SDNWorld Redux: Story Thread the Fourth

[Beowulf]

Hong Kong Items

CDOs banned from sale

Collateralized debt obligations are an obscure form of financial product. They are derived from a portfolio of assets. They were originally designed to reduce risk. They have been banned due to a finding from complexity theory that it's possible to rig them to create lemons, that are infeasible to detect before, or for that matter, after the fact. As such, it's enormously more difficult to regulate them, enough so that it's considered to be better to simply ban them.

--

CVN-19 Vigilant

"Why did our hull number get repainted?"

"Maskirovka."

[RogueIce]

Midgar, Shinra Republic

As the weekly situation meeting was wrapping up, one final item was brought to the fore. "Mister President, the Indhopal government sent a letter to all MESS and CATO nations, warning them to stay out of the Japanistani coup."

"That's odd. Why would they think that?" Rufus Shinra pondered it a moment, then a thought clicked. "Where exactly is Northern Look taking place, Admiral?"

"Here, sir." A location circle came up on the digital map dominating one side of the wall. "They are, in theory, in position to take rapid action towards Japanistan. But they are not conducting the exercise so close to make that a certainty. There's still lots of open ocean between the exercise and Japanistan itself."

"Thank you, Admiral. That will be all, gentlemen, ladies." The President of the Shinra Republic nodded to the assembled officers and civilians before departing to his office.

When he got there and sat behind his desk, Rufus still couldn't shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was the years of suspicion that had piled on since The Damn Game had started. Maybe it was all the time he had known Beowulf and Lonestar. Or maybe it was something he had for lunch. Either way, he knew what he had to do. Picking up the phone, he said, "Please get me the Huang Di."

After a few minutes, Beowulf came on the line. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good," replied Rufus. Deciding to get right down to business, he asked, "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Of course there is. Plenty I'm not telling you. Do you really want to hear about my sex life?"

"Not really," answered Rufus. "Unless a bunch of lesbian harem chicks are involved. But I was talking about this joint exercise, Northern Look."

[Beowulf]

After a few minutes, Beowulf came on the line. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good," replied Rufus. Deciding to get right down to business, he asked, "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Of course there is. Plenty I'm not telling you. Do you really want to hear about my sex life?"

"Not really," answered Rufus. "Unless a bunch of lesbian harem chicks are involved. But I was talking about this joint exercise, Northern Look."

"It's bisexual harem chicks. Lesbians aren't quite as fun," replied Beowulf

"What does your wife think of that?"

"Fiancee... If we'd gotten married, you'd have been at the wedding. Anyways, she joins in." Beowulf laughed.

"Hey, stop trying to distract me from the subject."

"Northern Look is for a project run by the Old Dominion. I've avoided trying to find out too much of the details, but they requested a fleet for if things go tits up. We've avoided spreading the word on what we're doing both to keep the number of possible leaks down, and to allow plausible deniability. As a corollary, if this does go tits up, we don't expect Article 3 to be applicable. What I know is that there are pro-Tian Xia elements in Japanistan that are not in the ruling faction, and they wish to become the ruling faction. Since that seemed like a good idea, my intelligence apparatus has been covertly supporting them. Any more details, ask other Matt."

Rufus considered this. Well, they won't invoke Article 3 if it goes bad. Whatever it is they're doing. And do I really want to know? After a brief internal debate, he decided he didn't. And since there wasn't really anything he could likely do about it by now, Rufus decided the less he knew, the better. Quietly hoping that this didn't blow up in their faces, Rufus Shinra decided to let it drop.

"OK. Well, thanks for letting me know. I'm going to just decide this is none of my business, stay out of it, and hope it doesn't end badly."

"That's probably a good idea," said Beowulf.

"I thought so, too. Now about that harem..."

[PeZook]

CATO Integrated Defence Command Centre

"Stations one through seven reporting test readiness, sir", the young lieutenant in charge said over the intercom, "Datalinks established. We have a full picture of the test area."

"Understood, lieutenant. Stand by for final countdown.", the officer in charge replied.

General Kulinsky watched the proceedings with dispassionate interest. He's read the reports on the new weapon, but bombastic claims advanced by their authors were a natural cause for skepticism.

The engineers and scientists involved couldn't stay quite as calm, though. They milled about in the observation gallery, half of which was taken over by a hastily patched-together array of LCD displays showing various bits of data and video feeds. A live aerial transmission occupied the largest display, showing off the huge fleet of derelict freighters, hulks and retired naval ships.

"Attention all personnell. Test commences in thirty seconds."

Tension rose on the control room's floor. Technicians and engineers double checked all displays, and confirmed their readiness. It took six months for the prototype production line to churn out enough UDD to make the weapon: a mistake would literally cost millions of dollars.

Success, on the other hand, would handily convince the decision-makers to assign more UDD production capacity for this weapon system.

"Device 00 primed and ready. Ten seconds for test firing."

Far away, on the mediterrenean, nearly a hundred ships kept a wide cordon around an otherwise unremarkable area. A single shipping container rested on the seabed, anchored to massive concrete blocks.

"Test area clear of traffic. Five seconds."

"Hold. Intrusion in test airspace, hold countdown."

An airplane with a damaged radio did not receive warnings, and was intercepted by fighters from the Comrade Stanislav. It seemed as if everyone was holding their breath, watching the massive countdown clock hold at five seconds.

"Airspace clear. Resume countdown."

"Roger, resuming countdown. Five. Four. Three. Two. One...ignition."

On command, explosive bolts blasted the container's sides apart, and a split-second later, thirty compressors began inflating floatation devices attached to thirty-two oblong casings. Each casing contained a simple fusion assembly, with a UDD pellet and a disposable laser.

As the engineers watched, the devices floated to the surface, cunningly designed to spread out over a large area as they did.

"Release confirmed. All warheads show green."

The floor's commander inserted a key into his console and turned it.

"Detonation authorized.", he spoke into his microphone.

With the press of a button, a massive detonation blasted water and superheated vapor into the air. Rolling thunder and heat wave blew over observation ships, whose crews watched in awe the gigantic wall of water and waves stirred up by the test - first as it rose up, and then came down with a beastly roar.

Seismic devices around the Med all registered the detonation, as did various satellites, radars and spy planes. Nobdoy tried to hide the test: the only thing that was classified so far was the exact nature of the new weapon.

Back at the command center, it took a couple of minutes to confirm the results. Finally, the lieutenant reported back to his supervisor.

"Grid square sanitized, sir."

[Siege]

The Paragon
HQ of the NFTAF



“The Indhopali's have gone to high alert, sirs.” As a veteran of half a dozen recent crises and near-clashes the news hadn't even quickened the OSI colonel's pulse. "They have put out a message warning us – CATO, that is – and the MESS not to involve themselves in Japanistani affairs."

General Blanchard innocently scratched her chin. "Now why would they think we'd do that?" The occupants of the seats around the table exchanged knowing glances. Everyone with the central command knew about the warplans CATO had drafted for just this sort of situation. Blanchard shrugged. "What of our allies?"

The diplomatic liaison shook his head. "Nothing so far. From what I hear the politicians are still bickering- I mean discussing what to do."

"No matter" Blanchard looked round the table. "We'll see what the politico's decide when they get around to it. In the meantime I want our troops to go to Alert State Three, but no aggressive posturing is to take place whatsoever. That includes the submarine force. Do you understand, Admiral Ramanujan? I want no islands destroyed, no bombers shot down – your crews will stay their hands and exercise extreme caution. Is that understood?"

The admiral simply nodded, her face a mask of studied neutrality. It was common knowledge that the NFN had been at the root of two of the near-conflicts that had threatened the NFT in recent times, and although Amita Ramanujan didn't like the questioning of her troop's competence it was better to just accept it and move on.

"Good. Then we will reconvene in twenty-four hours to reassess the situation. I expect all of you to keep me appraised of any unexpected developments."

Government House
Shipborough, Sabika, NFT



Government House was not the center of NFT governmental activities; that was still the sprawling headquarters in San Dorado City. However most of the activities by its diplomatic branch, particularly those of the Institute for Frequesuan Neighborhood Policy, had been shifted here. The Sabikan capital and Government House specifically had a much warmer and benevolent feel to them than the megalomaniac glass and steel monolith that was the headquarters.

It was no surprise, then, that it was here that Jesse Wales, the Director of the Institute, had asked the Indhopali ambassador to meet him in order to discuss the heightened state of alert and its potential implications for the relationship between the NFT and its most important neighbor. The Trust wasn't interested in the escalation of an otherwise amicable and profitable relationship, and Wales was here to make sure that the other side understood that this was the case as well.

Camp Kittyhawk Rocketfields
Outskirts of San Dorado City



The whining gradually increased as the aerospike engines spooled up, the noise going from moderately annoying to deafening to ear-splittingly powerful, so powerful that it could be heard even in the control bunker kilometers away. Green lights were given, and the control towers had cleared the airspace above the Rocketfields.

Silver Shrike released its brakes and shot down the airstrip as if shot out of a gun, accelerating rapidly up to 275 kilometers per hour. At that speed the stubby wings of the craft generated enough lift to push it off and into the air, four engines belching fire as it powered into the sky. The Silver Shrike performed a final check of all its control surfaces, and then Colonel Saddler pulled the stick toward her and the nose of the craft up. The Shrike angled itself nearly vertically and its engines roared as they began producing the unbelievable amounts of trust required to lift the 178,000 kg craft into orbit.

Inside the cockpit, Nadine Saddler fought for control over the – mercifully computer-corrected – flightstick, but still had time to appreciate the view as the blue sky rapidly deepened in color, before turning midnight black. Saddler smiled. No matter how many times she did this, it never failed to give her goosebumps. One by one the star came on as the craft gradually steered itself onto the preselected trajectory. Eager not to cause an incident in a time of tensions the mission controllers had arranged for the Silver Shrike to ascend through a leased IRT corridor, then over the Atlantic and Shroomania, Byzantium and then the UCSR, although by that time it would already be hundreds of kilometers above the Earth.

