Git yer shovel! [ATTN:Nova Cambria; Rushmore only]

[Achtklan]

It was a problem that had come up during that little spat called the Goose Sea Conflict - among other things. And while it wasn't in the nature of those ruling in Achtklan to start thinking about war plans, there was the obvious impediment to trade and traffic that had to be considered. At the present moment, there is only one way down to the Goose Sea and to points beyond in the South: down the west side of the Continent, and through the muddled masses of the Goose Sea. But what if there was another way? A more practical short cut than the Sargossan Trans-Branta Canal? Indeed, where could one design and install a new short-cut in the mass of land that clearly blocked international maritime trade from the north to the south, east to the west?

The solution came up once when the Trade Minister noticed that there was an opportune moment to dig a new canal.

"But who would be so crazy to do that?" Chancellor Hugo remarked.

"We would," the Trade Minister replied. "I've been doing my scouting with out various trade contacts, and it appears that we have one very good opportunity. There's a split of land between the mainland Brantaland this monstrosity of land that is largely terra incognita. Three largely stable countries that float in and out of existence - and the one we'd like to work in is the one called Nova Cambria and PBI."

"PBI?"

"Yeah, no one is sure what that means either. Some obscure island maybe? Or perhaps they ran out of peanut butter."

Hugo scratched his head. "Well, okay. Surely that's not why we want to deal with them, though."

The Trade Minister nodded as he zoomed the map on Nova Cambria. He focused on the middle part of the country where the capital was situated. "That body of water around Cambridge is navigable, and all of the water exists completely within the territorial sovereignty of Nova Cambria. It is entirely possible for us to build a canal from the Vaia Sea to the Goose Sea using this body of water as the termination point."

"Smashing. But how would we build this thing? We don't exactly have money to throw at this problem, and I'm pretty sure the Nova Cambrians would be upset if we just started to dig on their territory."

"Well, we've gotten a few companies to subcontract this job to. Luftwereld, that airline and freight company from Werland, and the RMC (Rajasthan Manufacturing Company) from Manusaya have agreed to team up to create a new company - the Nova Cambria Canal Authority, or NCCA for short. They'll provide the primary finances for this job, while we'll help them along with a few government grants to build this canal."

Hugo nodded approvingly. "But we'd still have to get the consent of the Nova Cambrian government as well."

"Not a problem," the Trade Minister. "We can get the Foreign Minister to send them a little request. We could tell them all of the good things that would come with this project - increased maritime traffic will undoubtedly bring other companies to Nova Cambria, their geopolitical significance will exponentially increase, and who knows, maybe they could grow Cambridge into a major international capital that people want to visit actually."

"You make it sound like they're a bunch of teapot hermits," Hugo remarked.

"To be fair, they really are."

"Well, we can't say that to them. It's not proper diplomatic tact."

The Trade Minister nodded again. "Yes, that's why we'd get the Foreign Minister to write the message."

"But the Foreign Minister isn't the brightest lightbulb in the box."

"Well, someone please write the message."

Hugo sighed. It was a fitting end to the conversation just as they heard some wild commotion down the hall. The noise peaked their interest, and they traveled to the door where they peeked out the keyhole. Through the tiny space, they observed a large band of wild and sauvage people trampling their way to the door. Within a few moments, they threw the door open and consequently threw Hugo and the Trade Minister back a fair distance.

"Oh dear," Hugo said. "Who are you people?"

"We are the people of Sofnikos Anaxaux!" the leader said. "And we're not sure what you are doing here!"

"Why?"

"This is our land. At least it should be, but it doesn't look at all the way we left it when we went on vacation. Some odd buildings, and the mountains are in all the wrong spots. And this capital is on the wrong side of the island! Maybe. We can't quite remember right now, it's such a dull fog that distant memory of yonder years..."

"Excuse me," Hugo then said, standing up. "But I believe you forfeit your claim when you went on vacation."

"Forfeit? So it's a fight you want then!"

"Not really," Hugo replied.

"Good, cuz there's 3 billion of us and only... 1 billion of you, I think." The leader of the Sofnikos Anaxaux group started to shoo away Hugo and the Trade Minister. "It's about time you got out and scat away. We've got some redecorating to do..."

"Look!" Hugo said, pushing away the shoo motions. "I know it's awful that you've just come back and found out you've been supplanted by some upstart group of colonists with a vaguely indistinct history, but we've kinda of already established ourselves right here."

"Orly?" the leader of Sofnikos Anaxaux said. In an instant, he reached into a little sack and pulled out a gigantic paper map. And he spent a good minute trying to unfurl it, but they all quickly discovered that the map was too big to fit in the room. Hugo sighed and turned on the screen of the map. The leader seemed uninterested and continued his search for the little tiny group islands on the Rushmore map. "I'll have you note that we were the first ones to overthrow the monotonous delegation of those Continental hogs, and then after a decameron of seasons, they decide that we don't exist anymore. But I'll wager you - we're still on the map."

"What?"

"Yes, right here!" The leader provided a hand glass to Hugo as he crept nearer to the center of a mass of paper. Sure enough there lay the islands, but inscribed "SFX" instead of Achtklan or something on those lines. He turned back to the electronic map, and zoomed in on the islands. Sure enough, they still read "SFX".

"Well, that can mean anything!" Hugo replied.

"No. It can only mean one thing. We were here, and we were here first. So here we shall remain. You guys have to skidoo, now!"

The Trade Minister interjected just as the Sofnikene leader was aiming his finger to the door. And with a fair sense of calm, he offered a solution. "Well, we'd like to move, but we're already established around these parts. Besides that, we've already filed the appropriate paperwork to establish this country here. So you'd have to unestablish us first. Quite frankly, you look to be men of action, and I'm pretty sure all that bureaucracy would bore you out, now wouldn't it?" He didn't wait for a response, although Hugo could already see the sense of repulsion in their eyes at the mere mention of the word "bureaucracy". The Trade Minister continued without interruption. "We've got another brilliant plan that can not only give you a new country, it can give you a customizable country, better than this one. It's not made yet, but we're really keen to find a sponsor for this project, and I think you men are the right people to do some business with."

"What kind of business?" the Sofnikene leader asked.

The Trade Minister redirected their attention to the electronic map and focused in on Nova Cambria. "You see, there's a proposal out there to dig up a new canal. And we've heartily agreed to build it for them, but alas there is a problem. With all of that dirt that's going to come out, we're going to need a place to put it. Well, we've found a spot in the Vaia Sea that would be just perfect for it, but in fear of some random other country stealing the international rights to the waters around that area, we've hesitated at any one location. If only we could find a respectable country with which we could cooperate and build up this country without the impugnity of those neighbors down there... but you know, this is most opportune! You can take up that new country, and for free, we'll customize it to your needs! A riverfront in the capital! Majestic mountains on the horizons. A secret underground bunker for all of those naughty things that you'll want to have. The list is endless, I imagine."

By then, all of the Sofnikene delegates were enamored by the prospect of building a new country that it seems that they had forgotten about the one they were in at the time. The leader didn't need anything else to sell him on the prospect. "We'll do it!"

"Brilliant! And we'll take care of all of the paperwork for you too! Nothing to worry about!" And cheers rang around the hall as the men vacated the room. Hugo appeared uneasy with that plan. He took the Trade Minister aside, even though there was no one else in the room.

He whispered in a cautious voice, "What if Nova Cambria doesn't want us to build a canal in their country?"

"Not to worry, Chancellor," the Trade Minister replied in a confident voice. "I'm pretty sure we'll get their approval without a hitch. At the very least, we'll have bought ourselves a little more time before those people come back with pitchforks and sticks."

"True, true... but... where do they go in the meantime?"

[Achtklan]

We've received permission to RP on behalf of Nova Cambria et PBI; please be aware that their response may be a bit delayed/muted.

CAMBRIDGE - The letter was received on time, and goodness knows who was there to receive it. Having just come out of chaos some three days ago after being sunk into and raised from some deep dreary abyss of extinction, the city was still not quite with its head screwed on tight. In fact, it was doubtful if there was a head at all. People were engaged in all sorts of acts of debauchery and shame, you could hardly call it a city. But slowly as the garbage crews worked day and night to clean up the mess - literally and figuratively, which is quite remarkable - the city began to shine once more. And of all things, it was a garbagemen's soviet that led the re-organization of the city and the state. And like all soviets, it was led with a gigantic keg of vodka in the middle.

"Brbiiibughg f efha ruehhehq jtitjfdkjska..." So said one of the garbagemen upon receiving the letter.

"Yuuuufha ftjerhwha tttwttttwtwttwtwtwtt twjklvdh tjwtwt," said another, seemingly in direct response to what was said by the first one.

"Pupu," said a third one, not sure if he was just saying it or if he meant something else entirely differently altogether.

"Bfdah ahaa thebl fhjsnhnrtyh yyitheyty," said a fourth, before continuing his babble in a completely incomprehensible manner. That seemed to spark the fury of his peers, and they all started to babble on and on. One wonders if they weren't all babbling before that. Yet remarkably, this was the government in place. And they managed to find some way to cut through the dribble (literally) and make a decision on what they were to do. That's a lot better than what we can say for the rest of their citizens...

