SDNWorld Redux: Story Thread the Second

[Shroom Man 777]

Farbanti, Shroomania

Tourff Risto watched his mark. The Border Stater known as Robder Stetra, a clever name for a not-so-clever little man. No, not a not-so-clever little man but a not-so-clever little shitpiece.

A little shitpiece, since this was just a flunkie, not the big shit – the turd responsible for making shit hit the fan back in Orena. This little shitpiece would lead them to that big shit floating in his little shitcan. All Risto had to do was follow the stench. Of shit.

The Shroomanian Secret Service’s Signals Surveillance Sector had planted keylogger rootkits on all the internet computers in Farbanti, an easy task thanks to shitty Microshroom software security. Monitoring central – those guys with the omnipresent telescreens - would detect some shitpiece typing in a given email address.

Last week, some shitpiece named Robder Stetra typed in a given email address, and now Risto was watching him. Keeping a nose on him. The man reeked of it, the smell of shit.

Risto watched, through his thick sunglasses.



Watched Robder Stetra typing away in that little internet café filled with shitters playing World of Whorecraft. Risto had to give it to Robder Stetra, he was wearing clean gloves so his hands wouldn’t get sticky.

Either way, Risto took a gulp from the bottle he had with him. A bottle wrapped in a paper bag. A bottle of milk. Because SSS men didn’t drink on the job. Well, most of them didn’t, anyway.

Besides, working undercover and posing as a hobo (and eating hobo food) had given Risto enough problems – namely hyperacidity and ulcers – and milk helped alleviate them. Milk was also cheaper than antacids.

Soon, he was out of milk. So he went over to dump the bottle in a waste bin, but he kept the paper bag – so he could wrap another bottle in it, some other time. Later.

Risto returned and found Robder Stetra gone, like the wind. In his seat was some shit playing World of Whorecraft.

“Fuck! He’s given me the slip!” Risto cursed into his earpiece as he got his ass off the bench and removed his glasses. “He knows we’re watching him, we can’t let him tell his friends! I’m flushing this shitpiece!”



Risto ran into the internet café, kicking the door open and making it hit some shitter fresh from leveling up 14 points in WoWhore. The door hit his ass and he fell face first into the semen-stained floor. Risto ran, over the flattened fucker like a rug, and went to the back door.

He kicked it open and entered the back alleys.

There, the fleeting shadow of a running-away-shitpiece, just around the corner. Risto pulled out out his sidearm, a Schrom Korp SK USP Compact .45ACP and continued his pursuit. He trusted his nose.



Robder Stetra exited the alleys and found himself on the sidewalk, with plenty of people side-walking.

“Goddamn Shroomanians,” Stetra spat. “Goddamn hobos.”

He was fucked, he knew it. He couldn’t go back to the safehouse, not with his cover blown, he couldn’t lead the goddamn SSS men back to his comrades. The Shroomanians would kill them, the Shroomanians would kill them all – just like what the Shadowstapo did to his friends back in Zagor.

He had to warn them, and then lead this Shroomanian shitbag as far away from them as possible.

Robder Stetra got his cellphone, a Byzantine BiPhone – and sped-dialed his friends. Or, at least, he tried to.

“Shit! Shadowshit!” he cried.

He knew the Shroomanians were listening to them with their goddamn ShroomStrats, so he used Byzantine BiPhones and ConstantiCom SIM cards instead of the Shroomanian stuff. But his ConstantiCom BiPhone wasn’t getting a signal! It wasn’t getting a signal!

Robder Stetra decided to gitfo, to get the fuck out of there.

Except… there was no where to go (the fuck out of).



“FBI! Freeze, scumbag!” Risto shouted. He wasn’t really an SSS man, he was with the Fungal Bureau of Investigation, working with the SSS. Not that it mattered, as Robder Stetra opened fire with his CZ97, sending nine millimeters at Risto’s face. Risto ducked back into the alley he came from.

“Fuck you asshole!”

“No, fuck you!” Risto replied as he got out to pump the goddamn Border Stater full of lead.

Except… he couldn’t.

For one, his orders were to bring the shitpiece back alive – since he was a useless shit if he was dead, but if he was alive, then the SSS could wipe him thoroughly.

For two, the shitpiece had a hostage.



“Shit!” Risto cursed. “You fuck, there’s no going out of this! You’re fucked, you shit!”

“Drop the gun, goddamn it!” Robder spat back. “Drop it or I’ll ventilate this bitch’s brains proper!”

“Kill her and you’re dead.”

Robder laughed.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

“Your friends need me alive if they want to find him!”

“Him? Who the fuck is ‘him’? Your fuckbuddy? Getting cozy here in Shroomania, are ya Border State bitch?”

“I’m Sjenskan, fucker! From Sjenska!”

“I don’t give a fuck! How long do you think the two of us are gonna have our little one-on-one privacy before the rest of my friends come in to join the party and a sharpshooter from the Met gives you a prompt and proper skullfucking, eh?”

“Fuck you! Drop the gun or else I’ll blow this bitch’s brains out! If I kill her and kill you and give myself in, your friends are gonna welcome me like a bunch of cocksuckers, legs open and assholes gaped wide, it won’t matter!” Robder laughed as he tried to get a signal with his shitty BiPhone. “Besides, how long do you think the two of us are gonna have our little one-on-one privacy before some news crew comes and my friends can see us both, LIVE on ShroomStratTV? I won’t have text them on my shitty BiPhone, fucking ConstantiCom, I’ll be on TV! Look mom, I’m on TV! Haha!”

“Fuck…” Risto could hear the news choppers coming, they were close. He had to do something before they ended up in every news channel from Farbanti to North Point.

“Drop the gun and I’ll let this bitch go. Don’t know about you, though,” Robder’s final offer.

“Hell no…” Risto uttered.



And dropped his gun.

“Wha -” Robder couldn’t believe it. What the fuck was this copper doing? Didn’t the Shroomanians teach anything at Police Academy? Robder couldn’t help but laugh, the fucker actually bought it. “Stupid shit! You die asshole!”

Robder let the woman go and his gun, no longer pointed at the bitch’s brain, moved to aim at Risto.

Aiming at moving targets was hard though, as Risto ran straight at Robder and slammed his foot in the Border Stater’s face in a perfectly executed flying kick. The cartilage in Robder’s nose collapsed, and his front teeth ended up at the back of his throat.

The impact sent him off the sidewalk and headfirst into the windshield of an oncoming car.

The rest of Robder hit the hood, and he bounced off the Shroomswagen and onto the pavement.

With cold eyes, Risto regarded the bloodied and broken mess that was what was left of the Border Stater.



“This shit just got real.”

Risto got his Shroomy-Erikson and called for an ambulance.




Mother Mammaria’s Medical Center, Farbanti, Shroomania

The elegant Byzantine sculpture of Mother Mammaria, her bleeding bosom resplendent, dominated the waiting room of the hospital. Tourff Risto sat on one of the pews and got a fresh bottle of milk to chug on.

He was anxious, he was nervous, he was waiting – like a husband waiting expectantly outside the Delivery Room.

Risto was waiting expectantly outside the Operating Room.

Waiting for the surgeons to piece his shitpiece back together.

So that FIA Director Hobart Hoover wouldn’t end up chewing his ass in a very non-suggestive manner for killing the person they were supposed to capture. Alive.

For interrogation.



Operating Room

Doctor Gregor Hausenhorn prepared to administer the anesthesia.



They had no truth serum on stock, unfortunately (since the Byzantine Intelligence Agency didn’t do that kind of stuff, at least not in Shroomania… elsewhere, well…), but the anesthetic would do its job.

They chose the right anesthetic, the one that could cross the blood-brain barrier to induce bizarre episodes of psychosis. It was just as good as truth serum. Better, in fact, since they were really about to perform surgery.

Hausenhorn scoffed. The Shroomanians did always leave a mess of things, even in their own backyard – and it was always up to Byzantium to clean up for them. That was always the case, even back… ages ago. Back when the Byzantines had to burn Shroomanian Queen Asphyxia XIX alive… for the Shroomanians’ own good.