Saddler smiled and rolled the Silver Shrike so that its cockpit faced the blue planet below. She briefly was reminded of another flight, so very long ago, on the first Silver Streak. That flight had made her the first woman ever to enter space. In its own way this flight was just as important, although it would not garner the same reputation – this was the first flight of the first Silver Shrike production model, the first aerospacecraft to achieve single stage to orbit flight.

Yes, the colonel thought as she readjusted the angle of the Silver Shrike again for the approach run to the sprawling Concord space complex, the days of cumbersome rocket boosters were numbered. The Trust could now lift its astronauts into orbit from any runway of sufficient length. It was a triumph of engineering, made possible by a nation of people that until recently didn't even exist. Saddler smiled. The future was wide open.

'Crab Key' Private Island
Somewhere in the Pacific



The hangar was buried deep in one of the island's myriad cliffs, and cunningly disguised within the surrounding foliage. With the doors closed it was impossible to spot with satellites or spy planes, and even on foot one could stand half a dozen meters away and not notice the blast doors, crafted as they were to appear part of the rock face.

Inside the hangar stood a sleek, gunmetal grey, 178,000 kg frame. Sidney walked around it, affectionatelly patting his newest toy. His footsteps sounded dully on the concrete floor.

"So you actually did it" a familiar voice rang out. Sidney turned and smiled at his wife. "You disappeared" her fingers hooked air-quotes in the air, "a strategic space bomber."

An unbearably smug expression flitted across the features of the former president. "Yes I did. And nobody's the wiser. Cool, huh?"

"But why?" Daphne Sinclair seemed genuinely puzzled. "What good is it going to do us?"

Sidney shrugged. "To be honest I mostly did it to see if it could be done..."

"So now what?"

His smile widened. "Now we move on to more ambitious projects."

Results

• Armed forces raise alert status
• NFT makes diplomatic overtures in the direction of Indhopal
• Silver Shrike makes its first flight
• Sidney steals a Shrike

[PeZook]

Prime Noir

Bulgan Prefecture, Khitan

It was surprising how the world has changed in the last two days. How she's changed.

Before, she could appreciate Khitan and its magnificient wilderness for what it was: a stunning display of nature's beauty. She could marvel at the sunsets and take long walks along the sea, she could write for hours in her diary and read philosophy.

Now, all she saw were threats and opportunities, ways to defend and attack. She juggled ten different personalities and approaches, and couldn't help but read people for weakness she could exploit, all in pursuit of her goal.

Is it really who I once was?, the nagging thought couldn't disappear from her mind as she got through another highway checkpoint by a combination of guile and bribery. The part of her that was Ana viewed the soldiers manning it as mere obstacles, and didn't rule out killing them all should it become necessary. Her gentler side who wore the name Katrin for such a long time abhorred the idea. It almost seemed as if two completely different women were engaged in a shouting match inside her head.

Katrin had to admit one thing, however: Ana had skills which would allow her to survive and punish the man responsible for destroying her old life. She wondered if the price she'd have to pay wouldn't be too high, though.

In the distance, the city of Bulgan appeared, uncovered slowly by the horizon. Beyond it lay the sea, glittering in the setting sun.



Constantinople, Byzantine Empire

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, excellency", the ambassador said, entering the Exarch's opulent office, "I hope I did not disturb the pursuance of any important matters of state?"

"I was told your matter as was important as any I have to deal with every day", the Exarch replied. His smart business suit collided with decorations that maintained a traditional Byzantine reneissance style, "I am very curious what they might be, actually. Please, sit down. Coffee?"

The PeZookian ambassador took the place offered him and nodded agreeably. After the Exarch's secretary served them traditional Turkish coffee, they could finally move on the business.

"Your excellency, what I'd like to discuss is a matter of utmost importance. The Langley police force has recently apprehended a criminal who was wanted in PeZookia for some time now...he was extradited and we've since had an opportunity to interrogate him. His name is Karim Saffayed, and he's a major player in an underground human trafficking organization known as 'The Ring'."

The Exarch nodded casually. Byzantium's own police force has been investigating this organization as well, and the results were...terrifying. Although no suspects could be named so far, circumstantial evidence pointed that many highly regarded officials were involved in the despicable trade.

"He's agreed to become a state witness, and has already begun to testify before the prosecutors..."

This piqued Decius' interest, "Go on, please.", he said, shifting in his chair.

"I came here to discuss one of the names he provided us. He claims that a Syrian prince, Issam bin Mahmoud al-Herat, is heavily involvedin the trade."

"Did you say Issam?", Decius asked, careful not to reveal his shock.

"Yes."

There was a pregnant pause, which seemed to say it all.

"I will consult the matter with the Emperor at the nearest opportunity.", Decius finally said.

"Thank you."

When the ambassador left, Decius shoved his coffee aside and poured himself a stiff drink, looking through the folder left on his desk by the PeZookian. That was the final piece of the puzzle: it put all of Byzantium's contacts with Syria's ruling family in context. Decius suspected most of the princes were scared of their own secret police...and now he was sure, and more importantly: knew why.

He just had to figure out how to best deal with that nuisance.



Bulgan City, Bulgan Prefecture, Khitan

Yesugei watched the strange man eat from his place in the corner of the fish restaurant in the docks. It wasn't every day that one saw a foreign tourist in Khitan - and especially in the harbor of Bulgan. Plenty of sailors came through the restaurants and taverns of the waterfront, but they never stayed for long, always in a hurry. This one not only didn't look like a sailor, but seemed too relaxed.

Incindentally, he also didn't speak a word of Khitanese, making it easy for the restaurant's owner to cheat him. Yesugei saw it all the time, and if his experience didn't lie, the stranger would pay two or three times as much as a Mongolian Khitanian, for a smaller portion.

The more Yesugei watched the stranger, though, the more obvious it became that he wasn't a tourist at all. More like the folks who drink themselves into a stupor every night..., he thought. Being a cleaner in a dockside restaurant gave him plenty of opportunity to observe human behavior in many situations, and it didn't take long for the boy to realize that the man probably wouldn't leave the place for hours. He wasn't a sailor, wasn't a tourist and wasn't a random drunk trying to drown his troubles in a bottle of vodka.

He was a foreigner lost in an unfamiliar city.

Yesugei was quite satisfied when he finally came to the right conclusion about the man. He couldn't help but think he's seen his face somewhere, though.

Before he could remember, the owner went up to his table and demanded payment. The foreigner fished in his pockets, pulled out some change and carefully counted out the correct amount.

The owner seemed to have a problem with that, and began gesticulatin wildly, "Kaplah! Seura bulva ne tok'ra!", he shouted in his native, incomprehensible language.

"What is your problem, man?", the stranger seemed at the end of his patience, his mood foul, "That's what I owe, right?"

The owner shook his head, "No!", he spoke one Shromish word from his vocabulary, "More!", he added a second one.

"Come on! The menu said it was ten...ten whatever it is that you pay here. Ten.", the stranger showed ten fingers.

"No!", he owner repeated the gesture and added another five fingers, "No!", he repeated.

"Oh, up yours! I'm not paying a penny more.", the stranger had enough of it. Silence fell in the restaurant as he got up and went towards the exit.

The owner grabbed him by the arm, and to everyone's surprise, the stranger snapped. He spun around, grabbed the hand holding him and threw the big man to the ground.

"Go to hell,git. I have enough problems already.", he said and left. Yesugei felt intrigued, and he cautiously snuck outside, taking care to avoid the sight of the owner - who was angry, and when he was angry, Yesguei was a convenient punching bag.

"Mister! Mister!", the boy shouted, seeing the stranger walk into the crowd, "Mister! Wait"

"Huh?", the stranger turned around

"I can help you!"

"With what?"

"Need a place to sleep? I know a good place to sleep."

The stranger shook his head. He thought about the proposal for a moment...the boy would probably try to cheat him out of the meagre small change he still had...but then again, it would be dark soon, and sleeping on the street wasn't any less risky.

Bulgan City, evening

The old truck barely made it to the port district. As it maneuvered in the tight streets, Katrin coldly watch from the sidelines of her own mind as Ana took over. What for the naive school teacher was simply a bustling port, an unknown place full of danger, for Ana was an area she could read like a book. She could tell who minded his own business, who was a member of the secret police and who to ask where to buy illegal wares. A plan was slowly forming in her head - a plan constructed by a cold and calculating mind, obviously used to this kind of work.

She left the truck in a side alley somewhere, taking whatever could be useful.The key she left in the ignition: with any luck, somebody would steal the car before the authorities showed any interest.

As she walked away, Katrin struggled to contain her darker nature. Her newly acquired skills and knowledge screamed she should now find a source of easy money - a tourist, or perhaps a drug dealer, to rob. This money would then facilitate her acquiring false papers, a weapon and transportation out of the country. Her very nature, the woman who spent her life doing things like these, believed it was a prudent, rational and only available course of action - but Ana wasn't herself anymore. Her conscience, that little nagging thought at the back of her mind, has now fully grown.

With trembling hands, she put down a knife she stole from a street vendor and turned around, leaving a young man dealing drugs on a street corner to himself - much to her own surprise.

As she walked down the street, she forced Ana to think of something else. Only one thing really came to mind - if she didn't want to steal, she'd have to earn her keep. Without paper or a legal identity.

That was always a plan. She walked into the first building she saw that had name over the door.

A boarding house? Why not...

"Hi. Are you hiring?"

Bulgan, Golden Palace boarding house, later that night

The smog mixed with the muggy air, stifling even the choking, rancid smell of my small room. I needed to get out of this town, like a rat leaving a sinking ship. There was this thought, at the back of my skull, that the longer I stayed here, the closer Death drew to me. I had to leave, to make good my escape and gain some ground on Him, before my time came. I couldn't face the ultimate without knowing my true legacy - without knowing who I was.

Rain. Pounding rain, of the kind that drives men insane. It attacked the dirty window, protesting that it can't get in. The wind howled in unison, forming a symphony I would never forget. It sounded like the sea - a raging storm, that took me from my former life and cast me away, far away from home.

And yet, there was a sound. A creak in the floor that, ironically, wouldn't sound out of place if it wasn't for the weather, which seemed to make men quiet and unwilling to move about.

A sign of things to come.