---

ALLEKLANNENBURG - The Trade Minister was elated at the Ministers' meeting. The Foreign Minister not only managed to make a complete fool of himself again, but they had received the positive news from Nova Cambria. He decided that it was best if he conversed with Chancellor Hugo immediately after the meeting.

"Chancellor," he said in a hurry as they both darted to the elevator. "I think it's about time we started to plan this out."

"Plan what out?" Hugo replied.

"The canal," the Trade Minister said in an obvious, matter-of-fact way. "There's no point in having a canal if it isn't going to be done intelligently."

"I figured that the NCCA would do that for us."

"No, it's better that we tell them what we want, and they do it the way that we want them to do it. After all, they're getting their money from us. Why should we let them make the uninformed decisions?"

That didn't exactly compute in Hugo's head, but he figured it must have been some type of business inside-joke. "Okay. Well, let's head back to the office. I need to get a map."

"Not a problem."

The trip was surprisingly long up the elevator. All the while, some dinky music was stuck on an awkward 2-second repeat, so they were forced to listen to this music as they ascended to the Chancellor's office. It must have seemed like forever, since the music was blaring horrible lyrics and the rhythm was cut-off so dissonantly that they were on the brink of raving madness (one may argue they were already there...) when they got out of the elevator. It was such a burden on his mind that Hugo even went to his secretary's desk and dialed up the elevator engineer.

"There's a problem with the elevator music," he said.

"I'm sorry, Herr Chancellor, but we don't deal with the elevator music. That would be acoustics and sound engineering."

He dialed them up and encountered a similar problem. "Many apologies, Signor Chancellor, but you want to talk to the music station managers, they're reasonable for the music content."

Four short phone calls later, and he wrote a big fat note on the secretary's desk - even though she was sitting there watching him do all of that madness. She read the note after he had left with the Trade Minister to head into the main office: "FIX THE ELEVATOR MUSIC"

"Soooo..." the Trade Minister tried to defuse the tension after that frustrating little interlude. "Shall we get back to business?"

"Yes, please." One could hear the subtle hint of imploration in Hugo's voice. "Here's a map for us."

The Trade Minister tried to look through the holographic projection, but he couldn't help but turn aside as the image entirely occupied the whole room. "A bit big, don't you think?"

"Yes... I've tried shrinking it down, but I don't think the system is very cooperative today. We'll still manage. You said that you wanted to plan this out?"

"Indeed," the Trade Minister said, getting out a really big pointing stick. "As you can see, the capital Cambridge is situated in the middle of all this wanton waste of water. This water is navigable all around, so the distance through which we must travel is shortened by a considerable amount. The challenge is putting this canal through the least difficult terrain with the greatest opportunity for economic growth later on. That means a lockless canal. We'll want this thing to have sufficient capacity to have two lanes of marine traffic, one in each direction. We'll want this to house the biggest ship in the world times three, accounting for development of new ships. So... yeah, that's going to be a lot of dirt. I think our best course would take the east side of the country, with a possible port of call in Windsor. Then, we could crawl up the country to the other coast in a straight-line direction. In a military-oriented design, we could install a pair of batteries on the north coast, to protect the canal from forcible military intrusion. We'd also pair the canal with a rail system on the west bank to facilitate canal-specific transit. We'll have three tracks, one for each direction and a switch platform for repairs and maintenance. At Windsor, we'll also build a draw-bridge with sufficient height to avoid lifting the bridge for 95% of the ships in the world. All other cross-canal accesses will be dug under via tunnel access."

"You sound like you should be designing this project," Hugo remarked.

"Well, I did say that we want to design this thing our way, right?"

"Yes, but I didn't imagine that you wanted to get too technical with this. I'll say this much - you design it, and I'll approve it. And then we can get the NCCA to do what they're supposed to do."

The Trade Minister nodded. "Very well." They both nodded. "I suppose it'll be about time to put away the map?"

"I wish I could," Hugo replied. "It won't turn off."

"How quaint..."

The secretary, in the meantime, was busy arranging to fix the elevator music while they fiddled with the projector. Of course, she wasn't as brawny or as smart as either man, but she knew how to pull strings around to get things done. And after a quick five minute interlude, she knew whom to call. And after drawing out strings from every office in the building to fix the elevator music, she went out to check it out. Worked like a charm. She got back to her desk and saw another big fat note from the Chancellor: "FIX THE PROJECTOR"

[Achtklan]

The big dig was taking place at a relatively comfortable pace. And by comfortable, we really mean that it was as comfortable as one could reasonable make a dig through treacherous mountains, steaming hot jungles, arctic alpine tundra, a territorial war with uncommonly confrontational waterfowl, and the one and occasional blowjob-related casualty. The workers were sleeping on cots infested with bed bugs (which contrary to their name do not make beds more comfortable), they daily had to fight the torrent of weather to prevent the machines from spazzing out, and to top it all off, they were behind schedule. But besides these things, they were comfortable. It could have been worse. The geese that miraculously appeared out of nowhere from before the dig started could have been harassing the men day and night; instead, they chose only to harass them during the day or night and only occasionally on both. The bed bugs could have developed flame-throwing powers and burned their cots to the ground. And if there weren't any fuzzy-furry lemmings rumbling about the place, well then the workers wouldn't have much else to enjoy in their off time, which was practically never (but you know break time is necessary when eating lunch).

Such was the pace of the project that representatives of Nova Cambria - by then much more sober and much better organized - were impressed. They continuously noted with what breakneck speed people were working on the projects - and I remind you, they were digging the canal, building a railway, and preparing the edges of the canal for tunnel accesses under the canal - which was really impressive because the canal simply plowed through the mountains, with a tall cliff edging nearly a 1000 meters in the air at some points - and they continued to discuss among themselves how much this was really going to change the way people in Rushmore viewed Nova Cambria. No longer would those pesky and arrogant Sargossans monopolize trans-Rushmore trade. Indeed, their canal system was more sophisticated and quite frankly didn't do much compared to the potential of this big dig. But even the Sargossans had to admit that they had problems when their little civil insurrection would likely turn away potential customers to a much safer route. Once this canal was dug out, Sargossa would have to contend with probable losses, and Jarque would likely be emboldened to drag the rest of Rushmore down the drain once he realized that his one trump card was all the sudden less trump-looking.

The discussion all came over during a little tea siesta, and the Nova Cambrian representatives struck up a little conversation. "... you know, the way this NCCA thing has dug up the canal, it can't be all that bad to have them help us out. I mean, we're still digging out the trash from the last episode, and they're all moving mountains and forests."

"I'm a little reluctant to hand over the keys of our power to someone else, especially to... ahem, foreigners."

"Nonsense, they're all from Rushmore. I think. The point it, we could make a lot of money off this canal, and we could get them to pump more money in the Cambrian economy, who knows, maybe people around these parts will start to give a damn?"

"Who wants to have a dam? We've been fighting the beavers for half a century to get rid of the bloody dams!" The other representatives noted well that their esteemed colleague was closest to the vodka keg that they had saved for later. They also noted who wasn't going to get any later.

"Anyway," so went the one among them all (who knows how many there were...), "if we contract this NCCA company to start bringing in customers, we'll get ships left and right coming through our canals, and then Cambridge might be a popular destination. For sure, we'll get a lot of the Goose Sea traffic, because as dastardly those Sargossans are, they do have one of the biggest economies in the region, and that does count for something. And we'll get to control virtually half of the maritime traffic in the region! Come, think of it! The fastest way from Darmen to Fidishwa (recounting the recent war...) was either by land or up and over, through the Trans-Branta canal, down the coast into and across the Goose Sea. We've just cut that maritime distance by well over 50%! Not to mention cruise ships coming from the Queers and Aras (a soft murmur of laughter erupted from that remark) will be able to dock in Cambridge for once without having to refuel at some dingy Sargossan port! We'll be the point central for all of Southern Rushmore!"

"Hm, don't you think that the Sargossans might get a little jealous? Won't they try to stop us from completing this big dig?"

"They aren't that intrepid," the one said. "Besides, they should thank us for helping out with these canals. With so much attention directed on us building a canal, maybe they can finish off that insurrection once and for all?"

"I don't think that's likely. They need the insurrection to win the World Cup." Again, Mr. Next-to-vodka-keg speaking.

"Anyway, Sargossa is probably going to be more concerned about the Yorozuya and Mangolana skirmish."

"Shouldn't we?"

"Why?"

There was a nearly unanimous shrug of the shoulders by everyone else. "Maybe because we're a lot closer to them than Sargossa is. Maybe because the Yorozuya is being a bit expansionist at this time. Maybe we need to rethink our priorities, because building canal - as much as I like the business coming in - is going to make us a target. We should be thinking about building up some political entente to protect it, because we're not the biggest fish in the sea, and quite frankly, I get sick and tired of ceasing to exist every few months. So instead of asking them to build up our country - which we should be doing - why not ask for some help protecting this 'investment' from potential aggressors?"

