StarDestroyer.Net BBS

"We're reporting live for the Sovereign Shroomanian Sentinel, right here in San Salvacion - where Mohammedian rallies against the Zorian actions in Velaria have sparked into an all-out riot today. Converts of the Zorian Norse faith joined the fray in an apparent attempt at provoking the Mohammedians, and so far both sides have gotten what they've wanted!"



"There are funeral pyres all over the streets! The Vikings are burning the Mohammedians in effigy, but they're also trying to do it in person!"

"Gunshots are ringing into the air. Local law enforcement has dispatched riot police to contain the situation, but the unrest has now gone into all-out gang warfare! So far, the government has not - I repeat - has not authorized the use of sonic-electronic ballbreakers, but the situation is changing drastically and they may have to reconsider the use of not-so-lethal weapons!"

"We're holed up with one of the tac squads and we can't move out. Apparently the Viking gangs are heavily armed and are shooting anything not wearing a horned helmet! It's degenerating into pure pandemonium! The Norsemen are heavily armed with everything from pick axes and improvised longboats, to Mac-10s and street sweepers. Those Zorian missionaries, I don't know who the hell they've been converting! It's like the only one who registered to their inflated census numbers are goddamn gangbangers!"



"I SACRIFICE THIS BATTLE TO ODIN!"

"There's a big Viking! He's coming right at us! Jesus Christ, he's coming right at us with a fucking sledgehammer!"

"IT'S HAMMER TIME!"

"Run! Get back to the news chopper!"

"Wait, what's that sound... it sounds like an angry black ma-"

"Mushroom Marines, its time to crack some nuts!"



"Deploy the sonic-electronic ballbreakers!"

"Time to drop the hammer and dispense some indiscriminate justice!"

"The Vikings are going down! They're clutching their crotches and they're going down! So are the Mohammedians, but the women in burkha are picking up... steel pipes, they're picking up steel pipes! They're beating the Vikings with stick!"

"Sir, should we calibrate the ballbreakers for the opposite gender?"

"That's a negative, Hudson. Let's see how this plays out..."



"ODIN'S BEARD MY... GLASS EYE!"

...


Burj Al Arab, Byzantine-Annexed Arabia



The assembled members of the Arabian nobility, the shieks and the sultans and the princes and the Ayatollahs gathered and spoke in hushed tones amongst themselves.

All over the wallwide Shroom-definition telescreens, pictures of civil unrest from Norse and Mohammedian protests and riots filled the screen. There were images of Vikings and Mohammedians alike with their pants running red with blood, live on ShroomSat/StratTV. From Frequesue, live on FreCom, San Dorado biker police were administering the law on another bunch of dissident aggressors in the infamous sprawl - punching shitpieces in the ovaries with their electrogloves. In PeZookia, boring university students were rallying peacefully. In Shadowland, their counterparts from the Shady Youth were goosestepping instead.

The doors to their secluded conference room opened, and one of the security officers came in to announce the arrival of their guests.



The lieutenant of the Syrian Special Republican Guard saluted them before disappearing from sight, and then the last guests made their entrance. Fellow Mohammedians, brothers of those sultans and princes and other important peoples already seated, but these held not positions as imams or as nobility.

These were men from such corporations such as the Byzantine-Shroomanian Arab Oil Company - BYSHROOROCO - and other corporations responsible for the riches of all of the assembled people. There were also Syrians amongst them. But most of them were of the decadent upper-class of Arabians and their name was derived from their preferred choice of currency. They were Saudi Shroomanians.

They seated themselves and began their discussion.

"Bakalakadaka, Mohammad Ali," uttered the Ayatollah of Rock and Rollah.

"Derka derka sherpa," agreed the Abdullah.

"Yes," the BYSHROOROCO CEO and prince of somewhere or another in Arabia agreed. "We must increase our funding to the Madrasahs, to contribute to the great cause of our brothers and sisters. We must answer the call of our Syrian Sultan brother."

"We will also need a great man to lead the cause, to fight the good fight," the Syrian nodded. "And I know just the man."

"Who is this man?"

"Mohammad Jihad."

"Hah, don't be silly!" the Abdullah laughed. "Mohammad Jihad? Didn't a Shroomanian agent kill him by launching him on an airplane missile?"

"No, you must have been thinking of the movie. You watch too many Shroomywood movies, my good friend," a new voice said. "I am very much alive."

"No... it can't be."



"Yes, it is I..."

"Mohammad Jihad."


Results:
Like in real-life, decadent Arabians will be discretely funding terror groups and no one can do jack shit about it.

The Fist of Allah



Somewhere in the Pacific, near East Velaria

Beneath the silent, lukewarm waves of the Pacific Ocean prowled a shark. Unseen and unheard a cylinder of dark metal slid through the water, its diesel engines driving it silently onward at a speed of 12 knots, its teeth bared.

"Five degrees to port."

"Five degrees to port, masha Allah!"

"There is no need for such zeal, Al-Ghazi. We are among friends, for now it's enough that I will it."

"Err, yes captain", helmsman Faris Al-Ghazi nodded sheepishly and turned back to his controls.

The metal shark was, of course, a submarine, but not just any submarine. This was the Fist of Allah, a sturdy old Byzantine Type-209 diesel submarine from the 1960s, one of several such boats that had once served with the navy of the Independent Republic of Sjenska. In the chaos following the Border Wars and the annexation of Sjenska by the USSR, five of those subs had disappeared from their docks. Some had been nicked by unscrupulous arms dealers, others had defected to the highest bidder. At least one had been destroyed by MESS forces during the war with Shepistan.

Like many of their compatriots the crew of the Arkhipov, as the Fist once was called, hadn't much liked the prospect of being pressed into USSR service. So they bolted, ship and all. For a royal fee the predominantly Muslim crew had sold their submarine and services to the Sultan Yazid al-Walid of Zahedan, a remote and dodgy port city that was a de jure part of the Syrian Caliphate.

Technically perhaps the submarine should have been a part of the Syrian military… But Damascus was a long way away from eastern Cestiphon. In reality the Fist of Allah had served for long years as a personal status symbol for the Sultan, a plaything to be shown off to visiting sheikhs much like Al-Walid’s collection of Shrooms-Royces.

With the declaration of Jihad by Sultan Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn however, all that had changed. Sensing an opportunity to win favour in Damascus, Yazid al-Walid had dispatched the Fist of Allah to join the Jihad. And her crew, bored of long years of pretending to serve on the Sultan’s yacht and eager to finally be at open sea once more, wouldn't want it any other way.

"Captain!" muttered the watch, breaking the silence of the bridge. "Coaster, eleven degrees starboard, six miles out!"

Captain A'shadieeyah Mohammad swivelled her tattered chair to face the sailor manning the periscope. "What flag does she fly?"

The sailor adjusted his keffiyeh and peered through the raised periscope. "I believe it's a Zorian ship, captain!"

"Tonnage?"

The watchman turned away from the periscope to quickly consult a thick leather-bound silhouette register. "Five thousand tons, captain!"

Captain Mohammad grinned joyously. "Allah provides. Ahead full, and make ready to surface!"

One moment the ambience on the Zorian tramp coaster Katsu Kaishu was one of bored monotony as the ship slowly crawled along the coast from Akori to the Dragonsnake Basin. The next moment the bridge exploded into chaos as a black hull broke through the waves a mere three hundred meters from the ship. For brief moments the submarine simply cruised alongside the freighter, brine gushing off its sides.

Captain Tsuneyasu Miyamoto swept onto the bridge of his freighter shouting questions, just in time to see how hatches were thrown open on the strange submarine. Men crawled onto the deck, pulling the waterproof sheets off a frightening-looking deck gun and swivelling it until it pointed at the freighter. Then the radio crackled to life.

“Zorian mushrikoon!” a authoritative woman’s voice commanded “Know that I am captain A'shadieeyah Mohammad, loyal servant of the one true god Allah, and the great Sultan Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn. I have come to wage mighty jihad upon you in the name of Islam and the prophet Mohammad, may Allah bless him and grant him peace. You have ten minutes to abandon ship. Then we will open fire and sink you.”

From the tower of the Fist of Allah, captain Mohammad and lieutenant Al-Ghazi watched as the crew of the Katsu Kaishu hurried into the lifeboats. “Captain”, the lieutenant asked. “This is the third ship whose crew we spare. Why do we allow the fajarah to escape unharmed? We could have torpedoed them from afar and vanished without a trace.”

Captain Mohammad threw a stern look at her second in command. “When we take the life of the infidel, we take his chance to convert, and thus his opportunity to reach the Garden of Allah. That would be a great tragedy, Al-Ghazi. Jihad cannot be righteous when we take more lives than we have to.”

Faris al-Ghazi seemed not entirely satisfied with that answer. “Many of our brothers and sisters would disagree with you, captain. Did not mullah Suliman of Zahedan say that to kill an infidel is not murder; but the path to Heaven?”

Captain Mohammad scowled. “Mullah Suliman is an arrogant fool. Judgment is reserved for Allah, and only Allah. Remember that not all Zorians are and evil-doers, brother. There are many dhimmi among them, and even those of the true faith.”

Her lieutenant frowned. “Be that as it may, by now the Zorians will have radioed their position, and by extension our position. By sparing them we place ourselves in unnecessary peril, jeopardize our jihad.”

“We are far away from the Zorian nearest outpost, brother. By the time their ships and helicopters arrive we will be long gone. The risk is minimal. And how can we be in jeopardy when Allah himself protects us?” The captain shook her head. “But enough of theology. We have given the Zorians enough time- tell the gunnery crew to open fire, and prepare to dive.”

The thunder of the 88mm fused with shouts of ‘Allāhu Akbar!’. Explosions tore through the Katsu Kaishu as shells found their mark, tearing great holes near the waterline. The defenceless cargo ship soon begin to sink and after the gun had once more been covered up the Fist of Allah again disappeared beneath the waves, as if pressed under by the barrage of curses emanating from the Zorian lifeboats

It would be twelve hours before the nearest Zorian destroyer arrived to pick up the dishevelled sailors. By then, the Fist of Allah had long since vanished from the area, to continue its marauding venture of the Velarian coast…

Result: The adventures of the Fist of Allah and its motley crew begin!

Disclaimers: I am navally challenged, and know nothing of submarines and submarine warfare apart from what I remember of Das Boot and Crimson Tide. So pardon me for any silliness that’s crept into this story.

Also, I know that submarines don’t actually carry guns anymore. But since I want to evoke the spirit of good old Lothar von Arnauld de la Periere, this one does

Finally, I would very much appreciate it if none of you trigger-happy people out there torpedo my mujahedeen sub. I’ve got several more chapters lined up, so please, stay your guns!

To be fair... ESCALATION!


Shroompeace submarine Steve Shroomwin
Off the shores of the Royal Kingdom of Zoria, en route to Velarian waters



"Ol'McShroomShroom had a Shroom," the kids sang. "Shroom-Shroom-Shroom-Shroom-Shroom!"

"And on his Shroom he had a Shroom," the kids sang. "Shroom-Shroom-Shroom-Shroom-Shroom!"

