2014 STGOD Story Thread I

[Force Lord]

NOTICIAS TELEVISION GRANADIANA

Welcome, this is Television Granadiana! We bring you urgent news!

There have been major protests at our capital, Padrid, as well as other cities, emerging after President-Caudillo Videla's speech regarding the current financial crisis. Riot police have been deployed to contain the unrest, but it remains to be seen whether these measures are adequate. There are unconfirmed reports of violent clashes between provocateurs and police, leaving several injured.

In other news, terrorists in league with the separatist Vasquian group ETA set off a car bomb near the Guardia Civil HQ at the provincial capital of Bilboa, killing 4 guards and wounding a further 3....

[Eternal_Freedom]

Free City of Cali
March 2nd, 2014

The man was still standing at his hotel window, watching the city in exactly the same way he had been since the first roar of warplanes had awakened him. He had been sustained by strong tea provided by his teammates and of his iron will to not fail in his duty.

The city was chaos. Sporadic gunfire could be heard, along with the crackle of burning buildings. Cars raced along the roads in seemingly random patterns, but to one as trained as he it was clear that various drug cartels were moving against one another.

Finally, his watch ended and he moved back into the room. As was customary for teams from his agency, none of them used names, only numbers. The man didn't even know the real names of the others, but he knew that they had undergone the same brutally intense and effective training as he had years ago.

Officially, his organisation had no name. No one in government, from the Ministry's to the Senate to the King himself would ever publicly admit their existence. Unofficially, they were known simply as "The Service;" they were the epitome of the old quote about "rough men standing ready to visit violence on others" so that those at home could live in peace. Carefully chosen as men and women with no family and no other commitments, they trained in secret for years to eliminate threats to the Kingdom. Whilst the 6th Commando Division got the glory, and the more-secretive SAS got the rumours, it was The Service that got their hands dirty.

His team had been following up leads on the AVALANCHE group that attacked Hephaestus and where some members of that cell had ended up. The eco-nuts had been traced, eventually, to Cali. They were, of course, already dead and disposed of, but they had revealed information about where their funs and weapons had come from. Specifically, from some of the cartels in the area. So, the man's mission was not yet done.

Most intelligence teams would have discreetly contacted their controllers for further instructions, but that was not the way The Service worked. They simply moved on to tackling this new threat. The plan was simple yet effective, as all good plans were. Begin identifiying the mid-level operatives of the cartel and eliminating them. It was easier to do than taking out the leaders and ultimately more effective, with no middle men the orders of the leaders wouldn't be passed on and the footsoldiers would be leaderless.

All the better that a cartel turf war was breaking out to be used as cover.

[Siege]

Heading north | La Independencia
Santa Elena, Free City of Cali

Dust and smog clogged the stunningly blue sky as Jared Silver turned the battered Traverse pickup onto La Independencia highway. The din of traffic and the stink of the exhaust assaulted his senses. The radio sputtered nothing but garbled transmissions and weird Spanish melodies. He was back in Cali again, and he hated every minute of it. The last time he'd been here it hadn't gone well for him. Or, it had insofar as he'd made it out alive and in one piece. The 'not so well' part was that the Castor Cartel raided his apartment, killed the contacts he'd spent three long and hot months developing, and put a bounty on his head. He'd caught the midnight red-eye back to San Dorado in the nick of time.

It had been, in a word, embarassing. Silver didn't like to be reminded of it. In fact he liked to live his life pretending that Cali didn't exist at all. But that was difficult when your boss told you to go there and breathe in the dirty air. Unfortunately the Rampart Group didn't employ many hitmen familiar with Cali and even fewer who spoke Spanish, so when Jackie the Saint said the matter was important and he had to go, that was the end of that particular discussion. So there he was behind the wheel of a banged-up pickup, hopped up on caffeine from those tiny little espressos his hotel bar served.

Less than a week ago a stunning, red-haired Caucasian woman had been spotted in Santo Miguel, talking to some seedy types Kalahar state security had kept eyes on for some time. The pension for a Kalahari spook wasn't much to write home about, so many of them complemented their income by selling secrets on the Exchange, San Dorado's infamous black market for weapons, drugs, information, you name it and they sold it. That's how Rampart knew, and that's why Silver was here.

Normally one woman wouldn't be cause for San Dorado's biggest crime group to send one of its expert assassins all the way across the big pond but this was no ordinary redhead they were gunning for. Her name was Chandra, Chandra Gosely. Rumor had it she'd once been a shot-caller in the NSIA and that she'd had an affair with some Cascadian president back in the late nineties. That was before she'd fled North America to escape a slew of high treason charges. Now she was a weapons trafficker, a good one, maybe the best there was.

She'd also picked the wrong team. Gosely was a key supplier to Lucien Uriel Vargas, the leader of Los Tiburones, a cartel trying to make violent inroads in Sprawl territory that Rampart Group considered its own. Gosely had access to a seemingly endless supply of guns and explosives, and she supplied Vargas with enough of them to make her a real nuisance. The game plan then was simple. First, find the guys she talked to and have a friendly conversation with them. Next, depending on what they knew and said, either bag Gosely himself or call the Cascadians and have them do it. Either way, collect the bounty and hit Vargas where it hurt all in one go.

Of course plans only got you so far, Silver knew. Gosely was highly skilled at not-getting-brutally-murdered, as evidenced by the fact that she was still alive to begin with. And he was still in fucking Cali, a hive of a million killer ants at the best of days.

Silver passed a rusty old van and turned off the highway, navigated the hectic city traffic past the Arch of Victory only to be nearly cut off the road by a trio of sleek black suburbans. The SUVs careened onto the road and raced off in the opposite direction at breakneck speeds, blasting 'shoot to thrill' from open windows as they went. He recognized the logo on the door. Stormbrink Security. Mercenaries – oh, pardon, private military contractors. Those assholes were everywhere these days. Back in his Sprawl days they'd loathed those trigger-happy fuckers, and most of the people he knew in the Group shared the attitude. Gangsters at least tried to be discriminate in their violence. There were codes. Contracts. Mercenaries just shot at everything that moved. He had no idea what Cali wanted of them.

Cool it Silver, he mouthed and looked at himself in the mirror across the rim of his sunglasses as he burnished his hair. You're a smooth motherfucker now. Cold as ice. Fast as lightning. Besides, rumor had it the mercs had miniguns mounted in those bulletproof cars of theirs. He glanced at the silenced carbine on the passenger seat. That was way more firepower than he could muster. Still, Silver wasn't expecting to need any; he would only meet one of the Kalahari's, do some local reconnaissance and see if he could find someone who'd recognize the faces on the photograph he had in his jacket. If that netted anything he could-

A dull rumbling reverberated across the city. It could almost pass for distant thunder, except the skies were clear and Jared Silver had been around long enough to recognize the sound of an explosion when he heard it. In his rear view mirror he could see a great plume of smoke rising over the city. For a brief moment he flashed back to 1982 and Paradigm Security had just begun bombarding Short Bluffs.

Then he came back to his senses and realized the explosion had come from the direction of the viceroy's palace – and that the mercenaries had set off in that direction before the explosion had gone off. In the rearview mirror a thick column of black smoke began to mushroom away above the city rooftops. Sirens kicked in all over the city. Silver muttered a silent curse. He had a sinking feeling he'd just got mixed up in a mess that was quite a bit more complicated than he'd bargained for.