The door flew open and slammed into the wall, its weak lock splintering and bending in half from the kick. A lithe silhouette charged in, the lightning outside illuminating his quite non-Mongolian Khitanese features, and glinting off the pistol he was holding.

He moved quickly towards the bed, passing an open notebook and missing the fact it was obviously been abandoned in a hurry. There was another man there, also armed, covering the tiny room from the entrance. When the first intruder approached the bed and reached out to drag its occupant onto the floor, though, things began to happen.

The closet - closet, of all places! Seemed to explode, as a human figure sprung out from it, tackling the first man and bringing him down onto the floor. The pistol flew away, spiralling somewhere under the bed, while the two men struggled against each other.

This was when it became obvious the intruders were professionals: despite laying on the floor, at a severe disadvantage, the first attacker expertly blocked the angry punch aimed at his face and punched the room's occupant in the gut with a quick jab. Then he grabbed his opponent by the head and slammed it into the wall.

The second attacker rushed to aid his colleague, dragging their target - it was obvious now they wanted to take him alive - to the floor and painfully pinning him there, while the first one fished for his handcuffs. They spoke a weird language with each other - not the guttural Mongolian Khitanese, but softer, more melodic Japanistani. Despite their victim struggling, they managed to secure him and jerked him sharply to his feet.The man cursed them, but was cut off when they put a bag over his head.

At this hour of the night, the lobby - if it could be called that - was mostly empty. The proprietor wasn't about to ask questions of two armed men dragging another out of his boarding house: such things happened here, and making trouble for the attackers - whether they're police, mafia or someone else - was sure to be very unhealthy.

Other patrons had no such compunctions, though. A young boy screamed something in protest and tried feebly to defend the victim of tonight's assault. One of the attackers slapped him, hard enough for the boy to fall onto the floor.

An employee - freshly hired - reacted to the sudden move with shock, and rushed to help the boy - who now had a nasty, quickly growing bruise on his face.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!", she screamed at the brutes. The one who slapped the boy grimaced nastily, and aimed his gun at her.

"Shut up, or it will get a lot worse. Now get out of our way."

"Katrin, please, do what they say", the proprietor said, trying to urge his employee to back down. He didn't expect that kind of monumental stupidity when he agreed to illegally employ that woman...

She ignored him, staring down the barrel, looking straight into the eyes of the man holding the gun. It was the kind of man who would, without a doubt, not hesistate to kill her at a moment's notice.

He was also a Japanistani, her more rational, more trained side noted. Definitely not local police - perhaps an intelligence officer?

"Where's your arrest warrant for this man?", Katrin asked sarcastically. The part of her she still tried to separate, the one which did unspeakable things in the name of survival, tried to scream warnings and protests. To warn her it was all but suicide to antagonize the man like that.

The ominous click of the pistol's hammer confirmed that. It was supposed to scare her into submission, and it didn't work. Katrin braced herself for the inevitable.

Ana didn't.

In a flash, the gunman was on the floor, screaming in pain and holding his dislocated arm. His victim suddendly headbutted his other captor and dropped to the floor, expecting gunshots. None arrived, replaced instead by whimpering, choking sounds as Ana jabbed the disoriented Japanistani in his throat.

She surveyed the situation, captured pistol in hand. It was still a long way from being truly secure.

"You!", she pointed to the proprietor, "Call the police. Then get out of here. They're bound to have backup outside, they'll be here any minute."

Then she directed her attention to the man who brought upon himself such interest from mysterious Japanistani guests. She tore the bag from his head.

"Jesus christ and all the saints!"

"Will you help me up already?!", the Prime Minister of Shroomania shouted at her from the dirty floor.

This isn't happening..., she thought, giving him a hand.

[PeZook]

Prime Noir: Interlude

Nippon Telegraph And Telephone server hub #32, outside Cairo

It seemed easy enough. Two steps across the corridor, three quick moves to disable the first guard. One more step, kick, throw and restrains for both of them.

It worked, too, untill it turned out the second guard was turning to say something to his friend just as Fiszerski grabbed him. And he reacted in the worst way possible, twitching and firing his rifle.

Right into his friend's chest.

Fiszerski cursed. Having no time, he quickly drew his pistol and shot the second guard. As alarm sirens began to blaze, he quickly recovered the portable modem and headed back towards the corridor.

With adrenaline pumping through his veins, he tried to recreate the building's interior - or what he knew of it - and get to the exit. His job was done here, and he could only hope the rest of the team managed to accomplish theirs.

Third floor, main router room

"Cooper!", Nalecki's voice shook the Shinran out of his panicked state, "Think! Is there any other way to get at the traffic logs?"

"I don't know!", he answered, angrily, "I've never actually been inside a Japanistani server hub before!|

"You've snooped around their systems for ages. There must be some other way..."

Hammer stood up suddendly, leaving his post near the door to the office they were all huddled in, and approached the team's commander, "Comrade captain, I believe there is no time for alternate solutions. We must take the hub by force."

"We're outnumbered, Hammer, and they have a better position. They'll cut us to pieces."

"I will draw their fire. You will proceed to the control room and download the data.", Hammer replied matter-of-factly.

"You'll die!"

"Sir, you better hurry up there. I can hear guards coming.", Kralewski shouted from his post. Nalecki weighed the situation in his head...he wasn't sure Hammer would be able to hold off the guards long enough for the team to get in and out again...and even then, guards would be blocking the only exit...and Hammer would almost certainly die.

"Hammer, are you absolutely sure you want to do this? You know the risk is great..."

"It is lower than you think, comrade captain. I am a capable man."

Nalecki nodded slowly. He didn't like it, but part of the reason why he was chosen to command the mission was his ability to make tough decisions, "Fine. Hammer will draw their fire, while the rest of the team proceeds to the control room. Me and the sergeant will cover Cooper while he gets the data - then we blow the wall and vacate the premises."

Cooper nodded. Kralewski slammed the door shut and jammed the lock, "Uh, sorry. They spotted me."

There was no more time. They'd either do it or die.

"All right. Go!"

It was as if a tightly coiled spring suddendly unwound. Hammer smashed through the door to the main router room without saying another word, and his silhouette - as well as the effective entrance - immediately drew the attention of every guard. He threw a smoke grenade between the server racks and started shooting wildly at the guards in their elevated posts.

When that happened, Nalecki grabbed Cooper's arm and ran, under cover of smoke and confusion, trying not to get noticed. Kralewski followed right behind them.

The main server room became a scene of total chaos. Hammer blasted away with his AK, pausing only to reload and throw more smoke grenades. He was careful not to kill the guards - a massacre could cause war. So his bullets blew chunks out of the walls and pierced servers, ricochetted off railings and made the guards keep their heads down as they tried to return fire in the general confusion.

The rest of the group managed to succesfully navigate across the giant hall, with bullets whizzing past, people screaming and choking smoke making it difficult to breathe. Figuring it wouldn't be noticed in the general chaos, Nalecki unceremoniously shot off the lock on the door to the control room and charged inside.

A burst caught him in the door, squarely in the chest, easily piercing his body armor. The captain fell to the floor coughing on his own blood. Kralewski dived through and managed to shoot the only man inside.

"Jesus christ...", Cooper shouted, seeing Nalecki on the ground, gasping for air.

"Shut up and drag him inside! Get to work before they realize what's going on!"

They both moved the captain to a safer spot, and Cooper began connecting to the system. His hands were visibly shaking.

Meanwhile, the fighting in the server room continued. Somehow, nobody's managed to hit Hammer yet - somehow, because it was hard to believe. He moved between servers and desks, ducked in and out of smoke clouds. It was an awesome spectacle.

"You done yet?!", Kralewski screamed, trying to stop the bleeding from Nalecki's wounds.

"No!"

"Then hurry the fuck up!"

A sizzling, spinning flashbang grenade bounced into the room. Kralewski managed to kick it outside in a stunning display of reflexes. It detonated there safely.

"Got it!!", Cooper shouted, "Downloading now. I'll nuke the system and destroy the security footage while I'm at it..."

"Just do whatever...Jesus, captain, hang in there...", Kralewski whispered, back to applying pressure on Nalecki's wounds, "You can't go out now. Fuck, we've survived New Sumatra, don't you dare die on me!"

"Sergeant...", Nalecki rasped, "This is useless.", he gasped, trying to get some air, "You can't carry me to the rendezvous."

"Oh, bullshit. We'll figure out a way."

"Sergeant!", Nalecki said, more sternly, and immediately coughed, spitting blood on the shattered glass, "That wasn't a request. You know what to do."

Kralewski seemed stunned for a moment. He choked something back, before extracting a syringe from the captain's pocket.

"Fuck...fuck...", he kept mumbling to himself, "FUCK!", he said finally, removing the plastic cap from the needle, "Say you don't want me to do this...Jesus..."

Nalecki gasped again, barely able to stay conscious, "Do it. Now."

And Kralewski did. And he watched the captain, the man who led him through thick and thin, with whom he stormed slaver compounds in the Border States and liberated hostages from the middle of Astaria, give out his last breath as the poison paralyzed his nervous system.

"Done!", Cooper disconnected his laptop and pocketed the portable data drive, "Let's get the captain and get out of here..."

Kralewski stood up, grabbing the captain's ammunition pouch, "No, leave him. Let's go."

[Raj Ahten]

Joint Statement from the Embassies of the Old Dominion and Tian Xia to the President of Indophal

Sir,

The MESS and OICAS are currently undergoing routine exercises North of Shepland. We are deeply offended at your implication that the MESS or CATO would preemptively launch an attack on the Empire of Japanistan. We regret that you made an irresponsible sure to increase tensions with the Japanistani leadership and the rest of the world. Such statements will only increase the likelyhood of an incident during this time of domestic strife in Japanistan.

Yours in Christ,
The Old Dominion Embassy


For the Mandate of Heaven,
The Embassy of Tian Xia.

Dear Sirs,
Feel free to continue your military exercises. But be aware that Indhopal is watching and will not tolerate any interference from your governments in the internal matters of Japanistan. The current situation inside Japanistan is for Japanistan and its strategic partner Indhopal alone to resolve.