Right now, the Shroomanian Secret Service were asking him another favor. To perform an enhanced interrogation while doing surgery at the same time. Of course, Hausenhorn loved a challenge – because he was that goddamn good, and he knew it.

It didn’t occur to him, though, that Shroomania didn’t need his expertise or the BIA’s – since Doctors Merdith Gay and Perry Cocks were always on call, working part time for MOM and the SSS.

Actually… Shroomania was working with the Byzantine Intelligence Agency, of course, but it was also working with the Shadows’ NOD – and NOD referred them to Mother Mammaria’s since many NOD agents were interning at the BIA’s Shroomanian safehouse-slash-hospital.

So, Doctor Hausenhorn administered the anesthesia while the Shroomanian Secret Service nurse prepared the instruments, and the NOD operative donned his scrub suit and gloves.

The NOD operative then picked up a scalpel and opened the packet labeled ‘Shroomanian Sterile Stainless Steel Surgical Slicer’.

He placed the blade on the scalpel.



“Operation starts at 3:05PM. Anesthesia has been applied, beginning incision… now.”


In a while Robder Stetra began to stir. Robder Stetra began to wake up.

[Coyote]

OV-10 "Bronco" Joins AT-314 "Little Hawk" for the Katangwan Air Corps



A new bird has taken to the skies over the Katangwan Free State lately-- the twin-engine OV-10 "Bronco" is the newest --and so far, the largest-- addition to the Katangwan Air Corps as it expands under Canissian guidance.

The new aircraft will allow a certain amount of tactical flexibility to the KAC, greatly enhancing the fledgling air corps in its mission to secure the borders of the small state and keep an eye out for potential infiltration.

There are now 12 OV-10 Broncos in the KAC, and 22 AT-314's being flown by Katangwan pilots.



While not technically a "bomber" --the OV-10 is actually designed to be an observation aircraft-- the plane does have the ability to serve as a light tactical bomber with some modification. It is ideally intended to fire smoke-marker rockets for more advanced tactical aircraft to identify target areas.

The OV-10 and the AT-314 both serve as excellent platforms for low-level conflict, counter-insurgency operations, and border patrolling the vast roadless bushlands of Katangwa. The aircraft also have an important political consideration-- the small number of these slower, low-altitude craft are intended to be non-threatening to the Japanistani forces stationed over the border. While there has not been any clashes with Japanistan since the Second War of the World, tensions can sometimes be strained due to the deep political rivalries that exist between MESS-aligned forces and the Japanistan-Shepistan pact forces.

Land Forces Expansion


The Katangwan Free State is also seeing an expansion of land forcers capabilities with the inclusion of the FV-101 Scorpion in its vehicle inventory. The FV-101 Scorpion is a light tank technically classified as an "armored scout vehicle" and not intended to fill th erole of a main battle tank.



Small, light and fast, the FV-101 is suitable for Katangwan needs. It is expected that other versions of the FV-100 series vehicles, mostly older, replaced models from Canissian and other MESS-aligned nations' surplus inventories, will be used to equip the Katangwan Militia.

Most of the effort in Katangwa, however, continue to be not in new equipment, but in simple training and procedure in proper military effectiveness, such as marksmanship.



Meanwhile, road-building and othe rinfrastructure improvement efforts continue apace, with 75% of the capitol city now receiving power 24 hours a day, and power lines being run out to even some of the most remote villages.

[Coyote]

Technion University, Canissia




"It's ready," said the chief researcher, a man named Sami Hurn and a former professor of aeronautics who had finally risen beyond the level of teaching and into the exalted realm of practical application. He and his small army of assistants, interns and peers sat back and admired what they'd wrought.

"When can it go up?" one of the assistants, a young man that showed great promise.
"As soon as we can arrange a flight on the next rocket," Professor Hurn said. "It also depends on what our colleagues in the robotics department can come up with on short notice, as well."

The project they were working on was part of a multi-stage effort to build a practical and reliable space vehicle in a hurry. No word was given as to why the project was of such high priority, but the King himself had poured a great deal of personal time, effort, and interest in the project. Even Defense spending had plateau'd at mere replacement of losses in the Shepistan War, while spending on robotics and space ahd absorbed much of what would have been the military budget for expansion.

The oddest part of it all, thought Professor Hurn. was how furious the Admirals and Generals had been until the King had a private conference with them one day... and suddenly all resistance from the military had stopped, as if flicking a switch...

The creation of the Eagle Transporter --the Exo-Gravity Lander, technically-- had been hustled through mockups and trials, and there was the highly public test flight that had served as a 'proof of concept' demonstration in the waning days of the war. The EGL prototype had hovered, robotically controlled, a few dozen feet above the ground and then come to a gentle landing, using a prototype ion engine. But what Professor Hurn and his helpers had put together was something entirely different.

The new design was a nuclear-powered rocket engine, one designed for use in space where environmental concerns would be non-existant. The ion engines would be used for auxiliary power and maneuvering, but the nuclear engine, or NERVA, was to provide the EGL with its primary source of propulsion and power.

The first NERVA cluster was ready to launch-- it was before them now, on its pedestal, a new god of technology to worship. The robotics team was making an assembly 'bot referred to as DEXTRE, a multi-armed monstrosity that would link the engines with the body assembly, which would also be sent up in pieces for orbital construction.

Professor Hurn was pleased at the amount of money, attention, and support his team had gotten-- but still, he wondered what had sparked the sudden and dramatic shift in resources and priority at the highest levels.

"I always said, if we got just half the budget the defense depart got, we could work miracles," the promising young man said, with a smile on his face, "Now, we've been able to prove pretty much that."
"Indeed," Professor Hurn said, "I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it does raise some questions, though," Hurn said. "I don't know how His Majesty managed to do it, but I'm glad he did."

"Rumor has it we're going to build a moon base," another intern said, fetching them all coffee.
"That's been a rhetorical promise for some time," Hurn said, "But... yes, it could be that we're actually making real progress on that for once."

"I bet it has something to do with the reports of nuclear testing by Tonkin," the intern replied, "The King wants a repository for human life that is out of reach of nuclear devastation." Professor Hurn smiled.
"Maybe someday such a thing can come to pass," he said, "But for now, even if we had the resources of the world at our disposal, a self-sustaining human settlement on Selene would be a long, long way away. But it is nice to think about."

The team had a minor celebration to mark the end of their efforts, and went home early-- the next day would involve a more formal party to recognise their success, and the beginning of the process of encasing the NERVA cluster for transport to the launch center. Soon, Canissia's first major steps towards serious, dedicated space exploration would begin.

[Norseman]

[OOC: I feel I should apologise for this post, it's not very good :-/ However at least I got it out in time.]

Regent's Palace, Montalba

It was mid-day, and the sun shone brightly over Montalba. In the Regent's Office it was dark, the heavy curtains were drawn shut, and thick Velarian carpets seemed to absorb any sounds. Even the servants, in their red and gold livery, seemed more like statues or paintings than flesh and blood creatures.

The Regent felt trapped in some bizarre version of Madam Tussaude's Museum. Of course he couldn't tell if such a place existed in this new world. It was rare that he had a chance to think, this whole world was so strange, and filled with hostile powers.

The double door opened slightly, and a servant slipped in, closing the door behind him, before he announced, "Lady Margaret is here Your Excellency."

"By all means send her in."

Moments later Lady Margaret, the feared Supreme Commander of BOSS, arrived and took a seat in front of the Regent's desk.

The Regent came straight to the point, "I wonder, is ignoring the Star of Sweethaven incident the right step?"

"Yes it is. Especially when you take into consideration how the Cascadian press reacted. If we take action now we'll just fan the fires even higher, and, to continue the metaphor, keep the embers burning much longer. If we leave things well alone it will die down by itself." Lady Margaret said.

"It's still bitter to see these lies without being able to take action," the Regent said.

"They always lie," Lady Margaret said, but then she eyed him cautiously, "But is that why you asked me to come here?"

"No, I want to know how this could have happened at all, it just doesn't make sense."

"Our best theory so far is that there was an infiltrator in the ships crew."

"You think it was engineered?"

"The incident makes little sense otherwise."

"Wouldn't put it past them," the Regent muttered, "But I'll be if I play their little games afterwards."

