]

Bleeke House | 13 Grange Park
Manor Rock, Downtown San Dorado

The office of Mayor of San Dorado was a peculiar instutition and a study in contraditions. It wielded enormous power and influence, but was beholden to the massive corporations that controlled the city. It claimed to be the world's oldest continuously elected local government body, but only a madman would think it a democratic institution. It was the closest thing that the city had to a central government, but it was not a central government. It was officially powerless but practically paramount.

Few people outside the city knew San Dorado even had a mayor, and only a handful of those understood the purpose and importance of the mayor's office. As chair of the joint stock Community of the Companies of San Dorado, the mayor's job was very literally to keep the city alive. That meant maintaining public spaces, running utilities, and preserving a semblance of public order; but also and far more importantly heading off turf wars, conflicts of interests or financial disputes between the city's most powerful corporations.

To do this mayors had to be supremely skilled at navigating the treacherous labyrinths of power and informal interests that threaded the city, and they had to do it in such a way that everyone came out ahead. The mayor was the city's consigliere, a counselor to the CEOs, a transistor crucial to the fostering of fleeting kernels of personal trust, the grease that kept the titanic engine of commerce from tearing itself apart in a frenzy of cannibalist capitalism.

The mayor, then, was a crucial joint in the framework of San Dorado. It wasn't a job for the faint of heart. Mayors had to be ambassadors, enterpreneurs, engineers, economists, peacekeepers and diplomats, with very little formal authority but unparallelled access to the highest echelons of corporate power and inside knowledge that translated to unimaginable informal influence.

At least, Mayor Emma Greyfriar thought not for the first time, they got a nice house for their trouble.

Manor Rock was the tallest of all the Downtown islands, an irregular lump of basalt and rhyolite raised in a jagged stair-step manner above the water of Lake Ventura. It had been neutral ground since as long as any source could recall. There had been great temples here well before the Omnian Emperor officially recognized San Dorado's independence in 814. On the ruins of those temples the city's patrician families in 1189 built their great hall to mediate disputes between merchant princes. And elements of that hall were now incorporated in Bleeke House, the magnificent three story manor home that had been the official residence of the mayor of San Dorado since 1799.

Only the very best went had gone into the building of the 3,000 square meter manor, including two thousand year old bricks from the original temples. Its crystal and stained glass windows were made in Britonia and dated as far back as 1300. Hand hewn oak and stone were transported by specially commissioned ships from Fuso and Dreisgrond. But the most breathtaking thing about the mansion, Greyfriar had found, was its view. At night, Bleeke House and its gardens offered an unobstructed, three hundred meter high viewpoint of over Downtown in all its radiant glory.

Greyfriar allowed herself to soak up the glossy light for a few seconds longer, then turned back to the everyday reality of her working office. It was a nice office, its walls paneled in antique woods, its floor covered in thick red carpets. There even was a fireside recessed between two groaning book shelves, although she'd never had it lit. But the centerpiece of the room was undeniably the old oaken double desk marked with the mayor's seal. It was an antique built from the timbers of a Granadian warship that beached itself on the banks of the Slate during a punitive expedition in the early 19th century. Mayors had worked behind this desk for two hundred years. Right now, on it laid a series of differently colored folders, each meticulously prepared for her by bureaucrats at city hall, a few dozen kilometers away. Most, like the red ones from Legal Affairs or the blue ones from Public Order, only required her signature. Some however required special consideration.

The proposal from the Rhenish chancellor was firmly in the latter category. He had publically extended an invitation to her as mayor as well as the heads of the seven largest corporations to attend the upcoming 100th anniversary of the air bridge, and to discuss closer economic ties between our nations as well as other matters of state. The first part wasn't an issue. At the time of the war the sale of aircraft and supplies to Rheinland had been motivated by money, but decades of Rhenish solemnity surrounding the event had eventually seeped through to the point where now it was a point of pride for San Dorado too. It went almost without saying the mayor would attend, and so would representatives of all of the Big Seven.

Talks of closer economic ties weren't necessarily a problem either. But 'other matters of state'? It sounded innocuous, but it was a potential minefield. With its unique history and unusual circumstances, the exact status of San Dorado in international law was the subject of debate. Historically its corporations considered themselves sovereign entities but they were rarely recognized as such, and as a result the city existed in a kind of limbo that gave legal scholars headaches and that most governments elected to ignore in the hope it would go away eventually. At best the city of San Dorado was a 'sovereign subject of international law', itself a supremely vague concept. And at worst the peninsula was terra nullius that just so happened to be inhabited by fifty-six million people.

So what matters of state could the chancellor have to discuss when there was no state to discuss them with?

Greyfriar sat down in her high backed office chair, picked up a fountain pen and began to draft a directive to her bureaucracy. The mayor would let Rheinland know that representatives of the corporations would gladly meet with the chancellor or his economics minister to discuss trade relations, that his invitation to celebrate the anniversary of the air bridge was cordially accepted, and that she herself would attend talks and festivities to represent the city 'in every way that befitted her office'. City Hall would know what to do.


Result:
- Representatives of the Big Seven and the Mayor of San Dorado will attend the anniversary of the air bridge.
- City Hall will send feelers through the usual backchannels to find out what purpose the chancellor intended for this permanent international body of dialogue he proposed, and the position he envisioned within it for San Dorado.

Regarding the other proposals:
- Whaling is a non-issue in San Dorado. It's legal but it's not an economically viable activity, so no-one significant engages in it. It won't be banned. City Hall gives a diplomatic but noncommital reply about free trade and enterprise.
- Helix Highpoint will make an offer of contracting for this joint space program.

[Siege]

Southern Valkyrie | 150 meters above the Sea of Assam
Heading east at 825 km/h

The blue-green waters of the Sea of Assam stretched into every distance and the Vedic subcontinent was only a tiny sliver of emerald on the horizon. The early morning skies were blue and empty except for the monstrous mass of the Southern Valkyrie. She was a vast paleolithic thing, a silver-gray mass of stubby wings and oddly-angled engines like the unholy offspring of a Kawanishi flying boat and a Britonian heavy war bomber. She looked far too heavy to fly and yet there she was, powering her way through the hot and wet tropical air on six rumbling turbojet engines. On the nose a sensuous woman was painted wearing a petite red dress, an oversized straw hat and a suggestively placed Sten Gun.