"¿Porque no los dos?" Again, man next to keg. Either he was too drunk to care, or he had just come up with the biggest breakthrough in Nova Cambrian political strategy since buttered toast. Probably both.

---

ALLEKLANNENBURG - Hugo was busily reading over the reports from the Yorozuya-Mangolana conflict. Surprisingly, there wasn't a lot to read. He then heard a buzz come up and he hit the intercom button. "Yes?"

"Mr. Chancellor, the Trade Minister is here to see you."

"Please, send him in."

A good minute later, and the Trade Minister emerged through the doors with a perky smile on his face. He must have had some good news.

"What's new?"

"I've just saved 15% on my car insurance by switching to VIKI (Versicherung Insurance Kompany Inc.), and I can save more too if I bundle my home and renter's insurance as well!"

"Splendid. I'm ecstatic with joy." Hugo shook his head, wondering if there wasn't one person infected with some odd quirk that made him intolerable sometimes.

"Well, that and I've just gotten a notice from the Foreign Ministry. Apparently, Nova Cambria wants to talk to us about some political agreements. Cooperation pacts, and stuff like that. Always exciting stuff! It seems that building this canal has made them all too aware that they might become targets of military significance once this canal gets up and running, and they want to protect their sovereignty from foreign intrusion."

"So they're going to sign a treaty with some country to guarantee that protection for them?" Hugo asked, wondering if this was a joke.

"Well, I'm not the foreign minister, but... yeah." The Trade Minister said that last part with a bit of greedy finesse.

"Okay, fine... I guess. I do have to ask you two things though, because it's been bugging my mind."

"Yes, Chancellor?"

Hugo thought to himself the best way to ask the question, so that he would get the right response. "How do you get these press releases from the Foreign Ministry when you work in the Trade Ministry?"

"We're in the same building," he replied. "And quite frankly, both you and I know I do a better job at it than he does. The Foreign Minister is a loon. Seriously - all that he'd need would be some feathers and he'd fit in with the wildlife around these parts."

"Right. And I'm just curious about our progress on this new island that we're building for Sofnikos Anaxaux (at least that's how Hugo thought it was pronounced...)."

"It's going quite dandy."

"Yes, but where are we building this island?"

---

SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF RUSHMORE - The tug boat captain glanced at the map. He was looking at the map because he realized just over 18 hours ago that his GPS system was broken, so he needed to rely upon his sturdy compass and sextant to navigate this barge full of dirt. Unfortunately, storm clouds were obscuring the sky, his compass is stuck on the ceiling so he can't read it right half of the time, and the map wasn't drawn to scale. So among the torrential waves and rain, he wasn't exactly sure where he was at any given moment. And quite frankly, who sends a tug boat out into the middle of the ocean anyway?!? It was a miracle that he even got out this far in the middle of nowhere.

And without any cue that he was in the right location at all, he decided to wing it. The worst thing that would happen is that the new island of Sofnikos Anaxaux would be missing about 991 metric tons of dirt. As long as he was dumping this dirt in international waters, it really shouldn't make a difference...

[Polar Islandstates]

The Rushmori Cartography Institute, somewhere in the hills of Axel Heiburg, Polar Islandstates. An important looking man is sat behind his important looking desk, talking to a less important looking man, standing up slightly less importantly in front of the important looking desk.

"So we don't know where they're going to put it?"

"Not as of yet, sir, no."

"What about the canal?"

"Oh we can get the plans for that once they've finished it, no problem. We could go off the ones they've drawn up already, but, when was the last time you saw an engineering project this big get built exactly to plan? Best to wait until they produce the shipping charts afterwards, we can use them easily enough."

"Very well. But the new pile of dirt?"

"Nothing sir. I mean, there's a big patch of sea that we think they're going to be aiming for but, again, even if they had plans, I doubt you could create an island and have it look the way you meant it to originally. Not that big. And certainly not if you're doing your aiming by tug boat."

"So, what are you proposing?"

"Well, we were thinking just, the usual."

"The usual?"

"Yeah, you know, like, whenever we find a new island we send a team out there and we run a few satellites over it. Place a few weather boxes, job done."

"And that's efficient, is it?"

"Yes, very."

"I don't know. Sounds awfully clinical to me."

"People do tend to enjoy accurate maps, sir."

"Yes yes but where's the soul? When I accepted this position I didn't know I'd be so far removed from all the mapping stuff. I mean, you look at some regions and what you see is what you get. That's all the land there is, they've done it all. Fine. Job done. Here's the map. Boring."

"What are you mean, sir?"

"Well it just seems to me that we've got some startlingly incompetent people reading our satellite photographs and answering the phones, because no matter how hard we look we always seem to be making contact with new governments asking us to include them on the maps we produce, or we're always discovering new islands. Seems to me that we're blessed with uncharted territory here, the kind that a cartographer anywhere else would sell their drawing boards for. And what do we do? Use a satellite. Boring."

"There's very little else we can do, sir."

"Rubbish. We didn't always have satellites. What did we do in the old days? Sail around stuff and use instruments and things like that, no? Can't we get back to that?"

"They were rather unreliable maps, sir."

"Nonsense, they got it roughly right, and you can see the effort that went into them! They just feel so much more, I don't know, human?"

"But the people of Sofnikos Anaxaux, sir, won't they want a decent map of their new island?"

"Going out on a limb here, I really don't think they'll care."

"You think?"

"I think."

"So, what are you suggesting?"

"I am suggesting that when they let us know that this new island of theirs is done, we go about it the good old fashioned way. No satellites, and no computers except to draw with. And calculators are okay I suppose."

"Fair enough. It'll only be a small island."

"Exactly. Oh, and one more thing..."

"Sir?"

"Do we still have any of those big wooden boats? You know, the creaky old sailing ships that the explorers used to sail on. Wouldn't it be amazing if we-"

"No! Erm, no. No. We definitely do not have any of those boats, sir, no."

"Hmm, that's a shame. Ah well, speak to you later. You're going to be at the meeting about the continent divisions right? I hear there have been some developments regarding lake mapping in the Vatmark."

"Indeed."

"See you then, then. Ha det."

"Ha det."

[Sargossa]

Another day, another war. Not that a turf struggle between Mangolana and The Yorozuya was something Sargossan President Joaquín Delgado could get overly excited about. No doubt this conflict would fizzle out just as the Fidishwa incident did. He placed the report to one side and moved to the next one. It was from the Trade Ministry and featured Nova Cambria and Achktlan, two nations that didn't often register on the radar.

He scanned the first page. Stopped. Then scanned it again.

"Sonofabitch!"

[Nova Cambria et PBI]

"Have you been following the news lately, Harold?"

"Of course, what sort of stew would it be without butter, you old git?"

"About the canal!"

"Are you calling me banal?"

"The digging!"

"That's it!!!"

*Harold bashed Eoin's head in, marking the 4th such incident of workplace violence at the Nova Cambrian parliament this month.*

[Achtklan]

"Great news!" the Trade Minister said, blaring out loudly.

Hugo seemed the most surprised that the Trade Minister had just managed to get into his washroom, more surprised that he was in there while he was taking a shower. "Would you mind?!?" he yelled.

"Oh, sure," the Trade Minister said, tossing a towel in the general direction towards the shower stall. Fortunately, the shower was so hot that the windows were all fogged up. "Anyways, we've just discovered that all of this dumping land in random spots in the middle of the ocean is starting to work! We've taken the latest satellite data of the seabed, and we've isolated a small stretch of land that is higher than the rest of the seabed. I'm not sure if we're just that lucky to hit a seamount or something, but we're just several hundred meters under the sea at this point. I've sent directions to the tug boats to send all remaining dirt from the big dig to go here." With that, the Trade Minister turned on a hologram projection.

Hugo seemed less pleased with that. "Would you mind?!? I'm in the middle of a shower here! And why the fucking hell is this map so huge?!? I've got Tentalon on my crotch!"

"Well, the island is pretty small," the Trade Minister explained, ignoring everything else that Hugo had said. "If you take a quick look at the middle of this map, you can see where the island is going to emerge eventually. Of course, I haven't figured out just how to best explain to a population of 3 billion people how they're going to fit on this stupid island, but you know, we could just sell them some of our spacetimenullinators that nullify the general rules of spacetime. Make their land as big as they want it to be. Come to think of it, we could have just sold this to them in the first place, and they could have built their own island or undersea paradise by making their cities phase out of the water space and into an alternate air-space plane. Or even better, they could have had their country sitting right on top of us, just existing in a different plane of spacetime."

Hugo had a blank face. "And you're telling me this now?!?"

"Hey, I wasn't thinking at the time. Besides, digging up a big island is way more fun. Costs more too, so we can charge more."

"You know, if I weren't in here right now... I'd be at your throat. I can't take a shower while you're in here, babbling on about government stuff! I need my own time to take care of my hygiene!"