[Steve]

Seattle Post-Intelligencer

Director, surviving cast to open special 30th Anniversary HD release of "The Bomber"

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA - Director Wolfgang Petersen and Oscar-winner Reginald Radcliffe have gathered the remaining cast of the 1984 movie "The Bomber" to celebrate the movie's theatrical re-release in HD format. The Rhenish director and New Britonian actor worked together with the movie's original international distributor, Columbia Pictures, to remaster the movie's original footage for high definition. "I think it is well worth it," Petersen said to reporters at the announcement. "The message of 'The Bomber' is one that should be told to every generation."

The movie, which depicts the career of a single bomber in the Britonian Royal Air Force's notorious Bomber Command in the Great War, was originally released in the summer of 1984 to critical acclaim and box office success, winning awards in Cascadia and Rheinland. Praised for both technical achievements and acting, it was one of the top movies of 1984 in Cascadia and topped the box office in Rheinland, where it enjoyed widespread success despite the controversial nature of its sympathetic depiction of Britonian bomber crews and support personnel.

Petersen has long defended his depiction of Britonian bomber crews as necessary to the anti-war message of the movie. "The war and the men who ordered it turned ordinary men into murderers. I believed the story of the Britonian people who were sent into the skies over Rheinland was one worth telling." The movie's depiction of the crew's missions and how the bomber raids took their toll have been lauded as some of the best in cinema. Petersen and writers Johann Lieben and John Mackelroy used the memoirs of Britonian, Cascadian, and Klavostani bomber crews to help form the scenes in the movie, including the graphic on-screen suicide of the character Jack Littleton (played by the late Peter Andrews).

The re-release is scheduled for an international premiere on April 4th. Petersen and Radcliffe will attend the world premiere at the International Theater in Hollywood two nights before with the rest of the movie's cast. A special commemoration is planned there for late actors Hugh McDonough and Peter Andrews, who died in 1992 and 2005 respectively.



Bombings in Cali prompt new travel warnings

CITY OF CALI - A series of bombings in the city-state of Cali have resulted in an upsurge in criminal violence, prompting new travel warnings by the State Department. "Cartel and mercenary violence in Cali have escalated since the bombings of March 12th," the warning reads. "The safety of Cascadian citizens cannot be guaranteed." The Cascadian consulate in Cali has gone on alert should violence spread to the Diplomatic Quarter of the city.

Kalahari officials deny that the Kalahari Republic Air Force is responsible for the air strikes. Local Kalahari forces have gone on alert should any of the forces in Cali attempt retaliation attacks on Kalahar.

In reply to a query from reporters, Defense Department officials stated, "There are no plans to deploy any forces toward Cali at this time."



San Diego protestors gather at Klavostani war prize museum to oppose President's invitation to Premier Khorsandi

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA - The Stalwart Party chapter in San Diego brought in three thousand protestors to the Prophet Ossory Museum to oppose President Penton's decision to invite Klavostani leader Khorsandi to this year's Victory-in-America celebrations. The protestors lined up along the dockside for the last surviving Klavostani dreadnought, seized as a war prize after Klavostan surrendered in 1946. "The President has shamed us all," chapter chairman John Lopez declared. "An enemy of freedom cannot celebrate the triumph of freedom."

The Ossory has been a favored cause for the Stalwarts in recent years. Since 1992 the dreadnought has been a point of controversy, with the People's Republic of Komradistan repeatedly calling for its return and all efforts by the Cascadian government to initiate return deliberations being blocked by lawsuits and protests supported by the Stalwart Party.

[Eternal_Freedom]

Free City of Cali,
March 4th, 2014

Things were going rather well for the team from The Service. With the last of the AVALANCHE cell eliminated, the drug cartels had become the target, especially after the first captive had revealed that some of the cartels planned to expand into Orion and the Protectorates soon. This was something that The Service could not allow.

They had discreetly sent word to their controllers of this information. No reply had been received, that was the way it was done. The team merely continued their efforts. Today was the next step; based on what they had learned from the first captive, they knew that five mid-level operatives from that particular cartel were meeting in a quiet, out of the way restaurant owned by the cartel. This was a fatal mistake; had they met in a more public, crowded place, the team would have needed much more complex methods to eliminate them. In private, with no innocent bystanders around, they were free to use less precise methods.

Five minutes after the cartel members began their meeting, one of the team entered the restaurant via the back door, after the thug on guard duty had been quietly dealt with. The man slipped through the kitchen, not being noticed despite the heavy pack he was carrying. Five more minutes of sneaking and he was behind the restaurant's bar, just a few metres from the cartel members.

He listened quietly, they were still making small talk so there was no point waiting around to listen. He very quietly set the pack down in an unobtrusive corner. He reached into the top pocket and flipped a switch. The fifty kilos of high explosive were now armed.

He began the slow journey out, keeping one hand on the detonator just in case. Getting out proved easier, the kitchen staff were all busy making lunch for the drug runners. He cleared the back door and began to walk nonchalantly down the alley, lighting up a cigarette as he went.

Two hundred yards and two corners further on, he pressed the detonator and blew the restaurant and the drug runners to hell.

[Fingolfin_Noldor]

Catholic People's Daily of Ferramentagrad

Mixed Reactions to Bankruptcy of Granadian Government

Rumblings within the Central Apparat were mixed when the news of the bankruptcy of the Granadian government broke. Most were not surprised by the announcement as it was long known that the fascists were notoriously corrupt and insular and had systematically run the economy down over the past decade. However, far from mere glee, many within the Central Apparat voiced weariness at the prospect of an unstable Granadia and what that might mean for the region. One source indicated that conflict would most likely not affect the UOCSR and that the UOCSR would no doubt take advantage of any instability within Granadia, but the economic effects will always not be reckoned with until they actually arrive. Regardless, the Cabinet will no doubt monitor the situation closely.

Ministry of Foreign Affairs indicates that it will send a delegation to the anti-terrorism conference

A spokeswoman from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs indicated that the UOCSR will send a delegation to the anti-terrorism conference in Orion.

[Siege]

Cafe Revolucion | Avenida De La Provincia
Santo Miguel, Free City of Cali

The Zebu rumbled down the Avenida De La Provincia and the crowds parted obediently before it. It was an armored six-wheel behemoth, resistant to damn near anything, designed as a protected patrol vehicle for San Dorado's mercenaries in rough and tumble parts of the world. Cali certainly qualified. This particular Zebu was painted matte gray, with the barbute helmet logo of Knight Errant Ltd. spray-painted in white on the doors.

The massive and imposing vehicle came to a halt. Doors swung open and soldiers streamed out, wearing high-tech body armor and assault rifles. In their middle was a tall uniformed woman wearing a steel gray beret and a hard expression. She exuded an air of command as her troops muscled away the handful of cops trying to control the scene and stepped into the ruins of what had once been the Cafe Revolucion.

Colonel Sunday Summers took a look around. There wasn't much left of the small eatery. High explosives had ripped a two meter deep hole in the ground and blown most of the tiny restaurants to bits. And not just the restaurant: the explosion had caused catastrophic damage to every house in a 100 meter radius. Two dozen people were dead, from the explosion, from debris or from the fires that had raged in the aftermath. Scores more were badly injured. But that wasn't why she was here.