Southern Valkyrie was a Proteus-class ground effect vehicle, developed in the sixties for big mercenary outfits who desired a means to to airlift men and equipment out of San Dorado without having to rely on the city’s single perpetually-overcrowded airport. The solution had come, for a while anyway, in the shape of Hardesty-Rho’s patented sea skimmers, vehicles that could take off from and land on the water and consequently could operate from shores anywhere on the San Dorado peninsula. The Proteus-class was the culmination of decades of GEV research, a Type 3 strategic lifter that could ferry up to 30,000 kilograms up to 1,000 kilometers without refuelling.

Unfortunately the Proteus also proved notoriously tricky to fly and expensive to operate, and most of the world’s beaches lacked the infrastructure necessary to reliably load and unload freight from a vehicle its size. That hadn’t been much of a problem before, but as San Dorado’s mercenaries mechanized their forces in the ‘60’s and ‘70s it became increasingly impractical to land large volumes of forces on beaches. Helix Industries began marketing its more versatile tilt-rotor aircraft as a reliable replacement, in ‘88 Hardesty-Rho went out of business and by the end of the ‘90s most mercenaries phased out their sea skimmers in favor of more traditional solutions: the golden age of the ground effect vehicle was most assuredly over. But that only meant that significant numbers of surplus ‘San Dorado Sea Monsters’ flooded the second-hand market, making them for the first time accessible to smaller outfits.

The Delta Dukes were one of those outfits, and they owned and operated the Southern Valkyrie. She was a ludicrously large vehicle for a mercenary band of only seven people. However there was plenty room aboard for specialist gear, and like all ground effect vehicles Southern Valkyrie came with the added benefit that her normal operating altitude was underneath many radar horizons, particularly those in underdeveloped parts of the world. But perhaps most importantly it was a very comfortable way for professionals to travel in style.

As a result parts of Southern Valkyrie’s main cargo hold had been converted into a kind of ‘common area’, albeit one that currently had a scout helicopter parked inside part of it. Aurora Drax sat with her back against the tail of the heli and her feet up on a metal folding table that also carried the disassembled parts of a stubby rifle, watching the chaos in Hephaestus unfold live on Pyxis News. When Serenade Tower collapsed in a computer-corrected full-HD cloud of dust and debris, Drax turned to the man beside her. “Hell of a job, that.”

Maciej Wilder nodded. The Dukes’ demo-expert looking quite impressed. “Whoever pulled it off knew what they were doing.” He stared intently at the feed. In the business ticker at the bottom of the screen the SDSE share prices could already be seen to react to the catastrophe. “Truck bombs, they say? Plural? Yeah, I’m officially impressed.”

“Someone in Orion national security was sleeping on the job,” Drax added. She dragged a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, drew one out and lit it. “I mean, how do you miss multiple truck-sized bombs rolling through a city?”

Wilder shrugged. “Or maybe someone needed a big tragedy to justify tripling next year’s security budget.”

Drax took a drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke out through her nose. “Yeah, sure. Incompetence, inside job, whatever. Dead Orions are still dead Orions. I’ll take every bit of bright news I can get.”

“How do you- oh.” It took Wilder a moment to follow her chain of reasoning. He shook his head. “Damn, boss. You sure know how to carry a grudge for a long time.”

Drax gave him a lopsided grin with the cigarette stuck between her lips, and tapped two fingers on the lion tattoo on her right forearm. “All part and parcel of our superior Imperial breeding, baby.” The grin disappeared as quickly as it had come. “My father had a sister in the colonies, Wilder. By the end of the war, the Orions rolled their troops in, shot her husband and ran the rest of the family off into the jungle. My aunt bled out from dengue fever in some god-forsaken refugee camp, but not before cholera and malnutrition got both her kids.” Her voice had a sudden edge to it. “Now the Jerries coming for my father I can understand. Turnabout is fair play, as they say. But my aunt- none of them had anything to do with the war, see. They ran a bakery. Never did anything worse than overcharge people for a pastry, and then the Orions killed the lot of them for the crime of having the wrong passport. So forgive me if I’m not exactly in tears when someone murders a whole fucking load of them.” Drax took a long drag on her cigarette and released another cloud of smoke. “See how they like it for a change.”

“You done boss?” came a new voice. Sirocco Montague had seemingly materialized out of nothing, as she was wont to do. The raven haired infiltrator leaned against the metal stairs that led up to the cockpit. “‘Cause if so, Morris says we’re out of the sea and going up the Blue Assam in ten minutes. He says we oughtta be there by eleven hundred local.”

“Right. I see,” Drax nodded as her mind shifted gears. “Good to hear. Anything new we should know about?”

“Maybe,” Montague considered as she walked down the steps. “Maybe it’s nothing, but- there’s a Nightfall pocket carrier coming up the Blue Assam. We passed them at a good distance so I couldn’t make out any details, but Phani’s adamant it’s the Black Bishop. You know how insane her eyes are, if she says it’s the Big-B I trust her. Could just be a coincidence, of course…” Her voice trailed off, but it was obvious what Sirocco was thinking. In the Dukes’ line of work there were no coincidences. “Phani says it looked like they were prepping the deck for flight ops too.”

Drax pressed the butt of her cigarette into an ashtray and began to reassemble the rifle on the table. “Nightfall wouldn’t be out here unless someone’s paying them. Do we have any clue who’s contracted the Black Bishop?”

“Not yet. But Anthemum’s making phone calls from the radio room. He should have a good idea by the time we touch down.”

“Wait. What reason is there to assume they’re here for the same reason we’re here?” Wilder asked with a frown. “I mean, aren’t we extracting just one person? Who sends a carrier for one person?”

“The same kind of person that would pay us one million in gold to fly to the other side of the continent for some overnight jailbreaking,” Montague countered. She looked at the chaos on the TV, shrugged and turned her back to it. “The sort of person with high stakes interests and a lot of money to burn.”

“Kovacs was in a hurry,” Drax said as she slid the gun’s action back together. “He was adamant the job had to be done before the end of today. You ask me, that means he knows someone else is coming to get this Savage woman too. Sure, we can’t be sure Nightfall are here for the same purpose as us, but for the moment we have to assume that they are. Now, one way or the other we’ll be in Argatala first. That’s good. It means that we have a small window to get in and out before whoever’s renting out that Nightfall ship gets there and opens a can of whoopass on us. Montague, do you know if they saw us passing?”