The Trade Minister pfted. "Geez, if you wanted some privacy, just say so next time. Don't get all melodramatic about it..." As he exited the room, he couldn't help but stare at the glittery pair of pants sitting on the edge of the door frame. He glanced back at Hugo with a perplexed stare. Hugo shook his head in disbelief and perhaps a little bit of embarrassment. "Not one word..."

---

CAMBRIDGE - After their 6th incident of workplace violence at Parliament in a month (and with the month only one day done...), there was some talk among the representatives about how to make their country safer. Surely, there was a better way to release anger than to toss your neighbor out the 10th story window onto a parking lot...

"You know, we've got to enact some laws that makes its illegal to commit violence in Parliament."

"The only thing that that would do is criminalize it. We've got to stop it."

"Maybe we could do an educational video, teaching parliamentarians how to treat others. It'd be nice and dandy, y'know. What, I could get us a bunch of pansies and we can show others how we should be treating each other, taking great care of these pansies to become nice budding beautiful flowers." And all the while, the others were thinking he was talking about wimps.

"Nah, that's too soft. It just makes me want to hurt something, thinking about it. In fact..." Alas, there were now seven incidents of workplace violence. It was decided in lieu of that odd discussion about workplace violence that they should immediately drop all talk about violence and instead turn their attentions to resolving the political ties with Achtklan. The head of the committee decided to start the discussions.

"We've received word from the Foreign Ministry in Achtklan that they would be receptive to talks. But I think after having had too much to drink, we really need to think about what we need from Achtklan. After all, we mustn't let our wild imaginations seize our political future as a country. Nova Cambria is a proud and independent nation, a forward-thinking nation brimming with bright young scholars and a healthcare system second to none! (some of the men in the room who had short attention spans wondered to themselves: which country is he talking about now?; I have no idea; and jolly good, I hope he isn't talking about them bloody Sargossans) We need to determine what we want from this political pact, because as generous as Achtklan has been, we cannot ever be too certain about their intentions. While fending off the beasts of international incidents, we could find ourselves the victims of an unruly and malevolent colonization at the hands of those foreigners. So... we need to decide. What do we want, and what do we want from Achtklan?"

Instantly, one of the members stood and said, "We need to get their security. Our defense budget is but naught, and with this big dig, we're going to have the attention of those ravenous wolves (he was referring to the Yorozuya, but he could have equally meant Sargossa - there was an unhealthy suspicion of those northerners, after all). We do not want their big ships ramming up our coastline, settling ourselves for an unpleasant occupation. We need to assert our independence! We need the support and security that the Achtklaner [note, this man does not know the proper demonym for Achtklan, which happens to be Alleklannen] military can offer!"

Another man stood up with an equally disgruntled figure. "And the way we assert our independence is by subcontracting our defense to a foreign power? Have you gone mad? [yes, he has] What we need is less political ties with some ambiguous island of freaks and more defense spending! We can have our own military!"

"But it's banned in the Constitution?"

"Pft, I never knew we had a Constitution!"

"Actually, it's more a Charter, and it's non-binding."

"Well, bloody hell, what kind of political document do we have?"

Everyone in the chamber glanced at the head of the committee who gave an uneasy shrug. "I'll get the Parliament to establish a committee to find our founding document. In the meantime, I think it's a good time for a recess."

No sooner had he spoke the word "recess" than did the whole committee, from their tiny chairs around a tiny table, emerge and exit the tiny room through the tiny door. And they managed to add about 14 incidents of workplace violence in the whole process.

[ooc: Nova Cambria, I took some liberty with that last section, but if you want to RP out our political talks thing (or not), I'll let you take over your country. Otherwise, we can work this out via TG.]

[Sargossa]

Somewhere above Nova Cambria...

It was a dark and stormy night. Actually that's not entirely true. Night it certainly was. Which in turn implies darkness. But it wasn't stormy. Pretty mild in fact. With a sky full of stars. The kind of sky under which two lovers might stroll hand in hand. Although anyone regarding those said stars may have noticed a dark shadow moving across the night's sky. With its running lights off there was no other way to pick out the Sargossan military transport as it soared over Southern Rushmore. Since news of the massive construction works through the Cambrian countryside broke in Soluca the wheels of machination had been spinning. The powers that be weren't going to sit around and watch idly as the Sargossan stranglehold on Rushmori trade was circumvented. But what to do about it?

Full blown military action was considered until someone pointed out that a bombing run on the construction zone might actually help the digging effort. That and an act of overt belligerence over a gloried hole in the ground probably wouldn't play well with the international community. A plan to send a single operative to waltz blithely into the Achtklan Trade Ministry and hang the Minister from the ceiling of his own office were dismissed as ludicrous. But there was one tried and tested option. A centuries old option birthed in the industrial heartland of Olde Nethertopia when workers lobbed their wooden shoes known as sabots into the gears of looms to break them. And if it's good enough for a hairy Nethertope textile worker it's good enough for the mighty Sargossan military.

The door from the flight deck to the vast cargo compartment swung open. A man in a grubby airforce uniform stepped through and lent on the barrier that separated the raised gantry from the long drop to the cargo space below. That large space was now empty except for two dozen black clothed operatives who busied themselves with tightening straps, checking pockets and pulling on balaclavas. The co-pilot waved to attract the squad leader's attention.

"Two minutes to drop zone."

The squad leader nodded an acknowledgement. "Any sign of hosti..." He was cut off as a red light flashed and a kluxon started to sound across the cargo deck. "You said two minutes!"

"More or less." The co-pilot gave a lazy salute. "Via con Dios."

The squad leader silently cursed. But inter-service rivalries would have to put aside for the time being, he had work to do. "Make ready lads. Comms check, now." He had to raise his voice as the rear door started to descend, the cold Rushmori air racing in. All twenty three members of his team checked in. "We're green. Ok, in pairs on my mark. Mark!" Two by two, in almost perfect unison the black coated operatives threw themselves into the night.

[Achtklan]

It was the next morning at the big dig, and about halfway through the morning, there was a big problem. One of the drills had broken in the night, and no one noticed it at all. I mean, someone might have noticed that the barge was filling up with machine parts and stuff like that, but still that meant someone was actually doing their job and supervising the equipment at nighttime. The equipment malfunction nonetheless necessitated a call back to the main office.

"Crappy Manu crap," the foreman said, getting on the phone. He apparently didn't like the construction of the equipment coming from Manusaya, where most of the equipment was crafted. He got a few buzzes on the phone before a lady picked up on the other side of the line. "Yeah, we've got another problem with those drills."

"Why are you calling me?" the lady said. "I'm your boss. You tell that to maintenance, and they get someone sent out to fix it!"

"Yeah, well, I'm tired of calling it in. We need better crap than the crap we've got here to dig this stuff out. There'll be no way this dig gets done on time if we keep having to fix this crap every single time it breaks! And it breaks like crap! Look,there's a gasket in the barge!"

The boss didn't seem to understand what the foreman was talking about, mostly because she couldn't see what he was talking about. "Alright... well, get someone to fix it, and I'll be looking into some economical replacements. Just... don't break anything."

"You think I'm trying?!?" The foreman slammed the phone on the register and pulled out a cigarette. Instantly, he felt a buzz on his chest, followed moments later by a electronic voice saying "You need to quit smoking." The shock startled the foreman and he yelled in frustration. "TO HELL WITH QUITTING!" he screamed as he yanked out the shock patch, designed to help him stop smoking. Of course, that wasn't a very smart decision, since the shock patch was attached to tamper-evident trigger. Immediately, he fell on the ground in a shock-induced convulsion that lasted for about two minutes before the battery in the trigger died out. The vice foreman looked at him and figured that he must have been dead by that point.

"Workplace fatality," he noted in his journal. "Attempted to quit quit smoking." Hours later, he scratched out "fatality" and replaced it with something more appropriate - mostly because the foreman told him to do so.

"And dammit, we need to get a maintenance worker here asap," he said, finally plopping in a cigarette without impunity. The vice foreman nodded. "Well, they sure do take their lolly-gag time getting here." He glanced at his watch and involuntarily saw some moment in the reflection behind him. He turned and glanced at a black clothed individual snooping around the office area. "Hey! We've been waiting for you! Come here!"

At that, the foreman fell down, while the vice foreman yelled in return, "HEY! That's no way to treat your foreman!"

At that response, the man in the all-black suit looked confused. The vice foreman nodded and pointed at him. "Yeah, you! You can't just pop your boss if you feel like it! Besides, we've been waiting for you! About time you came around."

Again, the man seemed confused and pointed at himself. The vice foreman again nodded and walked over to him. "Look, I'm not sure why you think can walk all around here like secret agents or whatever, but we've gotten some equipment maintenance issues again. One of the drills was left in operation after it broke, and now we need it to be fixed. I'm surprised you got here so quickly, but we're running short on our deadlines. Do you think you can fix it ASAP? We'll clear the workplace here for you, so there'll be no distractions, but you've gotta work quickly. The next dirt shipment comes in four hours, so you've got to be done by noon. Think you can handle it?"