Before either of them could speak again the double doors shot open, and a captain of the guard rushed inside, yelling, "Air attack!"

The Regent rose, "What?"

"Air Attack Excellency," the captain repeated, "You must evacuate now!"

Before the Regent could protest the servants and more Regent's Guards had whisked him and Lady Margaret out of the room. Oak panelled hallways went by in a blur, and then they ran down the stairs into the basement. Here a small miniature electric train waited for them. It was a strange little thing, like an armoured subway train standing on a very sharp incline. Not that there was any time to study it, since everyone rushed inside, and strapped themselves down. A split second later the train started, accelerating so hard that the Regent felt like he had a head-rush.

The whole thing couldn't have taken more than a couple of minutes.

When he looked out of the windows he could see tall yellow numbers painted on the walls, depth and distance from the palace. Both set of numbers grew very quickly. At regular intervals thick steel gates slammed down behind the train, but the train never slowed down. A minute or so later it came to a halt, in a massive combined shelter and command centre 600 meters beneath Mount Alba.

"That was exciting," the Regent half whispered.

There was no time to rest though, they had to move further into the compound, to the massive command centre at the heart of it. It looked a bit old fashioned, with a huge map of Astaria and surroundings covering most of the floor, and pretty young women pushing around symbols. Lining the walls were larger television screens, but even so most of the action was on the map.

The moment the Regent entered the commander of the facility began to brief him, "Excellence, SANTA CLAUS has detected a large strike force approaching our shores. We've activated the CHRISTMAS TREE protocol, as well as the DASHER, DANCER, PRANCER, and VIXEN interception units. The GIFT BAG system is mobilized and ready to fire."

"Good, you may fire at will," the Regent said rather unnecessarily, after all it wasn't like the Air Defence Forces needed permission to open fire.

In truth there wasn't much he could do right now, except to wait, and watch the tiny symbols move across the map. The brunt of the strike hit Brinsmouth in Astaria and Isbilliyah in South Velaria, two fairly large and busy harbours. At such an early stage the damage assessments were sketchy, though it was clear that the enemy had downed an AWACS airplane.

"High velocity missiles Excellency, the damage is liable to be minimal," one of the liaison officers informed the Regent.

"Are they continuing the attack?"

"Negative Excellency, the bombers seem to be withdrawing, nor have we detected further sorties from their carriers."

"Thank heavens for that," for a few minutes the Regent sat still, deep in thought, but then he looked up, and said, "Call Section 8 and the Department of Information, we'd better make the best of this."

[Norseman]

Astarian Television Coverage

Immediate reports

Smoke rose from the harbour, and dust covered people ran away from the rising plume. Strangely there was little panic, some people stopped to look at the scene, others kept running. In the distance sirens started up again, only to die back down. Then the first Police and Fire Brigade cars arrived, driving into the dust filled streets.

The scene switched to one showing the harbour before the attack, and then suddenly a flash of light slashed across the screen as the first missile arrived. A moment later they showed the first impact again, but from a different angle. Smoke and dust cascaded from the concrete.

A large crane began to sway dangerously back and forward, before slowly falling over. The man in top of the crane seemed oblivious at first, but just as the crane was about to hit the ground, he seemed to be flung or to jump out.

Other scenes came, disjointed, snatched from private video cameras and sent to the television channels. It was all chaos, people running, buildings crumbling. Dead bodies covered in dust. Worst of all seemed to uncertainty.

Brinsmouth in Astaria and Isbilliyah in South Velaria, two different cities, and yet the reaction was so similar. At least similar in some ways. In Brinsmouth it seemed that the missiles had struck only the harbour, inflicting serious damage on the infrastructure, and also sinking a cargo ship at the quay. In Isbilliyah however one of the missiles had over flown, punched through the flimsy warehouses and gone into a residential area.

In a dust covered Isbilliyah street a five year old boy screamed aloud, "Wake up! Wake up!" While he tugged and pulled a motionless female shape. Despite his best efforts he could hardly make her move, the weight of the body was too much for him.

Apparently the cameraman took pity on him, for the camera wobbled, and a hand extended into the view. "Come we have to go," someone off camera said. The boy kept on shaking the woman at his feet, shouting for her to wake up and stop joking. "Come on now," the cameraman said, and grabbed the boy.

"No! Let go! Mother! Wake up!" the boy screamed loudly.

"We have to go, they'll come back!" the camera man shouted, but the boy simply refused to budge. In the end the cameraman seemed to grab the body, and pulled it along just to get the boy to come along. It was of course in vain, but he still tried.

A week later

Isbilliyah in South Velaria was in mourning, black cloth hung from every house, and the flags were at half-mast. Yet the clearest sign of grief was the mourners that lined the streets, many of the women wailed in anguish, and tore at their clothes.

Slowly the procession moved up the street, four tiny little coffins, which looked even smaller next to the men carrying them. A solemn looking child walked in front of every coffin, holding aloft a big photograph of the deceased. Each photograph showed a smiling, happy child, a childish innocence that clashed utterly with the funeral today.

At times members of the family, especially women, had to be restrained from throwing themselves at the coffins, screaming and weeping loudly. Their faces were haggard and worn, with black rings beneath their eyes. An elderly gentleman didn't even seem to notice that his tie was not on right, or that his shirt was out of his trousers.

The camera zoomed in on him, and it was close enough to hear him scream, "My sweet Layla! Why did they kill her?"

Another striking figure was a young woman who looked almost as if she was sleepwalking, a shocked expression on her face as she shuffled after one of the coffins. If not for her harrowed look she would have been beautiful.

The scene changed from the funeral back to the studio, where an attractive man and a woman were both wearing black. The man raised his head as the cameras came on him, "This is the scene from Isbilliyah as the victims of the Communist attack are buried. Aria, is there any other news from Isbilliyah?"

The woman, Aria, nodded, "Yes Michael, there is, the government with the Regent at its head has announce additional funds for air raid shelters in kindergartens and elementary schools. Construction is already underway."

"To think that it should be necessary," Michael said, "but we remind you that retired Air Force General Adrian Azad will be with us later tonight to discuss the Communist attack."

"We also remind you that if you want to volunteer your time or money to provide for civil defence, you can call the number that appears on screen now," Aria said, as the number appeared she continued, "And we have interviewed some of the children and teachers at the school."

The scene switched to the interior of a classroom, and the camera zoomed in on a corkboard with dozens of simple children's drawings on them. The camera slowly panned over them, stopping at the pictures drawn by one of the four children who had died.

Next they turned to a chubby school teacher, with eyes puffy and red from weeping, "I remember her particularly well, she wanted to be a nurse, because she liked helping people."

[MKSheppard]

Grave MESS: No Repatriation for the Invaders of the Homeland says Shepistan!

In recent developments today, following the Canissian Coyote Daily (CCD)'s revelation last week that Shepistan is in possession of at least 6,700 bodies of MESS troops, mostly those of the MESS Marines who executed the failed Amphibious Assault on Northern Shepistan during the One Week War; protests are rocking the streets of MESS nations.


A Protestor in Canissia

"Bring our troops home!" is the cry of the masses on the streets.

Protests have intensified since General Sheppard's declaration last night that "Shepistan reserves the right to chose whichever method of disposal we chose for the barbarian invaders of Shepistan." and further revelations that MESS Marines have been buried under a Shepistani Special Republican Guard Parade Field...

Shepistani Thugs march over the corpses of fallen MESS Heroes!

[MKSheppard]

Somewhere in Shepistan


BioPreparat Complex

Colonel Kanatjan Shroombekov stared at his subordinates in BioPreparat. They'd worked for him for the last fifteen years, and he knew them all by heart; and when the birthdays of their kids were.


Photo of Shroombekov

"So, first on the agenda for today; the news of this new "BioPen" that's making the news?"

Upon hearing the name "BioPen", everyone broke into uncontrollable laughter.

Five minutes later, Shroombekov finally got enough control of himself and stopped laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. "Okay guys, that's enough fun for today. Consensus?"

"It's bullshit." said one.

"Ponzi investment scam," another added.