Sirocco shrugged. “No way to tell. Morris says the radar detector didn’t get tripped, but smart money says they must have had plenty eyeballs on that deck. On the other hand, skimmers are a dime a dozen here. I mean, Coromandel is only a stone’s throw away. No way to tell ours from all the smugglers in this neck of the woods.”

“So we’ve got that going for us at least,” murmured Drax. “Okay, tell Les Six to step on the gas. We have to move like greased lightning as soon as we hit the water. If we do it the way we planned we can be in and out of the prison in just under two hours. Let’s hope that’s enough to get this woman out before someone buries us in goons.” She cracked her knuckles and smiled ferociously. “Gentlemen, I might be mistaken, but I do believe we have a challenge on our hands.”

[Eternal_Freedom]

Royal Palace Gardens, Paradise City
January 7th, 2014.

The Gardens looked beautiful as always. On the main lawn a press conference had been set up; King Alexander would address his people and it was not difficult to guess what the subject would be. What had the press curious however was the large tarpaulin laid out next to the podium. There was some speculation, but it was far from the truth.

At the appointed hour the band struck up the Royal March and King Alexander the Second stepped out into the sunlight to the applause of the audience. He moved with a precise cadence, perfectly in time with the music. As he passed the guards from the 6th Commando Division he returned their salutes without thinking, for his own naval training had so ingrained it in him. The March ended, the applause died down and the audience took their seats, notebooks in hand.

“It is my solemn duty to inform my subjects that we now have a final count of those Orion citizens brutally murdered three days ago in Hephaestus. It is now known that three thousand two hundred and seventy-five of our fellows died at the University, the shopping centres, the cinema and the Serenade Tower. At this time I would like to extend the thanks of Orion to the firefighters and emergency workers who risked so much, and in seventeen cases, sacrificed everything to save their fellow citizens.” The King paused for a moment, remembering the private meeting he had held with the families of those seventeen dead emergency personnel. It was a lot harder to talk about the victims when you had looked their widow in the eyes.

“I wish to extend the Kingdom’s thanks to the Republic of Underwood, who so graciously sent specialist Search and Rescue teams as soon as they learned of the tragedy. I am proud to say that these teams were instrumental in saving three hundred and sixty five people buried in the rubble. The Republic has our eternal gratitude for their willingness to help us in our hour of need. Special appreciation must also be given to the Republic of Shinra, whose hospital ship, the SRS Healing Wind is on its way to Orion to lend assistance as we speak.”

“There has been considerable speculation as to who was behind this attack. I can now end that. The attack was carried out by a splinter faction of the AVALANCHE eco-terrorist group, operating out of a previously unknown encampment in the western foothills of Mount Erebus. They were led by one Zachary Richmond and his co-conspirators, David Wilson, Mark Hompton, Serena McKensie and Joshua Moss. You will no doubt wonder how we know this.” The King turned and nodded to one of the uniformed officers. Five shackled figures emerged, escorted by armed guards. They were led to the tarpaulin and placed on their knees. The King continued.

“We know this because we have them in custody, right before your eyes. We know that the despicable and wanton destruction inflicted on the people of Hephaestus was merely a diversion for their real plan to storm that cities’ Alpha nuclear power plant and hold the nation to ransom with the threat of radiological contamination. However, thanks to the exceptional contingency planning of the plant’s Director, Doctor Hiram Brannagh, and forces from the 6th Commando Division led by Major Sallis, the terrorist efforts were stopped with only one fatality; one of the terrorists was shot and killed while resisting arrest.”

“The Orion Security Agency has interrogated the one hundred and eleven individuals captured at length and learned a great deal about their movement. This information has been offered to other intelligence agencies around the world, so that they may be able to avoid the tragedy that befell us. Some details learned during the interrogations will be made available to you, however I think for now this should suffice.” The King turned from the podium and approached the five kneeling prisoners.

“Zachary Richmond, did you lead the attempted raid on the Hephaestus Alpha nuclear power station?”

“Yes.” The defiance in the man’s voice was palpable.

“Did you plan the bombings in the city?” The King’s rage was not so evident; it was locked away to burn out of sight of the media.

“Yes.”

“Did you in fact remotely detonate the bomb that destroyed the Serenade Tower yourself?”

“Proudly.” This was accompanied by the prisoner spitting at the King’s feet.

“Did these other four assist you in your plans?”

“They did.” The King turned to the other four.

“Is this true? Did you four participate in the atrocity?” As one, they answered:

“We did.”

“Then by the powers vested in me by the Kingdom of Orion, having heard your confession and believing you to be of sound mind and judgement, I hereby find you guilty of committing terrorist acts, committing mass murder, conspiracy to commit the same, attempted hijacking of a nuclear power plant, attempted mass murder in a cruel and sadistic fashion and illegal possession of firearms. For these crimes you are all hereby sentenced to death.”

The King turned back to the media. “The sentence will be carried out immediately and by my own person. I have passed sentence on these people; I shall be the one to enact it.” The King turned to his aide, who handed him a large silver revolver. The King took it, checked the cylinder and walked back to the prisoners.

“Do you have any last words?”

Zachary Richmond looked up at the King, the defiance given way to fear and panic. They had expected a death sentence but they had believed they would have years in court to fight it out and make their statement. Now Zachary was literally staring death in the face.

“We demand an appeal to a higher authority!”

“There is no higher authority in this nation. There is no grounds for appeal as you confessed, publicly, in front of a hundred and twenty million Orion citizens. May whatever God your believe in have mercy on you.”

The King raised the gun, cocked the hammer and fired a single round into Zachary Richmond’s head. The gunshot echoed around the gardens; flights of birds leapt from the trees in shock. From the audience there was nothing but stunned silence. The King moved on to David Wilson. The man was shocked into silence, staring at the bloody mass of his friends head. He did not hear the King when he asked about last words. He didn’t hear the shot that killed him. The execution ended soon after. The tarpaulin was wrapped around the bodies and dragged away. The King checked that his gun was empty and returned it to his aide before returning to the podium.

“Thus will be the fate of all those who seek to slaughter my subjects for political or ideological gain. The other one hundred and six individuals captured are being executed as we speak. I swear to you, all my subjects and my fellow world leaders, if we find any more members of this, or any terrorist group, either at home or abroad, we will pursue them to the very gates of Hell if necessary. I am hereby declaring that anyone who seeks to use these evil methods is, like pirates and salvers, Hostis Humani Generis, the enemy of all mankind. Consequently, I am proposing an international anti-terrorism force to combat this threat. Good day to you.”