"Excuse me, but this is a police zone," said a tired-looking man. He was hunched over some debris but looking at Summers. His uniform identified him as a city police inspector named Garsea. "You cannot be in here."

"You're not in a position to tell me where I can and cannot be," Summers said. There was no arrogance in her voice. It was a simple statement of fact. Cali's rich and powerful did not trust the highly corrupt police, depending instead on contractors like Knight Errant for their safety. After the truck bomb attack on the Viceroy's Palace the city government had retreated into safe compounds guarded by the PMCs. In a way, in the middle of the chaos gripping the city the mercenaries were the authorities. "How many were inside when the bomb went off?"

Garsea sighed. "Hard to tell. Not much left. But one of them was a police informant. Perhaps you do not think much of us colonel, but there are some who are trying to do what's best. Lieutenant Alfaro was one of my best undercover agents. Now he's dead, and I can't even offer his widow the small comfort of a proper burial."

Summers narrowed her eyes. "Did Alfaro say how many people he was meeting?"

The police inspector shrugged. "Four, he said. From the La Estacado cartel. They would discuss a shipment of weapons. He said this would be a safe meeting, the cartel owned the restaurant." Another sigh. "So much for that."

"You're not the only one that's lost an informant." The colonel rubbed her chin. "One of those four men worked for me. Knight Errant flipped him just over a year ago. We were making good progress towards identifying the middle and upper ranks of the cartel. And now this bullshit happens." She gestured at the ruins that surrounded them. "I don't like it when people fuck with my operations, Garsea. Any idea who's behind this?"

The inspector let his gaze drift through the bombed-out ruin of the restaurant. "Someone with access to high explosives." He shrugged. "But that could be half the city. Honestly colonel, I don't think we have the means to tell what happened here. The city is a war zone right now, it feels like everyone is fighting everyone. This morning I heard rumors that the ELCK is advancing on the city. I had to pull strings just to be allowed to come down here and have a look. We don't have the manpower to investigate this."

Summers nodded. "That clinches that then. I'm commandeering your investigation. You better get in touch with your superiors Garsea, and tell them that you're the new acting liaison to Knight Errant. My people will run their crime scene voodoo, and with any luck we can get a trace on the explosives. We're gonna get to the bottom of this. Because nobody blows up my people but me."

[The Romulan Republic]

Coulson hurried down a mostly empty street toward the address Agent May had discovered. He watched and listened carefully for signs of danger. Unfortunately, the address was in one of the most violent parts of the city.

May had wanted to go with Coulson, but he had vetoed that idea- his partner had been working overtime tracking down the evidence they needed, and sleep deprivation made for sloppy work. Which could get you killed in this line of work. Still, he had to admit that he would have appreciated some backup.

[Eternal_Freedom]

Free City of Cali,
March 4th, 2014

The man from The Service was relishing the weather, it was quite pleasant for this time of year. Of course, the fact that he was lying on a high roof made it even better. Then a message came through on his radio and he snapped back to his task.

"Target leaving the hotel, moving west on the main road. Green trousers, white shirt, black backpack, red baseball hat."

The man scanned the street in front of the hotel until he saw his target. "Acquired. Taking the shot."

He carefully adjusted his aim for the wind and gently pulled the trigger. The heavy rifle kicked fiercely but the man kept his eyes on the target.

The heavy .50 caliber bullet made a truly horrible mess of the target, who was almost certainly dead before he hit the floor, his chest a shattered mass of skin and bone.

Up on the building, the man quickly disassembled his gun and packed it back in his bag. Time to move on tot he next target.

[The Romulan Republic]

Coulson ducked and took cover behind a car when he heard the bang. His right hand grasped the gun beneath his coat. He watched the area, but he saw nothing and heard no more shots. He rose and moved down the street once more, but more cautiously this time. A couple blocks further he saw the body in front of the hotel, mutilated by what was probably a powerful sniper rifle. A crowd was gathering. Coulson approached the group, adopting a persona of a panicky tourist.

"What happened? I thought this part of the city was safe!"

[Siege]

The Crownwork, Knight Errant HQ
Green Zone, Free City of Cali

Colonel Summers initialed the file and closed it with a snap. Enough paperwork, she thought, pushing aside the notion that she'd just signed orders that were going to get a lot of people in the city killed. As long as it wasn't her own people, that was fine. She leaned forward and hit the intercom switch. "Show him in please, lieutenant."

The door opened. Silver entered, still dressed in the slacks and shirt he'd worn when her men picked him up in Santo Domingo. Summers studied him, noting the easy, slow-seeming movements. In her youth, before her promotion, Summers had fought everything from Sprawl gangsters to endless Sankaran brushfire wars against communist insurgents and their 'advisors' from overseas. Her trained eye understood how quickly that seeming nonchalance could explode into violence.

Without being asked, Silver slumped into the padded armchair in front of the desk. "Please, do take a seat," she said sardonically. Silver smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. A less hardened woman would have found it frightening.

"What do you want, Summers?"

"It is Colonel Summers."

Silver's infuriating smile widened. Then suddenly he wasn't smiling anymore. "I am not one of your mercenary bootlegs, Summers. I don't jump up and click my heels when I see a uniform. I am not your subordinate, and I never fought for you shitlicking corporate hirelings. I don't have to call you anything."

Summers suppressed the glare. Silver was trying to annoy her. And he'd almost succeeded. Summers forced an easy smile. It would never do to let a piece of insubordinate sprawlscum like Silver get under her skin. "As you wish, convict."

Silver grimaced. Obviously I have scored a point, Summers thought. She had quite the file on Jared Silver. She knew he'd done time for larceny, kidnapping and assault. She knew he'd made new friends in prison. That he'd fallen in with Rampart Group after his release, that he'd graduated to murder for hire, and that he was very good at it. She even knew that in his capacity of hitman for the mob he'd done work for Sibyline-Hargreave, the corporation that also owned Knight Errant, even though Silver didn't know at whose behest he'd been killing at the time. Many in South Ward thought the crime syndicate was run by heroic outlaws defying the establishment. In reality, Jackie the Saint ran just another corporation. Summers allowed herself a small surge of satisfaction. So far, the interview had gone just as anticipated. Silver was playing into her hands perfectly. Yet again, meticulous preparation was the key to success. "So you know about that, do you, Summers?"

"I know everythging about you, Silver, from the size of your boots to the name of the guy you killed in prison. Da Silva, wasn't it?"

Silver grimaced again, as if Summers had touched a very raw nerve. Excellent, she thought. The more worked up he is, the better. "That is why I find you so predictable, Silver. That's why my people knew where to find you this evening. Hotel Alejandria - because of course an aspirational man like you would stay at a five star hotel."

Silver glowered. "What do you want? You didn't have four of your goons drag me all the way up here just to tell me how well you know me, did you?"

Summers steepled her fingers. "There's been quite a string of killings all over the city, Silver. Most of them sloppy, drive-by shootings, grenades into cafetarias, that sort of thing. The usual for this shithole. But inbetween there's been a some that peak above the white noise. Snipings. Bombings. Professional jobs, all ends tied up. The targets were members of La Estacado and Castor cartels. Now you might think what gives? It's a crazy world out there. But we have this fancy thing called social network analysis, and according to our boffins it's looking an awful lot like a third party is assassinating key members of both cartels to rile them up, goad them into a full blown war. And lo, Jared Silver, hitman for San Dorado's biggest syndicate, just happens to be in town."