Respectfully,
President Raj Ahten

[Lonestar]

Admiral Suzuki's Country Home, Niigata Prefecture

The Deputy Minister of the IJN lay asleep when the crackle of small arms began. His bodyguard of Imperial Marines returned fire at the IJA soldiers. Suzuki's eyes opened. He had managed to weather such coups before, but still he roused his wife and children. A young Marine LT. came running into his bedchamber.

<Admiral, I have already called for helicopter to extract you and your family.>

Suzuki nodded. <The Tone?> His country home was not too far from the Northwest anchorage of the IJN, and he knew that the heavy cruiser was underway for routine exercises. Even better, the ancient vessel had been built in the 60s to provide gunfire support for the Sumatran Army, ironically.

<Yes, Admiral>

<Then there is little to do but wait...> Suzuki was thoughtful. <It is no coincidence the gaijin are running such a large exercise, they knew of the coup, if not actively plotted for it.>


*****


"Come on you fucker." Anton Shepilov said, holding his binocs towards the approaching helicopters. Two? Fuck "Orbeidi, prepare to fire at my command." They were in some dense foliage near the edge of the grounds. Obe of the helicopters came in for a landing on the back lawn, the other circled and fired at the IJA men with a HMG. Shepilov swore and ducked. His men were returning fire with LMGs, but he knew that was a losing proposition unless they got a lucky hit. Finally, the Admiral and his family finished boarding the helicopter, which lifted off.

"Orbeidi, shoot them down."

"All-" The former ISI man never got to finish his statement, as the second helicopter released another spray of bullets and 'sploded his head. And there ends his long and illustrious career in the Kempeitei. thought Shepilov, who had nothing but contempt for the men who had fled to Japanistan after the Pathogen War. The MANPAD was wrecked. Sighing, Shepilov opened another case, lifted it, and fired at the retreating helicopters. The Rocket went into a straight line in the early morning, missing the two helicopters entirely.

Japanistani piece of shit. were his last thoughts, right before he heard what sounded like a freight train arriving.

Off the Niigata coast


<Captain Yamashita, thank you for the timely arrival.> Suzuki said. The forward guns roared, demolishing the coup plotters...and his country home. Suzuki sighed. <There is still time to over turn this, General Kentabo in Sumatra will never support the coup if survivors of the legitimate government arrive at his headquarters.

<Ah, Admiral, we've received reports that the Sumatran Army is fighting with itself. The Second Field Army...>

<Was Yonai's command before he became the Deputy Army Minister. But Kentabo controls the other three armies in the Sumatran Army, and will be able to suppress is. We must move quickly. And also, be especially careful for a naval attack.>

<A naval attack?>

<Yes. The gaijin would love to see those appeasing "progressives" in power. They may yet intervene.>

[MKSheppard]

Nippon Telephone and Telegraph Main Operations Center, Yamato Province



Without warning, the armed men wearing Kempetai uniforms burst into the NT&T main operations center.

<Turn it all off now!> barked the leader.

<But most honored sir, people all over Japanistan are depending on us for life critical communications!> protested the Operations Chief.

<That was not a request! That was an order!> shouted the Kempetai captain in charge of this detachment just before he brought his rifle down onto the man's head, knocking him unconscious.

<Now, you heard me! Shut it all down! I will not repeat myself!>

Slowly, the huge screens showed the microwave repeaters, the fiber optic trunklines falling silent. All except one network which remained on the screen glowing in defiance of the Captain's orders.

<Why have you not turned that off?> snarled the captain as he unbuckled the flap to his pistol.

<Most honored sir, we can't turn that off, it's not under our direct control; it's under the Strategic Aerospace Defense Command's jurisdiction.>

The captain considered this for a moment. He hadn't been briefed fully on the full aspects of the plan by his superiors; but they had told him that around this time, the SADC's command center would also be seized.

<Get me a line to SADC headquarters now.>

[Raj Ahten]

Japanistan

Chase Jones of the ISIA was on a very dangerous assignment. He was to go and make contact with the leaders of the coup plot in Japanistan. Right now he was traveling in an old sedan with the Indhopolese flag draped over the hood and roof so that he didn't get shot by any trigger happy morons. Many civilians had already been gunned down at the checkpoints that had sprung up everywhere because they hadn't followed directions fast enough.

Earlier in the day after hours working their sources, which was not made easier by the sporadic communications blackouts, the diplomatic team and the ISIA had been able to arrange a meeting with someone who supposedly represented the coup plotters. He was now on the way to meet them. Two Kempantai officers on motorcycles were escorting him through the roadblocks but many times he was still stopped and only through a combination of bravado and flashing his diplomatic papers was he able to proceed.

Finnally they pulled into a nondescript military office building; many of dozens if not hundreds of such buildings that were in the capital. A few of Japanistan's monster 100 ton tanks were out front along with about a company of troops.

Jones didn't think he was going to get a meeting with anyone of real authority here. Hopefully he'd be able to get some answers on what the coup plotters intended and especially what they intended to do vis a vis Indhopal.

[PeZook]

Prime Noir - Interlude

Nippon Telegraph And Telephone server hub #32, outside Cairo

The guards were running into the building, even before they received the order. Sounds of the firefight caused the entire compound to explode in a flurry of activity, especially since they came from a place where they were the least expected - the inside. It was like somebody snuck in an entire heavily armed force, and nobody noticed.

Even more shocking was a thunderous explosion that blew away a huge part of the third-floor wall. This gave the facility's security detail pause, since it seemed as if an artillery piece began shelling the compound. Was it prelude to an attack? Has war with CATO already begun, and nobody bothered to tell them?

All electronic security was down. Cameras didn't work, motion sensors were flooded with input, access-controlled doors reset themselves an were locked down. As heavily armed reaction teams slowly made their way towards the router room, three figures roped down from the hole in the wall, taking advantage of the general confusion.

Sergeant Kralewski was the first on the ground, and helped the other two commandos descend. Cooper, still stunned from their decision to leave the captain behind, was shoved behind a piece of rubble, while the sergeant double backed to help Hammer. To his surprise, he noticed huge blood stains on the Crimson's uniform.

"Jesus christ, Hammer, you're wounded!", he shouted.

"The wounds are insignificant, comrade sergeant. There is no time. I suggest we acquire transportation as soon as possible."

"Insignificant?! You've been shot four times! In the chest!"

"I am fully functional. We must proceed with the mission."

It took a couple of seconds for Kralewski to process what he was seeing. Hammer seemed to be, at best, in slight discomfort. The wounds were serious, at least at a glance, yet the huge Crimson commando was able to not only stand and talk coherently, but rope down three floors. The bleeding also looked worse than it actually was.

Before he could even try to fully appreciate the situation, however, there was a shout and several bullets whizzed past the group. Hammer jumped and tackled Kralewski to the ground, saving his life.

"We must move. Security teams will respond momentarily. Comrade Cooper...", Hammer waved invitingly, "This area's lights were cut by the explosion."

Cooper collected himself and ducked away into the shadows. Random and sporadic fire followed them, while a watchtower attempted to illuminate the darkened areas with a searchlight. Kralewski took it out with a well-aimed shot.

"Sergeant! RPG!", he heard Cooper shout, and ducked instincitvely. The round slammed into the wall behind him, sending white-hot shrapnel and pieces of concrete everywhere.

Hammer double-backed into the light and dragged Kralewski to his feet. A reaction team was pouring back outside as he did that, and they had night-vision goggles and body armor. It was a clear signal to everyone, even to shell-shocked Kralewski, that it was time to high-tail it out of there.



Prime Noir



Damascus, Syria

"Salam Alaykum", Karic said with no small amount of sarcasm in his voice, "Most honored prince, what brings you here today to visit me?"

"These words sound empty in your mouth. Many would consider it blasphemy for you to even say them."

"Oh, please", Karic waved dismissively, "I wish peace upon you, my ally. How does that offend Allah?"

Prince al-Herat ignored that remark and sat down in one of the expensive chairs that adorned the opulent room. His bodyguards watched Karic's every move - he didn't seem to notice them, laying back and enjoying the morning sun.

"I have met your general", the prince said.

"You have? I should have figured that's what the visit was about. Charming fellow, isn't he?"

"His character did not concern me. He didn't say what you wanted in exchange for going through with your plan, though."

"Noblest of princes", Karic didn't even try to hide the sarcasm this time, "Why do you insult us so?"

"This is politics, Karic. There is always a price to pay, especially for an offer that generous."

"Isn't it obvious? The price will be your loyalty to the Emperor. You will get Syria, and you will get support and ways to defend yourselves from Byzantine opression, but the Emperor will require that you support his interests."

"And you? What do you get out of this deal?"

"Revenge. Also, a lot of money.", Karic grinned

"Very well.", the Prince replied, "I will think about your proposal. You will have my answer by tomorrow."



Orena, Royal Palace

Paul still didn't know why the Royal Palace even had this bunker. As a shelter it was useless - he'd seen USCR war plans, the entire hill would've been obliterated by bunker-busters in the opening hours of any war. As a command centre, it was slightly more useful - but far away from the rest of the palace. It was inconvenient to get to, much more inconvenient to escape from - you had to go back to the surface just to reach the underground railway leading outside Orena - and smelled of old feet and cigarette smoke to boot.

Still, nobody got around to moving all the crypto gear from it, so it remained in use out of inertia. And now he stood there, watching the screens and listening to the reports, hoping that the gamble to find his daughter's murderer wouldn't blow up in his face.

"The distraction force is breaking off.", reported a USCR liaison officer, who was monitoring the situation of the Comrade Stanislav battle group, "They are being pursued."

"No activity from Japanistani ASW assets in the primary operations sector.", came another quick report from a different station, this one was receiving feeds from local AWACS assets.

Paul looked at his watch. It's been five hours since the extraction began. They were expecting a signal from the Orzel any time now. Then he looked at the airspace display, where a flight of four CFN-01 fighters was heading back to their carrier, out of Japanistani airspace.

"Japanistani interceptors are not turning back."

"Jesus...", general Kulinski let out under his breath, "I guess we'll see how far they're willing to go..."