The King turned from the podium and marched back to the Palace, but stopped when he head the audience begin applauding. He had expected solemn public support for his stance on terrorism. He had not expected applause. He turned back, stood to attention and saluted the crowd.

-----

Results:
Terrorist leaders publicly executed
Orion announces that it will pursue terrorists groups to Hell and back if necessary
Orion proposes an international anti-terrorism force.

[Simon_Jester]

Actions:

The Orion sub that is following the Umerian boat gives them one ping to wake them up.

Recommended Listening: Das Boot!

USS Stiletto
Modified Type 209 Submarine
January 4, 2014

BONNNG!

It was as though the Umerian submarine, a boat of two thousand tons, had been kicked by a great, petulant, nuclear giant, of perhaps five thousand tons. One which had sailed these thousands of league into far, foreign waters... to bully.

"Ow..." The sonar rating grimaced and pulled off her headset, slightly dazed. "Note to self... turn down the gain... ow ow ow."

Field Officer Righteous Bear, captain of the Stiletto, flashed over to the sonar plot in two quick strides. "Do you need relief?" He scanned for alerts- the computers should be able to identify sounds like torpedo tubes flooding or, worse yet, a launch. Especially from as close a range as that attack had to be.

"No... no sir, just a headache. I'm all right. Having trouble getting acknowledgement from the hydrophones, they may be damaged? Shouldn't be..."

"Right. What do we have from the computers?"

"Sir, that was close enough to triangulate off the different mics on the towed array." She gestured at the flaming contact report on the little screen above her station, labeled:

RANGE 7.13±.03
BEARING 78±2

The field officer paused for thought for a moment, eyeing the Fourier transform plot of the sonar ping and trying to draw the logical conclusions. "Check diagnostics on the towed array." He watched the sonar rating click through a few menus, then nodded as the virtual status lights flashed green.

"Just software confusion, sir. The bandit* wasn't that loud."

"And you're still fit for duty?"

"Yes, sir." She nodded and made as if to put her headphones back on.

"Good." Bear turned away. The crew were already at action stations as part of the planned maneuvers, so that didn't need tending to.

He then turned back to the crew immediately around him. "Helm, keep us on our previously planned course. No maneuvers other than those planned. Sonar, keep your ears peeled, I want the fastest possible alert if they do anything alarming."

Next, into the intercom. "Torpedo room, unload the Mark Nine in Tube Four and put in a Mark Five."

*'Bandit' does not mean quite the same thing in Umerian military speech as it does in NATO-ese; a 'bandit' is an unknown contact presumed to be hostile but holding back, with overtones of skulking. It may only be engaged under permissive rules of engagement or on orders from a higher echelon.

Actions:
-Outwardly, USS Stiletto does exactly jack-squat in response to Spectre's provocation, as though they did not even perceive it. They make some slight course changes, but none that are obviously a response to what the Orion boat did.
-They slow down to 20 kilometers an hour and change heading from 260 to 250, angling slightly closer to the Rhenish carrier group, and headed nearly tangential to the carrier so that the range remains open, a couple of minutes after the ping. Then they steer back to the north for ten minutes, then head east.

[Esquire]

Olounos
Capital District, Apelia
8 January 2014

It had been a busy week at the Ministry for Barbarians. Kuria Alexandra Kosma Kostopoulos, the Minister, had spent much of it in meetings with the Tyrant, the other major ministers, and various Convocate committees - and very pointedly not fishing on her estate, where she would have much preferred to be. Between the Champanese reactor disaster, the Rhenish proposal for an international space program and diplomatic forum, and now Orion's brutally-public execution of five of its own citizens, she simply couldn't have justified her usual New Year's vacation, and her office had been hard at work producing the official responses.

On behalf of the Convocate of the Apelians, the Government of His Majesty Tyrant Brakidas VII is pleased to offer its support to the noble goals of diplomacy and exploration. Pending suitable surveys, the Air Forces of the Tyrant are willing to offer Lacedaemon Military Airfield as the home of the international space program - it is near the Equator, offering excellent launch capabilities, and will be available for use in June as the Air Forces condense their operations as detailed in this year's budget report.

On behalf of the Convocate of the Apelians, the Government of His Majesty Tyrant Brakidas VII joins the Kingdom of Orion in condemning terrorism in all its forms. However, the Tyrant urges his brother the King of Orion to retain the civilized behaviors that separate citizens from terrorists in the first place: summary executions, no matter the provocation, are not the actions of a civilized state. The Tyrant also wishes it to be known that his Government will not tolerate any military actions in Apelia without express approval, regardless of their mission.

[Eternal_Freedom]

RONS Spectre, Off the Champan Coast
January 4th, 2014

“Looks like he didn’t hear us.” This exceptionally silly statement came from one of the junior sonar operators. CPO Davis just glared at him, whilst Commander Williams tried to hide his smile.

“Listen Frankie, we’re close enough that they could triangulate on us from their towed array . Of course they fucking heard us.”

The Commander broke in. “So what have they done Chief?”

“They’ve slowed down some and they’ve changed course slightly, ten degrees, they’re running tangentially to the Rhenish task force. Wait one….” The Chief trailed off, holding his headphones closer to his head and adjusting some dials. “…yeah, new speed 20 km/h, new heading 250.”

The Commander thought briefly. “Ah well, they heard us, we made our point. Any chance we damaged them at all?”

"Not at this range skipper, but I sure as hell wouldn't want to be in their sonar room right now."

Willaims headed back to the conn. “Number One, back us off and bring us to a good position near the Rhenish group. Special Order 13 is in effect, so let’s get some close-up shots of their ships for the intel people.”
“Aye aye sir.”

Royal Palace, Paradise City,
January 8th, 2014

“Ok then Natalie, tell me how many people I managed to piss off by following Orion law yesterday.” This was directed at Foreign Minister Abrams, who briefly consulted her notes.

“Well Sire, we have had statements from several nations, the most notable being Apelia. They say that whilst they applaud and support our stance against terrorism they deplore the summary execution of the terrorists: quote “summary executions, no matter the provocation, are not the actions of a civilized state.” They also object to any military actions on Apelian territory without prior approval.”