The man nodded without saying a word, and whistled as he strolled away, like nothing ever happened. The vice foreman shook his head in disappointment as he glanced back at the foreman. He turned back to his workplace log: "Workplace fatality, violent inquisition of workplace maintenance worker after attempt to quit quit smoking."

He later had to scratch out "fatality" again.

[Sargossa]

Sod it. The squad leader cursed himself, cursed the moron he had just popped, the moron he had just popped's mother, pretty much everyone that sprang to mind. He'd made an amateur mistake and would now probably have to shoot his way out. So much for discretion.

"Besides, we've been waiting for you! About time you came around."

He blinked. Had he heard that right? He just about managed to point questioningly to himself.

"Look, I'm not sure why you think can walk all around here like secret agents or whatever, but we've gotten some equipment maintenance issues again. One of the drills was left in operation after it broke, and now we need it to be fixed. I'm surprised you got here so quickly, but we're running short on our deadlines. Do you think you can fix it ASAP? We'll clear the workplace here for you, so there'll be no distractions, but you've gotta work quickly. The next dirt shipment comes in four hours, so you've got to be done by noon. Think you can handle it?"

He blinked again, then nodded. This was an unusual turn of events. Quick, be nonchalant. He whistled as he wondered away. Behind him the vice-foreman barked out instructions and workers eagerly started filing out of the storage sheds that housed the big drills, each delighted to be finishing early and keen to be the next blowjob related casualty . He touched the comms unit by his ear. "This is Alpha leader, err new plan. We're breaking cover. All units converge on my location in the main storage shed. If anyone asks you're part of a maintenance crew."

Soon enough his whole team was arrayed in front of him. "Ladies and gentlemen, through a chain of events i'm not entirely sure I fully understand we have the run of the place for four hours. So let's get this done. Search every shed, tag every drill. You should have enough charges." Screw sabots, let the Nethertopes use their wooden foot furniture, high explosives were the Sargossan way. "I want timers set for ninety minutes. That should give us plenty of time to be gone before the fireworks."

Not that it really mattered, never before had he experienced a nation so naive in the ways of the world. But they were soon to grow up, fast. His team went efficiently about its business. Each of the large and expensive drills were rigged to make a rather spectacular retirement from the digging business. Content that the work was done Alpha leader signalled his squad to board a commandeered truck. Soon they were speeding towards the coast and a boat which would take them out to sea and a rendezvous with a patrolling Sargossan destroyer. He sat in the passenger seat as the Cambrian countryside sped by, the seconds on the timer in his hand melting away. Digging operations were about to hit a snag. In 3 . . . 2 . . . 1. . .

[Achtklan]

*caution to the reader, there are numerous smileys in this post; if you are averse to smileys, please look away*

If there ever were a time a facepalm order were in order, this would be it. The Chief Inquisitor with the Federal Bureau of Inquisitions couldn't help facepalm every few minutes after hearing the testimony leading to the big dig big boom incident. And what was worse was the fact that the CEO of Luftwereld, the President of RMC, the Chancellor, Trade Minister, and Defense Minister were present while the tape was being played.

"... so you saw the man in the black suit, and you thought that he was a maintenance worker?"

"Yes, of course."

"And what sort of clue told you that he was a maintenance worker?"

"Well, who else could it have been?"

A pause in the tapes. The lead inquisitor on the case continued. "And the fact this person just pulled out a silenced weapon and shot the foreman for the project didn't arouse suspicion that he wasn't a maintenance worker? I mean, how many maintenance workers do you own a silenced weapon and walk around like they're some secret agent?"

"Well, Joe-Bob does that all the time. I keep telling that one of these days, he's going to get shot. Seems like it, I was wrong."

"Right, but this isn't Joe-Bob. This is some stranger whom you do not know. How can you trust this stranger to be walking around surreptitiously like he's got something to hide?"

"What, does he have measles?"

The Chief Inquisitor fast-forwarded through the next section. It gets better. Here, they were inquiring with another worker who witnessed one of the "maintenance workers" loitering around the equipment supply sheds. A collective groan echoed through the sound-proof room.

"... and so you saw a man in a black suit, wearing the whole sheebang, black hood, black balaclava, black footies, black everything. And you didn't think to stop him for one moment?"

"What's a balaclava?"

"A face mask, nevermindthat! Didn't you think something was amiss here?"

The worker grunted. "Well, he said he was a maintenance worker."

"And you saw him install some device in the supply closet?"

"He said he needed to check on the maintenance."

"In a supply closet?"

"Yes."

"You didn't think for one moment that he was installing an incendiary device with the intent to commit industrial sabotage?"

"What's incendiary?"

"Didn't you think he was planting a bomb?!?"

"Well, we needed the bombs."

"In the supply closet?!?"

"Why would he put a bomb in the supply closet?"

The Chief Inquisitor stopped the tape. He felt that the other members in the room had heard sufficient detail to understand just how inept their security was at the big dig site. Everyone was too naive, too aloof to notice that a very skilled infiltration team had just managed to destroy several million wits worth of equipment in the matter of just two hours. Nevermind that the equipment was already broken before the blew it up, now they had no equipment. Surprisingly, the only good thing to come out of this was the fact that no one got hurt or killed - except for the foreman, who managed to survive the bullet shot to the head, only to be consumed in the explosions later on. But beside that, the order to recess while the supposed "maintenance crew" did their work saved countless lives. But it didn't detract from what was an obvious breach. No doubt Nova Cambria was going to be a little wary after seeing the NCCA so sloppily handle a simple bit of security. There needed to be a swift and reciprocal reaction.

The Chief Inquisitor pulled out a file, featuring the dead foreman. "We were able to recover the body of the foreman from the site, and a medical examiner successfully recovered some bullets. Well, actually one bullet, but we had ballistics run some tests on the fragments. We managed to get a composite of the bullet material and its probable design. For certain, it was some pretty special hardware, and realistically, there are only two countries that use this kind of ammunition - only because they're that crazy. Tutustan..."

At that, the Chancellor stood up and slammed his fist on the table. "Dammit, I knew we couldn't trust those shady... wait, Tutustan?"

The Chief Inquisitor nodded. "We found the profile on this country. A desolate land. Nuked to God-knows-how-many-times, it's practically ten-thousands shades of glass. Reviled around the world and seldom respected. They're a bit of an anarchic society there, no one really knows what they do there."

"Right, so a bunch of mutants blew up our dig?" the CEO of Luftwereld said, scratching his head.

"Not really," the Chief Inquisitor answered. "They are a suspect group, but the other country that uses this kind of ammunition is Sargossa..."

Once again, the Chancellor stood up and slammed his fist on the table. "Dammit, I knew we couldn't trust those shady Sargossans!" He slumped back in his chair, rectified that he really did know who was responsible after all. Indeed, who else would care that there was a canal dig that would threaten their monopolistic trade routes through Rushmore? The Chief Inquisitor nodded in agreement. "Yes, yes, but there is a problem. Forensically, we have evidence that Sargossan military equipment was used in the attack, but that could be easily explained in multiple hypotheses. The Sargossans could have hired mercenaries and supplied the equipment to them. Some terrorists could have hijacked Sargossan military supplies and used it to attack the dig site. And you know, there's still the Tutustan possibility. Truth is, we don't have evidence that Sargossa did it at all."

"But common sense says they did it!" Hugo retorted.

The Chief Inquisitor shook his head disapprovingly. "Sir, the only thing common sense will earn you is an acquittal. We need concrete evidence. Infallible, undeniable, irrefutable evidence. And we don't have that. The explosive devices completely incinerated, there's nothing left that we can detect. And still looking for the rendezvous location, since we're certain that they arrived by a aerial route. We have satellite intelligence that shows a Sargossan military vessel near the coast, but the vessel is clearly not approaching the area in advance of the strike operation. This vessel looks to be their possible escape route. And we're still missing one truck from the dig location that was probably taken. Track analysts will get more information once they pick up where it went; hopefully, they'll have left something of the truck behind for us to carouse through."

"So what are our options right now?" the Defense Minister said, hawkishly. "We can't let these bastards get away with this sabotage!"

"True," the Chief Inquisitor said. "But we must be mindful of our actions. Sargossa is a significantly larger country. Even with our spacetime dilation technology, we cannot rely too much on warping spacetime to protect us. As much as it keeps us guarded from attacks, it also inhibits our ability to react to events in the Rushmore continuum. And trust me, Sargossa are more than prepared to meet us head on in a regional conflict. No doubt the Candelariasians would be irked to see so many ships in their backyard, but they've been a bit lackadaisical recently, with regard to events in greater Rushmore. And the Nethertopians are wanton pansies, quite frankly. I could conquer it with a piece of pie."

"Right," the CEO of Luftwereld said, again interjecting. "There is still the matter of the big dig site. With all of our equipment damaged, we're without much luck trying to continue operations. We need to clean up the site, and get new equipment in the area. And this stuff costs time and money. How are we going to go about this?"