"Japanistan's most portable BW agent detector is the size of a large filing cabinet and takes samples at the rate of one an hour. No way can a shithole like Serenity have shrunk it down to an oversized flashlight and made it disposable for about 30 Shrooms."

"So, this is not a threat to any of our programs?"

"No. The Japanistani device has to be designed specifically to detect an agent; it won't work with unknown agents, which is what most of our arsenal is."

"Okay. Make a note for General Sheppard, 'we'll be keeping track of this BioPen, we like to see people convicted of investment fraud'; and send that."

"Off that and onto serious work. How goes our own Biological Agent detection system?"

"Well, sir, working with Japanistan, we've produced a few prototype vehicles based on armored trucks; they have a relatively high sampling rate, as well as decent reliability and the capability for multi-agent detection. Here's a photograph of the prototype."



"Big. Is it worth it?" asked Shroombekov.

"Well, unlike the warmongering MESS, our ground forces have no need to invade countries thousands of miles away and over oceans, so we are not limited by size and weight constraints, and can thus make much more capable vehicles. This is resistant against the MESS standard DPICM bomblet, and contains enough disposable materials inside for nearly a week of continuous operation, as well as reasonable living areas for the operators, under a collective protection system which includes a decontamination airlock for exit and entry in contaminated areas."

"Do we really need all that capability?" asked a engineer further down the table.

"Well, do you want your expensive laboratory equipment and expensively trained technicians inside to be rendered combat incapable after only a day of operation in a contaminated area because someone had to go outside to take a piss and forgot proper procedures?"

"Good. Type classify it and begin production."

[MKSheppard]

Shroomspace Weekly

Tank Shock!

Shepistan has announced it's intention to refit both of it's two remaining Special Republican Guards Armored Divisions with a special Shepistan variant of the Japanistani JTJ-100 Massive Land Dominance Overmatch Tank.

Word from the manufacturer is that the 600-tank order will be fitted with 140mm high velocity cannons and a 35mm coaxial autocannon, and a modular weapons point for specialized weapons.

Shown last year, the JTJ-100 is a ninety ton vehicle incorporating armor completely proof against 120mm shells and Hellfire missiles at point, with flank and roof armor able to defeat virtually any infantry tank weapon.

Analysts at Shroomspace Weekly conclude that Shepistan is taking advantage of the "80% of Old Dominion" clause in the peace treaty to significantly downsize and upgrade the quality of it's forces, as well as to take advantage of the fact that in any war, the majority of heavy armored vehicles, etc that the MESS can send over must come by sea; which puts huge limitations on their dimensions and weights, whereas Shepistan suffers from no such problem.

The selection of the 140mm gun is sure to pose problems for the MESS; for it was an older version of this gun which was used by the Special Republican Guard in modernized T-72s to take out MESS M1A2s and Leopard 2A6s at combat ranges during the One Week War, and any uparmoring to resist the weapon will result in severe weight problems for the MESS' tank fleet...

[Master_Baerne]

Baernish Ducal Navy Corvette HGS Green
11 November 2009 (OOC: Or whatever year it is...)
Outside Alpha Base, Costa de la Cincos Muertes, Baernish Zone of Control

The corvette's forward gun fired, sending a projectile slamming into the water bare meters in front of the pirate's boat. It swerved to avoid the suction created by the explosion, the bright sunlight glinting off of a shiny, rounded object in the back of the small craft.

This armored, vacuum-sealed cylinder was what had interested the Green's commander, one Commander Jason van Dort, to order the vessel seized for investigation. Only a few things were volatile enough to warrant such secure transportation, and most of them were illegal enough to guarantee their owners a blindfold and firing squad.

"Skipper, they don't seem to know how to take a hint. Shall we send the chopper to board them?" The ship's weapons officer inquired, furrowing his brow in frustration.

"Yes, do that. Warn the Marines that whatever's in that canister is probably hazardous, though. We don't want them getting careless."

"Aye, sir."

After a brief word with the pilot, the Green's Sea King helicopter took off, launching from the stern of the moving vessel in an impressive display of the pilot's skill. It took only a minute for it to reach the still-fleeing pirate boat, which began wildly maneuvering in an attempt to avoid the Ducal Marines the helicopter carried. One of them shot the boat's helmsman, and the helicopter hovered above it's quarry as ten marines rappelled down onto the deck. Three quick shots dispatched the remaining pirates, and the Marines looked over their prize.

It was a fairly new cutter, of the type used around Frequesque for the transport by water of up to three tons of material. It was empty now, except for the silvery canister, the four dead men, and a store of ammunition for the assault rifles they'd all been carrying. Curiously, the pirates all wore the uniform of one of Klavostan's mercenary units. The Marine sergeant in charge of the boarding party radioed this fact in to Commander van Dort, who ordered them to strip the bodies of weapons and identification, so that Baernish Intelligence could have a look at them. The canister was transfered to the corvette's hold, where it was placed under heavy guard.

Unfortunately, the canister had been built by the lowest bidder; it began to leak its vaporous contents into the ship during the night. The Marine guards were the first to be affected by its insidious pull, and the rest of the ship was soon alerted, by gunshots and blood-curdling screams, that something was dreadfully wrong. Commander van Dort was the first to enter the chamber to investigate, and when the airtight door was opened - squeaking slightly on it's new coating of gore - he was surprised by a cold, sharp pain in his side. When he glanced down at it, moving slowly, as if underwater, he saw one of his sailors withdrawing a bayoneted rifle from his ribs.

The man's eyes were a bright, livid red.

-----------------------------------------------------

Baernish Ministry of War
Scheduled Check-In - BDN CORVETTE GREEN
0900 Hours
14 November 2009

Corvette Green, you are hereby ordered to acknowledge this message within two hours, or you will be assumed to have suffered a drastic accident. Repeat: Respond within two hours, or we will assume that you are unable to do so.

[Raj Ahten]

Intelligence Cooperation

One main benefit Indhopal saw in giving the Shinra Republic Observer status in the FTO was hopefully they could be wooed into cooperation in matters of antiterrorism and arms control on the continent. Indhopal had thus started to send basic information on known terrorist groups, such as the Sons of Sabika (I thought I was spelling it wrong earlier ), to the Shinra Republic as well as information on known arms traffickers and the like. Operational intelligence and the like was all kept secret, however. The ISIA didn't even share its contacts and methods with other full members of the FTO, fearing security leaks.

[Lonestar]

Entertainment Weekly

"500" opens to rave reviews in the Old Dominion, Augustine


The Great Shep, Sheppur XXI, in the new hit "500"

Zak Rnyder's newest opus, "500" opened yesterday to jammed theaters. The film depicts the 500 Dominion Knights that protected the Powhatan League and Jamestown Settlement at Rogers' Pass from the marauding Shepistani Kingdom of Medea.

"In 1231, 500 Dominion Knights rushed out to block the armies of Sheppur XXI from entering the Powhatan League and the Jamestown Settlements." Zak said in a brief interview. "It is an important part of both the Old Dominion's and Augustine's history, how civilization on Shepland was saved by a handful of fighting men."


Orlando Shroom as Conrad of Alsace

Heartthrob Orlando Shroom will be portraying the legendary Conrad of Alsace, the Preceptor of the Dominion Order.

"It's very exciting to be portraying such a legendary figure." Orlando Shroom said. "The 500 Knights he took with him slowed down the marauding army of rock-chucking childrapists and goatfuckers for over week! Truly, inspiring heroes for any resident of either the Old Dominion of Augustine to look up to."

"500" will open in other countries later this month, and is expected to do well.

[CmdrWilkens]

Investors issue cautionary note on certain multi-nationals

Three of the top investment rating firms in Wilkonia today issued an advisory notice regarding multi-national holding and investment corporations trading on the Columbia Stock Exchange and Computer Guided Investment Exchange. The warning has not downgraded any specific issue however the advice now indicates specifically a warning about companies with apticularly large international holdings. In paticular Goldman Banks noted that recent defens industry expenditures are likely sappign government contractin dollars worldwide but even mroe problematically Shepistan and Imperial Japanistan have made massive orders which might affect currency security and investment security in those nations.