"Comrade Stanislav CAP moving in to challenge the interceptor flight..."

Paul's knuckles turned white. If shots were fired, then it might as well turn out that in a bid to have vengeance upon Karic, he condemned millions of people to death.

"Japanistani interceptors turning back. Still no activity from ASW assets in the primary operations sector."

"ELF transmission! Submarine Command Authority reports they've just received an ELF transmission from the Orzel. They have recovered the incursion group. Group reports one man KIA, mission sucessful."

The bunker's staff began congratulating themselves, grinning and clapping. Paul felt relief, too...but the thought that a man gave his life on his orders, in order to accomplish his own, personal goal, scared him.

Do I really deserve that kind of loyalty?

Bulgan Prefecture, city of Bulgan, Khitan

Her hand was so delicate, her skin so smooth. Yet, when I touched it, I felt strength hidden below her skin-deep beauty. Like a gracious angel, hiding a deeper secret.

She saved me. One I would've least expected to - in this land of hostile people, of angry faces and suspicious looks. A friend in the crowd, promising to deliver me from darkness, and bring me forth into the light. I stepped over the moaning wounded and ran after my savior, upstairs, to the roof exit. As I stumbled after her, still in pain from my predicament, I couldn't help but wonder: did this mysterious woman hold the secret to my soul? Could she truly help me find my own self?

She seemed to have recognized me. Perhaps she was the key I needed to unlock some dark secret of my past...

"Wait! Wait up!", Shroom shouted, trying to keep pace with Ana, "Who are you?"

"Later. We have to put some distance between us and this place", she said absentmindedly, trying not to think too hard about what was happening.

"Why? Won't the cops help us?"

"No, they won't.", she abruptly cut him off, mentally planning the escape route, "Hey! Come back here!"

Shroom was running back towards the stairway, "In a minute! I forgot something!"

Rolling her eyes, Ana followed. Or was it Katrin? Her personalities were merging now, taking in the new experiences, and she no longer seemed to approach all situations from two different standpoints. Maybe it was the problem, though: both Ana and Katrin seemed to think following this man was extremely follish.

"Mister! Mister!", came the voice of the young boy hit by one of the Japanistanis, as he ran up the stairs, "You forgot me! And your book!", he added, proudly presenting an unassuming notebook in cheap cover.

Shroom grinned, skidding to a stop, "Attaboy, Yesugei! What would I have done without you?"

"Ran away?", the boy answered innocently

"Well...I'm glad you're here, and let's just leave it at that."

"Oh please. Will you people get moving?!"

"Who's the angry lady?"

"A friend. Our girl-friend!", Shroom said, grinning like a fool.

She shot him a murderous look, "I am going to regret saving you."

"Not at all! Me and Yesugei, we make a great team. Hah! Say, we could fight evil together. We'd make costumes and..."

Ana grabbed Shroom by his collar and nearly dragged him towards the fire exit, "Later. For the love of God, later."



Bulgan, dockside

"So...you say these guys are your friends?", Ana said, walking through the crowd, on the lookout for the police, "Just how reliable are they?"

"They dragged me out of ice-cold water, gave me food and clothing and didn't charge me a penny for it. So I guess they're okay people."

"I didn't ask if they were okay people, I asked if they were reliable."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Reliable, as in unlikely to turn us over to avoid trouble.", Ana's irritation showed in her voice. Keeping a low profile in Khitan was difficult enough already, what with her and the Prime Minister being white Old Continentals in a coutry full of dark-skinned Mongolians Khitanese.

Ana still couldn't believe they weren't recognized already. The Prime Minister of Shroomania wasn't exactly an unknown, and she was certain the Khitanese would be able to tell who he was immediately. Perhaps he wasn't the Prime Minister at all?

Yeah, maybe he just looks and acts exactly like him. By coincidence., she thought.

"That's the place", Shroom said suddendly, pointing to an old and dilapidated fishing boat tied up by the pier, "Let me do the talking"

"God help us...", Ana shook her head, but didn't protest. She and Yesugei stayed by the plank and kept watch for police patrols, while Shroom boarded the boat.

"Avast, mateys!", he said jokingly, "Permission to come on board!"

The boat's crew smiled and welcomed him, breaking from their onboard duties. After they exchanged their greetings, Shroom introduced Ana and Yesugei.

The emotional welcome was broken when the boat's captain appeared on board. He shook hands with Shroom, but it was quite noticeable that he wasn't all that happy to see him.

"What's the matter, my friend? Long time no see!"

"Not exactly", the captain replied, eyeing Ana suspiciously, "For some reason, I think you'll want to ask us a favor."

"Why, uh...yeah. Kind of."

The captain sighed, "Fine. Let's talk about it inside.", he could already tell he wasn't going to like it. He noticed the way that girl looked around - tense, like a hunted rabbit.

A wolf, rather, he corrected himself mentally, leading his guests to the galley. The kid didn't seem dangerous, at least.

"Go ahead.", the captain said, after everyone - save the girl - was seated inside the cramped galley.

"Well...it's kind a big favor. You see, me and Ana here..."

[Raj Ahten]

Ignore, mis-post.

[MKSheppard]

Off the Coast of New Sumatra

The Shepistani SSAN came to a slow halt, the engines barely ticking over to take in seawater through the recirculatory vents. Deep within the SSAN, it's passengers prepared to depart.

Several minutes later, a hatch on the top of the submarine opened and in a rush of trapped air, figures wearing wetsuits and tied to an inflatible boat rose towards the surface.

Once on the surface, they climbed into the raft and unpacked the near-silent electric motor from within it's watertight casing and set it on the stern of the boat. After some connections, the motor was purrring away silently, taking it's occupants towards New Sumatra.

Results Hideki Shroomjo arrives at New Sumatra.

[Beowulf]

Tian Xia Launch Authority announces plans for Mars Colonization

The plan is an ambitious one: a base within the next 5 years, with the colony becoming largely self-sufficient within 20. Already, the MSA has launched probes to Mars. Base construction launches are planned to use either the Ares or the Jupiter launch vehicles, with their immense launch capacity, in order to minimize the number of launches required.

[Lonestar]

Flag Planning Cell, Lord Fairfax

Vizeadmiral Barley shook his head at the paper his Intel Chief just handed him. Shepilov had failed, and even now the IJN was surging out of port, rallying to Admiral Suzuki. He looked at the force deposition list. He'd been given the okay to use Wilkonian SSNs, but thought it of political importance to give the Kingdom an out. The Flounder was trailing the Tone...but the whole area was effectively covered with the Japanistani version of SOSUS. Still...this had to be nipped in the bud, now. He pointed to his chief of staff.

"I want you to transmit an immediate message to the Tone expressing our alarm at the surge with the IJN. We request that any senior flag officers they happen to have on board begin ordering the fleet back in port immediately."

"Sir, that's as good as admitting..."

"It's as good as admitting we know that they opened fire on the Deputy Naval Minister's county home, nothing more. Do it."


Wardroom, HIJMS Tone

<Is he serious?> Captain Yamashita's tone was incredulous. <He just admitted...>

<Nothing.> Suzuki sighed. <You can see the ticker on the gaijin newsfeeds as well as I, everyone knows that my home was shelled. He'll be able to claim that he was making a, what is the Domino phrase?, a "reasonable inference based upon available information ".> Suziki's lip curled in a bitter smile, and he glanced out at the small port whole. Two AAW frigates had joined the Tone, and the old cruiser had already entered the flight envelope of the Shōkaku's airwing. No, it was too late for a discrete sinking of the Tone, and the only way would be a an overt airstrike, and it would have to be from the gaijin, as the IJA Air Component had yet to be worked out.

Unless, of course, they decided to use that Dominionite SSN that was trailing them? Fortunately the inter-coastal survelliance control centres hadn't been stormed yet, and they were still getting a live feed. But he didn't think the Dominoes would be that stupid...

<Send a message back, telling him that we have no Flag Officer on board, and remind him that the current troubles are strictly an internal affair. When will we be in range to General Kentabo's Headquarters?>

<In two hours.>


Flag Planning Cell, Lord Fairfax

Vizeadmiral Barley swore.

"He's going to make it to Kentabo's headquarters."

"Sir," The Staff officer said cautiously, "There's still a chance. We can order the Flounder...."

"I'm not going to order a hundred and ten men to their deaths for a one-in-a-million chance of getting the admiral, especially when by now they HAVE to know we're trailing them." Barley paused. "Any change of status with our package?"

"Hideki Shroomjo is making his big appearance in New Sumatra now."

[Ryan Thunder]

The Citadel, Mirakar, Miratia

Ryan finished his day by adding to his journal;

Nothing of consequence happened today. Asshats.

Exhausted from arguing with representatives, he fell asleep almost instantly. Another goddamned unproductive day.

[PeZook]

FASTA bulletin

FASTA to propose cargo partnership with MSA?

Certain officials have reported to the Bulletin that negotiations are currently underway concerning supply and logistics challenges to be overcome in order to make colonization of space a reality. While details are still scarce, apparently FASTA wants to co-fund and operate a fleet of Eagle Transporters along with an international cargo transfer station in low earth orbit.

Initial studies indicate that the Canissian-designed Eagle Transporter currently boasts a propulsion system with unmatched specific impulse ratings of all spacecraft in operation today ; Thus, ferrying cargo from low-earth orbit to lunar surface could become much more economical if cislunar transfer is performed by those vehicles, with launches from Earth surface done by heavy boosters.

Silver Shrike evaluation completed

The initial evaluation by FASTA officials of the Silver Shrike SSTO aircraft have proven positive, although the Funding Comittee is still determining whether or not the spacecraft will enter service as a reuseable alternative to the "Large Selene" capsules currently performing the role of FASTA's primary orbital shuttlecraft for personell.

"It is an impressive aerospacecraft. However, Ralson Aerospace is unwilling to release essential details about its performance characteristics, and it has so far only completed a single mission to low earth space. Especially in light of competition from Tupolev, it is FASTA's belief that we should wait and see if this new technology proves to be as revolutionary as it seems.", said a Funding Comittee official during an interview with the Bulletin

Camp Lem construction on schedule

Defeating crticism of the project, Camp Lem construction crew is reporting steady progress,exactly according to mission schedule. No unforeseen complications have arisen since the landing of the construction crew, and mission controllers are confident the first phase of construction will be completed as planned.