"With a Shroom-Shroom here and a Shroom-Shroom there," the kids sang. "Here a Shroom-Shroom, there a Shroom-Shroom."

"Everywhere a Shroom-Shroom!"

"Old McShroom-Shroom had a Shroom," the kids sang. "Shroom-Shroom-Shroom-Shroom-Shroom!"

Captain Peter Shroomcocks smiled at the sight of the kids singing and stretching their arms after days in the cramped confines of the submarine. Ah, kids. Orphans, orphans he'd taken under his wing. Rescued from Byzantine orphanages where the nuns and priests would do bad things to them.

He took them under his wing, and now they crewed his submarine. Well, his submarine wasn't screwed entirely by children - most of his men, and women, were adults. They were like an extended family, taking care of these lost children.

It was a family reunion, and Peter Shroomcocks' chest swelled with love for his children.

They were hitting puberty now, so their singing wasn't too good, their voices were breaking. They were also having growth spurts, and some were no longer small enough to sleep in the torpedo tubes. And that wasn't counting the space occupied by all their shiny new Viking horned helmets. But still. They were orphans. His orphans.

Together, forever.

It was a family reunion. At the behest of the wise Zorian government - and Odin the All-Father - they had been given pardons. After the children had become proud Norseteens, and after the All-Father and his Valkyries had shown Peter Shroomcocks the light.

Now he was ready to do battle - glorious battle. Ready to fight and die. He, and his warrior-children, all ready to prove themselves as true Vikings, worthy warriors to enter Valhalla, crossing the rainbow that was its moat to dine and feast within the flying sky-castle's halls with great warriors of old - such as Shroomrik the Pink, and those brave souls from the Bloods who got shanked in prison right in front of Shroomcocks.

Peter Shroomcocks shed a tear. A manly tear.

All those pigs... murdered.

Murdered by the goddamn Mohammedians. Those madman, those fanatics, murdering all forms of meat-animals with cloven hooves in the name of their sick and delusional faith. In the name of their so-called 'religion of peace' they murdered all of Shroomcocks' animal friends. Those turbaned Musslemen with their blood-stained scimitars.

The Mohammedians burned all those cows, all those pigs, all those lambs. The lambs bleated on and on until the fire consumed them.

And then there was only silence.

Peter Shroomcocks remembered those videos the Zorians, and Odin the All-Father, had him watch. They showed him the truth. He wanted to close his eyes, to look away, but he couldn't. Odin told him to be strong. The Zorians held his eyes open.

Now he knew the truth.

Now he had to engage in true battle - a duel - with the Mohammedian's own sea serpent in the blood-stained waters of Valeria. The Fist of Allah would meet Thor's Hammer.

As foretold in the story of Ragnarok.

Peter Shroomcocks told his crew to prepare to dive, to submerge the Steve Shroomwin and to prepare for glorious battle.

He turned and raised a clenched fist at his fellow Vikings aboard the longboat sailing by them.



Live free. Die well, they would say, as true Nordic warriors said in the tales of old. They raised their axes, their shotguns, and their grenade launchers and flamethrowers - for they too were on the warpath.

Peter Shroomcocks entered the long, hard confines of his great and mighty vessel as it dived into the ocean's black depths.

It was time for his final destiny.


Results:

Siege, how about an awesome submarine battle!

Imperial Chronicles

"Are you sure this will work?" asked Heraclius. The two rulers were playing a game of chess in Constantinople.

"Oh it will. Don't worry. I doubt the Zorians are that strong willed against a rising tide of Muslims," said Saladin.

"You are sure about this? You would have to give the Zorians a real bloody nose for them to withdraw."

"I am counting on that."

"What's this about a group of well-off Arab businessmen and Syrians meeting in Arabia to discuss matters of mutual interest?"

"Well you know, any war needs money."

"Ah.. so while you declare jihad, you let the foot soldiers do independent work."

"Just so. Don't worry. I have men keeping tabs on things. Just so to make sure Valeria doesn't remain a hell hole forever."

"It will do them good to start building up a city there."

"Just so. Checkmate."

Zor wrote:Shinra Republic Embassy, Port Victory, United Kingdom of Zoria

Zorian Foreign Minister Sawako Makisumi entered the building and prepared for a meeting with the Shinra Ambassador in regards to eastern Veleria. He sat down and began to discuss affairs, opening up with the the fact that Zoria had invested a considerable amount of manpower and resources into the presence in Eastern Veleria and had begun collection of a multitude of valuable resources in the area, and that it is an investment that the kingdom is not yet willing to abandon so quickly, as well as pointing out the benifits that come to said nation through the use of Velerian Labourers paid wages well above the standard of their home nations.

((OOC: Damn, events have sped right along, haven't they? Fast forward button time!))

The Shinra ambassador and the Zorian foreign minister had had their chat, the ambassador stressing that the mass retaliation policy that the Zorians had earlier employed simply made things worse. Additionally, their present policy - that of seemingly arming one faction against another - would just result in more bloodshed and unrest. The foreign minister assured him that their concerns would be heeded by the Zorian government, and the meeting concluded.

**************

An Internet Blog, the day of King Leighton's address the Pan Pacifican concerence:

"As you have all undoubtably heard, the Zorian Embassy in Cascadia was hit by a suicide attack by Islamist forces. Apparently, the tenticles of this deamon can reach into areas we did not expect them to be in. It stands to our attention that the forces of Islamism pose a threat to all our nations..."

ZORIAN KING DECLARES CRUSADE AGAINST ISLAM?????

King Leighton today blamed the forces of "Islamism" for the recent attack on his embassy in Cascadia. Further, he goes on to claim that the "forces of Islamism pose a threat" to "all" nations! He then asks for MILITARY ACTION against these Forces of Islamism!

What do you have against Islam, "King" Lay-ton???? Do you want to just kill all brown people???? Is that your FINAL SOLUTION to the MUSLIM QUESTION as rightous freedom fighters stand against your TYRANNY and IMPERIALIST actions in Velaria????

[Blog Continues...]

**************

A more sober news report, same day:

"As we continue our coverage of the Second Pan-Pacific Conference, King Leighton of Zoria addressed his fellow leaders following the tragic attack against the Zorian embassy in Cascadia by terrorist elements. In his opening remarks, the Zorian King appeared to blame all of so-called 'Islamism' for the embassy attack and others in the Port Adria area of Eastern Velaria. However, after a request from Cascadian president Stephen Garrett to clarify his remarks, King Leighton apologized for his poor choice of wording and indicated his comment was directed towards those waging Jihad.

Meanwhile..."

[News Continues...]

Seaside Palace, Canissia


"What is it, my dear?" Isabelle asked. Arik broke out of his reverie-- it was obvious he wasn't actually reading the book in front of him-- and looked at her.
"Just thinking," he said, "How it looks like everything is going to start coming unglued again."

He was speaking on multiple levels, some of which he could never really share with those closest to him. He'd spoken with Rufus Shinra about a number of things, well into the night after he'd arrived, ostensibly about the space programs and the events regarding Zoria and Veleria, but in truth a lot of it was about their lives there. How this turn of the wheel seemed so serious compared to the last one; how much the people around them remembered or knew... and what to do about pasts remembered by some but not all...

[Flashback]:
"Far be it from me to tell anyone how to conduct their personal lives," Arik warned as the alcohol flowed more freely, "Let's face it, my wives starte dout as nothing more than a glorified harem-- let's say it, the first go-round, they were fuck buddies and that was it. The only reason I made honest women out of them was because of that trick Q pulled on me with them getting all knocked up."

"Do you regret having a family?" Rufus had asked.
"No," Arik said, "I thought it would be stifling, but there's a wierd sense of... liberation. Liberation of possibilities, potential, the future..." Arik said, pouring another glass of smooth, smoky whisky.

"But here's the catch," the King of Canissia said as he sat down across the low coffee table from Rufus Shinra. "I had to grow up quick. Oh, I was forty years old, sure, but there were some areas where I had not grown up. I led guys into battle in Iraq, I ran my own business, I ran for office, all that... but I never really, truly had to think about what a society would see me as if I got those girls pregnant and just turned them out-- even with hefty allowances. I never had to face having a stake in the future before, not on that visceral level."

"So... as long as you made decisions about the country, it was abstract," Rufus said, "But when you had to think about how your decisions would reflect on your kids..."
"Exactly," Arik said, "That's why, I think, my family life here continued without change-- because the family life is the change I have to come to grips with. That gut level of responsibility that --in truth-- I wanted to avoid. To wipe my slate clean, make the women and kids disappear, would have let me off the hook."

"I can see that," Rufus said, "But what about me? I started by myself, I gained someone to really care about--" the tone in his voice told Arik that this was much more than just 'someone to care about', Rufus was in an emotional wringer and holding it together "--Only to lose her, then find her again with a whole new backstory, a whole new past...What am I supposed to learn from that?"

"I don't know," Arik said, "I don't even know if it's Q doing it to you. He's playing it much, much more subtly this time. He may have intervened for my sake, because I specifically needed to learn about family, but left everything --everyone-- else to chance. Maybe you need to find out what kind of man you are... will you rock the boat and try to win her back? Even if that means her existing marriage? Or maybe the marriage is really just an obstacle."

"What do you mean?" Rufus asked, somewhat annoyed thast Arik would say such a thing, even though he benefitted from her marriage being 'a mere obstacle'.

"Well," Arik said, swishing the dark liquid in his glass, "Maybe the marriage is a prop by Q. I honestly don't know if there's real feelings there or not. Or it may be one of those 'there are no right answers' type things. If you don't challenge her marriage, that says one thing about you; if you do challenge her marriage, that says something else."
"Yeah-- that I'm a bum," Rufus said.
"Not necessarily," Arik said, "If the marriage is indeed a loveless prop, and it is there to challenge both of your senses of right and wrong... Let's face it, it may not even be you and Kamila being challenged at all. What if it's her husband being challenged to give up the thing he loves most for her happiness?"

"Oh, very Fairy Tale, that," Rufus said. "Why would Q need to challenge one of the locals?"
"To see if your fates are, indeed, irresistable forces," Arik said. "You know I am more in the dark on this than you are. I have no idea if anything I've said is true; I'm tossing out ideas. It's a minefield, and I hate to say it, but I'm glad I'm not in it."
"Thanks."
"Anytime," Arik said. "Look, this may have nothing to do with Q, fate, reason... it may well be 100% chance. It may even be local gods we know nothing about."

"This doesn't help to narrow courses of action, you know," Rufus said. He seemed more unhappy than before.
"I wish I could help," Arik said, sincere to his very core. "But that's part of being human. We have to reconcile things we don't want to deal with. So far, we've had our leadership tested, our personal weaknesses tested... all because we used to spout off about how much better we'd be in those positions. Even if we didn't say so much in those words."

"So," Rufus said, "I really know less than when I started."
"I truly am sorry," Arik said. "If I were in charge of this, I'd make it easier for us all. Take Fridays. Hawaiian Shirt Day, I think."