"Sir, as alarmed as I am, that's really none of my business."

The President of RMC then offered a solution. "We've been looking into subcontracting the digging operation for sometime, and we think we might have found a potential suitor for the job."

[Darmen]

Prime Ministers Office, Scott City, Darmen
Scat Peari sat in the meeting room, surrounded by several top ranking officials in both the Cabinent and the Military. Everyone looked quite bored, as this was the fifth straight day of meetings.

A General stood up, and addressed those gathered in the meeting room. "As you all know, Achtklan has begun digging a canal through the nation of Nova Cambria that will connect us with our assets and trading partners in the Goose Sea. However, as we concluded several days ago, it was a possibility that Sargossa, who currently operates the Trans-Branta Canal, would not take kindly to the actions of Achtklan. Well it seems they have expressed their feelings."

Several raised their eyebrows, some sat up straiter in their seats, and still others gave those sitting next to them a good whack on the head to wake them up.

Peari asked, "How so?"

"Well, it appears that Sargossa laid sabatoge to several of the Achtklan drills. Now reports are still in the perliminary stages, and of course the Inquisition currently being undertaken by the Alleklannen Federal Bureau of Inquisitions is still in it's early stages. But most evidence points towards Sargossa as the perpatrators of the attack."

Peari asked, "And how does this affect us?"

"Well, since the Goose Sea Conflict, our relations with Sargossa have been, unfriendly to say the least. They have denied most of our shipping passage through the Trans-Branta Canal, forcing our vessels to take the long way around the continent. And this new canal will only help us, as it will create a quicker, easier, safer route to our trade partners and assets in the Goose Sea area."

Peari asked, "Well, yes, that's all well and good, but how does this directly affect us at this very moment?"

"Well Prime Minister, The Yorozuya and Mangolana are at war, and as you probably already know, Mangolana did support us in the Goose Sea Conflict. It should be noted that they may want our help fighting The Yorozuya, and right now, our naval vessels would have to embark on almost a five day sail before the could get to the Goose Sea. With this new canal, we could be there within a day. Not only is it important to us economicly, but also militarily."

Peari asked, "So what are you proposing we do?"

"I think that it's highly unlikely that Achtklan and Sargossa will go to war, but we can't be intirely sure. We obviously know where our allegances will lie, but for know, we should monitor the situation and wait. We all know what happens when you jump into a war too soon."

[Sargossa]

Presidential Palace, Soluca...

"Success?" There was no preamble. President Joaquín Delgado had barely allowed the Head of the State Intelligence Directorate before he fired the question at him.

"Yes Excellency." The SID chief smoothed out a nonexistent crease in his tie as he took his seat in front of the large and rather shiny presidential desk. "Total success it would seem. The insertion team won't arrive back at Caramunga for hours so there's been no official debriefing but we believe the damage done both in terms of time and money is considerable."

"And our deniability?"

"Oh I strongly suspect that the authorities in Achtklan overseeing the project know it was us. Proving it is an entirely different matter. All team members are accounted for and all trace of the explosives would have been consumed in the conflagration. There is one sticking point, the team leader was forced to use his side arm. Hopefully the round was also lost in the blaze but, if not, a half decent ballistics report could trace it as one of ours. Although given the amount of weaponry we ship out on an annual basis that could be readily explained away."

"What about the insertion and extraction?"

"Nova Cambria is pretty backward when it comes to surveillance so we don't believe our transport was spotted. The pickup was made by the destroyer Moray. Unfortunately the team's RIB didn't have the capability to reach the destroyer's standard patrol route. Our cover is a failing in the navigational equipment took the vessel off course. We've already sent an official apology to the government of Khabarovsk Krai for accidently straying into their territorial waters."

"Excellent. Keep monitoring the dig zone and all communications in and out. I doubt this is the end of it. Those Achtklanianians are always up to something."

[Civil Citizenry]

"What's on the news today, Jackson?"

"We're in the round of sixteen in the big volleyball tournament."

"Screw that, Jackson. Who feeds you the news, you oaf?"

"I read off reports from our eastern base in Albundania. They're known to write long reports quite often."

"Christ almighty, why the hell do we even need a base in Alwhodunit. Let's pick up the pace, get to the real substance."

"Something about a war near us, some big conflict over the east Goose Coast. Getting pretty heated, I guess - could even spread to our borders."

The Rushmori delegate's eyes shot up at his advisor. "War? That sounds like something I could get into."

"Maybe so, Mr. Kimball," Jackson sighed, crumpling the piece of paper with details on this year's second outbreak of war in southern Rushmore. Setting the paper aside in a wastebasket, he pressed on with the news. "They're digging a canal somewhere."

"What's somewhere, Jackson? Jesus H., competency is scarcer around here than timber in Abdia."

"Uhh - Nova Cambria, 'round Cambridge, it seems. The circumstances are strange, Mr. Kimball. Not the canal, sir - it's rather a banal canal. What's strange is that some new northern nation called Atch-kull-ann is organizing the whole deal. Sounds like a couple of apologists in the government felt bad for the people from Sofnikos Ann-axe-ey-uxe and they're building them a new island west of the Komodo."

"What's strange is that the Citiz aren't in there getting our hands dirty. We don't let any Rushmori incidents pass us by: I always swore I'd be hands-on," Kimball yelled, lifting his hands off his desk, "or my name isn't Lane Kimball."

"You're not Lane Kimball? Am I in the wrong office?"

"Yes, the real Mr. Kimball works inside the water cooler, you dunce. "

---

"Watching those girls play volleyball, in those short shorts - especially those gals from Cassadaigua - mmm, it just warms my-"

"Mr. Dyer, Mr. Kimball is requesting a visit."

"Mmmm, send him in, then."

A short pause. Dyer's silence blanketed his spacious office, one as spacious and glorious as deserving of a prime minister. He had been conversing with his dog, a one-way psychotherapist as an escape hatch for Dyer's thoughts. Several seconds passed, then Kimball quietly opened the door, expecting a few creaks - why isn't my office as well-oiled as this one? Fucking World Assembly always gets short shrift - and closing it behind him. He strode confidently to the desk of his superior, Mr. Gordon Chadwick Dyer, D.D.E.* in Macrosocioeconomics from Brevin Econ, Magnamentarian of Norwich, The Second Honorable Prime Minister Of Civil Citizenry. "Good afternoon, sir. Pleasant, is it not?"

"Good day to you, Mr. Kimball. Yes, I would quite agree. I'm in high spirits - have you seen our squad in the big volleyball tournament? They're playing only a hop, skip, and an eight-hour plane ride from here."

"Impressive for sure, Mr. Dyer, but I've come to have a serio-"

"Those skirts - mmm, no, those shorts they wear are so reveali-"

"Mr. Dyer. There's this canal being built-"

"In Civil Citizenry? Fantastic, I always wanted a canal. Could inspire me to revisit my past love of water-themed folk tunes. Shall we call it the Dearie Canal, or the Leery Canal, no, th-"

"In Nova Cambria. I don't know where it is either, but I think we need to be over there. This canal could change the entire complexion of naval transport and warfare in Rushmore."

"Do they have women working on the canal? That Smickers commercial with Rosie O'Connell is hilari-"

"Maybe they do. I don't know how the Achtklanianers are handling the whole thin-"

"Achtklan? Olé! Ever since I sent that request for an Order of Finger Wag, I can't get enough of them. So what's the dilly-dallying for, Kimball? Get started on this!"

"On what?!"

"The project! Get our best contractors to coalesce and ship them off to No Canwenot. I want to see our boys with those Alleklannenfolk workers on the front page of every major Rushmori publication! All for Achtklan and one for everyone else, isn't that our motto?"

A half-sigh from Kimball. "Yes, sir," he said, trying to feign boredom, but being nearly unable to contain his excitement. Here was an opportunity to put Civil Citizenry back in the forefront of regional affairs. He'd been the regional delegate to the World Assembly for over half a decade now, and he couldn't stand letting others take his deserved attention. He could even use this as a campaign tool for the fast-approaching election cycle he'd instituted during his reign.

And what if Achtklan and Nova Cambria did not appreciate Civil Citizenry's decisive interjection? It's a can-all canal, Kimball quipped, feeling clever with himself as he strode out of Dyer's expansive office.

* In Civil Citizenry, D.D.E. is a title which means the holder has a Distinguished Degree in Economics.

[Camwood]

President's Office
Executives Offices
Clemson, New Ontario

Secratary of State Nancy Roberts walks into President Sam Boyle's office.

"Hey Nancy"

"Hello Sam, there's a little bit of unrest out west,"

"Nice Rhyme, what's happening?"

"Well, Acktlan wants to build a canal in Nova Cambria, via force,"

"So Cambria and PBI are against the canal?"

"Yes,"

"How does this impact us?"

"It doesn't, everyone else in the region is taking sides."