The advisors indicated that without access to the tightly controlled and government dictated economic information from the two nations it would be impossible to rate the security of companies with holdings in those nations but "That in and of itself is worrying," Donald Beringsworth, senior global analyst at goldman Banks said. "these are major companies with holdings whose actual value is difficult to judge and thus a true reflection of their liquidity is difficult to judge. With the world market in upheaval after the MESS/Shepistani War the fact that both Shepistan and Imperial Japanistan have re-armed in a manner much more aggressive than any other nation suggests a possible economic ramificaitons that will affect investments held in those countries.

Several analysts have noted that stocks in companies with ties to Tonkin interests have actually risen consistently as any national upheaval tends to promote a move towards Tonkin based assets. Consensus was lacking as to whether this will represent a long expected shift of capital towards Tonkin which has resisted vigorously any outside investment in domestic corporations and assets but has partnered for foreign development.

[Pollux]

CSN Destroyer "Besstrashniy", nearing the coasts of Misteria
- Coast Control, this is the Crimson Star Destroyer "Besstrashniy" sent with a mission of friendship. Emissary Lieutnant Cheburashkin speaking. Are there any harbors that can accomodate our ship?

Misterian Coast Control Dispatch:

Welcome, CSD "Besstrashniy". Your brothers greet you.

Based on your current location, the nearest harbor is the one at Novgoroda Vostok, where you may rest and resupply; however, we have received orders to instruct you to ultimately dock at Empyrean City, where you will meet with the Provisional Council.

The frigates MNV Svyatograd and MNV Belapol are en route to escort you to the capital.

Best of luck on your mission,
MCC Station 34

[Karmic Knight]

Jerusalem Space Center
"Now that duties related to etiquette have been taken care of, I'd like to ask what you think of the facilities here.", Paul asked as if nothing had happened.

Brandon began, “The facilities here are very impressive, even more so is the timeframe. In only two years FASTA is launching its first manned flights, sooner or later they might upgrade to live people, and then my plans will be on the verge of completion, ::diabolical laughter::, oh, sorry, I mean, eventually I we will be able to torture astronauts for sport!,” he chuckled a little at the string of failed jokes, “But, more to a point, King Paul, you were, ah, assassinated.”

"Umm... sorry," the Prime Minister apologized sheepishly.

Brandon, feeling the urge to not let a silence linger, reached out, and shook the Prime Minister’s hand, “Good whatever time of day it is Prime Minister Shrooom.”

Imperial Chronicles
Sighing and turning to the King Brandon of the Vineyards, "I hope our hospitality has not be lacking since you started visiting Byzantium sir. Apologies for the... rather lack of attention accorded to a head of state such as yourself. Things have been.. quite rough over the last few weeks. Now, is there something you might want to talk about?"

“Yes there is, would you be willing to join Shroomainia; and, hopefully, Pezookia in running a campaign aimed at encouraging investment in a new, safer, FTO backed economy in the goddamn F-ing Continent. GrapeVine would be working with whomever to organize it, and the Vinish government would partially fund it, would Byzantium, or do you know of any Byzantine firms, that would be interested it doing this?”

[Fingolfin_Noldor]

“Yes there is, would you be willing to join Shroomainia; and, hopefully, Pezookia in running a campaign aimed at encouraging investment in a new, safer, FTO backed economy in the goddamn F-ing Continent. GrapeVine would be working with whomever to organize it, and the Vinish government would partially fund it, would Byzantium, or do you know of any Byzantine firms, that would be interested it doing this?”

"I believe something can be worked out. There are a myriad list of firms in Byzantium that indeed might have interest in inesting in countries under the FTO. Companies such as Constantinople Shipping, Constantinople Shipyards, Byzantine Heavy Industries, Icarus Electronics, should be keen to set up factories or design centers for the purpose of selling products within the FTO. The question of course is what sort of investment are you interested in. If you should wish collaboration between universities, I believe the Byzantine government is more than happy to facilitate such collaboration. All investments must, of course, comply with the laws of the land."

[Beowulf]

Ares Blog

Lockheed continues its work on a cannon based hard kill torpedo defense. What exactly it entails is unknown, but released details appear to indicate that it will utilize the existing Millennium CIWS system found on most TXN surface vessels. Besides the notable inability of shells to resist the forces of water impact, there are also the problems of targetting the torpedo. This may require a sonar upgrade.

Regardless, it's likely that this would be a last ditch defense mechanism, which may result in the torpedo warhead still exploding in close proximity of the ship, though in a non optimal location.

[Coyote]

Seaside Palace, Canissia




"Colonel, do we have anyone trading with Shepistan?" Arik asked over his Tequila Sunrise.
"No, sir, we do not," the majordomo replied, leaning over to clip the end off of His Majesty's fine cigar and offering it to him.
"Good," Arik said, "If anyone trades with Shepistan, we'll seize their assets. How about Japanistan?"

"Some trade, heavily taxed," Colonel Rassnar said.
"Hmm," Arik said, "No military-potential tech, right?"
"Of course not, sir, not even dual-use tech."
"Good," Arik said and puffed at the freshly lit cigar. "And Tonkin?"

"Unfortunately, we have lots of trade with Tonkin," the Colonel said.
"Huh. Let's start redirecting that elsewhere."
"People want someplace to put their funds that are not only MESS nations," the Colonel reminded him. As a card-carrying Nationalist, the idea annoyed him, but he was too professional to let his emotions slip.

"Well, how about San Dorado?" Arik said, "Let's start using economic policy, a little carrot & stick, to redirect trade to San Dorado instead. A protest for Tonkin's nuclear tests."
"It'll be hard to do that, while obviously ignoring the CSR's nuclear ambitions."

"I expect trouble from the Libertarians, who'll see me as anti-business," Arik said, "Because, yes, I'll be slapping pro-business Tonkin while ignoring crypto-commie CSR... blah, blah, blah," he said, making a dismissive wave with his hand.
"Sir... I understand we need the CSR's nuclear potential to keep Japanistan in check in case they decide to attack the continent... and of course Tonkin is a back door for Shepistan and Japanistan trade, but the rest of the public doesn't have access to my knowledge. They won't understand."

"Let's see if we can find an anti-environmental angle on Tonkin," Arik said. "We'll see if Minister Foxglove has anything through her contacts with them..."



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MOVIE REVIEWS: "FIELDS OF BLOOD-GROWN CORN"



"Good evening, this is Eskel and Siebert, movie critics, and tonight, we review the latest John Millinus movie, 'Fields of Blood-Grown Corn', a political movie about the rise of tyrannical Shepistani dictator, General MK Sheppard. In light of recent events, with the announcement --unconfirmed by independent sources-- of using the bodies of dead soldiers to build a parade ground on, this movie seems quite timely and prescient."

"I disagree, Eskel. I think this is nothing but a pure propaganda piece, jingoistic and full of political agendas."

"Siebert, you thought that Oliver Stein's 'Stinking Drunk With Power' was insightful political commentary."
"I think it's relevant if there's that many cases of alcoholic beverages being sent into the Palace on a monthly basis."
"While conveniently forgetting that there were numerous diplomatic soirees taking place at the Palace at that time..."

"The producers are telling us to get back on track."
"Of course. Now-- here's one of the reasons I feel that this movie is pure political propaganda bordering on satire. The ongoing themes in the movie, characterizing General Sheppard... I mean, we have only rumors to go on-- there is absolutely no evidence, zero, none, that the General is a coprophiliac--"
"That was one scene, based on the observations of witnesses--"
"None of whom can prove they were in Army House at that time. One of them, we are certain, was actually an officer on duty in al-Akharabat at the time. There was a photo of him urinating on a Caravo boy that was on fire-- so his claim that he was in Army House during that scene is impossible."

"Which leads me to the claim that, if anything, the movie is too sympathetic to the General. It completely fobs off the responsibility for the Caravo Village scene on the Japanistanis. But it was Shepistan gunships that did the bulk of the slaughter there."
"It is well known that the Japanistanis held the command initiative in Caravoland."
"But the Shepistanis were the triggermen. But back to the coprophiliac scene. There is, I will note, absolute evidence of the sheep incident."