"I'll live with things as they are," Rufus said, finally smiling.

Canissian National Assembly
Neve Tikveh




"...and we of the Royal People's Republic of Canissia categorically reject any call for a religious war among nations. Crusades and jihads alike stand in the way of progress, and we who believe in religious freedom will not have any party with this brand of divisivness." The words spoken by Foreign Minister Ren Lars (Labor Party, Libris) were at first met by silence, until Finance Minister Erma Felna (National Party, Tauron) cleared her throat:
"So say we all!" she said, and the call was echoed throughout the Parliamentary chamber. Applause followed-- not rousing applause, but appreciation for the Foreign Minister's words.

"That said," spoke up Science & Industry Minister Mark Reebo (Libertarian Party, Gemenon), "And I add, well said," he added with a smile as the applause and murmering died down before he could bring the gavel down, "It is time for us to get on track with those things that unite us, rather than divide us." He paused as some last minute talk briefly flared and died. "The pressurization tests on the EGL have passed, however, we have identified some trouble with the ergonomics of the engine room design, and we wish to proceed with restructuring that as we go to the next phase of th etests, which is the escape module seperation and glide test under remote.

"I will direct your attention to Science & Industry budgetary accomodation bill 604, on page six of your brochures, allowing us to allocate an additional 201 million ROBs for the redesign of the engine compartment..." There was more excited murmuring in the chamber.

"Minister Reebo, point of order," said Defense Minister Ral Tenn (National Party, Saggitaron). Reebo pointed at him.
"The chair recognises Minister Ral Tenn."
"Thank you," Tenn said, "I have a question about this bill... is it my understanding that the S&I bill will require additional money to re-design the engine compartment and carry out the seperation and glide tests? Or instead of?"

"Minister Tenn, we will request an addendum to the budget so that both may be completed." There was muttering in the chamber and Minister Reebo tapped the gavel to order. The Canissian Parliament had a rotating chairman position, ideally to prevent people from building empires and allies and getting entrenched in power; unfortunately it also had the side-effect that sometimes the person holding the chair for that session was defending one of their own projects and sometimes had to act as traffic cop to people opposed to their ideas... it was an imperfect system that had been acceptable to Labor years ago, when they were still seen as mouthpieces for the then-illegal Communist party, and the only concession they'd been allowed.

"Where is the money going to come from?" Minister Tenn asked, "The Defense Budget has already given it's fair share, by missing out on three years of procurements from which we are just now beginning to recover from. Defense will not foot this bill this time."

"Minister Reebo, point of order," called Environment Minister Myra Foxglove (Greens Party, Picon). Reebo glanced at Tenn, who nodded and sat down.
"Go ahead, Minister Foxglove," Reebo said.
"It is my understanding that the THEL laser emplacement program continues apace? The Greens Party has a long-standing opposition to the THEL program due to the hazardous waste involved, and we understand that solid-state lasers are being developed by Byzantium according to the last MESS Intelligence White Paper published on 5 March..." She paused as people turned their pages to earlier brochures to refer to the White Paper.

"The solid state program does not generate the waste that THEL generates," Minister Foxglove said, "It stands to reason that the solid state lasers are more acceptable and more advanced; can we halt deployment of THEL until solid state lasers can be implemented instead?"

Minister Reebo looked at Minister Tenn, unwilling to shake the sudden support from an unexpected ally. Science and Industry usually did not see eye-to-eye with Environment, but together they might shake some change loose from Defense... especially if Defense was interested in a better gun. Take the solid state laser, Reebo tried to will his colleague's decision, She's right, it'll make a better weapon in the long run...

"I will consult with my strategic defense officers," Minister Tenn said, "But until I know more, the THEL money will be frozen in place, not disbursed. If it turns out that the solid-state laser is indeed a better value, we'll halt THEL and make the switch, during which time we can possibly share some of our purse..."


[A Few Hours Later]:


In the private office of the Science and Industry Minister, there was a knock at the door.
"C'min," Reebo said. It was Ral Tenn, the Defense Minister. "You couldn't have talked with your officers already," Reebo said, "Session barely closed an hour ago."

"No, I haven't, Tenn said, "I juist want to talk to you off the record. I'm okay with the solid-state laser initiative; but if we switch, we'll actually need more money, not less. The savings Foxglove is thinking of come from the waste disposal costs. Right now, we ship the shit to San Dorado."

"Which has become much, much more expensive due to insurance costs and quarantine," Reebo acknowledged. "That alone is grounds to ditch the THEL and it's chemical soup."
"I won't argue that," Tenn said, "Especially since it is a volatile connection. A ship goes down-- like those Coilerburg nutbars going off their rockers and sinking the wrong damn ship-- or a war that limits our shipping can make a lot of trouble for us."

"So what were you thinking?" Reebo asked.
"I'll help you with the EGL," Tenn said, "But there will be some military applications to it, and the Navy and Air Force in particular will have hands on the program."
"Militarize the program?" Reebo asked. "Maybe mount a laser on some Eagles?" he asked with a laugh.

"Not a bad idea, really," Tenn said seriously. "Look, the King got this kick-started with the 'threat from space' thing; people already see it as a defense issue. We've already got inroads with CaE, this is just the next logical phase of development. Besides," he said, "Where do you think the software for these unmanned flights come from? Our drones."

"I know," Reebo said, "S&I helped develop that software and specifically adapted it to the EGL. I just don't want to see the reaction to the announcement that what little space program Canissia has --and right now, that means that one EGL and that one EHAZE we run tests on-- will become Defense Department's purview."

"So we don't tell them," Tenn said. "Most of your astronaut candidates and engineers are ex-military or still commisisoned; and at CaE the lines between military and civilian are so blurred as to be meaningless. I understand there'll be a few hurt egos who like the idea of having a civilian program with their own neat toys, but progress has a price."
"I see," Reebo thought. "Okay, we'll merge the programs. But we still have to get His Majesty's blessing on this."




Results:
Canissia rejects call to Crusade.
Canissian civilian space program getting military research money.
Canissian civilian space program also becoming more militarized.

"On the alliance, besides the cooperation of trade, education, and crime prevention, perhaps we can further the alliance into the cooperation of underwater surveying, for resources. On a more conservative note, I'm also considering military cooperation in the Pacific, such as the increasing problem of illegal sea activity."

"Zoria will have it's full support of this. I am sure the Hirohito Institute is going to be thrilled."

Somewere in the Pacific near east Veleria

Captain of the Line Joan Knudsen of the Destroyer HMZS Indefatigable approached the sight of torpedoed freighter while the last of the survivors she had taken on was transfered out. She had recently been given orders by Fleet Admiral Haugen himself to deal with this so called "Fist of Allah" while the entire fleet had been put on hightened alert in responce.

"I got something Sir!" Lieutenant Suzuki announced

"Report." She responded

"They entered the detection radius of Oculus-337, southern quardrent. Aproximately 100 KM south by south east." One of the Royal Nautical Engineerings more notable recent developments was that of the oculus sensor boey system. Originally intended for marine research by the Hirohito institute, the navy found they could be very useful as a precautionary measure and had set about deploying several of the devices around Zorian Veleria to make sure no uninvited intruders came upon Port Adria. They certainly were an asset here.

"Forward the co-ordinates to helm. Helm, bring us about upon them. Tell gunnery command and engineering to have the weapons prepared for anti-submarine warfare."

"Aye Aye, Sir" the helm.

"Communications," she ordered "prepare to hail them, my headpeice, all freqencies."

Ensign Hellem gave a quick "Yes Sir". A few seconds latter he gave a tumbs up and she turned on her headpeace.

"This is Captain Knudsen of the Destroyer Indefatigable of His Majesty's Royal Zorian Navy to the Fist of Allah" the words rolled off her lips coldly and without any noticable emotion, as was only proper for a Zorian Military officer "Your ship has presented launched an unprevoked attack upon the freighter Katsu Kaishu and as such pose a direct threat to the people and interests of the United Kingdom of Zoria. A threat that shall be neutralized with it's destruction. Weather this will be after an abandoned craft has had its surrender transfered over for detainment or if it's hull becomes their coffin and the sea their grave depends upon the decision of her crew. Stand down or be destroyed. This is your only warning."

Shadowhorn valley, Near the Foothills of the Ironridge mountains, 750 kilometers south of the Dragonsnake River, Northern Hadhramara

Thirty years ago the inland Shadowhorn Valley was home to nothing more than a smattering of small and impoverished towns surrounded by subsistance farms that constantly had to deal with the threat of bands of maurading bandits on the inland boarder of the failed state, with only the geography of the valley itself to offer the moon worshiping locals some degree of protection against incursions from the islamic tribes to the east. Now things had substantially changed. In comparison to the well off nations of the old world the settlement was not much, but in comparison to most of Hadhramara it was a becon of prosperity. Their were fuctional schools, methane tanks to supply cooking gas and light for the local farmers, the towns now had power and lighting and some semblence of industry had been set up. This was due to the actions of a rather notable man named Davin Muballi, the leader of a major Hadhramari tribal group that studied abroad in Shroomania and Shinra. He was quite intellegent and charismatic, and was a man with a vision.

He saw the failure of Hadhramara and beleived that he could do better, as such he took a gamble and invested heavilly to try to improve things in the valley. Using foreign mercenaries he created a strong militia that drove out the bandits, he then pushed the development of the local coal mines and invested in setting up the basics of industry. It was a dauntless task, but he managed to suceed in the end. While he defended the valley, he largely stayed out of the conflicts of others and sent enough money to the weak Hadhramara government to keep away unwanted eyes and the population had blossomed to nearly half a million. However, at the same time, he was preparing his valley for a much more ambitious move. In his workshops, he had been producing weapons, stockpiling them in caves and was training his militia for war. He brought in orphans (something there was no shortage of) from across Hadhramara to bolster his fighting force with loyal young men and there was still the occasional attack by jellous tribes to provide actual combat to gather seasoned veterans from. His army was mostly armed with replicated AK-47s as well as having machine guns, Homemade RPGs, mortars and simple rockets for massed bombardment and a sizable number of technicals which had accumulated over the years. He even managed to begin production of a fleet of armored cars, most of which were converted pickup trucks that were simply too heavily modified and armored to be called "technicals" any more and a few crude steam powered affairs and had armed a few Sensas and Crop Dusters with Hardpoints for rockets and machineguns for air support. His plan was simple, launch a coup and seize control of the Hadhramara and this time, do it right and make a nation which actually worked with him at it's helm.

Davin had hoped that he could have a few more years to prepare, but an unforseen snag had happened which threatened everything, a byproduct of the Zorian (and Japanistani) moves into the Dragonsnake Basin. He did not praticularly care for either the Zorians, the Egsa or the Malip nor what was going on in the Dragonsnake Rainforest, but did not think of them in praticular contempt or viewed them as a praticular risk to his ambitions. What he was conserned with, however was the Jihadis. They were comming in, bolstering the Islamic Tribes with weapons and men and giving them a zeal which could make them hard to put under heal for the New Hadhramara as well as posing a threat, if Port Adria fell they could very easily turn on the native non muslims (himself and his little empire included) and turn on them. Something had to be done and he was prepared to do it.