“Oh for…” The King restrained himself from the expletive he would dearly have liked to use. “Ok. Issue a statement explaining that under Orion law, any person charged with acts of terrorism who have voluntarily confessed are liable for execution at the whim of the Crown. I was fully empowered to take that action and that I believe that in cases such as this the man passing sentence should swing the blade or pull the trigger.

Tell them that we object to being described as an uncivilised nation for following our own laws that were enacted by the Crown after a massive majority of the population approved those laws. Oh, and on that military thing? Say that we will pursue terrorists in cooperation with other nations, hence our proposal of the international body, however if other nations either fail to act to refuse to help us eradicate these terrorists we will consider that aiding and abetting enemies of all mankind and possibly an act of war.” The King spoke with a dreadful finality.

He’d had to explain the executions to his youngest child only this morning and so was not in a very good mood. Explaining to a six year old girl why her father had to shoot five people would tax anyone. But little Emily had understood, or seemed to anyway.

“Was there anything else Natalie?”

“Only this Sire, your secretary gave me this note for you.”

“Thank you Natalie. Good day.” His Foreign Minister retreated from the office, leaving the King to study the envelope on his desk. It was formally addressed to him as King Alexander the Second, so he was
decidedly uncertain opening it.

Dear Father,

You always taught me to speak my mind and question everything I heard, even if it was from you. The execution yesterday was pure spectacle; it was designed to slake the bloodlust of the people. I have no doubt you’re receiving countless statements from other nations saying exactly the same thing, that it was cruel, uncivilised, mindless.

It was also the right thing to do. Remember that, when other nations question your actions, remember that here and now you did the right thing. That the opinions of others, who have not experienced such tragedy, do not compare to the feelings of your own people. You are doing well Dad, and you will have my support, now and in future.

Not because I am your son and Heir, not because I am a loyal Orion citizen, but because I think you are right.

I remain your loving son,
Samuel

P.S. You owe me a re-match on last week’s game. Tonight, 2130.

Alexander smiled at the postscript. He looked at the clock. 2125, he had time to get up there and start the game. Other nations may question him and his acts and urgent crises may occur, but tonight he was not a King, he was a father.

Actions:

Spectre moves off to shadow the Rhenish task force
The King issues a statement in response to the Apelian statement, basically saying piss off, we did what we had to do according to our laws.

[Simon_Jester]

Recommended Listening: Konvoi

USS Stiletto
Modified Type-209 Submarine
January 4, 2014
A While Later

Field Officer Righteous Bear observed as Junior Field Officer Alarieléte, tallest person on the boat, stepped carefully through the hatchway into his cabin. Pale like most who lived in the south, far from the equator, hair shading from the normal black into a touch of brown, though little of that was visible under her helmet. The South Vales woman cut an unusual figure even outside the confines of a submarine.

Inside those confines... well. She wore a helmet.

She'd borne it in good cheer when an unidentified member of the crew stole the helmet in her sleep and chalked seventeen tally marks, one for each time she'd hit her head on a hatchway since being assigned to Stiletto.

Bear was aware that most suspected Able Seawoman1... who was in turn the shortest person on the boat, the XO overtopping her by nearly fifty centimeters. None commented, and Alarieléte bore it in good cheer, even adding additional marks as the weeks rolled past. There were a lot of them, these days.

1[Yes, that is her name, not her rank. She was promoted to Petty Officer Third Class because Able Seawoman Able Seawoman is just too silly for the XO. And the captain. -SJ]



The South Vales woman worked her way around the door and closed it behind her with the studied care of a long-limbed person who'd made a career of working in tight spaces without bumping into things or people. Bear sat on the bed.

Alarieléte sniffed at the aroma from the electric samovar, then smiled. "Fayalin tea, sir?"

"What, you think you're the only one who likes it now and then? Help yourself."

She poured herself a cup, then nodded to him and poured one for him, too. He stared into the teacup for a moment, then spoke. "I don't know if you know this, but when their boat pinged us, we had a glitch in the towed array. I thought the noise had fried it for a minute- was half tempted to change course and bludgeon them with it."

"You didn't." It was a serene, toneless declaration.

"Among other concerns, Rose... I imagined the look on your face." He snorted.

She smiled, the almost-rawboned features of a border highlander folding into a wide grin. "Profoundly unnatural, this lurking about under the sea..." the South Vales woman sipped her tea. "But women, we are good at waiting."

"I'd hoped we could get them to ping us again by playing fat, dumb, and happy, but they're not actually that stupid, more's the pity. How are the analysis teams doing?"

"I do believe we've learned a few more things about that sonar type, sir. Orion, and they've patched their software again. We'll probably need the computers back at base to make the most of it... but it was well worth the ringing." She frowned, eyes darting her voice slipping into an accented lilt. "Sir, it this one bothers. What they the submariners teach, out Orion way? Belike, watching little girls over-toy squabble..." Rose took a deeper drink of her tea- not a sip, this time, then shook her head and cleared her throat.

Fortunately, Bear wasn't a stickler for grammar, and could follow South-Vales dialect nine times out of ten. "Don't worry. They may be undisciplined like a bunch of fighter jocks in a tin can, but that doesn't mean they're going to start a war for entertainment. Anyway, if it's an Orion submarine, it's a nuclear boat, which means long endurance."

"Yes? I'm listening."

"That ties into the only explanation I can think of for how they knew where we were. We were a hole in the sea for a day and a half before we touched off the diesels. If they were within ten kilometers of our position after all that time..."

She frowned. "They've been here the whole time. They must have heard us coming in, and snuck close at a few kilometers per hour."

"Yes. Which means they were floating not that far off our territorial waters, looking for someone to jump out from behind a bush and shout "boo!" at. Are you with me, so far?"

"Yes. And... a suggestion, captain?"

"Fire."

"I recommend we stream the LF antenna and call fleet headquarters."

Bear grinned. "Let's do something like that. Anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Well then, carry on, Junior Field Officer." Alarieléte turned to step through the hatch.

"Look out-"

*WHAAANG*

Okay, make that fifty-six tally marks on her helmet...

---

USS Skylark
Off the Umerian Coast
January 4, 2014

The sixty thousand ton carrier motored gently through the seas at the edge of Umeria's economic exclusion zone, steaming in circles, her turbines driving her along at a leisurely twenty kilometers an hour.

Admiral Resilient Crane read the message.