The hitman made a dirty face. "You think I did it." It wasn't a question, so Summers simply crossed her arms. "Well, I didn't." The colonel raised one eyebrow. "Bombs and rifles are for amateurs, Summers. It might sound like efficient removal to you, because you're used to thinking in terms of strafing runs and artillery strikes. But even in a hole like Cali those bombings got your attention, yeah?"

Summers gave him the smallest of nods. "Go on."

"Bombs are difficult, they're messy, and they draw attention. And sniping someone sounds like a good idea - but only if you have a sniper on hand." He gestured to her desk. "You have my file. Does it say 'trained marksman' in there? I bet it doensn't. Because I don't work that way. No-one I know in my line works that way. Know why? 'Cause it's a stupid fucking way to work. Professionals get in, do the job quietly, and get out. They don't make a spectacle of it. Spectacles draw attention. What you're talking about is not a professional solution, it's a soldier's solution."

"I see." Summers clasped her hands and looked out the window as she pondered the consequences of what the hitman had said. Armored trucks were lined up across the Knight Errant compound. A gray helicopter was coming in for landing on top of the Crownwork. Across the city, plumes of smoke rose to the sky. "That begs the question, why are you here?"

Silver frowned and considered that question for a minute. Then he shrugged. "What the hell. Word is, Chandra Gosely is in town."

Summers' eyes widened slightly. It was as close an expression to surprise as she could ever manage. "You surprise me, Silver. I did not think that was possible."


FLASH FLASH FLASH
KNIGHT ERRANT COMMANDERS IN CALI AREA:
-- LEVEL I FETCH ORDER FOR P.O.I. [GOSELY, CHANDRA]. TARGET IS ARMED & DANGEROUS. PROFILE APPENDED.

-- HUMINT INDICATES FOREIGN ASSETS PURSUING INCITEMENT OF CARTEL WARFARE IN THEATER.
PROFILE & PURSUE. LOCAL AUTHORITIES HAVE AUTHORIZED DEADLY FORCE.

-- ARTEMIS HAS ISSUED RELEASE FOR LEVEL IV ASSETS. DRONE AND SATELLITE SURVEILLANCE NOW IN EFFECT.

REMEMBER: BUY SIBYLINE-HARGREAVE STOCK AT 5% OFF, EXCLUSIVE EMPLOYEE OFFER EXPIRES THIS WEEK

[The Romulan Republic]

Coulson completed his brief examination of the scene of the shooting, then continued toward the address he'd be given. He couldn't be certain, but the shooting looked like a military job, and his instincts told him the shooter was an outside player either hired by or acting against the cartels. His first thought had been San Dorado, but he knew it would be foolish to assume that.

Reaching the address, a small, filthy apartment, Coulson knocked on the door. After a minute, a panicked voice replied.

"Stay back, I'm armed!"

Coulson raised his hands.

"My name is Tom Wilson. I represent the CNC corporation. I have an offer for you. It could prove quite profitable."

After a few seconds, the door opened, revealing a wide-eyed young man holding a revolver. He gestured for Coulson to enter. Taking a deep breath, Coulson stepped inside.

***

Meanwhile, in Corona, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs announced that the vice president of Shinra would be visiting Corona from March 25th. to March 30th.

[Siege]

SS Maria Eck | Bay of Indore
150 km off the Lothal coast

The tramp freighter Maria Eck had a long and eventful journey behind it. The ageing ship had journeyed from Rheinland via the Americas to Shinra, had then crossed to Umeria, circled around Champa to Hakistan in a years-long quest for profits off the spot markets.

Its owners, an small but old and respected Rhenan shipping company from the city of Großbremen called Reederei Jansen KG, had now ordered it onward to Coromandel and San Dorado. In order to make the trip from Hakistan around the Vedic peninsula in time however the captain was forced to ignore the universal notice to mariners not to approach too closely to the Lothal coast.

In the not too distant past Lothal had been home to thriving port cities and a vibrant hinterland rich in agriculture and tourism. But twenty years of battering by continuous tropical storms had wrecked the nation, scattering hundreds of thousands of Lothali refugees across the peninsula and turning its once-thriving coastal cities into abandoned and partially flooded husks of their former selves. Now, the tropical shores of Lothal were known for their ravagers and piracy, with more vessels hijacked and ransomed each year. Pirate skiffs ventured farther and farther onto the oceans, supported by motherships and flying boats.

The ransoms paid by shipping companies for the release of captured ships and their crews allowed the pirates to purchase increasingly sophisticated equipment on the international black markets, feeding a vicious cycle of progressively worsening oceanic banditry. And now the Maria Eck was feeling the effects. She was far from the first ship this year to find itself under attack, but she was the first to be succesfully captured, her small crew unable to fend off the lightning attack by highly trained and heavily armed pirates. But they were still not so fast that the captain could not get a mayday off on radio, as well as a distress message on DSC and Marsat-C.

"This is the SS Maria Eck. We are under attack by armed pirates. Our position is..."

[madd0ct0r]

The message was picked up and echoed the coast. At the Champan naval port Dic Wava a messenger cam sprinting across the parade ground, past the techno music blasting as servicemen tended the flowerbeds and ran up the stairs to the Commander's office as fast his new boots would let him.

"Sir! Sir! Vedic Pirates!"

The commander took only a few moments to study the paper and compare the location with the pins in the map on the wall. The closest frigate was anchored off the apex of the Hakistan-Champa EEZ intersection scaring fishermen. It would be more then a full day's sailing, and through Hakistani waters at that. The border may be thawing, but avoiding provocation remained the master order. On the other hand, if Champa didn't step up to it, the Hakistani's might not either.

He ordered the ship to prepare to move on, and started the long phone up the chain of command.

[The Romulan Republic]

Captain Adelaide Fox stood on the deck of HMS Monarch, one of the most prestigious ships in Corona's navy. She smiled as she felt the bright sun, the cool wind, and the spray from the sea as Monarch slid through the waves. She told people that she had joined the navy because of her grandfather, but that was only part of the truth. She loved the sea.

A voice came over her radio.

"Captain."

"Lt. Cook?"

"Yes sir. We've received a distress call from a vessel claiming to be under attack by pirates."

"Location?"

"We're still trying to determine that."

"Full stop. Continue your efforts to locate the vessel and inform Admiral Mercer about the situation."

[Siege]

Rusalka | Bay of Indore,
898 miles north of Hakistan

The Nightfall commerce escort Rusalka cruised over the nearly mirror-flat Bay of Indore at a sedate 10 knots. The reason for its placid pace drifted beside it: the SANDEX Seawise, a 1,500 feet, 350,000 metric ton ultra large crude carrier moving just over two million barrels of oil from Hakistan to the Acheron Black Creek refineries in San Dorado’s North Ward.

The operations room of the Rusalka was a triumph of modern high-tech, a maze of computer consoles and sonar, radar and lidar repeater displays, edge-lit transparent plotting boards and communications equipment. Officers moved quietly and efficiently through this cathedral of technology. Large screens flush-mounted in the walls showed real-time camera imagery of the ocean outside, to obfuscate at least a little how deeply entombed within the ship the men and women in the op-room really were.