He had prepared his army, he had some 45,000 men in total for his attack (not including the loyal followers back home which could defend their homes if need be), as well trained and armed as he could do given his limitations, as well as having basic fortifations including treachlines set up around the towns so his subjects could defend themselves if things turned sour. His attack would be hard and strong, he knew their were a few groups in the area which would bolster his numbers if he was sucsessful in their immediate areas and there were allways mercenaries which would be enticed with Plunder. In the mind of Davin Muballi, now was the time for action. As such, his army marched through the mouth of the valley towards areas held by Jihadi Sympathetic groups, a force with leaders which were quite willing to be extremely brutal and bloody methods including the destruction of the entire adult population of an area and mass plundering to accomplish their goals.

ORP Orzel (OP-3), 62 nautical miles off the coast of East Veleria

The PeZookian diesel submarine was patrolling off Veleria for three weeks now, tasked with sucking in electronic emissions of Zorian radars and comms gear. She was one of the four experimental SSKs equipped with radioisotope power sources, which was the reason she was here at all - using RTGs to recharge her batteries allowed the sub to actually run patrols far away from PeZookian waters. The patrol wasn't particularly dangerous, except for the parts where the Orzel would go up to periscope depth to snorkel or extend its electronic masts.

"Command, I have a warship, bearing 340 to 350, medium range.", the sonar technician called out from his booth. Captain Kuzmierczyk put down his coffee mug and looked up from local charts he was studying.

"Type?", he asked calmly, walking up to the line of sonar stations near the bow of the control room.

"Standby...", the tech copied his sound signature into the onboard computer, which matched it to known ships, "...it's the Indefatigable, sir. Perfectly matched."

"Command, they're turning and speeding up. Uh...contact is closing in fast.", another technician suddendly reported.

The command crew was somewhat befuddled, before a bright young ensign checked the map of Zorian sensor buoys around Veleria, and pointed out they were within the second convergence zone from numer 73.

"Ah, that explains it", Kuzmierczyk nodded, "Very well. Helm, make our depth 100. Rig the boat for silent running."

"Aye, sir. Depth 100, rig the boat for silent running."

A few minutes later, the Zorian destroyer lost contact with the submarine, as it dived deep below the thermocline and slowed down to a creep - becoming like a hole in the water.

(OOC: Zor, a submerged sub isn't going to be receiving any radio transmissions )

Zorian Embassy, Orena

"Please remove any metallic items you are carrying. Keys, loose change...", the guard began uttering the standard formula with typical Zorian coldness after a visitor set off the metal detector, but then the man flashed him his RIS badge. The guard put down the handheld detector and typed the name into his PDA. The system returned a mostly classified personnel file, but declared the man trusted for entry into the embassy.

"Move along, then. Next!"

The man, Lt. Col. Turczyński, was a designated liaison with Zorian intelligence services, and had a high enough security clearance to walk through most of the security checkpoints by simply waving his badge. He also knew where the offices of local Zorian residents were.

He passed the final checkpoint and was let into the not-so-secret part of the embassy where intelligence officers worked. A guard led him to the room where his counterpart was already waiting.

"Good day to you, major", Turczyński bowed slightly. The tall, bearded man on the other side of the table returned the bow and sat down without the slightest expression on his face, whcih reminded the PeZookian just why he was always creeped out by Zorian spies even more so than their soldiers.

"You have something for me, yes?", the major went straight to business

"Yes. We know about the sinking of the Katsu Kaishu, and we think we may have identified which sub did it."

"Go on...", the major still didn't display any emotion whatsoever. Turczyński removed a secure flash drive from his briefcase.

"Well, based on witness reports you provided, the sub is definitely an old Byzantine Type 209. We checked, and several of those SSKs disappeared from Sjenska recently, mostly hijacked by their crews on the eve of Shadow takeover several were sold to arms merchants or passed into service of other countries. Now, we checked, and..."

"Get to the point. Please."

Turczyński paused for a bit, but continued, "...we checked and we think it's the Fist Of Allah. It disappeared recently from Zahedan, and at the time it did so was commanded by one A'shadieeyah Mohammad, which matches the witness statement. It's a former Sjenska sub, and its crew are competent, though most probably a little rusty. It's also well-supplied, and managed to maintain patrol for a surprisingly long time given its limited range, which means that there probably is a merchant ship in vicinity supplying it with fuel."

The Zorian took the flash drive and immediately put in a sealed envelope.

"I will make sure this information reaches my government. Anything else?"

A 'thank you' would be nice, Turczyński thought to himself.

"No, that's it. Thank you for your time", he said and left the office.

CNBC – Commonwealth National Broadcasting Company

"In other news...

“With the rise of religious violence stemming from Zorian imperialism The Senate and the Sovereign have decided to found an agency that will work to curtail misunderstandings between Commonwealth faiths. The current protests outside the Zorian embassy is a symptom of this disease, and the Bureau of Inter-Faith Affairs is the cure.”
-Brandon, King of Vineyards, in a speech outside of the Senate Building.

Result: In order to head off my own religious violence, the Commonwealth will try to foster good relations between the religions of the country.

Fist of Allah (II)

Off the East Velarian coast

The Fist of Allah silently crept through the depths. Its diesel engines had shut down completely, and the ageing submarine was running entirely on its electric motors. The mujahedeen had detected the Zorian destroyer six hours earlier and had gone ‘dark’ immediately, running in a long, slow half-circle around the ship.

The present course of the Indefatigable was puzzling captain Mohammad. The destroyer had turned abruptly no thirty minutes earlier. She’d briefly worried the Fist might have somehow been detected, but if that were the case the Zorian warship would surely have come gunning directly for them. Instead the warship was coming in off-angle… Almost as if saw something the Fist did not.

“Captain”, sonar officer Barhom whispered. With a warship so close the use of active sonar was out of the question, so Barhom was listening intently to his passive acoustic sensors. “I think-” he faltered.

Captain A'shadieeyah Mohammad gazed intently at the sonar operator. “Yusuf, what is it?”

“I thought I heard something. Not on the surface, but under water. But it’s gone now.”

“Wad al haram” cursed captain Mohammad softly. “Another submarine? It’s too busy in these waters. Helmsman, get us out of here- but slowly. We don’t want to draw the attention of whoever else is out there.”

***

The Fist of Allah was far to the south near the Rangataran border when it finally surfaced again. For a brief while the boat simply drifted, hatches open to let fresh air in. Then the submarine turned and slowly headed toward a narrow gap in the steep coastal cliffs, so unobtrusive it was almost impossible to spot unless you knew what to look for.

Slowly the submarine cruised through the breach in the cliff face. The sea-swept precipice parted. Palm trees and eroded chalk gave way to a narrow, sheltered cove. Camouflage netting was draped across the whole of the small inlet. In its midst a rickety wooden structure stood on wooden poles that rose from the water. Tied loosely to it a squat fuel barge bobbed lazily on the waves.

Captain Mohammad grinned. Did not Allah provide?

The screws of the submarine reversed, plowing the water. The barge’s crew and its owner, a man wearing a turban and a traditional Velarian Nehru vest, stoically watched as the Fist came to a rest alongside the barge.

“As-Salāmu `Alaykum,” Mohammad raised her right hand to briefly touch her forehead in a traditional greeting. “It is good to see you brothers. We were almost out of fuel.”

“Alaykum As-Salaam”, replied the man with the turban. “My name is Omar Haytham. Abu Thamer told us you would be coming here.” He made a quick hand-gesture and his crew sprang into action. With the help of some of Mohammad’s crew they swiftly coupled the fuel lines and began pumping diesel into the tanks of the Fist. Other men brought boxes of food, shells and other supplies down from the ragged hut and stacked them on deck from where they were carried below by the submariners.

Captain Mohammad was overseeing the proceedings from the slippery deck of the submarine when Haytham approached her. “A word, sister?”

“Yes?” A vaguely condescending tone to the man’s voice made the captain frown.

“It is not proper for you to be doing this, sister.”

The captain’s frown deepened. “I beg your pardon, brother?”

“You sail with men. You show your face in public. It is not hijāb- it is indecent behavior for a woman.” The man’s voice was thick with disapproval.

Captain Mohammad’s frown turned into a grimace. “I spend most of my days under the water, brother. Am I thus not covered up sufficiently?”

“Your behavior is an affront to Allah”, Haytham insisted, speaking with the patronizing tone of a parent lecturing a stubborn child. “Jihad is not a proper place for women. You should be home with your husband.”

“Phah!” the captain spat. “Does not the Quran order all believers to strive in the way of Allah? And did not the great Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn, blessed be his name, order all Muslims to answer the call to Jihad?”

Haytham scowled. “You would argue with me, sister? Such immodesty does not suit you”, he said. “You must abandon your sinful ways and dedicate yourself to a life proper for an woman.”

“I have sunk four kāfir vessels in two weeks!” the captain now struggled to contain her anger. “How many ships did the Jihad sink before I arrived-- that is, before Allah decided I should arrive? And you would judge me for this? Have a care, brother!”

Now the man, clearly not used to being contradicted, grew irritated as well. “You are sinful and a deviant!” he accused. “You must-”

“I must do nothing!” the captain cut him off sharply. “Only Allah can command my soul. And this conversation is over.” She turned and marched away, requiring all her self-control not to punch the insolent barge captain in the face.

“What was that about?” asked Al-Ghazi, who had come down from the sail of the Fist just in time to witness the last few words of the exchange.

“Nothing”, Mohammad growled. “Deal with that wretch of a man for me will you? I want him off my ship as fast as possible.”

***

It was late in the afternoon that the Fist of Allah left the secluded cove, powering back onto the sea fully provisioned. On the fuel barge Omar Haytham and his men watched the black boat disappear between the narrow gap in the cliff face.

No sooner had the submarine fully vanished than Haytham turned to his trusted second in command, an ugly grin on his face. “Get the satellite phone.”

***

“And how reliable is this intelligence?” Captain of the Line Joan Knudsen of the destroyer HMZS Indefatigable sounded skeptical. She’d served in the Zorian navy for many long years, and in all that time she’d had plenty of experiences of the kind that lead one to believe military intelligence was everything but. A tip yielding with the location and heading of the submarine she was hunting, just like that, set off her bullshit detector.

“Supposedly very”, her XO shrugged. “Since if what I’m hearing is correct Admiral Haugen is paying handsomely for the information. Apparently a good Rangataran citizen this crew has been dealing with has had a sudden change of heart. According to this fellow, Allah has revealed to him that all the crew on that boat are servants of Shaitan or something.”

“The world has gone crazy with religion”, muttered Knudsen. “So they’ve peeved off some local Rangataran, huh? Well, if it’s good enough for the admiral it’s good enough for me. Set a course for the indicated coordinates, all ahead full. Prepare the helo, full ASW package. They’ve slipped through our fingers once, I won’t let it happen again.”