"Hm. Really? An Orion nuclear attack submarine, and they went active? Aren't squids not supposed to do that?"

"So I'm given to understand, sir."

"Well, then, let us undertake to teach the Orions a few lessons about dignified action and proper deportment. Tell Captain Combat-Ignorance to launch Ospreys2 loaded with sensors, detach Courageous and Industrious to go run antisubmarine warfare drills on that patch of sea... and inform the Rhenisch battlegroup that we're worried a 'pirate submarine' is operating near them. Offer to cooperate in localizing them, in the interests of maintaining the security of international waters in time of crisis."

The staff officer grinned. "Yes, sir!"

"But don't shoot first. Let's ask some questions, like good schoolmasters."

2[No, not the V-22 tilt-rotor, the Umerian antisubmarine warfare tiltrotor. -SJ]

RONS Spectre
Off the Champan Coast
January 5, 2014
Middle of the Goddamn Night

"Sir, I'm picking up a splash in the water, I think it's another sonobuoy... or, wait, oh Godlessness are they dipping the sonar in the water off the helicopter this time?"

"Oh balls, not again..."

*BONNNG!*

*BONNNG!*

*BONNNG!*

*BONNNG!*

*BONNNG!*

*BONNNG!*

*BONNNG!*

[Eternal_Freedom]

RONS Spectre, Off the Champan coast
January 5th, 2014

It had been seven hours now. Seven hours of pinging from both Umerian and Rhenish sonars. The skipper had a lovely headache after he smacked his head on the bulkhead shortly after the boat got pinged whilst he was trying to use the head. Fortunately CO’s didn’t have to clean up their own mess.

The sonar crews were extremely irritable, the fire-control and tracking party had a map that looked like it was drawn by a drunken kitten and the navigator was just pissed off. Finally, the skipper gave up.

“Number One, take us down to maximum operational depth then start a run at ten knots for our Task Force.” The First Lieutenant looked relieved. He was also surprised to see his skipper smirking to himself.

“What’s so funny sir?”

“This whole mess cost us seven hours of sleep, a bump on my head, a nasty mess in the shitter and a fairly hefty bruise on my ego. Try and guess how much this cost Umeria in avgas to keep hounding us.” Everyone in the control room who heard managed to at least stop frowning at the remark.

[Skywalker_T-65]

Arcadian Embassy, Paradise City, Orion
January 7th, 2014

*BANG*

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the meeting room of the Arcadian Embassy. None of the workers ducked for cover though, as the shot was merely being broadcast over the television set in the room. While the workers didn't duck for cover, a few turned their heads away from the television, and at least one man flat out left the room, his face turning green. The only person who didn't outwardly react was the Head Diplomat, Carl Amundsen.

The older man's face tightened slightly, but that was the extent of his outward emotions. The native of Mannar had been promoted to this post nearly a decade previously, so he did understand how Orion's thought...as much as any foreigner could anyway. And as a diplomat he well knew their laws.

So, he wasn't particularly surprised by King Alexander's actions. Provocative and maybe a bit excessive, yes, but not something that would come as a surprise for someone who had spent so much time in the diplomatic playground in Orion.

"A lot of people are going to be unhappy about that one," Amundsen's aide said, her face a bit green, "even back home."

The diplomat sighed, "And just as many people will be applauding Alexander for such a hardline against terrorists. I bet Shadow Force is going to be busy keeping the seppies* in line after this."

The aide nodded, "How are we going to respond sir?"

Amundsen stood and walked over to his desk. The old diplomat reached for his secure phone, and called Central Headquarters in Sholm. After some time spent talking with the requisite authorities back home, he put the phone down, and grabbed papers.

"The only way we can Jane," he finally replied, "support Orion. If we don't, the seppies will get bolder. And the Monarchs seem receptive to this idea of an international anti-terrorism force."

Regardless of what they may personally feel over a public execution like that, the fact remained that the vast majority of Arcadians were very anti-terrorist. So it shouldn't really come as a surprise that they would support Orion here...

*Shadow Force being our special forces. Seppies, are the various Separatist terror groups that want the Kingdoms to go back to independent states.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Copen Palace, Larena
January 10th, 2014

Queen Samantha stood on the balcony of her royal suite, the cold air blowing her gray hair behind her head. She had needed to cool down, after reading a newspaper from New Britonia. Specifically, the Times of Windsor...and even more specifically, the article by Arthur Harris. An article that both frightened, and enraged the Queen.

Harris, you are a fool...taunting the Rhenish like that...

While few aside from genealogists actually bothered to take note of it, both the Larenan and Glacian Royal Families had real reason to worry about rhetoric like Harris'. For both families were descended from the 'House of Murderers' as the Rhenish had titled the Britonian Royal Family.

As was typical in Royal Families, some members of that disgraced line had married into the existing Arcadian families. Queen Lana VI and Emperor Andrew I had both been Britonian, ruling by virtue of their spouses dying. And both of them had been in Arcadia, because of their commitments to their adoptive lands, during the Second Great War.

By extension, they had escaped the systematic purge of most of the Briton royal line. And they had done so only by renouncing any claims to their homeland...a bitter pill to swallow, but it was better than swimming the Rhein if they couldn't prove they had nothing to do with the bombers (which they hadn't, but the Rhenish weren't exactly in a charitable mood at the time...)

So one could understand why Queen Samantha, Lana's daughter, was a more than a bit pissed with Harris. The last thing she, or her cousin James, needed was some idiot to the west prodding Rheinland. While they were fairly safe due to their own lack of claims and status as rulers of Arcadian states, neither Samantha or James had overly much to worry about. Their relatives in other nations however...

"Isabella shouldn't be stupid enough to raise any claims on Westrheinland..." the old Queen muttered, "Still I had better prepare a letter, just to be safe."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Actions:
1. Arcadia agrees with the Anti-Terrorist suggestion.
2. Queen Samantha prepares a letter to her cousin(?) Isabella in the event the Crown-Royalists win in New Britonia.

[Eternal_Freedom]

RONS Spirit of Orion
January 5th, 2014

“He did what?” Admiral Scott was not particularly amused by the reports of Spectre’s antics during the night.

“He was trailing an Umerian diesel boat and pinged it to let them know they’d been noticed. The Umerians didn’t do much at first and then later began hounding our boat until Williams finally broke off and is slinking back to the Task Force.”