"Nice, we take Neu-"

"We can't take neutral,"

"But we're not even on the Map! Look, I've submitted a claim to the Cartography instititute in Polar Islandstates, but it takes them freakin' years to update,"

"We are such pushovers! we always claim neutrality!"

"Fine, we take Nova Cambria's side,"

"OK"

---

EXECUTIVE OFFICE OFFICIAL PRESS RELEASE

Camwood has decided to take the side of Nova Cambria in the Goose Sea Conflict. Achtklan has no buisness in Nova Cambria's territory... No military force will be executed until further notice. Nova Cambria is not aan official ally of Camwood, nor is Cambria an enemy.

[Achtklan]

There was going to be some bad news for Sargossa. They found the escape vehicle. They matched it to the truck stolen from the work site, although the VIN was hastily scratched out. More importantly, they found blood at the scene. They failed to recover any further evidence, but judging on the plethora of items left behind, they probably had more than enough. A vessel secretly dispatched post-haste to the site, recovered the truck, brought it back to Achtklan, and shuffled it off to a secret underground facility near the Bureau Inquisitional Laboratories. And for days in and out, they searched through the vessel, performing all sorts of tests. GSR, plastics, trace fiber, biological fluids, tread marks, and the motherload of them all, DNA analysis.

Days went by and the results were less than satisfying. No GSR was recovered, probably the people didn't need to use their weapons at all. There was a significant presence of plastic explosives recovered from the vehicle, but the composite analysis was inconclusive. Even if the grade of plastics used was military, it was mixed with explosives used in the excavation project. Too dirty to tell. Fibers recovered from the vehicle were also inconclusive. The men were all shaven of hair, and the black synthetic fibers were all mixed with another unknown white biological fiber; strangely unique blend of clothing, but nothing on the market. Fluids... lots of spitting, but saliva is such a hard substrate to work with. The presence of blood was confirmed, although that was hardly expected since they had no reason to be shedding blood. The shoe prints were all indistinguishable and the soil content all matched local substrate recovered from Nova Cambria. It seemed that the only way to prove anything was by the DNA analysis.

"Sir, we've got a confirmed hit."

The Chief Inquisitor heaved a sigh of relief. "Finally, proof that these bastards did it!"

"Not exactly, sir," the technician replied. "We performed a genetic analysis of the blood stains recovered from the scene, and ... it's not human."

"Not human? What are you saying, we were ambushed by aliens? Or something like that?"

The technician gulped. "Not quite. We were able to determine that the blood was non-human. We were quantitating for the presence of DNA, but we were getting strange results. One of our analysts confirmed that the blood was biological, and that it was in fact probably animal. We ran it through our non-human quantitative multiplex, and we've determined that the blood is in fact anatid."

"What the what?"

The technician handed the Chief Inquisitor the official report. "Goose, in fact, sir."

"You're saying a gaggle of geese blew up our very expensive digging project?"

"No, but we went back to the vehicle and we noticed that the presence of geese conformed to what we were finding on the vehicle. It appears that the vehicle was ferociously menaced by a bunch of geese, with a bunch of indistinct markings consistent with the flapping action of a goose wing beating. The shoe prints in the vehicle were obscured by the geese foot pattern, which in retrospect we probably should have seen coming anyway. And virtually every blood pattern recovered is coming back as goose blood. We haven't found one bit of evidence that there were any humans in that vehicle at all."

The Chief Inquisitor nodded. "So, a bunch of geese swarmed on this truck and threw away all of our good evidence. That's what you're saying?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why would a gaggle of geese randomly attack a vehicle that was just standing out in the middle of nowhere?"

"I haven't an idea, sir. But have we considered the possibility that the Sargossan saboteurs were attacked?"

"Not likely," the Chief replied. "If what you say is correct, the Sargossans would have bled out in the attack. And we'd have seen something of them somewhere on that truck. This investigation is leading us nowhere..."

"Sir, you are aware that geese around these parts are uncommonly confrontational," the technician said.

"Right."

"What if the Sargossans hastily left the truck because they were attacked by the geese?"

"Bullocks, why wouldn't they just shoot the damned birds?"

"Because that would be messy," the technician replied. "Shooting all the birds would have left behind more evidence for us to find. And they wouldn't have time to burn or incinerate all of the evidence. I think if they were interested in getting in and out secretly, they would have wanted to snoop around without attracting any attention."

"Then why did they go carousing around like maintenance workers at the dig site?"

"I'm not sure... amateur mistake?"

The Chief Inquisitor laughed. "Son, these are seasoned professionals. You think a bunch of seasoned professionals are going to make amateur mistakes, like get caught working around the dig site, or worse getting attacked by a bunch of dumb birds?"

"You never know, sir," the technician replied. "Nova Cambria is a new working environment for them. They were probably caught unprepared for the circumstances they encountered."

"Unprepared my dingdong..."

At that moment, another technician entered the room with another report. "Sir, we have something that you might want to see..."

---

Foreign Ministry of Achtklan
To the Executive Office of the Republic of Camwood,

We assure you and the region of Rushmore that the Special Federal Republic of Achtklan is not violating the sovereignty of the Commonwealth of Nova Cambria. It is our understanding that an economic collaboration between our two governments, with backing from several Alleklannen companies is helping build a canal that will improve existing maritime trade routes by providing a very real short-cut between the Vaia Sea and the Goose Sea. Indeed, we are cooperating fully with the government in Nova Cambria, and we hope to hear assurances from the government in the Commonwealth supporting our collaborative action there. We can further lend credence to our actions in showing the presence of civilian engineers and workers; no military personnel have been sent to Nova Cambria.

We sincerely apologize for any diplomatic confusion, but we insist that the Republic of Camwood rescinds its unwarranted threats. Otherwise, the Special Federal Republic may be forced to consider diplomatic sanctions in return.

Foreign Ministry of Achtklan

---

It was one of these times when people working at the dig site watched on in awe as they saw the huge ships arrive and debark virtually a full set of replacement equipment on the beach. Within a matter of hours, the dig site was cleaned up of all of the old equipment, and the new equipment set in place. Digging operations resumed at a much more frenetic pace than before, a much more streamline endeavor than was in place originally.

The vice foreman - surprisingly still in his job after that security gaffe nearly cost the NCCA the whole operation - looked on as he watched a bunch of people getting set to dig on. They were all... odd looking people, he knew that they couldn't have been sent from Achtklan, and so soon as well. But no one said a thing to him, and at length he decided to get on the phone and called the main office.

"Yeah," he said starting a bit slow. "We've got a new set of equipment workers here. But I'm pretty sure the home office didn't send them."

"What do you mean we didn't send them?" Apparently, the vice foreman didn't realize he was talking to his boss.

"Well, they're all foreign looking and they've got their own equipment. Looks like they're doing a pretty good job so far, but I'm slightly irked that no one's told me what they're doing here or what not."

"What the hell are you talking about?" the boss then yelled. "We haven't sent you anything. We're still trying to figure out what to do about the old equipment."

The vice foreman gave a smirk. "Well, someone else found out for you."

[Camwood]

Conference Room A
Executives Offices
Clemson, New Ontario

"Way to go Nancy," says President Sam Boyle.

"Sorry Chief," replies Nancy Roberts the Secratary of State

"No Matter, someone remeber to publically withdrawl the statement,"

"Yes Sir," replies Spokesman Murray.

"Where do we got from here?"

''Well, construction has began, so we can't volunteer to design it..."

Commerce Seantor Alec Russ speaks up, "We can use this to our advantage, this will connect the moose coast to the goose coast,"

"Aye Alec, here's what we do, we offer to help engineer the canal but we don't really have the resources to deploy any acual manpow-"

"The Engineer Corp!" says General McKinney.

"Thank You General," says the president, "but we're going to offer civilian engineers."

---

EXECUTIVE OFFICE OFFICIAL PRESS RELEASE

We withdrawl our earlier statement and all threats we declare no longer relavant. We offer help designing your canal with our ahead-of-the- class engineers. However we won't be able to provide working manpower due to a small population of 110 million*.

*population is rp

[Achtklan]

Yes, yet another meeting. Hugo was getting tired of these meetings, but as Chancellor, he was obliged to attend them. And just when he thought the snorefest that was the Agriculture Minister's report on the bountiful harvest of eggplants and pistachios (coupled with their lack of demand), he had to endure the next person in line - the Foreign Minister's report. Not that his reports were boring, but Hugo could only take so much stupidity in one day.

"We've received a public notice from Camwood. They're sorry for accusing us of being bullies, and they're willing to cooperate in the digging operations."

OMG, the Foreign Minister just said the name of a country without fumbling its name! Granted, it was a simple name, but that didn't seem to stop the Foreign Minister before. After all, we are talking about the man who fumbled "Nethertopia", calling it "neither tops".

And with that, he sat down. Hugo felt obliged to stand up and applaud. The other ministers looked around in awe, confusion, and surprise. They decided to applaud with the Chancellor as well, wondering if he was applauding the decision by Camwood to help with their Nova Cambria operations, he was applauding the Foreign Minister for having a short report, or if it was something else altogether, because they know the Foreign Minister is completely oblivious. In fact, even the Foreign Minister started to clap with everyone else, wondering why they had just started clapping all of the sudden. Maybe it was one type of ministerial tradition that they hadn't been upholding for longest while?