***

The Fist of Allah cruised due south at the sedate pace of 10 knots. In the distance, the continent of Velaria was little more than a silhouette, sparsely illuminated by the moon and stars. They were headed for

Captain A'shadieeyah Mohammad was still in a foul mood over the encounter earlier that day. During her years of living in Arabia she’d had a few run-ins with Islamic hardliners of Omar Haytham’s stripe before, but in Zahedan the fundamentalist were far from dominant. And back in Sjenska there had been no place for such extreme beliefs. President-for-life Sdrjan Karic had been a cruel despot, but at least he’d had preciously little tolerance for fundamentalist preachers.

On the less well-adjusted continent of Velaria however, fundamentalist Islam was far more prevalent-- it was no accident that this continent had spawned the Jihad, after all. But there was preciously little she could do about it, apart from fantasizing about various ways in which she could make Haytham’s life miserable. That was a sin, she was fairly sure, but considering her circumstance it was one she believed Allah would let her get away with.

Her quiet reverie was brusquely disturbed by sonar officer Barhom jolting upright in his chair. “Faint contact!” he called out. “Bearing 076 by 103!”

“What sort of ship?” the captain demanded.

“I’m not sure-” But he was cut off as the internal comms.-net flared to life.

“Alarm!” a voice the captain identified as the deck watch yelled. “Incoming helicopter, six o’ clock!”

“Akho Sharmuta!” cursed Mohammad. “They’ve found us! Emergency dive! Quick!”

Alarm bells started ringing all over the Fist of Allah. Orders were shouted left and right. Crewmembers ran to their emergency stations. The submarines main vents opened, expelling all air in the ballast tanks. Within seconds the submarine had begun its descent into the murky depths, its stern rising up like the tail of a metal whale.

But the Zorian Sea King helicopter was approaching fast. As soon as it reached the general area where the Fist had disappeared it deployed its sonar buoys and extended its dipping sonar, pinging away at the rapidly descending submarine.

“Have you got it?” called captain Eriko Musashi to his sonar operator.

Lieutenant Jorg Irvingsen gave a thumbs up. “Hail victory and sink ‘em all!” Both men grinned, the excitement of finally getting to try out some of the toys with which they’d been practicing so long getting the better of their Zorian training. Wasting no time, Musashi keyed in a command and deployed the four Mk11 depth charges carried by the helo.

Aboard the Fist of Allah, a tense silence had settled. Ballast tanks filled with water ensured that the boat kept sinking, but the engines and all non-essential machinery had been switched off in the hopes of denying the enemy a chance to locate them. The mujahedeen hoped, and prayed, that they had been fast enough, or that the rubber matting on the hull would do its job. Nervous minutes passed. The Fist descended past the 300 meter mark.

Then the first depth charge detonated. The pressure wave of the explosion washed over the hull, shaking the ship and throwing men about like ragdolls. Then another detonation, and another. Pandemonium reigned. The submarine shuddered like a wounded animal, pitching in the dark water,

“Leak in the torpedo room!”

“We’re taking on water!”

Her balance disturbed, the ship began to slowly roll. Men and women stumbled.

“Open the starboard vents!” yelled captain Mohammad into the radio. “Level the planes! Get us stabilized, dammit! And somebody get me a SITREP!”

“Multiple leaks in the forward compartments!”

“We’re sinking! We’re sinking!”

Result: The Fist of Allah has been damaged by Zorian depth charges and may very well be sinking…

The Docking Test

This is Seventh Day Of The Week with Monica Kolejnik

"Let me welcome our viewers after the commercial break. For those of you just tuning in, I have here with me doctor Damian Kaklamanis, FASTA Director Of Operations, who graciously agreed to commit some of time for an interview about the Soyuz program."

"I'd like to wish a good day to all viewers in PeZookia and abroad."

"Director Kaklamanis, we have ended the last segment with a question about the significance of the Soyuz 5 mission. It's widely known that the mission's program was changed, and several experts have criticized the very short notice of this change. Could you explain FASTA's reasoning for this move?"

"Well...you see, the Soyuz 4 incident left us without proper experience in EVA procedure, which was the main point of the mission: furthermore, on new year's, the MSA has accomplished a succesful unmanned docking in a completely automated fashion. These two matters prompted our decision to accelerate the Soyuz program. First, it was deemed unnecessary to use an entire mission just to evaluate rendezvous instruments when the MSA proved they have every chance of working on their first try ; second, since work on our docking mechanisms proceeded ahead of schedule, we could attempt an actual docking on the same mission. Third, we needed to reschedule the mission so that some EVA excercices could be squeezed in - hopefully, without sabotage this time."

"There have been concerns about the mission's crew...."

"Ah, yes, I have heard of people compaining that astronauts Grissom and Uslov would not get along due to their economic ideology, but I assure you: nothing could be further from the truth..."

Jerusalem Space Center, January 21st, T-2 hours



"Yes...", Grissom said in a labored voice seeing his partner's expression.

"Yes what, comrade?"

"Yes, she's a beauty and a shining example of Crimson engineering", he rolled his eyes. The little electric bus was carrying them towards the towering 11K59 rocket booster which would carry the Soyuz 5 capsule, named "Unity", to orbit for its rendezvous and docking test.

"What? I wasn't going to say that", Georgi Uslov grinned in a way that showed without a shadow of a doubt that yes, we was going to say that.

"Yes you were", Grissom said, smiling. I hate to admit it, but the bastard's right

They spent the rest of their short trip in silence, staring in awe at the rocket. It wasn't as big as the Lucrelance series, but still was impressive enough when surrounded by the cage of support machinery.

The desert heat mercilessly assaulted them as soon as the astronauts got off the bus. It was a gorgeous day in Jerusalem, hot and sunny, with just a touch of sea breeze. Not that the wind helped, what with the thick space suits...

There were no reporters here, at least, and they could ascend to the capsule in peace.

Comona Island Mission control, Soyuz T-1 hour 15 minutes

This was the most complicated mission to date ; FASTA would one-up the MSA by accomplishing a rendezvous and docking within a single orbit from launch, and that required extraordinary co-ordination and data transfer methods, especially since both launches of Soyuz 5 would be accomplished from opposite sides of the globe.

"Comona, this is Kittyhawk: we are at T-10 minutes and holding."

"Roger that, Kittyhawk. Unity has just resumed countdown at T-1 hour 15 minutes."

Comona Island would co-ordinate the entire mission. For that, an entire new, larger Mission Control room was brought online, and was chock-full of engineers from both sides of the planet.

Thank God they all speak english, thought Common Carter Connoway, Flight Director of the mission. He was nervous - far more than usual. Handling one starship was hard enough so far - he wasn't entirely sure his crew was up to controlling the ascent, orbit and a second ascent within a single hour.

Still, they would have to manage. The MSA leaped ahead in the space race with that last flight, and no goddamned Domino would trump Old Continental technical thought! Connoway had a legacy to prove, a legacy of technical innovation and manly contests in measuring one's manhood against each other - and Shroomanians always won those.

There would be no retreat, he promised himself.

"All stations report readiness, flight. Camp Kittyhawk is ready to resume countdown.", Mariah Maryanne Mariposa, Ground Communications Officer, reported dutifully.

"Make it so", Connoway commanded, gazing with a steely gaze at his kingdom, his army ready to do battle with the MSA. A battle of wits and manhoods for all to see!

"Kittyhawk, resume countdown."

"Roger that, Comona. We are at T-10 minutes and counting."

Camp Kittyhawk Rocketfields, T-2 minutes

The gigantic clock next to the launch pad counted down the seconds, and the Launch Control bunker was filled with frantic activity. This launch had to go exactly right.

"Piping disconnected. Fuel cells to internal reactants."

"Fuel at launch pressure."

"Automatic systems still go."

"Flight crew reporting they are go for launch"

As the checklist was realized point-by-point, hundreds of TV cameras were pointed at the grotesque image of a spaceplane mounted on top of a Lucrelance II booster. The ship was venting water vapor, and made for a dramatic combination with the cleverly placed giant mission clock.

"We are at T-20 seconds. Final checkpoint."

"Go for launch. Repeat, go for launch."

"Have a nice ride, major, and say hello to Gus from us."

The rocket's engines ignited, and like so many others launched to orbit nowadays, it screamed towards the sky, trailing smoke and fire.



Mission Control, Comona Island, T-1 hour 5 minutes

Connoway watched the graphs and video screens intently, monitoring Silver Streak's ascent. The guidance systems were performing admirably so far, but explosions had a nasty habit of happening at the worst possible times.

"Booster, how are we doing?", he asked once staging was accomplished.

"Looks good flight, right down the middle"

Several very tense minutes followed - while it wasn't all that obvious to TV crews filming the room, all mission control officers were always extremely nervous during this part of any mission. Finally, the holy words came.

"MECO!", the booster systems engineer announced, to great satisfaction of all controllers

Connoway kissed his Rock Ironbeef photo to thank Fortune for his good luck, "Confirm orbit", he said more officially. It took several minutes for an answer to arrive.

"Stable orbit confirmed, flight. Deviation within parameters."

"Excellent. Signal Jerusalem, they are go for launch as scheduled."

Jerusalem Space Center

"Roger that", Grissom said into his microphone when Launch Control acknowledged the countdown would proceed, "Well, 'comrade', let's see if your communist rocket won't explode.", he quipped to his flight engineer.

"It safely carried more astronauts to orbit than San Dorado has honest contractors. I wouldn't worry.", Uslov shot back.

"Heh. Right...check the ascent program, will you?"

"Certainly"

Both astronauts followed their checklists as the countdown proceeded. Few people talked about it, but waiting for the launch was rather anticlimatic, all things considered. The procedures were all well rehearsed, and they could pretty much follow them in their sleep. The crowd was probably more excited than they were.

"You know, Georgi, there's one thing I've been thinking about. Have you even been to San Dorado?"

"Why do you ask, comrade?"

"Because you're awfully quick to blast the place."

"You have periodic block wars, and think it's completely normal."

The pleasant conversation was interrupted by the launch controllers.

"5 minutes 15 seconds. Flight recorders activated. Check onboard life support."

"Roger that. Life support systems nominal", Uslov answered and grinned, "Here we go, comrade."

"You know, I always thought you keep calling me 'comrade' just to piss me off."

Mission Control, Comona Island , T-20 seconds

"Jerusalem reports they are go for launch!"

"How's the telemetry doing?"

"Telemetry checks out. Final countdown initiated..."

On the massive telescreens in the mission control room, everyone could see the Soyuz launch vehicle ignite its engines and slowly pick up speed. Within moments, it cleared the service tower and blasted off, accelerating more and more rapidly.



"Comona, the vehicle is clear of the launch tower, she's all yours!"

"Copy that! All right people, I want full attention! We have to do this right, the entire world is watching!"

And it did. As the Soyuz 5 capsule rode to the heavens on top of the launch vehicle, hundreds of radar sets across the globe tracked both it and the Silver Streak circling above. Docking within the first orbit was a critical component of any lunar mission, and the MSA would not pass the chance to learn from their opponent. Minutes passed, and the mission was proceeding as planned. At T+5 minutes 22 seconds, the Silver Streak crew reported they could see the launch vehicle ascending from the atmosphere. At T+7 minutes 2 seconds, the rocket jettisones its payload, which then accelerated to stable orbit using the Soyuz Main Service Engine.