Camp Lem: The future

Camp Lem, located near Selene's equator in a region named the Sea Of Reason, is planned to become the largest human settlement of our biggest moon.

Permanently manned, the base is planned to house at least fifty people by 2025, inside well-protected structures, using the lunar soil for protection against radiation. It will recycle its oxygen and use nuclear power for heat generation and to extract and crack water into essential materials - rocket fuel and breathing oxygen.

At the same time, advanced automated deviced will survey the immediate area for natural resources. Camp Lem's two primary purposes are scientific research as well as industrial development, processing local materials in order to expand the base, and in the future, construct spacecraft locally.

Case study proposed for interstellar mission

The Moon and Mars are both targets for colonization. However, FASTA researchers are convinced that before long, technology will mature enough to allow for an attempt at an interstellar mission.

A series of case studies are being run as to the feasibility of such a program and its technical requirements. It has been reported that many world leaders from both alliances are very interested in those studies.

[PeZook]

Prime Noir

City of Bulgan, Khitan

Samuel Hancock Robertson Ostenfurt Ogilvy Martencock III snapped his photos dutifully. He was a proud man, a true professional and boon to His Shroomanian Majesty's Secret Service - or at least, he liked to think so. The alternative required facing the sad truth - that his unwillingness to compromise on such irrelevant details as maintaining a proper Shroomanian accent and always introducing himself by his full name ruined any chances of lieutenant Samuel Hancock Robertson Ostenfurt Ogilvy Martencock III ever receiving an assignment that would actually require him to spy on people that were not supposed to know they were being spied upon.

Confronting this fact would be painful, so the good lieutenant chose the only reasonable alternative.

He decided to live a lie.

His immaculate tux and classy Asston Martin had their uses, though. The Mongolians Khitanese widely regarded Shroomanians as pompous fools, and Samuel Hancock Robertson Ostenfurt Ogilvy Martencock III's style was a useful tool in reinforcing that opinion. He often received assignments in high profile areas when the local Shroomanian embassy really needed to do some actual spying elsewhere. Preferably very, very far away.

This day would seriously question that policy, as the good lieutenant dutifully and not very covertly snapped photos of Bulgan's fishing harbor, careful not to miss any superficial detail that might prove important later. The two white people and a teenage Mongolian Khitanese boy leaving one of the boats were just such a detail, and Martencock made sure to snap a goodly amount of photos of the pair.

It took him a few minutes to realize where else he's seen the man's face before, though, which again called his competence into question.



Orena, Royal Palace

"Jesus...", Paul muttered to himself, putting away the mission report, "I can't believe it..."

"Yes, sire. The political implications are going to be severe, hence why I strongly suggest all files on the operation be sealed untill..."

Paul raised his hand, cutting general Kulinsky off in mid-sentence. He rubbed his temples, staring at the dry, official language of the report spread in front of him.

"No. Not that. I meant how captain Nalecki died..."

"I see...", the general said cautiously. He was worried about his King's mental health for some time now, and it appeared his fears were not unfounded. He carefully searched for the right words, "Sire, it had to be done. The captain knew this as well as me and you - had the Egyptians managed to capture him and make him talk, they'd have proof of the perpetrators. That would mean war."

There was another period of uncomfortable silence. Paul and the general were the only people in the room.

"I realize that", the King finally said, quietly, "But this doesn't make it any easier, now does it?"

"Sire, if I may...I've been there. I've felt the same way about the men under my command, and God knows I sent many men to their deaths. I hope you do not take this the wrong way, nor consider these words me overstepping my bounds...", the general took a breath, looking at his King, trying to see if he went too far already or not, "...but you are loved by your people. They will follow you precisely because you care about each and every death, because it is obvious you appreciate the responsibility you were given."

"He ordered his subordinate to kill him. I'd have never asked that of anyone..."

"And this is why his sacrifice meant something, sire."

Paul put his glasses back on and looked the general in the eye. Deep inside his soul, he berated himself again, You didn't despair so much after that incursion into Sjenska, did you? How many people were killed there again?, but managed to thwart the misery. If only Agatha was here to support him...compared to what he's had to endure on both New Earths, his old life with all its troubles seemed trivial and utterly mundane.

"I want the captain's family to be well taken care of.", the King finally said.

"Of course. It's been standing policy for three decades now. They will get a good pension, and any help they need."

"I also want the entire team to receive the Medal of The Valiant."

"Sire, we can't do that...we'd have to invent a citation."

"Then do so!"

"With all due respect, it is unwise. First, it will immediately point foreign intelligence operatives to these men, and we risk compromising the secrecy around the entire operation. Second, it will endanger them personally, as well as their families."

"Monetary reward, then?"

"They won't take it. We've already asked, they all declined. They did have one request, though."

"Anything they want."

"If we locate Karic, they want to be a part of any operation that brings him in."

"Done."

Private dock outside Bulgan, Khitan - one day later

"Can we do it?", Shroom wasn't convinced. The captain was helpful, but it was Shroom's understanding that a boat was something bigger than a single-masted sailing yacht without an engine. Ana looked just as skeptical.

"It's been a while. On the upside, nobody's going to bother searching it, we'll just look like crazy foreign tourists.", she said, inspecting the yacht closely. It was actually pretty well maintained. Closer inspection revealed it even had basic navigational equipment.

"It smells inside...and how are we supposed to sleep on those cots? Fold in half?"

"Do you want to get out of here or not?", Ana replied, sticking her head out of the cabin. She scanned the quay instinctively, "Oh, your little friend is coming back."

"Awww...you actually like Yesugei? Could we adopt him?"

Ana rolled her eyes and dived down into the cabin to inspect the mast.Talking to Shroom made her do that more and more often.

"Will they want it back?", she asked from below the deck after a while, "It must be worth some pretty penny to a Khitanese owner"

"I think they might want us to pay for it."

There was silence, before Ana stuck her head out again, "And you're telling me this now? How do you even know? You don't speak Khitanese"

Shroom shrugged, "No reason."

"For fuck's sake, I'll..."

Ana raised her hand, preparing to throw a wrench at Shroom, but Yesugei interrupted her violent plan. He hopped onto the boat from the quay and put down a large bag of groceries he spent the last few hours buying.

"Here you go, angry lady! Supplies for the trip!"

"Uh...thanks, Yesugei", she put the wrench down and pulled herself up to the cockpit, "I need to talk with the owners."

"I'll go with you!", Shroom offered immediately, "I'll charm them with my dry wit and oddball humor!"

"Oh, for...fine, whatever. Yesugei, you watch the boat.", Ana put on her jacket and jumped out onto the quay, "Anything happens ,you come running, okay?"

"Sure thing, angry lady!"

"And stop calling me that!"



Damascus, Syria

"I am going to accept your offer.", the prince said, putting down his cup of tea, "I certainly hope you're not going to double-cross me", he added, with just enough of a threatening tone.

"And why would I want to do that?", Karic replied ironically, "I'm not the one trafficking in sex slaves."

The word seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and the previously relaxed atmosphere suddendly got very tense. The prince almost didn't betray anything, which Karic thought was rather admirable.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Cut the crap", Karic rose suddendly, prompting the Prince's bodyguards to twitch, "I know everything about your shady dealings with The Ring. Did you take me for that much of a fool? Letting myself be surrounded by your secret police, staying in your palace, offering you a deal of a century? All without having some sort of ace in a hole? Oh please."

The prince studied his opponent carefully. How much did he really know?

"Everything. I said that already.", Karic leaned on the coffee table, "So, you see, you don't really have a choice. You will cooperate, and cooperate fully, or the other princes will see the photos and the documents and the witness statements, and you will be fucking beheaded. And that will be the end of it, you sick fuck."

For a brief moment, the prince thought about ordering his bodyguards to execute Karic then and there for his insolence. But rational considerations won in the end: if the man really had evidence of his operations, Issam would first need to make sure it never saw the light of day.

So he put down his coffee with a much steadier hand and got up.

"Fine. You will get my cooperation."

Karic smiled, reminding the prince of a shark, "I am glad you're a reasonable man. Peace be with you, noblest of princes."

Issam bin Mahmoud al-Herat, Syria's most powerful prince, simply left. To be humilitated, in front of his scurity details, by this peasant from the Border States?, he thought to himself, Not for long. Not if I can help it.

Private port outside of Bulgan, Khitan

There was obviously something wrong in this little house. It was obvious from the moment we entered through the door, and saw the keettle whitsling on the stove. Like a whine of a hourt dog, but no owner in sight.

The sound complimented the overwhelming stench of blood, which hit us with equal ferocity. The owners of the boat, a kind older couple, lay there, in their living room, in pools of their own blood.

Death was in the air on Khoi street. We had to act fast.

"Get back!", Ana shouted as the first Japanistani emerged from the living room. She reached for her pistol - taken from another Japanistani at the boarding house, but before she could pull it out, the man jabbed her with a stun gun. Another one helped his friend wrestle her to the ground.

A chair suddendly smashed into his head. Shroom screamed and whacked him again with what was left of the cheap piece of wooden furniture, before a third Japanistani managed get through the commotion and jab him in the solar plexus. The former prime minister doubled over and collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain.

The brief silence was interrupted by a blood-chilling scream. Ana used the brief distraction, and having recovered somewhat from the stun gun shock, managed to bite off an ear off one of her captors. His buddy tried to finish handcuffing her, but she headbutted him and managed to stand up - just long enough to get brutally punched in the face. By the third Japanistani.

Shroom managed to pull himself together, though, and he underdcut the man's legs. Wrestling with him on the ground, Shroom could feel the hard shape of a pistol under his opponent's shirt. He reached for it, and despite the Japanistani struggling and trashing about, managed to grab the gun and pull it out.