“Sir?” Lieutenant Sancious asked, unsure if her captain had heard her earlier report. “Sir, the Rhenian freighter?”

Arkan Ismail did not immediately respond. The pale, slightly unworldly captain sat hunched up in his chair intently watching the tactical display, seemingly unaware of the activity elsewhere in the operations room. Finally, after long silent seconds, he blinked and looked at Sancious as if he’d only just heard her. “We have a duty of care, lieutenant. That ship,” he said and pointed at one of the large screens. “That tanker, cost $120 million dollars.” From the point of view of the camera, the SANDEX Seawise was simply an unending wall of steel drifting a few hundred feet starboard parallel to the Rusalka. “Its cargo is worth $188 million. Would you explain to Miss Cortlandt and Mister Danzig how a third of a billion in assets was blown up by RPGs, because we gave chase and weren’t here to do our jobs when other pirates arrived?”

Sancious’ face turned ashen. “I… suppose not.”

Ismail slowly inclined his head. “Indeed. The Rhenians are unfortunate, but they took their chances. Let’s not follow their example. We are here for a good reason. These waters are unsafe.”

“But if we do nothing,” Sancious objected, “they will become even more unsafe. This is not war. Not yet. And there are people who need our help. We could assist. We could break radio silence.”

The captain steepled his fingers and looked at the lieutenant like he appreciated her in a new light. “I see. You make an argument for the old codes." He locked his pale eyes on hers. "Very well then. Deploy a drone to track the Rhenian ship. And launch a helicopter to communicate with other warships in the vicinity. Rusalka can coordinate with them, for as long as we are in the Bay of Indore.”

[The Romulan Republic]

Captain Fox watched the empty horizon as the tension increased on the bridge of HMS Monarch. A freighter had apparently been attacked, but they had yet to locate it. Monarch's helicopter was conducting reconisance to find the vessel. Meanwhile, the squad of naval commandos all vessels conducting anti-piracy operations carried for just such a situation were being readied. Captain Fox hoped they wouldn't be needed.

[Eternal_Freedom]

Free City of Cali,
March 5th, 2014

The plan was working well. The handful of assassinations, each carefully planned to give the impression of an impromptu cartel-ordered hit was working wonders. The two cartels were on the cusp of full-on warfare. Naturally, this was the ultimate goal of the team from The Service. If these two cartels began an all-out war, then inevitably other cartels would either become involved due to collateral damage or would move in to take advantage of the two cartel's weaknesses.

That this would inevitably lead to many civilian bystanders being killed was not considered by the team. After all, they had their objective to accomplish, and the casualties would not be Orions, or citizens of the Protectorates, or even citizens of the Kingdom's handful of allies. In the long run, the casualties and chaos of a multifaceted drug war were acceptable losses.

The final act was about to be played out. The restaurant bomb had used explosives that could be trivially traced to the second cartel. The sniper attack used ammunition easily traced to the first cartel, making it look quite clearly like a revenge hit. The four separate killings that had followed upped the stakes. Now, the seventh, final and highest-profile assassination would take place.

For the first time in this operation, a high-level cartel member was the target. It would not be the second cartel that apparently carried out the hit though. It would be a third, smaller cartel, trying to take advantage of the situation.

The man was riding in the bed of a dump truck, driving around the city streets. Cali had always had a background of mild chaos, but now it was reaching a fever pitch. Sirens screamed, occasional gunshots echoed, and those on the streets walked quickly, not making eye contact with others. He was waiting for one specific car to appear. The senior cartel members knew better than to drive big flashy cars, but that did not help them against The Service.

There, just down the street, the (relatively) nondescript SUV had pulled into the lane next to the dump truck. The moment had come. He hefted the rocket launcher, threw back the tarpaulin covering the loadbed and took aim.

The rocket spat from the truck and struck the SUV's windscreen. Those inside barely had time to blink before the anti-tank warhead detonated, blasting a jet of copper plasma into the cabin. Whilst the occupant's death was quick, it was far from clean. The mercenary company's forensic team would not have an easy time deciphering this mess.

[Thanas]

IRNS Delphin
Approaching Port Rigel
15th February 2014

The whistles announcing the arrival of the ship in Orion territorial waters were loud enough to cut through the ringing in the ears Fischer had suffered from ever since the late-night flight from Rhenania nova to the mighty Battleship. Well, as much as flight was appropriate to this. Trip to hell and back would have been a better description., he remarked as he recalled the details.

First, he had taken advantage of having a wife who just happened to be the test pilot of the newest Rheinland jet. And then he had immediately regretted the choice. Because while the two-seat version of the Kolibri had been just as fast as advertised, it was also far away from providing any of the creature comforts he would normally get from travelling in an airplane, especially not with a 40kg weight in his lap - a weight that might wake up before the calculated time and not take kindly to being taken flying. Thankfully, that possibility had not manifested itself.

The lowlight however had been a hard carrier landing where only the fear of looking silly to the sailors manning the massive RNS Lictor had prevented him from losing his lunch. From there it had been a bumpy heli ride to the RNS Derfflinger and then another bumpy boat ride to the RNS Delphin, followed by a dangerous ascent to the main deck of the massive Superbattleship. Despite having theoretically known how large the IRNS Delphin was, boarding the massive ship's side in the dark was not something he had been prepared for. And somewhere along the way he had acquired a tinnitus and a terrible headache, which had turned his mood into something dark. At least his wife had been able to accompany him, leaving the Kolibri under Black Guard protection on the lictor. Still, here she was forced to just be another Schwarzgardist, standing at a respectful distance behind him.

If Fischer's mood was dark, Shadow's mood was terrible. The leopard clearly had not appreciated being sedated and then flown halfway across the world only to wake up on a steel ship that would not accommodate her paws. Right now she was lying on a mattress next to the Admiral's chair on the bridge (where Fischer was sitting) and looking daggers at anyone but Keiko who dared to come close.

Nevertheless, here they were. Two superbattleships, the Derfflinger, one destroyer and three frigates as escort. A total of almost 300.000 tons of warship tonnage.

"Sir, we are approaching the Orion EEZ." Fischer nodded. "Very well, Admiral. Proceed."

"Jawohl, Herr Kanzler. Signal to the fleet to assume parade formation."

Slowly, the ships moved forward, the two Narwal-class frigates taking the lead whereas the Schwertfisch-class frigate and the Tümmler-class destroyer dropped to the back of the formation, forming a line reminiscent of the old line of battle. The Derfflinger formed up behind the two terrible sisters, as as the Britonian Navy had dubbed them.

And what terrible sisters they were. The first (and older) one was the IRNS Delphin, in the opinion of many a battleship enthusiast the finest battleship ever built. A massive hull measuring 345 meters, with a 43m beam and 11 meters of draft carried the massive 12 18"/52 guns in four triple turrets. A side armor of 19 inches with deck armor of 9 inches of solid Rheinland steel - and turret face armor of 26" - added up to a total displacement of over 120.000 tons.
Despite the size, her lines gave her a majestic appearance.