"Fido, confirm stable orbit. Signal the crew to go through their insertion checklist."

Frantic activity erupted in the mission control room, as the crew raced to complete in twenty minutes a set of procedures that normally took more than an hour to run completely. As both vehicles approached each other, tensions on the ground rose to heights unheard of - everything else was rather routine. The docking itself was a moment of truth.


Soyuz 5, low earth orbit

"Easy now...", Grissom had his head glued to the periscopes, his hands hovering just above both control sticks. The Soyuz had an automatic docking system, but it may be necessary to take manual control at any time.

Uslov monitored the flight computer's performance constantly - they even forgot their usual banter. As both spacecraft closed more and more, whizzing above the Earth, the radar system dutifully informed them of this fact via constant beeping.

"Fifty meters. Forty nine. Forty eight...", Uslov read off the relevant instruments.

"So far so good...okay, I can see the docking target..."



The capsule lined itself up and zeroed off relative velocities. Both vehicles were now hovering mere meters from each other, and the Soyuz was ready to accelerate for docking when...nothing happened.

"Uh...Comona, what the hell?"

"Come again, Unity?"

"I gave the go-ahead, but the computer won't dock."

"Stand by, Unity. We're checking it out."

Uslov uncovered the abort switch, just in case the docking software would decide to slam them at full speed straight into the Silver Streak. After ten tense minutes, Comona finally gave an answer.

"Okay Unity, it seems to be a software glitch. Switch to manual and dock, we'll try to resolve the problem later."

"Of course they will. We have a entire damn week to get this right", Uslov commented, and then hurriedly checked to see if his microphone was not set to voice-activated. Fortunately, it wasn't.

"Abort the program, Georgi."

Grissom felt a jolt as the control sticks were unblocked. He gently pushed the Soyuz capsule for a docking, applying just enough thrust.

After four tries and one jury-rigged solution to a sticky docking probe, the two spacecraft have finally docked - within first orbit from launch.

Results:

FASTA docking test mostly a success.

A week-long flight involving a communist and a San Doradoan will follow. Expect casualties.

Constantinople Times

Sultan Ṣalāḥ ah-Dīn Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb IV declares that he will assist in the formation of the Caliphate of Valeria

Sultan Ṣalāḥ ah-Dīn Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb IV declared that he will assist in the formation of the Caliphate of Valeria. Declaring that this new nation would be a newest sovereign state in the world, he said that the only way Muslims of Valeria can resist their Zorian invaders and their dogs effectively was to unite as one. "Today is a proud day for Muslims of Valeria. Today they will be united under one banner against the Zorian Satan!" Who the Sultan of Valeria will be is a big question. Sources say that a member of the Royal Family might be appointed to head the Caliphate.

With regard to charges that he was leading a bloody religious genocide, Ṣalāḥ ah-Dīn Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb IV retorted, "Where was the world when the Zorian Satan prosecuted Muslims in Valeria? No one. When I take decisive action, they call me a villain, who is the hypocritical one now?"

The Ayatollah
Somewhere in Alexandria...

The searing desert sun was blotted out by the smoke of burning oil. The desert salt flats were filled with the prostate praying forms of believers who had come all over to gather for this spectacle.



The land was property of the Saudi Shroomania group, but it was undeveloped and was now being put into public use. The oil, too, was purchased from BYSHROOROCO and was now being burned in the name of Allah.

The many Mohammedians, all faithful men, gathered and laid down their prayer mats.

[img]http://communities_dominate.blogs.com/photos/uncategorized/2008/05/01/burning_oil_fields.jpg[/img]

Hakmed arrived just before day was turned into night. He held his Kalashnikov in his hands and walked in, past his fellow brothers. There were so many of them, gathered here today. Young men like him, brothers and fathers, and their own children frolicking carelessly - unaware of the great thing that was happening today. Some even brought their wives out of their homes, and the women chattered endlessly, noisy mothers and sisters talking away while the children played with fire.



But the chatter died down and so too did the praying, and Hakmed knew it was almost time for the festivities to begin. He turned the safeties off his Kalashnikov with great anticipation.

Men, women and children parted way like the Red Sea as the great imam made his entrance. They were all hushed, silent in his holy presence.

It was the Ayatollah.



"I am the Ayatollah!" he proclaimed. "And it is time..."

They all gasped.

"... to ROCK AND ROLLAH!!!"

Hakmed picked his Kalashnikov up and began shooting wildly into the air. He was the first of many, as countless brothers and sisters joined him in taking up arms and firing wildly at the blackened sky.

"JIHAD IS THE WAY OF ALL WARRIORS OF ALLAH!"



"ALLAHU ACKBAR! ALLAHU ACKBAR! ALLAHU ACKBAR!"


Results: Jihad, baby. The only way to do it right.
EDIT: Okay, let's say its a celebration for Saladin's awesome declaration.

LIVE on ShroomSat/StratTV
Shroom-Jazeera
ROCKET RAVES!


Tracers steak all over the skies of Alexandria!

With the concert of the Ayatollah being broadcast all over the Arab world, Mohammedians all over Alexandria have taken up arms and are shooting at the sky in jubilation - joining the Ayatollah in celebrating Sultan Saladin's support for the formation of the Caliphate of Velaria.

Tracers from Kalashnikovs, from anti-aircraft guns, and pyrotechnics from Quassams and Katyushas are filling the air and flights to Alexandrian airports have been delayed or canceled outright until the firearms festivity comes to a halt.

LIVE on ShroomSat/StratTV
The Sovereign Shroomanian Sentinel
(A Non-Alliterative Special)
MOHAMMAD NEMO: LOST AT SEA?


Zorians report sinking the Scourge of the Five Velarian Seas.

The seas of Velaria, deep and dangerous, infested with sharks and fraught with pirates. Recently, one man brought a new level of menace to these lawless waters - the raider captain known as MOHAMMAD NEMO.

In his stealthy submarine, Mohammad Nemo would wreak havoc on Zorian shipping lines while eluding their swift imperial navy, disappearing to the depths without a trace but for the floating wreckage of sunken sea ships.

But now, the Zorian navy has reported that it has a confirmed kill of the mysterious submarine vessel that has plagued the five Velarian seas. If true, then this means that Mohammad Nemo has suffered a watery grave, and that the seas are once more safer from his deprivations.


Results:
Shroomanian journalism! Sensationalist and sloppy!

Pegasus Stellar Adventures© Space Tourism


The Earth, seen from a really long way up.

Want to experience microgravity? Want to see the sun setting fourteen times a day? These awesome experiences, heretofore the exclusive providence of the world’s astronaut elite, are now available to every citizen! Starting today Pegasus Stellar Adventures© is the world’s first company to offer would-be space tourists the opportunity to fly into the big black beyond!

Flying from the Camp Kittyhawk regional spaceport in San Dorado intrepid private astronauts will ride into space aboard the Sleipnir, a commercial variant of the Silver Streak orbiter. Aboard, you will experience microgravity as you complete several revolutions around the Earth. After spending an afternoon in space, you will land safely-- just outside the gift shop, where you can buy many souvenirs and memorabilia to help you fondly remember this fantastic chapter of your life!

You too can experience the Pegasus Stellar Adventure™ for a measly $15 million!

Partial Minutes from Parliamentary Committe on Government Oversight
-Hearings Regarding Wilkonian support for MSA activities-


Dr Joseph Gates, Executive Director Royal Space Agency: No Mr Buxton I do not think that we are either ahead or behind the FASTA program in terms of progress. I believe we are on occasionally intersecting but principally parrallel tracks.

Hon M. Buxton, Chairman: Doctor I ask because it is quite clear form the news releases from FASTA that they are performing manned dockign missions while we are relegated to unmanned computer-only missions at this moment. In other wrods they appears to be performing the same tasks we are but manned instead of unmanned.

Dr Silvia Hecht-May, RSA Director of Manned Flight, MSA Deputy Director of Manned Flight: The manned and unmanend programs of any space agency will always have some overlap Mr Buxton but what my colleauge and I are trying to state is that the missions everyone is undertakig do not neccessarily follow similair paths.

B: Perhaps you could clarify because it seemed rather clear to myself that the purpose of the unmanend program is to pave the way for the same in the manend program and here is FASTA performing with their manned program what we have only acheived in an unmanned variant.

H: Joe do you want to..

G: No its probably best from your end....(conversation betweeen Gates and Hecht-May was not capture by microphones)

H: Sir to answer your question I think it best to be a little general. The unmanned program is currently in its third generation of boosters. We started with the 3000 Series and progressed through the 5000 and now the 7000 series. We are preparing to open up the first truly heavy launch vehicle in history with the Delta IV program once all facilities are in place. The point here is that the unmanned program is certainly the most comprehensive in existence right now. We have greater launch capacity in terms of Geosynchronous, Trans-lunar, and Trans-solar transfers than any other agency out there.

B: Yes but..

H: Sir all of these capacities means that we have been able to gather a lot more raw data in terms of operating in space in paticular for long duration missions. The first generation Solar Pole Explorer has now been operating for close to three months, this allows us to test system capacities across a whole host of potential problem scenarios not the least of which is trying to get a handle on how we will be able to react or cope with increased solar activity.

J: If I may interject and I know its more Silvia's provence than mine but most of the reason why every manned mission so far has been in Low Earth Orbit has been concerns from radiation both in the Van Allen belts and from solar activity

H: Exactly, so our unmanned program is allowing us to build the technology base which gives us the greatest safety margin for our manned program. Likewise the unmanned program is testing all of the automated programs that are designed to relieve stress on the astronauts that do ascend. We already know from early tests that the stress of liftoff and splashdown requires excellent physical conditioning and the few reports we have been able to request from FASTA have indicated that the exertion in flight is an order of magnitude more strenuous...thus to increase our safety margins further we need to have automated systems which WORK and which take a burden off of the astronauts.

J: Interjecting again briefly, the docking manuevers, the orbital rendevous manuevers, all of these have been simulated thousands of times and we have plans to launch at least a half dozen more missions to begin testing failure scenarios requiring manual over-ride.

B: These are all to ensure that the manuevers can be safely carried out by computer but we still aren't getting the chance to ahve our actual astronauts do the work.

H: We are and we aren't sir. We have mostly been working to traina core groups that will be reay for these challenges with the X-Plane program. While The ODSA isn't here today they have obviously been the lead agency within the MSA for that program and we have a solid roster of more than a dozen astronauts who will be ready for the next stage of manned flights once the Delta IV program is certified for manned flight. In other words the X-Plane program feeds the Delta IV program which will eventually feed the Moon and Mars programs. In each stage we are using unmanned fligths to test all of the systems the astronauts will use so we can then check flight each team on more complex tasks and emergency procedures. The upside is that once we intorduce a rocket series capable of carrying the supporting equipment we will already have astronauts capable of operating it without as many check flights. Our expectation is that after the introduction of the Ares series of rockets we will be able to begin practicing Trans Lunar Injection and orbit prior to the 5th mission with first landings sometime between the 5th and the 10th. All crews for the first 5 missions will have alreayd been checked out for orbital EVA, docking, undocking, long endurance flight, and emergency procedures during the Delta IV series and will need only to get expereince with TLI and manuevering the LEM in the moon's gravity well.