A shot rang out in the cramped space, filling it with acrid smoke and the smell of fresh blood. Shroom's Japanistani stopped struggling, and the suddenness briefly made the other two stop wrestling with Ana. One reached immediately for his gun - and soon learned this to be a mistake, when Ana kicked his legs from under him and the other to the ground. She finally managed to get her pistol from the ground, and executed both remaining Japanistanis coldly, with shots to the head.

"You alright?", she asked calmly, helping Shroom to his feet.

"Uh...no...Jesus, this hurts..."

Ana spat out some blood, "Yeah", she took another look at the entire scene. One of the Japanistanis groaned in pain, so she shot him again.

"Fuck!", Shroom screamed, seeing this, "Why did you do that?!"

Ana ingored him, checking the bodies of the family that lived inside the house, "They murdered the boat's owners. Looks like they tortured them while they were here.", she muttered, then got up, "Goddammit! We got too careless. Come on, let's go."

Shroom took a break from obsessively trying to wipe blood from his hand, "Where?"

"The boat, for God's sake!"

"Oh, Jesus...Yesugei!"

They both ran out, as if chased by the Devil himself.

[Lonestar]

The Lord Protector's Quarters, Williamsburg

"It's going to be tight." Lonestar said. "But, I think we have it." With a sigh he sank into his easy chair and rubbed his head. Won't be long now...

"Babe." Lady Sterling said. "You need to stop this scheming."

Lonestar glanced at his wife. "Hon, it is my job to protect..."

"The country is as protected as it's going to get!" She said, suddenly sounding hysterical. "All these games...you're going to get us destroyed like the Reds did to the rock-chuckers! I want our son to grow up!"

Lonestar stared. "We've talked about this..."

"You put that lunatic in charge in Sirnoth, and now he's going to rule Japanistan. It's going to happen all over again. Don't you see, the Dominion has won. You're at the point where you're just scheming for the sake of it..."

"This," Lonestar growled, "Is giving me a terrible headache." He winced as he closed his eyes.

"Matt, I'm serious! Matt? Matt?"

Lady Sterling screamed.

Lonestar opened his eyes.



"Hello 'Lord Protector'. Ready for round 3?"

[Shroom Man 777]

PRIME MINISTER’S JOURNAL

Lightning flashed in the sky and for one brief moment night was as bright as day. The sound of distant thunder rumbled in the air shortly afterwards as rain buffeted the roof and waves rocked the ship. The ocean was a black expanse of foreboding darkness, an empty space of cold wet nothing - but when the lightning cracked you could see what was out there, see that the foreboding darkness was moving towards you amidst the black, that the cold wet waves were undulating and thrashing the ship and dragging it down under while you held on for dear life, fingers gripping the rails so tight that your knuckles went white.

The ocean would pick the ship up, with you screaming inside it, and swallow it into a gaping maw to depths unfathomed. Then there was nothing but the black.

Then you’d wake up afterwards and you weren’t there in the black anymore. It was replaced with light, and the night was over. The waves were calm, gleaming in the sun, and the ocean peaceful as though nothing had happened, as though it had been always like that and always would be. The ship was afloat and you were safe. It was morning again.

I laid on my bed, eyes closed, twisted and turned and screamed silently. I dreamed. I dreamed of her, that Mongolian Khitanese night in that apartment that had been fully reserved by the roaches. Men laid on the ground, twisting and turning, just like me – but unlike me, they had been put down by her and they were ruining the cockroached-carpeting with their sprawled forms and their broken arms and bleeding gums. I didn’t take my time to admire the scenery. We ran.

Out the backdoor, into the dark bad alleys while the evening sky grew darker than the night, and the rain came down like all the angels in heaven decided to piss at the same time. When you’re in that situation, you can only think in metaphors.

Lightning flash, flashforward, flashback. Salty smell of sea air mixed with coppery taste of blood, pooled under corpses of old man and old woman, grandma and grandpa. Salty smell of sea air mixed with coppery taste of blood, stirred with cordite as gunsmoke filled air. Casing rattled on floor.

Coppery taste of blood in my mouth and I looked down and saw the Japanistani look up at me with a very surprised look. He was very surprised that he was dead. I could see my own reflection in those deceased orbs, and I looked just like him. Taste of blood in my mouth, taste of brains, taste of donuts mixed with both aforementioned ingredients splattered into my mouth as bad men were executed before my eyes.

Vague tastes of vague memories.

I dreamed of her. I saw her walk, more like float or drift in the air like a leaf in the wind or a floating feather, and with gun drawn she shot the groaning moaning Japanistani, and the man stopped twisting and turning on the floor and he went still. Bleeding brain ruined the cockroached carpetry. This time, I did take my time to admire the scenery. Then we ran.

Again, but now there was no rain to wash blood on my hands or wash off taste of blood and brains and Krispy Kremes in my mouth.

I’ve seen death, felt it and tasted it like kissing a whore on her bleeding breasts. It felt so familiar, so strange yet so right, as though I’ve done it a thousand times. As though I’ve seen it, felt it and tasted it so many times.

Kept on running, keep on running. Heart beating in my chest reminded me that I still had a heart, that I was still more man than the machine I had become in another life, that I was still alive and the world was still with me.

I looked to my side and there she was, still with me. Pretty face etched by so much sadness, bruised by Japanistani face-punch, stained with blood sprayed from close-range executions, brown hair waving in the wind. She killed the men who came for me.

Now we were on the ship and we set sail for stormy seas.

I woke up from my dream.

Morning sun colored the ocean like blood. The waves were calm, gleaming in the sun, and the ocean peaceful as though nothing had happened, as though it had been always like that and always would be. But it wouldn’t be, not always. You were not safe and it would be night again. The black come as it always did. Would we wake up to another morning?

[PeZook]

PRIME NOIR

Shroomanian embassy, Khitan

The photographs lay there on the lighted table, surrounded by serious-looking men and women. The ambassador himself, a tiny man by the name of Cortez Shorbentock, was cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief, as if the people on these photos looked the way they looked because of a speckle of dust somewhere on the lenses.

When lieutenant Mastercock came back from Bulgan and charged right into the Ambassador's office, nobody seemed to believe his story. It was hard to blame anybody for that, what with him waving a memory card about and repeating "He's alive! He's alive I found him!" over and over again. His eyes were crazy, and the normally immaculate tux - sweaty and thick with dirt.

But eventually, they managed to get the story from him. The photographs were printed out, and as they moved through the embassy, they stirred up excited talk and frantic activity everywhere. Phones were left unanswered, important matters of state were left untended. An appointment with Khitan's foreign minister was cancelled abrupty, fifteen minutes before it was supposed to start.

They all gathered in the embassy's conference room. The highest ranking staff of the diplomatic mission, all the attaches and the ambassador himself. All stared at the couple of photographs laid out in front of them.

The ambassador has finally stopped obsessively cleaning his glasses, and put them back on with a trembling hand.

"I guess we have to inform Farbanti.", he finally managed to say.



Orena, Royal Palace

The news spread fast. Aides rushed through opulent corridors, one even knocking down an ancient suit of armor on his way. He managed to control his excitement long enough to knock on the door to the King's bedroom, but general Kulinsky just walked right past him, unceremoniously charging into the King's inner sanctum.

Paul couldn't sleep, again. He stood up from his armchair, where he spent the last few nights staring aimlessly at the sleeping city. Something important had obviously happened.

"Sire, we've just received word from Farbanti. Prime Minister Shroom is alive and in Khitan.", Kulinsky said.

There was a brief silence. Paul stared at the general, wondering if he didn't doze off without realizing it. This had to be a dream, right?

"What?", was the only word he managed to utter.

"A Shroomanian intelligence operative has accidentally taken a photo of him in Bulgan...it's a city on the coast", he added, seeing the King's confused expression, "He was, uh...in the company of Ana Midzic."

"What?", this time the question was born less out of drowsiness and more of sheer surprise, "She's alive?!"

"This is correct, sire. We've lost their trail for now."

"Are you sure it's not an impostor? A lookalike, perhaps? A lost body double?"

"We can't be sure, but the photograph is an exact match."

Before Paul managed to ask another questin, Karol came running, almost bumping into the general. Both men stared at the intruder, the King still trying to work out the implications of what he just heard. Just then, he was hit with another bombshell.

"Karic is in Damascus, sire. The Byzantines are attempting to pinpoint his location now."

This knocked Paul back into full consciousness. His hands clenched into fists and he could feel blood rushing through his veins again. Finally...he remembered Agatha's face, grey and lifeless, barely visible from under the machines keeping her alive. She was still in critical condition, still under life support, the doctors were still fighting for her life.

Shroom was alive, and Karic was about to pay for his crimes. It finally looked like the King was about to have a good day again.



Damascus, Syria

"You are aware, of course, that this meeting must be kept an absolute secret?", the man demanded. His counterpart, sitting opposite of him in a quiet private room at an upscale Shisha bar, nodded slightly.

The person worried so much about his secrecy was no other than prince Sallam al-Ibani, son of Syria's economic minister. He was approached a couple of days ago by Byzantine intelligence officers with an offer about prince al-Herat. An offer too good to refuse.

"I understand perfectly.", the Byzantine officer took a small sip from his tiny cup of coffee, "The matter is most delicate."

"Of course. I was told your government had an offer."

"Yes. The Empire is most concerned about the state of Syria's internal affairs. We understand that one of the most powerful princes in the ruling family has become...problematic."

"This is correct. He holds control over the police and intelligence services, and uses it to shield his disgusting activities.", the Syrian looked around, as if worrying if the secret police was about to burst into the room, "Anybody who tries to oppose him, disappears."

"The Empire wishes this situation to be rectified, and offers our assistance in the matter."

"What precisely do you propose?"

"We will...remove...al-Herat from power, acting completely from the outside. The ruling family will not be involved in any way, thus making it impossible for the police to counterattack."

"You cannot pull of an assassination without internal assistance..."

"Yes, we can. It's just a question of the right amount of firepower."

The words hung heavily in the air, as the Syrian tried to imagine what he was about to agree on. The Byzantine took another sip and shifted slightly on his pillows.

"What we'll need will be information on al-Herat's location on the planned day. The ruling family will, of course, need to choose a person who will be able to quickly take control of the police, and the intelligence apparatus following his death. Otherwise, we risk throwing the country into chaos."