"I won't argue that. Everyone knows about the sheep stuff; they are open about it-- but they don't rape sheep, they make love to them. Sweet, gentle love."
"Well, it is definitely a powerful movie. Love it or loathe it, I give it thumbs up."
"I give it a thumbs up as well. I still say it is propaganda, but... yes, I cannot deny that it is a very provocative movie."

"This is Eskel and Siebert, saying... goodnight".

[K. A. Pital]

Severomorsk, Crimson Star Republic



"Admiral Levchenko", the newest CSR destroyer, in the "Large ASW Ship" class, was sailing slowly north-east. It was supposed to head to Grozny - it's permanent dislocation place, after the pompous opening ceremony with President Stanislav just several hours ago. But the course was changed. The sailors were gathered on the deck once the ship left shores.

- I am relieved to inform you that the first nuclear weapon test on Novaya Zemlya has been a success, - the President spoke through a loudspeaker. - The nations of the Slavic National Confederacy have aquired the necessary tools to protect our sovereignity against any possible enemy.

The sailors cheered. Then spoke the ship's captain.

- "Admiral Levchenko" will be circulating Novaya Zemlya for several days, to ensure that no submarines are breaking our territorial waters to get a better clue on our new strategic deterrent weapons.

[Fingolfin_Noldor]

Constantinople Times

Phalanx Games releases long anticipated turn based strategy: Medieval: Total War

Phalanx Games has released its long anticipated turn based strategy, Medieval: Total War. The game promises excellent graphics and AI and also a historically accurate game. "Players can choose to play as the Shroomanian Empire, Byzantine Empire, PeZookia, or even Caliphate if they so wished," says a spokesman. The game is playable on ShroomTel X2 processors and Icarus Electronics new SOREQ line of processors.


Byzantine Kataphraktoi Lancers

F-14F begins to enter service in the Imperial Navy

1 squadron of F-14F will be deployed on each carrier air group, along with a flight of EF-14F Growlers.

[MKSheppard]

Shroomspace Weekly

The MESS Budget mess

The nations of the MESS are facing budget crunches, torn between the increased military spending needed to maintain their status quo amongst the nations of the world, and domestic spending requirements.

Shroomspace Weekly estimates conservatively that the MESS has to replace tens of thousands of precision guided munitions expended in the One Week War, as well as a conservative estimate of 1,000 combat aircraft lost alongside the surprisingly heavy naval losses in the war.

On top of this are the billions of dollars that are having to be earmarked in the MESS nations for care and aid of their wounded; especially the survivors of the Northern Theater of the war.

Conservatively, there are 10,000 former servicemen in the MESS who must have all their needs taken care of at 200% disability pay following their repeated and lengthy exposure to chemical weapons and the "andidotes" in the Northern Theater.

Already, there are some in the MESS' congressional and parlimentary leadership who are calling for a "one power" standard amongst the MESS, aimed at deterring either the CSR or Japanistan; instead of the current "two power" standard, which is aimed at deterring both by having armed forces capable of handling both powers at once. This is gaining headway, as the costs of replacement are sinking home.

--Shroomspace Reporters Bill Shroomkin and John Ivanshroom contributed to this article.

[PeZook]

Jerusalem Space Center

The facilities here are very impressive, even more so is the timeframe. In only two years FASTA is launching its first manned flights, sooner or later they might upgrade to live people, and then my plans will be on the verge of completion, ::diabolical laughter::, oh, sorry, I mean, eventually I we will be able to torture astronauts for sport!,” he chuckled a little at the string of failed jokes, “But, more to a point, King Paul, you were, ah, assassinated.”

"They're not exactly 'manned' flights yet. More like 'turtled' flights", the King said and smiled to himself, "But I see your point. Actual manned flights will not happen before end of 2010, of course: we will still have five Mercury 2 flights to do, and I guess a lot of bugfixing along the way."

Paul took a sip of water from his glass.

"Anyway, there is talk around my cabinet about shifting some trade towards the FTO. The Neutrality Pact has apparently made some investors see Frequesque as stable than just a year ago. I've been wondering about measures we can take to encourage investors: I know of the marketing campaign, but what of other tools, like tarrifs and special economic zones?"

"And I was almost assassinated. 'Almost' makes all the difference.", Paul answered Brandon's comment, quoting a famous PeZookian beer commercial.

PeZookian? No, it was a Polish commercial. Goddamn false memories...

Two hours later, near the Atlas-Sputnik launch pad

The rocket was sitting at the pad, just like all other launches. What was different was a highly decorated audience stand located around three kilometers from the pad, where lots of very important people gathered.

The atmosphere resembled a county fair more than a serious ceremony. The day was warm, with a slight breeze, and the sky was clear. King Paul wore a cowboy hat and had a pair of heavy binoculars ; His Queen was chatting away with Sofia, Premier Shady's assistant who came here in his name - the Premier himself talked briefly with King Paul after he woke up in Orena, right before the King had to leave for Jerusalem.

At least she's not moping in grief about the attacks..., Paul thought, looking at Shroom waving a little FASTA flag around, and dead-serious Japanistanis everyone would certainly make fun of if they could get away with it.

The site itself was very much a work in progress, with the ground scarred by heavy construction equipment, and piles of materials everywhere. The impressive VAB loomed in the distance, and construction crews made constant noise - they worked around the clock to get the facility up and running.

Suddendly, the merry chatter stopped, as the PA system announced the rocket was ready for launch.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what you are about to observe is a historical mission...the first living things will leave the Earth and orbit it in a self-contained, man-made spacecraft, which will bring them safely back after five days.", Damian Kaklamanis, FASTA Director of Operations, began his presentation before the assembled leaders, "The payload contains three Khitanese Mud Turtles, several hundred fruit flies and several samples of various bacteria. The capsule is also carrying measuring equipment such as radiation dosimeters."

The Director's pager signalled him everything was ready. He read the message and turned his attention back to the audience stand.

"The launch crews are signalling us the countdown has reached the last minute. I think it's time to take out stations."

Everyone quieted down, watching the rocket. It seemed inert and harmless somehow, with only the launch controller's voice calmly counting down the seconds..

"Thirty...twenty nine...twenty eight..."

Various viewing aids came up, watching the launch pad intensely.

"Eleven...ten...go for main engine start...nine...eight...seven...ignition sequence start..."

There was a brief flash below the rocket's engines, as flares burned off any residual hydrogen that might've accumulated near the nozzles. Another flash signalled the ignition of the main engines, one after another. A low rumble reached the audience stand quickly thereafter.

"Three...two...one....zero...liftoff!"

Explosive bolt separated the Atlas-Sputnik rocket from the launch pad, and the low rumble turned into a deafening roar. The rocket began climbing rapidly into the sky, tracked by TV cameras and binoculars.



"You will notice what some call the 'Korolev's Cross' in just a few seconds...", the Director noted, and the gathered VIPs witnessed the spectacular sight of strap-on boosters separating, forming a cross of flame and smoke and they fell to the ground somewhere in the Palestinian desert.

The rocket soon disappeared from sight, leaving only ringing ears and expression of awe.



FASTA bulletin

Mercury 2a launch succesful: Atlas-Sputnik rocket and capsule performing 'within parameters'

Observed by numerous world leaders, the pioneering Mercury 2a launch was a complete success. The capsule was inserted into a low 200 kilometer orbit carrying a varied biological payload.

According to mission controllers, all systems are performing nominally. The capsule will spend four days in space, and then land in the Mediterrenean.

Development begins on the Proton and Saturn series of space boosters

With the success of the latest Mercury 2 launch, FASTA announced the opening of the Proton and Saturn series of boosters. Utilizing experience gained flying the Atlas-Sputnik rocket, both rockets are necessary for supporting the planned Moon program. Development of both boosters will take between three and four years before their first flight.

The Atlas-Sputnik rocket will continue to be upgraded and refined, and is expected to support many more orbital missions in the future.

[Shroom Man 777]

Fungal Union Disease Department (FUDD)
San Salvacion, Shroomania



FUDD Director Elmer Erlenmeyer gathered the assorted gentlemen, and women, in the sterilized and vacuum-sealed observatory above the clean room.