J: Which brings up the point that we will be testing all of the automated systems for the LEM and command module during the LEO phase with the Delta IV rockets. We are also looking into sending a completely automated series of LEMs into Lunar orbit just so we can check our automated findings. The 4700 series Delta IVs should be capable of placing a LEM-only package into TLI. This means we will be able to plan and fault-check a completely automated landing even before we send a manned crew into Lunar orbit.

H: Exactly, once the 9 North launch pad is completed we would have capacity in excess of 35 tonnes for TLI which wouldn't be enough for a compelte command, service, and lunar module but would be enough for a limited mission with just the LEM.

B: Does this place us ahead or behind the FASTA program then?

J: Its hard to say sir. They obviously have more EVA experience and while we likely won't get the details of the deockig mission they will have the first manned practice on those operations. That said I think our infrastructure in terms of where we stand for facilities is much greater. The Comona facility for FASTA has to be one of the msot photographed locaitons and we've been invited for tours there, as they have here, and the general impression is that they have a great facility for LEO manned missions...and that's it. They haven't yet begun building the next generation of pads, towers, and control facilities for a Lunar mission. Comparatively speaking 9 North, 17 West, and 24 are all pads that are under construction since the base plan for the relevant mission profiles is already complete. The obvious downfall is that we have, essentially, no way to speed the process up. We are now committed to certain mission profiles and certain technologies, while FASTA can throw a bunch of extra money to rush a given program forward we would have to literally scrap existing expenditures and rebuild facilities from the ground up.

B: Do you think we can beat them to the moon?

H: Sir I can't say. We are years away and I'm honestly more concerned with getting to the moon and back safely than I am with getting there first....

-Partial Transcript Ends-

Universal Construction Unveils Delta City


A miniature showing a series of office towers that will be part of Delta City West.

Universal Construction© this morning unveiled its plans for Delta City™, a massive urban renewal project aimed at rebuilding the Ozone Hill and Shell Beach neighbourhoods in San Dorado City.

Shell Beach and Ozone Hills suffered heavy damage in the recent rage-infection and the ensuing violence, during which many buildings were demolished or heavily damaged. Earlier this month the Board of Directors decided to grant Universal Construction the no-bid contract to rebuild the affected areas.

Delta City™ will be a high-tech district featuring large office and apartment towers. An influx of businesses and high-income residents are expected to reinvigorate surrounding areas of the Sprawl. New monorail, subway and highway lines will connect the new district to the Central Districts. Like the Central Districts, Delta City™ will feature fully privatized services. Universal Construction© and the Board have signed a provisional contract with major private security firm HardCorp© to facilitate security during and after the urban renewal.

Result: We don't need OCP to build Delta City!Also, a lot of poor tenants are probably about to be forced out of their homes. But that's their own fault for being poor!

MESS Joint Intelligence Briefing

" Our satellites picked up the characteristic double-flash in orbit and we managed to get photographic reconnaissance assets into position. We have earlier photographs of the site when we picked up some construction activity on the islands by various Tonkin construction companies. At the time we believed that they may have been working on oil or gas exploration and paid little attention, to our error."

Two images appear on the screen, side by side.



" Radioisotope surveys confirm our initial theory: Tonkin has operationally tested thermonuclear weapons. Increased activity at selected production sites and increased security at known nuclear munitions depots indicate that large-scale armament of nuclear weapons is under way. We further believe that Tonkin will soon proceed to a continuous, high-rate testing regime to validate new designs, especially thermonuclear designs. But that is not all.

" We also believe the four-year cancellation of their most visible - and classified - space programs in favor of robust and incrementally improving solid rockets has been a blind. We ourselves have continued to observe most manned space programmes as well as our own, and as Tonkin's solid rocketry was only interesting insomuch as they could also produce improved ballistic missiles - we have completely overlooked their operations in Velaria.

" Intelligence assets have captured an image of a design in Rangatara near their missile test range they lease from that government. Our scientists believe that Tonkin is aggressively working on producing some sort of nuclear propulsion engine. "



" Such a design would permit Tonkin to effectively leapfrog everyone in terms of heavy lift. Mass production of nuclear weapons, heavy lift design and an apparent renewed interest in space may point to threats such as orbiting weapons satellites ready to deploy weapons with as little as six minutes warning ... "

Tonkin Missile Tests Continue Despite Protests

HUE - As usual, Tonkin's elitist leaders continue to ignore international protests over continued long-range missile testing. Once again, Tonkin has launched numerous test missiles at its ranges deep in the Ocean of Peace - ranges purchased from peaceful, native peoples and compelled by the force of arms. Once again it has tested their so-called "reentry vehicles", clearly designed to carry weapons of mass destruction.

It remains a mystery as to why Tonkin insists on these tests. Worldwide, nations have erected, at colossal cost, missile defense systems that could swat these weapons out of the sky with claimed ease. And yet, month after month, these tests continue. We here at the Daily Worker exhort Tonkin to cease their provocative missile tests ...

Location: Temple Prime, Sarajevo, USSR


The Premier was up early, he had welcomed the sunrise on the balcony, enjoying it, like he hadn't in quite some time. It was a busy couple of years, the USSR was consolidating it's gains and rebuilding the border regions. Finally after all of that hard work the area was becoming useful, and now with the new Byzantine and Crimson investments, it would flourish. Although he was mostly absent from the world stage, in the last few years, Premier Shady kept a close eye on world developments and their effects on the SNC. This recent Jihad was a minor nuisance, which could prove to be a useful distraction for other things, things that were happening behind the scenes.

"Good Morning Comrade Premier", Elena said and placed her arms around the Premiers neck.

"I told you, there is no need to address me in such a manner.", Shady frowned, "And don't sneak up on me this early in the morning."

"I do it because it makes that cute vein on your forehead pop out.", Elena smiled.

"No time for games, my dear.", Shady smiled, "Has Kane arrived?"

"Yes, he's waiting for you inside.", she answered, "Time to get to work?"

"Indeed.", Shady said and went inside, leaving Elena alone in the morning sun.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Premiers Office, Five minutes later...

Shady entered the dimly lit office, merely nodding at the two generals and Kane who were already seated inside. A man was standing in the corner, his face covered in darkness. The Premier ignored the man, as if he was not there.

"Let's get started.", Shady said and opened a folder handed to him by one of the generals. After a few minutes of reading, he closed it and placed it on the table, "I see our MiG-31 production is going well."

"Yes, Sir. We have added over one hundred aircraft to our air force over the past two years, all of them upgraded with the latest technology from our Byzantine allies. This is of course without the units sold on the market to other countries.", one of the Generals began, "Some of these planes are modified for previously designated special purposes, and have done quite well in performing those tasks."

"Our T-90 MBT production has also went well, within the last two years Shadow Industries have delivered over 600 new tanks to the army.", the second General added, "We have also begun selling them to other countries, for quite a profit."

"Our other projects are also going quite well, and we should begin seeing results soon.", The first General continued, "The armed forces of the USSR are well equipped, and ready to take on any enemies that the USSR might have."

"There is the matter of USSR weapons, or to be more precise, weapons from the former border regions appearing in the hands of Jihadis and other groups. Should something be done about this?", the General asked.

"It's not worth our time.", Shady said, "We are not responsible for the actions of illegal arms dealers. Anything else?"

"No, Sir."

"Excellent Gentlemen.", Shady said, "Leave your reports on the table, I will read them later. And now please excuse us, Comrade Kane and I have some delicate matters to discuss."

"Of course, Sir.", the two men said and left the room.

Kane closed the door behind them and smiled.

"I have some good news Comrade Premier, LEGION has made a breakthrough in the alien virus research.", he paused, "It seems they are ready for human testing. But I shall let Dr.Spahic explain."

"As you know we received samples and research data from our Byzantine allies, over two years ago. Since then we have conducted our own research and testing of the virus, and now our work has reached a stage where we believe we are ready to begin human testing.", Dr.Spahic said, and then paused to adjust his glasses, "We believe that by using the data we have from our animal testing, we can create a new type of soldier. Stronger, faster, possibly even smarter, than any normal human could be. This new soldiers would have amazing regenerative capabilities, and many abilities which exceed that of a normal human. I believe that this thing, whatever it may be...this virus, could perhaps even be the key to eternal life. All I ask of you Comrade Premier, is..."

"Permission!?", Shady grinned.

"Yes.", the Doctor said slowly, feeling uncomfortable for some reason.

The Premier simply looked at him, the grin still on his face.

"You have my permission to begin your research.", Shady finally said with such a cold tone that sent a chill up the Doctors spine.

"You do realize these are rather dangerous experiments, and that..", the Doctor was cut off mid sentence by a motion of Shadys hand.

"You will use volunteers from the Black Hand, they are best suited for the job.", Shady said while lighting a cigarette, "They are loyal and have the necessary training to be useful, after their...modifications."

"Yes, Comrade Premier.", Dr.Spahic said, confused and somewhat disturbed by the Premiers willingness to sacrifice his most loyal soldiers for these experiments.

"You have your orders Doctor, I expect results...soon.", Shady said and motioned for the Doctor to leave.

Dr.Spahic left the Premiers office, feeling unexpectedly happy. If his project was a success, then surely he would be greatly rewarded. And yet, he felt uneasy about experimenting on human beings, and then it came to him. If his project was a success, it would change many things, give the human race a chance to become immortal creatures, it could be the next step in the evolution of the human race.
-----------------------------------------------

"This is quite an ambitious project that we have undertaken.", Kane said while pouring himself a drink, "Should we reconsider?"

"There is nothing to reconsider, my friend.", Shady answered while putting out his cigarette, "If it works out, we gain quite an advantage, if not...nobody will ever know."

"Indeed. Just thinking about the possibilities...", Kane said while sipping his drink.

"We shall see.", Shady smiled.

Result:
-A small update on weapons production and the current status of the Glorious USSR.
-Alien Vampire Virus Research
-Other stuff...

Byzantine Military Journal

Space Science Institute and Kontos Munitions Rocketry test fire a new solid fueled rocket engine.

Rated at 8 MN at sealevel, the SSI and Kontos Munitions Rocketry test fired a new solid fueled rocket engine design that has been in the works for years. "We have test fired solid fueled rockets at 2, 4.5 and 6 MN, but this is the first time we have hit 8 MN. We plan to scale it up to 12.5 MN and more in 2 - 4 years time," says the Project lead of the program. Meanwhile, work on the RD-170 and J-2 rocket engines continue, and it is expected that new rockets employing the two engines will be ready by 2015-2017. SSI and Kontos and Byzantine Aeronautics are said to be closely working with their SNC counterparts to produce the rockets as soon as possible. Rumors are abound that toroidal aerospike nozzles are under study as a possible subsitute for existing bell designs.