IRNS Delphin at calm sea

Her sister Elisabeth was much the same, except for swapping the 12 18"/52 guns for 8 20"/50 guns, the heaviest ever installed on a battleship. And yet, despite both of them being able to achieve 30+ knots, they were totally obsolete - and had almost been obsolete from the minute the Delphin had been commissioned. In the case of Elisabeth, only the fact that the ship had been 60% complete with all weapons being ready for final assembly had saved her from being cancelled. The opposition had loudly denounced them as Meier's follies back then, not seeing the wisdom in a ship that exceeded the size of the closest peer competitor by nearly 40%.

Though to be fair, Delphin had functioned very well as a damage sponge, her soaking up 17 torpedoes and over 20 bombs preventing the total rout of the Rhenish fleet at the first battle of the River Rhine. And they had functioned very well during the invasion of Nippon, only their guns (and that of the other battleships and battlecruisers of Rheinland) preventing the invasion fleet from being mauled by the Japanese battlefleet during a stormy day when flight operations were impossible.


IRNS Elisabeth aiming her guns at Imperial Nipponese Ship Mutsu, IRNS Delphin firing the deadly blow at Yamato in the background

Still, it was undeniable that the era of the old big-gun battleship was over. One only needed to look at the RNS Derfflinger , which, although being little more than a quarter of their size, could probably sink twenty Delphine without ever suffering one hit in return.

Heck, even one of the Narwal-class frigates - though they were primarily AA ships - would easily sink both Delphin and Elsabeth. Now the two mammoths were just relics, but relics that had one last mission before them. This was their last big cruise before their last marriage to the sea ceremony and then decommissioning.

A fact that did nothing to lighten Fischer's mood.


Results:
- Rheinland arrives in Orion to sign the proposed treaty.

[Eternal_Freedom]

RONS John P. Wallace, Port Rigel Approaches,
15th February, 2014

As the Rhenish ships approached in their impeccable parade formation, King Alexander, along with Prince Samuel and Admiral of the Fleet McKenna waited upon the bridge of the Battle Division flagship. The whole Division was turned out to greet the arrivals. With pennants and ensigns flying from every staff available, the decks and superstructure polished to perfect and the ship's companies turned out in dress uniforms manning the ship's sides, the five great battleships looked magnificent.


RONS John P. Wallace leaving Port Rigel
They represented the pinnacle of Orion battleship construction, but they were individually outmatched by the approaching vessels.

Despite the glory of the occasion, it was known to all aboard that this would be the great ships last hoorah. The age of the battleship had long passed, and even the sentiments of the Royal Orion Navy could not hold back the future. For that too was approaching; following in the wake of the giants of the Old Age came the heralds of the New. The namesake of Orion's future battlecruisers, the sublimely beautiful Derfflinger herself.

The three dignitaries on the John P. Wallace's Flag Bridge watched the radar plot, waiting for the moment when Orion would officially welcome the Rhenish Chancellor, as had been previously agreed. Then, the moment came.

"Bridge, lookout three, Rhenish formation in sight."

King Alexander turned to his old friend. "Admiral McKenna, you may proceed as ordered."

"Aye aye Sire." The Admiral moved forwards and picked up the intraship phone. "CIC, Flag bridge. Begin gun salute."

The five ships swung their great turrets out to portside, avoiding aiming them directly at the Outlander vessels. Then, in a carefully planned sequence, seven guns thundered in the late summer sky, firing their blank charges, releasing a brilliant flash of fire and a roar that could wake the dead. After a short wait, another seven guns fired, and then a third salvo crashed out.

A twenty-one gun salute for the arriving Chancellor, an honour that was reserved for the King alone. Not even the President of Underwood or the various monarchs of Arcadia had received such an honour. It was the King's first gesture to the Rheinland leader that he was welcomed as an equal.

King Alexander turned to his son. "This is a great day son. History in the making. The leader of one of the world's Superpowers has come to Orion as an equal, to forge a new future for both our peoples."

"It is indeed a momentous day Father, but equals? We are hardly the equals of Rheinland."

"Nonsense my son. They are richer and their fleet is larger, certainly, but dollars and guns do not measure a nation's worth. We have scholars the equal of theirs, we have engineers and architects and scientists and historians of their calibre. More importantly, the Rhenish have a spirit, a fire in them that few others around Tellus do. They revere their history whilst not ignoring the future. They have great power but seek peace, they respect the life in the oceans more than anyone. They and we are of a kind."

The Prince considered that. "Perhaps so Father. They are certainly a fascinating people."

The three went back to admiring the great ships, now passing the line of battleships. Despite the honour of the gun salute, the flags flying proudly were not lowered in salute. Nor did the Rheinlander's expect them to be, it was well known that the Orion flag, and the Navy's ensign, was dipped for no-one, not even the King or the visiting Chancellor.

The King picked up the phone. "Signals, flag bridge. Send to IRNS Delphin: "The Royal Orion Navy bids you welcome to our ports. Anchor your ships in peace and disembark as friends." The traditional welcome dated back as far as the Navy, it was the time-honoured wording for visiting allies. And so the Kingdom of Orion began a new era.

Result:
Orion welcomes Chancellor Fischer

[The Romulan Republic]

It was fairly easy for Coulson to purchase the video. Coulson slipped out of the filthy little apartment within an hour of his arrival with the video in a pocket of his coat. It had cost him more than he had planned- the man who had had the video had demanded enough money for him and his family to leave Cali. Coulson hoped he had told the truth.

He could have haggled more. He knew he'd probably get an earful from May and his boss, but he hadn't really argued. For one thing, he didn't have the time.

"You have it?", May asked when he reached the hotel.

He nodded.

"Send it to headquarters. I have to call a contact."

May nodded, took the video, and walked away as Coulson pulled out his phone and called the informant to arrange a meeting.

[Siege]

Motorbike | Kr 51B, 557
Campo Valdez, Free City of Cali

"Target confirmed," Chalky murmured into the microphone hidden in his helmet. Immediately after the RPG attack the dump truck took off at high speed- or, well, as high a speed as a dump truck could manage in Cali's convoluted city traffic. Chalky's overpowered motorcycle had no trouble keeping up, leaving the annihilated, burning remains of the black SUV behind. Five blocks down the truck had to slow down at an intersection. Chalky slapped the tiny black packet on its back wheel cover as he swerved around and sped off. "Package is in place. Your play, colonel."

***

The Crownwork, Knight Errant HQ
Green Zone, Free City of Cali

People hustled back and forth, making last minute preparations. Wall-sized screens lit up the room with real-time view of Cali's labyrinthine street pattern, transmitted from drones circling above the city. The war room offered godlike control over Cali. From it, Knight Errant could manipulate the ebb and flow of the city, from bridges, gates and toll roads to individual traffic lights and cell phone towers.

"Colonel, all troops and assets are in position and holding. We are ready to begin phase two of the operation on your mark."

Sunday Summers gave Captain MacLerie a hard look as he stood across the crowded war room. Finding the foreign operatives in the chaos of Cali had been a challenge. They were clearly well-trained and knew how to stay off the grid. But Knight Errant had a lot more manpower, and the mercenaries had been in the city far longer. Some of the most sophisticated tracing software on the planet was developed in San Dorado, where it was used for shadow surveillance and crowd control in the poorer districts. Ubiquitous deployment of reconnaissance drones, a supercomputer hired from Coldstream Delta and 24/7 surveillance of known Cartel bigshots the math wizards at intel deemed likely targets for the shooting chain had done the rest.