“Charlie, I’m a battleship sailor, I know precisely jack-shit about subs except they’re sneaky little fuckers that hide underwater before biting you in the ass. How in hell’s name was what William’s did sneaky?”

Commander Walters looked on, knowing it to be a rhetorical question and waiting for his Admiral to calm down. After a few moments and a long swig of tea, Scott looked back at his aide.

“Did we at least learn anything useful?”

“We got a pretty good read on the Umerian carrier’s response time for an unknown submarine contact and we got a good look at their ASW tactics against nuke boats. And we cost them about half a million dollars in avgas and bunker oil, all thanks to one ping.” That at least drew a small smile.

“Ok. Get the intel guys working on the response times and tactics, I want a report as soon as possible. And tell that idiot Williams that when he’s back in formation, he and I are going to have a conversation he won’t enjoy.” Scott briefly consulted a chart. “Is there any way I can spin this so I don’t have to formally write him up?”

Charlie considered that for a few moments. “Yes sir I think there is. Special Order 13 is in effect, and since he managed to get us an up-close-and-personal look at their ASW tactics, I think he’s covered. If nothing else we’ve shown the Umerians that we can trail their boats undetected until we choose to let them know we’re there, and that we can be hounded and successfully disengage and sneak away to friendlier waters.”

The Admiral ruminated briefly, and then nodded. “Good thinking Charlie. Write up the report for the Admiralty. Oh, and discretely signal our other boats that they shouldn’t do something like this or I won’t be so forgiving.”

[TimothyC]

Excerpts from the Pacific News Service:

Kahului, Maui, Kingdom of Hawai’i



Media inquiries as to the opinion of Crown Princess Isabella on the latest news out of New Britonia were met with a firm “The Princess has no comment at this time.” Readers will recall that Isabella was the youngest daughter of the Britonian royal house at the time of the Rhienlander occupation, and having been smuggled out on the submarine Swiftsure as a child is the most senior member of said royal family to have not been forced to renounce her titles. There was no comment from either the Hawai’ian Government or Queen Liliʻuokalani’s office.


Hawai’ian Parliament Building, Honolulu, O’ahu, Kingdom of Hawai’i



Deputy Prime Minister Bartlet’s Office announced today that a deal had been reached on the 2014 Naval Bill after more than 2 years of negotiation. “The potential loss of that great old ship Kapi’olani in an accident was a wake-up call for the opposition that they could not continue to ignore. We expect the Royal Navy to issue a request for proposals soon.” The bill, while crossing both sides of the aisle, was still opposed by a group of Liberal-Labor back-benchers lead by Shadow-Chancellor Barry Dunham who said that replacing the ship will be an expensive boondoggle ...


Hanapepe, Kaua’i, Kingdom of Hawai’i



“The Entire Unified Kingdoms express their sympathy with the plight of our Champan friends, and we stand ready to assist in what ways we can.” was the statement from the Prime Minister’s office today as he made the only official news conference of his three-week family vacation. Privately the Prime Minister is said to be in negotiations with other leaders for some form of international conference, although details are scarce. The Prime Minister is also said to be disappointed in the response to the terrorist attacks in Orion, although even off the record no further information was forthcoming....

[The Romulan Republic]

Deputy President Carlos Freeman glared as he paced around the conference room.

"Are they fucking insane? Executing terrorists is one thing, but doing so without due process, much less having the king personally gun them down on television..."

"Calm yourself", Minister Clark said.

Carlos glared at the minister but did not continue the argument.

"This is a disturbing situation", the Minister of the Armed Forces Alexander Lock said. "Such brutality, especially as a show of force, is indicative of a tyrant."

"Which is precisely what the king of Orion is", the Deputy President said.

"At least he's willing to do his own murder", Adrian Pierce, the Minister of the Treasury, said wryly.

"Regardless, a strong response is definitely called for", President Chang said. "Let's discuss how we should react in a rational manner."

[KlavoHunter]

@OriginalComradeG
LOL Orion #KillerKing shoots helpless prisoner! Our last Sultan fought in the streets with his Brit Blackshirts and we killed him, too!

[RogueIce]

70th Floor, Shinra Building, Midgar
08 January 2014

"I still can't believe their King just shot them all in the head like that. In front of the press, even!" exclaimed the President's Chief of Staff.

President Shinra just shrugged. "They had it coming. Still, you're right. If you're going to summarily execute someone, at least try to be discrete about it." He shook his head. "Unfortunately, we can't really ignore it. Alexander pulled the trigger so now we'll have to deal with it. Prepare a statement, broadly in line with what I imagine most nations will be tossing out there: 'Justice and punishment should be handled by the courts, not on Palace lawns as a matter of spectacle, etc.'"

"Of course, Mister President. Anything else?"

"Well...I'll have to reconsider whether or not we offer our forces to them, if their intelligence sources ever find a viable target that we could hit. After that little stunt it might turn out to be much messier than I care for our forces to be involved with. Especially given their past history." Everybody knew about Orion's history with the Britonian colonists, so the President didn't bother to elaborate.

His Chief of Staff nodded. "What about their international anti-terrorism task force?"

President Shinra sighed. "If it weren't for this group apparently claiming to be AVALANCHE, I'd just as soon not get involved any deeper than we already are. But...we don't have much choice now, do we? We'll share intelligence, maybe send a couple law enforcement representatives to liase with this task force. At the very least, we need to know whether this group was actually connected with a larger organization or if they were independents using the name. We definitely cannot allow any of Midgar's building to fall."

Results

• We send out a diplomatically worded reproof over the public execution to keep up appearances, whether or not President Shinra privately agrees with what happened.
• Because of said public execution, we have to seriously reconsider how desirable overt support of Orion's anti-terrorism efforts really is. We'll still offer up some token support, just because it's AVALANCHE. But otherwise we're going to be limited in what we contribute because we don't want the bad PR in case King Alexander decides to make any more examples out of prisoners - or decides some nation isn't being aggressive enough in apprehending alleged terrorists within their borders.
• The Healing Wind will go to Orion and render what assistance it can regardless. Innocent civilians are innocent civilians, after all.

[Simon_Jester]

International Cooperation in Early 21st Century Geopolitics
by Hamilton Felix
Yogbocles Simulopress
2054

Reading Supplement Textoids: Chapter 4.5

The following is a selection of passages from the longer text of an extended letter dispatched to the Rhenisch Foreign Ministry on January 12, 2014, in response to a speech given by Chancellor Fischer of Rheinland on the 4th of that month.