New Low Frequency Active Sonar and new Passive-Receive Sonar under go tests.

Two new towed arrays featuring LFAS and PRS and their necessary processing systems began undergoing a series of tests led by the Defence Science Institute and their San Dorado counterpart. The aim of the tests was to test a new transducer array and a new detection array. The new towed arrays promise greater sensor resolution than before. The new signal processing systems is said to be much faster than previous systems. It is hoped that the new sonar systems will eventually replace those on the Invisible Hand ocean surveillance ships as well as the new San Dorado ASW frigates.

SNC munition companies begin trialing a new low-cost guided munition

SNC munition companies such as Kontos Munitions, began trialing a new low-cost guided munition. Capable of being used in the existing fighters such as the MiG-31, F-22 and the PAK-FA, the new munition is a rough analog to the small diameter bomb,and features a stealthy profile and allows for a far glide range.

Byzantine Aeronautics and CSR Sukhoi working on a navalised version of the Su-50 and a long ranged bomber version similar to the Su-50.

It is reported that Byzantine Aeronautics and Sukhoi design bureau are working on a navalised version of the Su-50 and a long ranged bomber version similar to the Su-34. Whether or not the fighters have been test flown, or whether this preludes the adoption of Su-50 variants by the Byzantine Military is unknown.

The Fist of Allah (III)



It was hot in the submarine, hot and dark. At a depth of nearly 700 meters the Fist of Allah had finally come to rest on the sandy ocean floor. That was 200 meters below its official depth rating, and the strain was telling. Captain A'shadieeyah Mohammad heard the hull groan under the immense pressure of the water. The terrible sound was enough to give even seasoned submariners fits of claustrophobia.

The captain slowly made her way from the bridge toward the engineering section. The boat lay tilted on the ocean floor, turning the floors and ceilings into slopes. In the stuttering crimson of the emergency lighting the gaunt faces of crewmen looked at her as she passed by. There was water on the floors in some places, leaking from faulty pipes. In some places the hull had buckled, deformed where the overpressure of the depth charges had collided with the submarine.

There was no doubt about it. They had been down here for sixteen hours, and they were in a bad way. Emergency power was running out. If they didn’t get out of here fast, this would be their tomb.

Engineering was cramped like the rest of the ship, but the temperature there was even higher there. Men stripped to their shirts worked frantically in the half-dark to repair the damage done by the Zorian depth charges.

Seemingly out of nothing, chief engineer Ahmed Berdouni appeared at the captain’s side. The wiry man was covered in sweat and engine grease.

“What’s our status?” the captain asked. “We haven’t got much air left, brother. We must somehow surface soon, or we all die down here.”

“We have repaired some of the damage”. Berdouni shrugged. “I think the pumps might work enough to get us above the waves once more. But I make no promises.”

“It will have to do. When can you fire them up?”

The engineer looked at the host of meters that measured a variety of pressures. Many of them ran in the red. Far too many for comfort. He shrugged again. “Fifteen minutes for a last check and a quick prayer.”

Despite the circumstances the captain smiled. Berdouni was a remarkably devout man, even among a very pious crew.

***

The HMZS Indefatigable was circling slowly. Night had passed into day, and day was once more beginning to give way to dusk. Still there was no trace of the submarine. The last thing the helicopter’s sonar had picked up was the steep descent of the enemy sub followed by a crunching sound.

Once the sun had come up they had seen a spot of oil, and the ship’s sonar had spotted no further activity, but captain Knudsen still wasn’t satisfied. Perhaps the enemy had sunk, but it was equally possible that they were playing her. She was taking no chances- and she did not have to. It was a diesel submarine: it could not stay submerged forever. If they were still down there, they would have to surface in a matter of hours, or suffocate.

Joan Knudsen leaned back in her command chair. There was no need to rush things: the Indefatigable could just wait them out. A few hours more and they would know definitively, one way or the other.

***

On the bridge once more, captain Mohammad straightened her attire, that an odd mix of the old Sjenskan naval dress uniform and a traditional Umayyad hidim of Syrian silk.

“Fellow mujahedeen, listen to me”, she announced in the shipwide communications net. “We're going to blow out the water now and see if we can get our rear ends up out of the sand so we can surface. Once we are above the waves, we must pray the engines start, so we can get out of this place.” She paused briefly. “Brothers and sisters, I will be honest: if we make it to the surface, things could still get pretty rough. The Zorians may very well be waiting. But a chance on the surface beats dying on the bottom of the sea, and if Allah wills it, we will surely survive. Fi Amanillah!”

And with that, she gave the order to the chief engineer to start the pumps.

***

Forty-nine nautical miles to the south, the Steve Shroomwin and its merry crew of Shroompeace activists-turned-Zorian privateers plied the calm waters of the King Michael Gulf, blissfully unaware of the crisis aboard the mujahedeen sub they were supposed to hunt.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little Shroom,” the kids sang. “How I wonder what you are!”

“Up above the world so high,” the kinds sang. “Like a diamond in the sky!”

Peter Shroomcock smiled serenely. That song had become really popular since Miranda Moonbeam’s capers in space.

“Yarr, skipper!” said the brunette teenager who manned the sonar station excitably. “Avast! There be a contact on this here screen, bearing 220 as she goes!”

Shroomcock scratched his scruffy greying beard. “Thank you Marquessa. Helm, bring us up to periscope depth. Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

“Aye aye!”

Soon enough, the elderly skipper gazed through the periscope of the ragged old submarine.

And he was horrified.

The ship was a whaler. A Japanistani whaler. And just now its crew was busy hacking a sperm whale into ragged, bloody pieces on the rear deck. Blood and flotsam and animal-matter spilled from the ship into the sea, forming a pool of gruesomely expanding crimson refuse upon which dozens of sharks were feeding. The whalers were laughing in weird atonal Japanistanese as they mutilated the great beast with harpoons and chainsaws.

Inside the brain of old Shroompeace activist Peter Shroomcock, something popped. A maddening rage bubbled up from the darkest pits of his soul. His world blurred with seething red. That poor animal! a shrill voice wailed in the back of his mind. That beautiful, defenceless animal! Then another voice joined in. Those murderers! it stormed. Those craven, animal-mutilating murderers!

He forgot about his mission. He forgot about the letter of marque he’d received from the Zorian king. He forgot about the rulers of engagement, and about his own safety or that of his charges.

“Children!” Shroomcock bellowed, barely contained fury contorting his face into something very nearly unrecognizable by those who only knew him as their old, kindly skipper. “Load torpedo tubes one through four!”

***

Machinery ground and groaned. Hydraulics slid into action. With a protesting shriek of metal-on-metal the pumps of the Fist of Allah ground into motion. Slowly, very slowly, water began to drain from the ballast tanks. It wasn’t neat, it was uneven and patchy and jagged, and several times the banged-up pumps seemed on the verge of giving out, only to be coaxed into keeping going by the expertise of the engineers and technicians.

Abruptly, the prow of the submarine lifted off the sand. Men wavered as the floor of the submarine seemed to tilt and shift under their feet. And then the stern came up from the sand and the Fist of Allah was suddenly rising once more.

“Allāhu Akbar” captain Mohammad muttered softly under her breath. Then, louder, “Allāhu Akbar!” The cry was taken up by the other members of her crew, and soon enough the hull of the submarine reverberated with the elated yells of the crew as slowly ascended toward the surface. “Allāhu Akbar!”

***

Captain Knudsen couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What? Another attack? Are you sure?”

“Yes sir”, nodded her XO sheepishly. “Apparently forty-nine miles south a Japanistani whaling trawler and the whale they were carving got blown sky high. I’m told it’s raining little bits of whale as far out as Malika.”

“A Japanistani ship?” frowned captain Knudsen. “These mujahedeen have never attacked Japanistanis before. And they’ve never directly torpedoed their targets either. Are we sure this is the same submarine?”

“Who else would it be?” the XO shrugged. “Maybe our depth charged ruffled them, and they felt like venting some anger. Or maybe they changed their MO. They’re pirates: who knows how they think?”

“Hmm. Are any of our boats in the area?”

“Err”, the XO wringed his hands. “Well, apparently there’s one submarine…”

Joan Knudsen frowned. “But?”

“But it’s not really a Zorian ship, captain. It’s that Shroomanian privateer and his kooky kids. I’m told he’s patrolling that area.”

“Bah”, captain Knudsen made a face as if she’d swallowed a bug. “I can’t believe the admiral has given that nutjob a commission. We can’t trust him to do our job for us- set a course for that area, and tell him we’re coming. I don’t want that fool to accidentally make a run at us.”

The XO saluted curtly. “Yes captain!”

***

The waves broke, and with a roar of parting water the black shape of the Fist of Allah once more breached the air. Hatched flung open and merciful fresh air streamed into the boat. Men spilled onto the deck, jubilant to once more see the sky.

Smiling, captain Mohammad gazed at the sun as it slowly set over the Velarian continent. She couldn’t quite believe it. Not only had they survived the very bottom of the ocean, they were not set upon by the Zorians. The infidel destroyer was gone. They were still free. “Allah is great”, mumbled captain Mohammad, feeling briefly ashamed for having doubted, even if ever so briefly, that the one true god would get them out of this scrap.

Faris al-Ghazi clambered up to the observation deck of the submarine’s sail to join her. “It is a magnificent sight”, he smiled as he enjoyed the sensation of the hot, salty breeze against his sweaty skin.

A'shadieeyah Mohammad nodded. “It is indeed.”

Briefly they simply enjoyed the Velarian sunset. “What comes of our jihad now?” asked Al-Ghazi. “We cannot sail much further in our current state. Do we give up?”

“We most certainly will not”, the captain answered sternly. “Call Abu Thamer. He will surely know of a way to get us back in shape swiftly.”

Al-Ghazi nodded. Abu Thamer was a local facilitator working for Sultan Yazid al-Walid of Zahedan. Thamer had contacts with people as diverse as local mujahedeen groups, crooked San Doradan arms dealers and foreign terrorists. Some said he was responsible for the SCUD missiles that had somehow appeared in the arsenals of the Velarian jihad. If anyone knew a way to fix up their submarine, it would be Abu Thamer.

“I will contact him immediately” Al-Ghazi said and turned around.

“Faris, wait”, commanded the captain. The lieutenant looked around. “It cannot be that the Zorians stumbled across us by accident. They must have been tipped off. When you speak to Abu Thamer… Ask him if he knows anything about this. I have my suspicions, but we must know for sure.”

“Yes captain”, Al-Ghazi saluted and disappeared below the deck.

Captain Mohammad returned her gaze to the tropical jungles in the distance. The sun had almost completely disappeared now, turning the continent into a dark blur against the starry sky. Once they were back in shape, there would be one thing to do first before they could rejoin the jihad. The captain smiled grimly. First, she would have her revenge upon whoever had sold her out.

Result: The Fist is back in action! Or at least back above the waves…