Now the net was closing, and the foreign killers had no idea of it yet. Their vehicle was tagged. Three drones fed real-time footage of the truck into the war room from unblinking camera eyes. The city grid on the walls was overlaid with the locations of operational assets: blue for friendly, red for opfor. Blue outnumbered red by a very large margin.

Finally MacLerie got his green light. "Very well, captain," Summers nodded curtly. "Please proceed with all due dispatch."

***

Stormbrink SUV | Alley off Avenido San Juan
Campo Valdez, Free City of Cali

Sajra Linsky perked up when her headset came alive. "Talon, Union Flash. Green light. You are go for ROADWARRIOR." MacLerie's voice cut out as sudden as it had come, but Major Linsky knew enough. They'd gone over the next phase of the operation a great many times.

Her people knew the opposition was armed and dangerous, and that they might have assets nearby she did not know about. That's why her Archeus team was gonna hit fast, and hit hard. "Look sharp everyone, we're on the clock and on schedule. Target ETA two minutes."

In the drivers seat, Tursanay Hayao started the engine.

***

Avenido San Juan
Campo Valdez, Free City of Cali

The operation came together like clockwork. The dump truck was braking for an unexpected red light when Linsky pressed the button, and the tiny package of C4 Chalky had planted near the back wheels detonated. Two of the four back wheels blew apart in an instant, sending the heavy truck into a sudden out of control swerve, hitting the curb, and then flipping it over in the middle of the road. People screamed. Sparks flew. Steel shrieked as the overturned dump truck came to a groaning halt. Smoke rose up.

Then the roar of a heavy engine as an armored SUV pulled out of a darkened alley, a minigun swerving menacingly from its roof. The dump truck driver had slammed his head into the steering wheel and was still unconscious when the Archeus team dismounted and secured the scene. The man riding shotgun next to him was still dazed from the crash and opened his eyes only to look into the business end of a Stormbrink tazer. The third operative, the one who'd fired the rocket from the back of the truck, had not been strapped in. He was banged up to hell and back as a result, but he was still breathing.

"Target secure!" Hayao yelled. He dragged the man with the taser darts in his chest out of the cabin and tied his hands with tie wraps. Linsky nodded, produced a thin pencil from her battledress and flashed a green laser at the sky. Within seconds a Tempest helicopter marked with the white Knight Errant logo soared overhead, its blades whipping up a frenzied storm of dust and smoke. Five minutes later the bound and unconscious foreign combatants were on their way to the Crownwork and Linsky's team roared off at high-speed, miraculously encountering nothing but green lights during their exfil.

***

The Crownwork, Knight Errant HQ
Green Zone, Free City of Cali

Colonel Summers had clasped her hands behind her back. She hadn't much liked the idea of relinquishing control of the operation to someone else, but as the minutes ticked by and ROADWARRIOR came together with exquisite perfection she couldn't help be impressed. As the SUV and helicopter took off, leaving only the overturned dump truck in the middle of the street, she nodded slowly. "Remarkable. Fine work, captain. You may colour me officially awed."

Captain MacLerie brushed imaginary specks of dust off his formal khaki Stormbrink uniform and smiled. "It's a pleasure doing business, colonel. These folks were a pain in the proverbial butt of my company too." He gave her an inquisitive look. "If you don't mind me asking, what happens to them now?"

Summers shrugged. "Exfil and interrogation. They're trained professionals, so I doubt we'll get much out of them. But that's not my concern, and out of my hands anyway. My superiors want them shipped out before the day is done."

"Hmm-mm," MacLerie demurred politely. "Well, good luck with that. And if Stormbrink can do anything else for you, you know where to find me."

[Thanas]

(co-written with madd0ct0r)

Rhenania Nova
Embassy fo the Nation of Champa

The two Rheinlanders who entered the office of the ambassador bowed before the seal of office of Champa. One was tall and blond, the other handsome and dark, as it was typical and almost expected from the southern regions of Rheinland. The blond one spoke first.
"Your Excellency, I am Dr. Meier from the Foreign office, this is my colleague Herr Martin Dubois of the ministry of finance and economy. We thank you for granting us this audience to discuss further cooperation between our two great nations in the wake of the horrible reactor accident. In the interest of security, may we request this meeting to be held in your secure room to prevent...certain parties from hearing in?"

The Champan Ambaassador, a wizened man with an impressive hawk nose, conisdered for a second and then inclined his head, leading the way with a gesture. The secure room was a small study lined with painted and earthed metal sheet. Electricty was fed into the room via a single conduit that was checked daily for roach-phones. It was small, dark and uncomfortable. For this reason, Ambassador Muthith led them to the rear study with its bookcases and tall french windows. When Rheinland came to you with a proposal, it was wise to let your neighbours know.

"Your excellency, we have been instructed by Reichskanzler Fischer to offer a proposal to your most honored head of state, President Nambara Eka. We are hopeful that this will serve not only to help us both but also solve some...points of contention between our two nations."

"Of course gentlemen, please, do take seats? Champan Tea? Caffi? I will ask for a mid-afternoon platter to be brought up." Ambassador Munith smiled at the secretary hovering at the door.

After the two were seated and the usual small talk had been made (during which the ambassador learned that Meier and Dubois had so far had utterly unremarkable careers in their respective bureaucracies and that Dubois was married with one daughter on the way), they got to the heart of the issue. Again, it was Meier who spoke while Dubois leaned back and remained silent, his lips only moving to finish off one of the small cakes that had been served with tea.

"Your excellency, the Reichskanzler feels that the issue of whaling unnecessarily clouds the relation between our nation and the nation of Champa. Therefore, Rheinland is offering to compensate Champa handsomely in return for Champa agreeing to a total ban on killing whales and dolphins."

Ambassador Muthith blinked. The whaling issue had come up before, indeed, the presence of protestors outside the embassy was not unusual, depending on what emotional 'documentry' had been shown in the Rhenish Media. Compensation was a new tactic.

"The Reichskanzler has decided to offer the nation of Champa a deal that, so we hope, will benefit us both as well as bring additional peace and stability to the region. First of all, Rheinland will triple its yearly development aid to the total sum of 500 million of Rheinland Thaler to help the Nation of Champa to recover more quickly from the recent disaster as well as take its deserved place among the more developed nations of Tellus. To further accomplish this, Rheinland will offer more beneficial trade conditions for Champa's export business of foodstuffs and other products, most importantly rice, tropical fruits, coffee, tea and other products on which we might agree on. Rheinland would also offer some fishing rights provided Champan fishers comply with local Rheinland fishing regulations"

Munith smiled a small smile. "Your excellency, Rheinland takes its duties as marine caretaker very seriously. Rice and small fish, this is not the stuff development is made of."

"Your excellency, this is not all that we offer. We recognize that a nation has to be able to defend itself to be truly free from outside interference. We noticed that most of your Navy and air force, is....how shall I put it...."

"Decrepit, undertrained and underarmed", Dubois interjected, which caused Meier to throw a look at his compatriot. If Dubois was bothered by it, he did not let that stop him from devouring another cake with gusto.