The gathered assorted gentlemen, and women, were high-ranking head honchos of the Mushroom Organization of Medicine (MOM), the Mushroom Military, and the Shroomanian Secret Service. With them also were several honchos from the PeZookian RIS, the NOD, the Byzantine Intelligence Agency (including the renowned Doctor Gregor Hausenhorn), and a Colonel from the Crimson Star Republic.

General Buck Turgidshroom grinned when he saw his 'comrade' enter the room.



"Comrade Comradeski!" Turgidshroom greeted Colonel Colditz Comradeski, his former Cold War rival and now his close ally.

"General Turgidshroom, it's been too long!" the Crimson Colonel replied as he approached Turgidshroom. "Here is your book back - I enjoyed reading it very much."

Colonel Comradeski handed a book labeled 'World Targets in Megadeaths' back to the General.

"I'm glad you liked it, Colonel. As for me... I've skimmed through the book you lent me, but I haven't really had the time to get properly started on it. We've been... busy."

"You can take your time, my friend. The Vector Institute doesn't have any library cards. Now... what do we have here?"

Elmer Erlenmeyer cleared his throat to silence the blabbering Colonel and General.

"Gentlemen, please, if we could begin?" the FUDD Director started.

"By all means, Elmer."

"We've gathered you all here to educate you on exactly what kind of threat we face from Shepistan - particularly, its bioweapons program. You've all read the briefs, Shroombola, Shroomburg Hemorrhagic Fever, Shroompox, and perhaps even Shroomthrax."

"This is why we should've had Byzantine scientists do virological taxonomy..." Doctor Gregor Hausenhorn muttered sardonically.

"From the information we've gained from our SSS sources in Shepistan, we've actually begun re-creating these pathogens."

"And why would we want to do that?" an RIS man asked incredulously.

"To cure a disease, you must first understand it. We are creating our own version of the Shepistani pathogens so that we will have an answer, an answer to infection. Now, pay attention.

"To understand the Shepistani strains, we had to learn how they would effect the human body. But, obviously, human testing is something we can't do. So, instead, we've infected a number of man's closest relatives. Apes, chimpanzees to be specific."

Below the observatory were chimp cadavers in various states of dissection, and for the audience's viewing pleasure, the space-suited MOM doctors were showing them various organs and ravaged viscera.

"Thanks to our research, we have been able to synthesize various vaccines... but the problem is mass production. We will be sharing their formulation with the nations of the SNC, the MESS and... well, anyone who needs it. For research purposes, we can ship some rage-infected chimpanzees as well, if anyone's interest-"

"No." Gregor Hausenhorn replied sternly.

"But..."

"No."

"Okay. Moving on, our research has found the symptoms of these Shepistani strains to be ten times more virulent than the original forms and..."

While Elmer went on and on, General Turgidshroom approached Colonel Comradeski.

"Hey, Colditz, how's your country holding up?"

"Vat do you mean, comrade?"

"Virologically speaking, I mean."

"It is good. We have many shelters and civil defense preparations, readiness is as high as it has ever been since the Cold War. It looks like we did each other a favor, pointing those special MRBMs at each other's country."

"Yeah... there's that. Well, has the Crimson command ever thought of pointing those MRBMs somewhere else?"

"Yes, they have. I take it your people have been doing so as well?

"We have, but we don't have much... 'medicine' on stock, if you catch my drift. We're not weaponizing as much substances as the Sheppos or, possibly, the Jappos."

"So, you are focusing more on the containment and quarantine procedures, to protect your people and to prevent contamination?"

"Yes, we are. And that's the thing..."

"What's the thing?"

"That thing. We've sent decades Cold Waring with one another, and we've built all of these up. MRBMs, radar networks watching each other, weapons, protocols... times have changed, Colditz."

"Yes, they have. And you are proposing that we divert our resources, working together instead of against each other, and against our new mutual adversaries instead."

"Particularly in the field of special weapons - and in the defense against them," Turgidshroom replied. "Tell your people at Vector to check their mail boxes, I'll be returning more than just that book you lent me."



Results:
Shroomania extends the hand of 'Thinking of the Unthinkable' to the CSR.

[Siege]

Vital Intelligence

Skies south of Gortinez, Costa de las Cinco Muertes



The night quiet of the prairie desert was rudely disturbed by the drone of engines and the surge of rotor blades. The UH-1 Bad Penny helicopters of Citidef Battalion 3 rushed overhead with almost no warning, speeding down south as fast they could. 3rd platoon of the ‘Dirty Third’ had scrambled from Camp Taylor with no warning and no briefing, instead being only told to get airborne and head south for coordinates Beta Five Nine Five Seven ASAP.

Cpl. Ross once again had a bad feeling about this mission. He hadn’t yet shaken the disturbing impressions left by the eradicated village they had encountered two days ago, and he didn’t think any of his squaddies had either. And now they were surging southward so fast there wasn’t even time for a proper briefing. This had bad news written all over it.

The tacnet crackled. The voice of Platoon Sgt. Hartman echoed through the ears of every man in the platoon, transmitted from the lead helo. “Ladies and gentlemen, listen up. I know you haven’t forgotten the mess you encountered a few days ago. That’s why you’re heading south. Word has come down from the Company; an EIA field agent has managed to obtain vital information about the atrocity, but her cover is blown and she is being pursued by hostiles. You are to proceed to the rendezvous and extract her alive. That is your primary objective. If you encounter any resistance, your secondary objective is to destroy that resistance. Make this one count, soldiers. Hartman out.”

Ross grimaced. Battalion Command had dispatched an entire platoon. Forty five Citidef soldiers. Two assault rockets, 8 machine guns. Thirty-five FAMAS muzzles itching to kill some bastard. Someone really wanted this field agent alive.

“Rendezvous in five minutes!” the pilot shouted. “We-”

He never got to finish his sentence. A brief flash and one of the helicopters suddenly erupted in a ball of flame, the sound of the mid-air explosion deafening for moments. “MANPAD!” someone screamed. Ross instantly realized the Sergeant had made a mistake. He’d come in expecting the usual light resistance. The usual light resistance however didn’t sport man-portable anti-air missiles. They should’ve been more careful. Something had gone terribly wrong.

“Get us down! Get us down now!” he yelled to the pilot. Somewhere to the left a second missile clipped a helo, tearing up its tail rotor and sending it spiralling down to the ground. Someone screamed, but the helicopter was already surging down and Ross had to hold on for dear life as the dark ground suddenly came into view at a frightening speed. The helicopter hit the dirt with the crunching sound of steel on sand. Reflexes kicked in and Ross began barking orders as the soldiers spilled out of the bird. “Perimeter! Establish a god-damn perimeter now!”

Almost instantly the disembarking soldiers came under fire, muzzle flashes flaring up in the distance, the twang of doom on the air as bullets hit the metal of the helicopter. Soldiers went down; others hit the dirt, trying to find some modicum of cover from which to return fire.

“Machine guns, suppression fire!” Ross yelled.

Rohrer’s only answer was the rat-a-tat-tatting of the Ralson Arms F-89 Minimi. Quickly the other machine guns of the platoon followed. The things sounded formidable. Ripping, guttural roars shattered the night, sending brightly lit tracers in the direction of the ambushers. The platoon began to rally quick. Flares were popped, throwing weird red light on the battlefield. The attacking fire began to waver.

“Let’s go!” Ross shouted, trying to strike his best heroic pose. The corporal pointed his rifle at the muzzle flashes in the distance and waved the platoon forward. Soldiers streamed up the slope, backlit by the eerie flickering fire of the burning helicopters and the swaying light of the overhead flares.

Gunfire crackled along the ridge. The smoke and noise were disorienting. A bullet struck the man next to Ross; the corporal took a dive, grabbed a grenade and threw it in the direction from which he thought the fire had come. The explosion threw dirt in his face; he got up and scrambled over the ridge, finding the mangled remains of a fatigue-clad man smeared against the rock behind which he’d been hiding.

To his left, assault rifles sparkled, firing tongues of flame from their muzzles. Citidef soldiers still clawing their way up the slope were cut down instantly, but more grenades flew out and the muzzle fire disappeared in the thunderclap of explosions.

As abruptly as it began, the fire fight was over. Two enemy soldiers tried to disengage by scrambling down the other side of the ridge; Ross clipped one in the shoulder and pumped two more bullets in his back as he went down, a shot through the head brought the other down quickly.