A reader with datapasses that permit the Great Flamegate to be attempted may find the full text of the document readily under 'major state proclamations' of that date, in the searchable version of the Umerian national archives.

...

"It is of the utmost concern that this proposed body, which for the sake of brevity we call the "Community of Nations" in this document, be truly committed to the cause of global peace, respect, and understanding. The greatest possible danger is that its resolutions, be they binding or be they non-binding, would become coercion for the member states. If, for instance, this body chooses to ban a certain cultural practice, or a certain type of weapon or technology purely because it is unpopular, and if there is a risk of becoming a pariah state for disobeying, much of the value of the Community of Nations is lost.

At best, under such conditions it will become a tool for the good to threaten the evil. More likely, it will become a tool for the powerful to threaten the powerless.

To quote the Great Uncle, "No community can live, if it devours its own willfully."

...

"We hope most earnestly that certain international bodies may emerge under the shield of the Community of Nations- but these bodies would have to be supported on a voluntary basis, or through some universally agreeable subscription process that ensured the body could not fall under the control of any one nation or cultural bloc..."

...

...

"...The Technocracy views with consternation your proposal that the physical location of the proposed Community of Nations be changed frequently. As such an illustrious body would perforce be located in a major city or national capital, where land is precious and construction difficult,

We wish to quietly suggest: would it not be wise to settle on a single provisional location to last for a longer period of time, such as five to ten years? And to settle the question of rotating the host role as part of a defined political process within the Community of Nations? It seems rather arbitrary to relocate to nations in alphabetical order, without regard for their desire, aptitude, or inclination to host the Community. And, of course, the Technocracy of Umeria is concerned about the proposal that a position of (presumably) great responsibility will be rotated according to 'alphabetical order...' in the Rhenisch alphabet.1 Were we to use the syllabaries of the austral continents, the sequence might well be different.

In the interests of ensuring the success of this grand Community of Nations, let us avoid any appearance of cultural imperialism by the Northern Hemisphere."

1[Just because I write my posts in English doesn't mean the Umerians speak English, or for that matter an Indo-European language at all. -SJ]

...

...

...

"Pursuant to these and other concerns, we suggest that a Provisional Committee representing the world's major nations assemble to being outlining a draft charter for the proposed Community of Nations. The irony that we will probably need an entirely different committee to discern in some fairminded way who belongs on the Provisional Committee is not lost on us, but by all means let us at least make the attempt."

Sincerely,
Dr. Prosperity Forest
Premier and Director-General of the Umerian People and State

Recommended Questions:
...

[Steve]

Seattle Post-intelligencer

Orion ruler's summary executions a "regrettable" action, says Secretary of State

PORTLAND FEDERAL DISTRICT - The spectacle of Orion ruler King Alexander executing the terrorists responsible for the Hephaestus Bombing was "a regrettable action by a world statesman", Secretary of State Rachel MacKenzie has stated in a press release. "Thousands of Orion citizens were killed, and the sympathy of our nation goes out to their families. It is our fear, however, that the summary executions of the terrorists responsible will undermine the status of Orion in the community of nations, where the rule of law holds all to a higher standard than a televised show trial and immediate execution."

"The Kingdom of Orion has allowed the desire for vengeance to overcome good judgment, and it will have a negative result on their relations to the rest of the world."

Secretary MacKenzie's remarks did not include any information on whether Cascadia will withhold an invitation to King Alexander to attend this year's V-A celebrations, which President Penton has invited all leaders of the Great War nations to attend.


Comments

"Cascadian pussies. You don't have the spine to deal with these murderers as they should be. they don't deserve a 'fair trial'."
HM Loyal Subject FMiller

"At least the Demos and Wiggies don't. Some of us know how to deal with scum like that. My hat's off to the Orion King for giving those crazies what they deserve."
GreenWhiteandBlueTrue

"Yes, go ahead and advertise to us all how much you hate the rule of law, Tory."
OLawson

"Bite me, pinko."
GreenWhiteandBlueTrue

"You're not fooling anyone, GWandB. Cascadians are pussies and you have been for years. You're lucky the Commies came along in 1970 or we would have marched right into Patagonia and evicted your stupid asses from our continent."
HM Loyal Subject FMiller

"Ha, cheap talk from a pissant little wannabe. Your military couldn't hack it."
GreenWhiteandBlueTrue

"Oh really? Why don't you ask the crew of the Superb about how good we are? Oh, yeah, you can't, because we sunk it off your coast and the Conqueror got away without you idiots finding her. Fact is we're a stronger nation than your hedonistic little republic. God save His Majesty!"
HM Loyal Subject FMiller

"Stronger my ass. My granddad was there at the Pampas when we kicked your asses back into that little bitch state of your's. Maybe old General Sheppard is right, we should have bombed your asses back to the stone age."
GreenWhiteandBlueTrue

"Yes, because wiping out cities to support remnant imperialism is such a glorious cause!"
OLawson

"haha stupid cadies bitch all you want orion is better we kick your stooped asses if you fuck with us"
oriondude887

"The glorious standards of the Orion education system at work. You might actually be better off if we'd bombed you like we did the Nips."
GreenWhiteandBlueTrue

"Yes, that would have definitely proven that the Cascadians are no better than the Britonian war criminals. It's a shame we couldn't make that murderer Shepard swim the Rhine like all the other bombers."
HansD23

"Fuck off, Kraut pansy. For one, the name was Sheppard, with two ps. Looks like Rheinland's education system isn't much better than Orion's."
GreenWhiteandBlueTrue

"Like your air force wouldn't have done to same to the Brits if you'd actually had bombers too. How many Britonian kids starved to death thanks to those subs of your's, anyway?"
SAC4ever

"Not as many as the Rhenish children who died from Britonian bombs, you fucking bomber."
LPritzer09

"Kagar propaganda lies, millions more Britonians starved to death under your regime than were ever killed by our bombers."
HarrisIsRight

"I think we're getting a little off topic here."
LRennart

"I was wondering how long it'd be before the peanut gallery ruined this comment thread."
SGarrett

"orion 4ever the king will rule America btch4ss cadies just butthurt"
oriondude887

"The Internet never ceases to amaze me."
SGarrett

The comment thread goes on for several more pages with increasingly bad arguments and grammar.