"Yes, well. Leaving the unfortunate word choice of my colleague aside, Rheinland currently has several hundred of planes in deep storage which were deemed surplus to requirements. We also have several dozen of ships that are in storage as well. While they are certainly old - the youngest of them being 20 years old - they are not unservicable and would in our opinion be an upgrade to most of what your nation is currently using. Rheinland would be willing to transfer an not insubstantial portion of those forces - the exact size being determined after you have had the chance to talk to your superiors, of course. Rheinland would furthermore be willing to train your forces in the use of these weapons. As we just abolished the Luftmiliz, there is no shortage of competent pilots around as well should you chose to hire direct instead of indigenous forces. I am sure the Likedeeler and Landsknecht will be happy to oblige you as well."

Munith sipped at his tea, staring over the shoulder of Dubois. An arms race with Hakistan would be expensive, but an arms race where they had a head start... The Vedic states were drifting again, and serious consideration had been given to establishing a small naval base on East coast to ensure safety of shipping. Hakistan would be unhappy to have Champa ships on both borders, but that was less important then the unpredicatable San Doradans. In terms of airforce, the buffalo in the mud wallow was Umeria. They could afford to loose three planes to every one we could afford to field, but helicopters alone would be insufficent to protect an outpost or the plans for the Hinterland. The question for Champa was not what they could do for the country, but what could the country afford to maintain? His attention snapped back as Meier resumed speaking.

"Pardon me, excellency, but this is not the full extent of the offer. Rheinland would furthermore offer free access of Champan students to Rheinland universities providing they meet entry requirements. After graduation, Students would be offered the chance to work in Rheinland or to go back to Champa. We furthermore would be willing to grant a Gastarbeiter program to millions of Champans to work in Rheinland proper, with option to receive Rhenish citizenship after five years."

Munith leaned forward. "Now this is interesting, and a enlightened attitude I wish other nations shared. Pardon me for asking, but why? and why Champa? Unlike say, Ostrheinland, we don't have significant historial links to the Rhenish people."

"Your excellency, we-" Meier started to say, but Dubois cut him off. "We're tapped out." Meier tried to argue but gave up after Dubois threw a look at him that brokered no compromise. "In short, our Reichskanzler has decided to both help Ostrheinland develop and to rebuilt the south. My department believes that the population surplus of Ostrheinland, though they are breeding like rabbits, will be nearly entirely eaten up by the Wirtschaftswunder which we are projecting for Ostrheinland. Whatever remains from there will be needed for Rheinland proper as is already the case. Westrheinland meanwhile is most certainly not going to remain in the union with Rheinland unless some miracles happen and we don't account for those."

Dubois paused a moment to noisily drink his tea. "Now, this programme our dear Kanzler envisions for the south will create up to 10 million jobs in the short term and 80 million jobs in the long term. The construction industry alone will need to fill up to three million new job positions no matter how the rest of the process goes, whereas the manual labour required to rebuilt Rhenania antiqua with little use of modern machinery will measure up to a million as well. In short, if it works well, we will need up to a 100-150 million immigrants over the next fifty years. If it goes badly, we will still need 40 million to repopulate the south. We cannot fill that organically without requiring every woman in Rheinland to get pregnant or to start forcibly relocating people, both options that are not on the table for a variety of reasons."

Dubois crunched another cake between his teeth before continuing.

"Now, we already got million of fremurkans and calebonians lined up, but we would like to prevent the immigrant quota from becoming too reliant on those two sources. Given that you suffer from overpopulation it seems only natural that this might be a win-win scenario for both our nations."

"Your excellency, I think we can agree. I assume workers for the Rhenania Antiqua will need to be trained in the classical methods of your country? Stone-masons we may be short of, but young men, carpenters, potters and all of the old palace crafts, I think you can consider them at your disposal."

Results:
Deal struck between Rheinland and Champa, including the following terms:
a) development aid, mainly technology and money (~500 million)
b) access to markets of Rheinland proper. Champa will mainly export food in bulk, especially large quantities of rice, tropical fruit, coffee, tea etc.
c) Rheinland will donate some old ships and planes for Champa, numbers to be determined later on
d) Rheinland and Champa sign the following worker program:
- free access of Champian students to Rheinland universities providing they meet entry requirements (aka not being dumb). Students to be offered the chance to work in Rheinland under the option below or might go back to Champa
- A quota of several million Champians to work in Rheinland proper, with option to receive citizenship after five years or return home. (a larger version of this historic program)
e) Champa will receive some fishing rights in Rheinland territory if they comply with local regulations
f) Champa will ban whaling by the year 2018, allowing several years to implement it and to help the fishing industry to compensate. This ban would include some monitors by Rheinland to be stationed in Champa (but no military.)
g) Both Rheinland and Champa agree to put forth a good-faith effort in those programs.

[Siege]

Pentex Advanced Research Lab | 1553 W. Wagner Drive
Delta City, San Dorado

The vast expanse of white floors and high-tech mainframes had been off-limits to all but an exceedingly small, select and classified group of Pentex developers for two weeks now. Haris Kalvin was so absorbed by the sight on the monitors he did not hear the other man come in. When he finally did notice the heavyset man in his black suit he jerked upright and began to say something apologetic. Olyphaunt Yuu waved his apology away. The Pentex CEO bent over his shoulder and looked at lines of code shifting and changing on the flatscreens, a curious expression on his face. "What is it doing?"

Kalvin scratched his scraggly, gray beard. He hadn't bothered to shave in at least a week. "It's... writing again."

Yuu glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Writing what?"

The doctor sighed weariedly. "Itself."

"So it's still going." Yuu nodded slowly, a mixture of awe and excitement on his face. "How many?"

"Two more mainframes. It ignored my operational restraints. It's using the extra space as a... buffer array. It's writing behavioral subroutines... I think."

The CEO put his hand on Kalvin's shoulder and squeezed softly. "Good work, doctor. Good work. Keep me informed of our busy child."

[Force Lord]

La Granadina

El Periódico de la Nación Granadiense

Terror attacks in Lisbao!

Cowardly criminals in the pay of the MLNL have set off a car bomb at the Main Plaza of Lisbao, killing 10 people and wounding 9. The Guardia Civil is currently searching for suspects.

More arrests in Padrid

New malcontents had arrived on Padrid, spreading dissent and disobedience in their every actions. They accuse the government of "pauperizing the Granadian people" with the recent spike in taxes and the new wage squeeze, a questionable claim. Around 50 of these people have been arrested for causing disturbances in the public order.

No decision yet on possible default

Officials from the Ministry of Finance have downplayed rumors that a decision regarding a default is imminent.

"We have not been informed whether or not a decision to default will be taken in the next few days. Baseless speculation on this matter will only spread unease in international markets."

Businessmen caught smuggling foreign currency

Authorities have arrested several businessmen suspected of illegally sending out foreign currency from the country. The men are currently being transferred to the Ministry of Justice pending their trial, for as of yet undisclosed reason.

'Foreign spies' rooted out

The Ministry of the Interior has announced that it has arrested "several spies from a foreign country" that were disguised as janitors in the Granadian Air Force Central Headquarters in Padrid.

"We are still investigating just where these spies came from. The spies themselves are being interrogated, but tell nothing useful. The Air Force building is being searched for evidence."