The gun battle left 3rd Platoon a right mess. Of the 45 soldiers in the platoon twelve were KIA. Several more were wounded. Only eight enemy bodies were retrieved; the ambush position had allowed a small group of soldiers to inflict inordinate damage on the Dirty Third. Worse, the sergeant was dead, killed as his helicopter was torn apart by a shoulder-launched rocket. That meant Ross was in charge now, by virtue of seniority.

“They must have knew we were coming.” Rohrer cursed. “Why else would they have brought MANPADs?” He kicked one of the discarded Igla missile launchers the dead enemies had been carrying. The thing was of Old Continent manufacture. Considering the recent history of the Border States, that was no real surprise.

“Waiting for us… And waiting for someone else I think”, the Corporal scowled. “I bet these assholes have teams like this stationed all over. They’re trying to intercept the same person we’re looking for.”

“Who are these bastards anyway?” Stafford gazed at the bullet-riddled body of one of the attackers. An enemy round had clipped his left arm; a makeshift bandage was wrapped around the wound.

“These are no locals. They look like mercs to me.” Ross crouched beside the body. There were no personal belongings whatsoever to be found on it, save for a cheap bronze cross around his neck. That good-luck charm hadn’t done much for the bastard, at least. “Maybe Klavostani’s.”

“Contact”, a voice suddenly whispered across the radio. “Multiple vehicles, closing fast.”

The men of 3rd Platoon, or at least those still capable of fighting, had set up a temporary position on the very ledge from which they had taken fire. It was a good, defensible position, which was probably why the enemy had set up here in the first place. Now, the Citidef machine gunners had taken the top of the hill, with the remaining soldiers dispersed in a circle around them, with only a few men watching the helicopters and tending to the wounded. There had been no time for medevac yet. The initial ambush was barely fifteen minutes old.

From the top of the hill Ross could easily see the approaching vehicles. There were at least six of them, one ahead of the others, which seemed to be pursuing the first. Their headlights swung wildly as they raced across the uneven ground. A crackling noise penetrated the noise of the engines. Gunfire. That made it pretty obvious who was who.

“Look alive,” the corporal whispered into the radio. “Machine-guns, hold fire. Aim for the rear vehicles and wait for my signal.” Ross took a deep breath. It would be unforgivable to shoot the wrong person now.

The vehicles were moving quickly, but still agonizingly slow to Ross’ mind. The roar of the engines and the occasional gunfire was closing fast.

“Light ‘em up!” he finally commanded. Down the slope a soldier fired a white flare to illuminate the enemies up ahead. Instantly the ground ahead was bathed in a hellishly bright light. The lead vehicle was a fast but battered-looking Univeral Motors 4x4. Two trucks and three lightly armoured cars were chasing it. The pursuing vehicles braked as the flare went up, the drivers suddenly confused. The corporal was determined to make the most of that confusion.

“Assault rockets!” Ross hissed into the radio. “Take the armoured vehicles!”

The corporal had sent the assault rockets with the machine gunners just in case enemy reinforcements arrived. AT-4 launchers flared overhead, sending their lethal payloads into the enemy convoy, blowing two of the armoured cars apart and sending lethal shrapnel flying through the air.

“Machine gunners, kill the trucks!”

The automatic guns above us spoke a lethal gospel, peppering the trucks with 5.56mm rounds even as enemy troops tried to clamber out of the back, the car they had been chasing all but forgotten. But the tables had turned, and even though they had been badly bloodied less than fifteen minutes ago the Citidef soldiers now had the higher ground and the advantages of surprise and superior numbers. The remaining armoured car manoeuvred, the driver trying to provide some cover for his comrades even as another soldier tried to man the cupola and defend the vehicle. Another AT-4 flashed out however and put an end to its resistance, blowing it back and crushing most of the enemy crouching behind it.

This fight was over even faster than the previous. Despite some impressive determination to make a stand the enemy were dead in minutes. In the ghostly light of the white flare and the flickering flames of the burning vehicles, Ross saw dead bodies stretched around. Random gunfire from the enemies had taken out two of the remaining Citidef soldiers. That meant the Dirty Third had lost fourteen men. By the books, that was good numbers. 3rd Platoon had survived an ambush, captured a position and defeated an enemy attack, and they had lost just less than a third of their people. However, fourteen dead is still fourteen letters to fourteen mothers, fourteen funerals, fourteen names Ross would never forget for the rest of his life.

Even though he won, he lost.

In the chaos of the gun battle, the 4x4 had managed to safely make it to the Citidef line of defences, who had been expressly told not to fire on it. Inside, the corporal found a battered woman. A bullet had grazed her left cheek. Another had perforated her side, but had luckily failed to do any significant damage. Grime and sweat coated her face and arms. Blonde hair caked to a tired-looking face. “Sharleen Mason, with the External Intelligence Agency”, she introduced herself. “Heard gunfire in the distance, thought I’d gamble and make a run for it. Glad to see you’re as good as I hoped you’d be.”

“Not nearly as good as we should have been, ma’am”, Alex Ross shook his head. “Whatever it is you know, it had better be worth it.”

Result: Citidef's Dirty Third makes contact with an EIA agent on the Costa, who has a lead on the location of the missing gas cylinders. The plot thickens!

[Lonestar]

Virginia Pilot
Dominion Power begins exploratory drilling around East Fuckland Island

With a ODCG cutter standing guard, the Dominion Power exploratory ship Albemarle Princess began exploratory drilling in the EEZ of East Fuckland Island.

"With a degree of stability finally gained, we're eager to complete our assessment of the Fucklands oil and gas fields." A Dominion Power rep said.

Brickhall "unconcerned" about Japanistani "super-tank"
"It's basically a gi-normous semi-mobile pillbox." says a Defense Analyst with the Slade Institute, a think-tank contracted to work with the War Ministry. "There aren't any bridges in the country that are rated to take these 90 ton monstrosities, and considering the swampy soil of much of the lowlands there will be much hilarity as they sink in the mud."

"In fact, considering that Japanistan has a similar climate and soil composition, it makes one wonder why they developed such a tank in the first place. No doubt it's intended to go after neighboring states."

Reconstruction grinds forward
"Alright fuck-os, let's hurry up. I plan on being drunk by 1800." The Citizen Construction Corps foreman shouts. As the size of the active army shrinks more and more prospective citizens find themselves laying cable lines, repairing bridges, and re-paving roads.

"Honestly, I was hoping to be a tank driver." One young lady said, "Instead I'm here taking inventory of pipes."

The colossal reconstruction effort has caused the military modernization process to be stretched out over 5 years, and a almost complete cessation of funding for the MSA from the Old Dominion. Many other MESS nations have opened their checkbooks to make sure the MSA programs remained on track.

Refurbishment and expansion of civil defense facilities is a high priority for the CCC, although Pamlico Engineering has gained the contract for most of the work.

"We're just all doing our duty as citizens." One young man said, before he went back to sealing containers of contaminated soil.

[Steve]

Adams Capital District


Even being President didn't mean a life of all work and no play. Stephen and his family - 11 year old Deirdre and 22 year old Thomas, with the middle child Jim off at college and staying there - were gathered in a viewer box along the Gibbons River and joined the crowd in counting down at the prompting of the silver ball in Adams' large Central Park. When the count went below 1, the shout of "Happy New Year!" filled the air while electronic signs flashed "2010" everywhere.

Almost two years had gone by in this new life, and so far things hadn't seemed entirely that bad for Cascadia. The economy had hiccuped a bit due to the trade disruptions of the One Week War, sure, and there was the constant tug of war over how much to spend on defense, but compared to nations elsewhere Cascadia was getting along well. The economy was remaining vibrant, the switch to non-fossil fuel-produced energy was proceeding, Cascadia's influence had advanced between her involvement in security in Northern Veleria and her diplomatic work regarding Frequesue, and through resistance to the pressure to raise defense spending astronomically, the country's financial situation had remained stable.

Well, two years in and we haven't blown the world up yet, he thought while sharing a glass of grape juice with Deirdre. Hopefully it'll stay that way.