Both men stared at each other for a few seconds. The prince himself knew that the plan could have disastrous consequences if it was revealed to the people. To the ruling family, it would be even worse: assassinating one of their own? By Byzantine hands?

Just a few months ago such a scheme would be unthinkable.

"What guarantees do I have that the Empire will keep their end of the bargain? I risk everything by agreeing to your proposal - indeed, just by meeting you."

"Honored prince", the Byzantine officer leaned a little bit closer, "You don't really have much of a choice."

[Siege]

Supersonic jet, approaching San Marin

“Mike, I don't know what was in those reports but you have to be mistaken. He can't be alive. I was there when the yacht went down. I was at his damned funeral!” Sidney Hank wasn't taking the news of the Prime Minister's reappearance very calmly. It had been the event that had sent him over more than one edge, and now it turned out it hadn't happened?

Sensing his boss' bewilderment Michael MacBride shifted uneasily in the posh seat opposite the former president. “Sir, Shroomanian intelligence has photographs of him in Khitan. Unless the Prime Minister had an evil twin brother it's got to be him.”

“But if he's alive, then why didn't he..?”

MacBride made a throwaway gesture. “Working theory is, believe it or not... Memory loss.”

Sidney blinked. “Memory loss. Seriously?” His bodyguard nodded. “That's preposterous.” His bodyguard nodded again. “That's the working theory?”

“That or an evil twin brother.”

The former president groaned. “The Old Continent is killing me.” He shook his head. “What about Paul's daughter?”

“Still missing. Sir, we'll be landing in San Marin in an hour. Unless you want to blow this off?”

“No, no I'm fine. The OC can handle it.” Sidney took a deep breath and looked out the window across the Pacific below. “Let's go buy ourselves another country.”

[Shroom Man 777]

SHROOMANIAN SECRET SERVICE FUNGAL FOTOS



Prime Minister Shroom (left) spotted in Khitan with Ana Midzic (right)!

[PeZook]

PRIME NOIR

The Mediterrenean

The screams are torture, worse than any kind of physical pain. I hear them now, every time I go to sleep. When I close my eyes, I can see their faces: men and women, twisted with pain, or staring accusingly. They reach out to me, clawing at my hands, calling out my name. I try to explain, protest, deny - all for naught.

Deep inside my soul, I know I did all that. I am guilty of everything they accuse me. I can't deny it. My hands carry their blood, their suffering and my own sins.

Sooner or later, they will drag me into hell with them.

Then again, I'm headed there all by myself.

"Good morning, angry lady!", Yesugei's voice was painfully cheery, as he stuck his head inside the cramped cabin. Ana woke up to the smell of fried eggs, with just a hint of ocean breeze mixed in. Still disoriented, it took her a long while to remember where she was.

"Uh...good morning..."

"Didn't sleep well? No worries, no worries! Breakfast almost ready!", Yesugei exclaimed, seeing Ana's state. Not that any of them looked very good: they didn't have a single change of clothes with them, and Shroom's initial bout of sea sickness could still be smelled throughout the boat.

"Eggs again?", Ana asked, after getting herself into a state somewhat resembling order. Yesugei stared at her accusingly.

"Well, excuse me! Should I hop over to the store and get some chicken?"

"Smartass. Where's Shroom?"

"Who?"

She mentally cursed herself. If the prime minister learned who he really was, he'd bring the SSS on their heads before she could have a chance to get at Karic.

"Uh...you know, the guy...", Ana kicked herself again. How come she never asked Shroom what his current name was?

"Oh, Mr. Sparrow?", Yesugei said helpfully, "Above. Playing pirate."

"Huh?"

"ARRRRRR!", Shroom bellowed, hopping down into the cabin. He was wearing an improvised eyepatch, "Avast, mateys! Hand ov'r yer eggs an' pickles and fair maid'ns!"

"Jesus christ...", Ana rolled her eyes, "He's been doing that the whole time?", she asked Yesugei.

The boy just shrugged, getting back to the frying pan.

"Anyway", Shroom said, taking his eyepatch off, and serving himself some eggs, "The night went well. I kept the course, but I have no idea where we are."

"Let's work it out", Ana seemed grateful for the temporary relief from Shroom's pirate act, "Get me the charts"



Orena, RIS Headquarters

It wasn't a usual briefing. Military discipline and protocll wasn't in force, and the RIS officers conducting it didn't even wear a uniform. The large conference room was overpacked, with more than fifty men attenting.

Despite appearances, security was tight. The room was located deep below the headquarters building, surrounded by guards and electronic systems. And for good reason: what was being planned there was an intrusion on national sovereignty - the most heinous act possible in international relations.

All countries did it before, of course, but none of them wanted that knowledge to come up within the next several decades - hence the secrecy.

"We are, at this time, unaware of Karic's precise location. Analysis of signal traffic data obtained by intelligence sources indicates that he is within city limits, and CATO assets are attempting to locate him now.", the officer droned on, "After insertion, you remain confined within the embassy untill national command authority gives the go-ahead for the mission. You will receive another briefing at that time."

"Can you tell us anything about what to expect? What kind of resistance we may face?", came a question.

"At this time, we possess no precise data. We expect opposition to consist mostly of Karic's inner circle, and possibly Syria's internal security forces."

"It's a good thing you're telling us about that now, after we asked nicely", Fiszerski commented from his front-row seat, "Sir.", he added.

"This information is unconfirmed at this time. Do not make any assumptions based on it.", the officer shot Fiszerski a threatening look.

"Attention!", a shout near the door interrupted the briefing. Everybody in the room instinctively sprung to their feet, only then looking at the new arrival.

"Sit down, please", Paul said, entering the room. He walked across to the speaker's podium, traced by surprised looks. The briefing officer moved aside, making room for PeZookia's sovereign.

"I think I said you could sit down?"

All the occupants looked at each other crossly, as if a spell just broke. There were some shuffling noises as they all took their seats again.

"Thank you. I won't be long - pretty much came here to wish you all good luck.", Paul began, obviously not having a speech prepared. He paused for a bit, composing the next sentence, "You are going after someone who is probably the most dangerous man alive. The suffering he caused throughout the world is immeasureable, only shrouded by historical figures like Joseph Itler. Whatever bad thing happens to him, he fully deserves it."

Paul cleared his throat. Ironic as it sounded, he never quite managed to become a good public speaker, not without prior preparation, "But you all know that already. You also know that I have a personal stake in the matter. The man tried to kill me, and president Shady, one of our most trusted allies, and a good personal friend of mine. What you don't know is that he was also responsible for nearly killing my wife, and abducting my daughter."

There was little visible emotion in the room, at least the normal kind. A pale face here, an angry expression there. Most of these men have already suspected as much.

"There is another thing, though. This information was not yet released to the public. My daughter was shot, personally, by Karic a few hours after the Tri-Cities attacks. I heard the gunshot myself, when he called me to gloat about it."

Paul paused for a bit, looking at the assembled soldiers, "I do not take pride in what I am about to say. I know it is petty, and I know this isn't how it should be done. I know revenge does not solve anything. But I want the bastard dead. This is not an order - but if we locate him, and he does anything, if he even flinches, if he smirks or says anything, I want you to take no chances. If you can't extract him, or fear he might escape, he is to die. That is an order."

"I wish you all good luck, and godspeed."

Paul left the podium, and calmly walked out of the door. The atmosphere inside the briefing room seemed to cool a couple of degrees, as angry stares were exchanged. Most of the men here had no families, but they had friends who did, and there was no image more outrageous, more gut-wrenching, than a calm execution of a toddler.

"What are we waiting for?", lieutenant Kralewski hissed at the briefing officer, "Let's get this over with and get going."

Mediterrenean

"So, we'll land by nightfall?", Shroom looked over Ana's shoulder. Yesugei was topside, manning the rudder.

"Yes.", she answered, lost in thought. They'd need a lot of luck to avoid patrols in Syria's territorial waters - they managed to do it once when leaving Khitan, but she had serious doubts over it working again.

Shroom looked at the charts for a while, then sat down on one of the cramped bunks inside the cabin, "Can I ask you something?", he said, much more solemnly than his usual self.

Ana stiffened, "Yeah. Sure.", she didn't turn around.

"Why are we going to Damascus?"

She expected as much. She made up several lies already, but couldn't bring herself to actually say them. She had no idea why - she's been using Shroom from the beginning. Perhaps it was the guilt, or maybe Katrin's memories had a greater impact on her than Ana was willing to admit.

She turned around, slowly, and looked Shroom in the eye, "Because I need to meet someone there", she finally decided on a half-truth.

"Who?"

"A certain man. I need to find him..."

"Why? Is he that important?"

She remembered the burning mosque, and the screams of people inside. She remembered the children, laying dead in their beds. She remembered Nadia, bleeding to death on a cold, concrete floor. She remembered screams of terror, and the endless parade of dead people visiting her every night. She remembered the prisons, too.

Murderer, they whispered in her ear in unison.

"Because", she managed to say, choking down the tears, "I have to put things right again, and he's the key to that."

Murderer!

"Ana...I have to know. You're asking me to risk my life, and I don't even know for what..."

MURDERER!

"He killed my family, okay?", she spat, "He killed the only people who cared about me! Burned them alive!"

MURDERER! LIAR!

She covered her ears with her palms. Tears streamed down her cheeks, as she tried to silence the accusing inner voices.

"Hey...wait, I'm sorry...", Shroom leaned over and took her hands in his, "Stop...don't cry, please...it's going to be okay..."



LIAR!

She couldn't hold back any more. She broke down, right in front of the only man who trusted her now - and who she cheated and used, like all the others before her life as Katrin. Like her sister. She cried, holding her head to hit chest. Shroom let her, holding her tightly.

"It will be fine. You'll see. It will be fine. We'll get the bastard."

He wiped her tears away and look her in the eye, "I promise you. We'll get the bastard, and your friends and family will be able to rest at peace."

She nodded, her face a far cry from the confident woman from just a few days ago. The voices seemed to fade, burying themselves back into her subconscious.

They stared at each other for a few moments, and then, surprising each other and themselves...



They kissed.