After that brief clapping episode, it was the Trade Minister's turn. No doubt this was going to be interesting.

"I'm glad to hear positive developments in Camwood, but really, we've got our own problems in Nova Cambria. It appears that while the NCCA was planning a refit operation, engineers and equipment from the Civil Citizenry swarmed the place overnight. I'm not sure we were really prepared for this. We know that they're from the Civil Citizenry, because - well, the equipment is stamped with their name on it. We tried talking to the workers on the site, but it doesn't seem that they were too cooperative or talkative at all. It's really eerie - hundreds or thousands of workers working without talking. It's like they're all robots. And you know how those Civil Citizenry people are - totalitarian, despotic, evil (the Trade Minister thinks anyone "undemocratic" is evil - oddly, he doesn't really know what "democratic" means in the first place). So we'll need the Foreign Ministry to do something about this before they usurp our operations. Fortunately, it seems that they've taken over the building operations on Sofnikos Anaxaux, so I'm not too irked about that. But if they think they want claim and recognition for this building project, they're wrong!"

"Duly noted," Hugo said. He scribbled a note in his notebook. Fortunately, for him, that was the last report of the day, and it was time to go upstairs to meet with the Chief Inquisitor. There was no telling what sort of marvels they had discovered on the truck in the past week. Or at least, they thought it was a week. The Trade Minister scurried after Hugo, dragging the Foreign Minister along with him as they ascended the elevator.

"Chancellor. I think it's prudent we issue an Order for Finger Wag at the The Independent Conglomerate of Civil Citizenry, for the unwarranted intrusion in our pet project in Nova Cambria."

"What?" Hugo said. "We haven't even warned them yet!"

"Besides that, we should be thanking them!" the Foreign Minister said.

"Quiet, you're only here because you're going to write the Order," the Trade Minister replied. "And no, they knew we were building a canal. Everyone does!"

(the Trade Minister is immediately countered by the mythical man sitting in the loo somewhere in Candelaria And Marquez, who is incidentally reading the newspaper featuring the news of canal construction but nonchalantly skips over the news to read some luscious gossip on President Natalie van Dijk's secret love life with a dwarf-elf [and you know it can't be true, because C&M vehemently denies the existence of mythical pixies and creatures] - it's obviously political commentary about how Ms. van Dijk is ruining Candelaria And Marquez, making it go the way of the dodo [another one of those mythical pixies and creatures whose existence is vehemently denied])

"Were we supposed to see something there?" the Foreign Minister remarked, unaware that ooc remarks do not apply in IC situations.

"Not sure what you're talking about," the Chancellor replied. "But it's time for me to get off the crazy tube." Immediately, the door on the elevator opened, and Hugo leaped out, hitting the close door button and sending the elevator down to the bottom floor. Neither the Trade Minister nor the Foreign Minister had the tact to follow Hugo out, and they were trapped in the elevator as the doors shut and sent them on their way down. The secretary was busily filing her nails as Hugo walked casually into the room. The Chief Inquisitor was there waiting for him.

"Chancellor, I have some good news and bad news."

"Let's have the good news first," Hugo replied. "I'm in the mood for good news first today."

"The truck was piloted by a Sargossan national. We managed to recover DNA that shows that a Sargossan individual was present in the truck, driving it."

"Well, that's splendid news. Now we can issue an Order for Finger Wag!"

"Not quite," the Chief Inquisitor said. Now came the bad news. "We have evidence that the truck was ransacked by geese as well. As far as we're aware, any evidence of Sargossan soldiers on that truck has been diluted by the presence of goose artifacts: blood, saliva, feathers, even poo. Quite frankly, Sargossa will claim that our evidence is hunting for a scapegoat. The Sargossan DNA doesn't pass even our own threshold for absolute certainty. I have a feeling the Sargossans intentionally left the truck out there for the geese to ransack, so you know those smug Sargossans. They'll claim that the geese did it. And you know, they wouldn't be wrong either."

"Yes, yes. I'm aware." Hugo sat down in his chair, despondent at the lack of options. "So what can we do?"

"Well, I have a plan on mind. It might be a little dirty, and it's a little complicated too. But I think we can manage it, if we can fool a few people. They want to stop our canal operations? We'll stop theirs."

[Mytannion]

Somewhere underground in MRRUIA Headquarters in Esca, Mytannion.

"Hey Timi, got some news for you mate."

"Hmm?" Timi, the one 'hmming' at Darko was about to finish his shift, of course, spies didn't stop working - but he was about to go home. He couldn't be bothered with some 'news', it'd probably be some far-off conflict, something that didn't really affect Mytannion, something that didn't matter.

"Well, our man in Nova Cambria has informed us that the Alleklan.. No, Alklanne, wait, Alleklannenfolk? Oh, I don't know - the people from Achtklan, have gone ahead with the build of a canal centering around the island in the middle of the river in the middle of the nation, around the capital, Cambridge."

"And? Why the fuck are you telling me this?" Timi replied.

"Well apparently, someone is trying to sabotage the building of the canal. Our man put a bug in a room of a building they are using as a base from which to plan the build and the bug picks up some men talking about it. It picks up the words 'ballistics' and 'test', this suggests that there was perhaps a shoot-out or maybe a bombing.. But what is even more interesting is this, here, listen.." Darko flicked a switch on the board of switches and buttons and red flashing lights that said 'touch me', even though you probably shouldn't touch them.

"the other country that uses this kind of ammunition is Sargossa..."

It was fuzzy. It was in a different tongue to Mytanar, but both understood the language and could understand what had been said. They both knew one word which would be the same in any language. Sargossa. It was the Sargossans that had taken part in whatever had happened. It was a jigsaw of sorts, and now the pieces were beginning to become clearer and beginning to fit.

The Sargossans had a motive. They had their own canal and its' various interests to protect. They wouldn't want any competition.

"Right, okay, I understand, but - once again - why are you telling me this? How does it affect us?"

"Well. It doesn't, not at all. It is just, interesting." Darko told Timi.

"How so?" Timi asked.

"Well. The Alleklannenpeople want to buid a canal, the Nova Cambrians are okay with the Alleklannenpeople building a canal. Why shouldn't we offer both parties some protection, secretly of course - we'd get something in return of course.." Darko suggested.

"Hmm. Clever. We have no official standing military though, so how are we meant to do this?" Timi asked.

"Well, we have inactive agents. Put them all together and we have an elite team of agents who can defend the build and can help our man in Nova Cambria with the good work he's doing."

"Right. Who are these inactive agents?" Timi was beginning to come around to the idea.

"Mick, Bush, Red, Blue, Jay, Olive, Tank, Rook and Swan. They're all inactive at the moment, put them together and you have a Special Operations Force that can deal with pretty much anything, I'd say. Give them some pistols and RPGs and they can protect the canal. It should work, if we can somehow get help from the Pontinurii Intelligence Service and the Othebian Doexana, we could have a crack team that can deal with this."

"Right. Get a letter sent to the people running this project. We could get some free stuff for our nation out of this."

(OOC: if this isn't okay - the bugging and all that - ignore this. Obviously our bugging hasn't picked up everything, so we don't know you may be going after the Sargossans yourselves. If you want to accept help, imagine there has been a letter sent and accept the help.. I dunno, you can ignore this completely if you want ).

[Sargossa]

Southern Command, San Surraco, Curamunga.

"And there was nothing in the psychological profiling? Nothing at all?" General Hugo Ríos steepled his fingers as he regarded the white coated medical officer.

"Not a thing."

"But he's a highly decorated Special Forces operative." He said leafing through the file on his desk. "He's seen action in Santazuela, in Oaków, in Kyrinskaia. And the operation in Nova Cambria was a success. Are you quite sure we have a problem?"

"Urm." The military doctor stared intently at his shoes as he formed a response. "Well . . . perhaps it would be best if your saw him for yourself sir."

Military function gave way to the smell of bleach and the whiff of despair as the two men reached the base's medical wing. The doctor stopped at a steel door flanked by two guardsmen who snapped to a smart attention. "After you General."

Inside the contents of the room could be described as Spartan. There was a bunk, a small desk, a toilet and a tiny window high in the far wall. The figure on the bunk jumped up at the sight of his uniformed visitor. He performed a textbook salute before standing rigidly at attention.

"At ease soldier. Err . . . how are you feeling?"

"Sir! Fine! Sir!. Ready and eager to get back in the action sir!"

Ríos turned back to the doctor who was loitering just outside the cell. "Doctor, i'm not short of things to keep my occupied. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with this man so why do you have him locked up like a convict?"

The doctor reached into the confines of his white coat and withdrew a small metallic object. It was some kind of horn. He squeezed the end.

hooonnnnnkkk

The effect was instantaneous. The squad leader eyes grew wide as he visibly flinched. "NOOOOOO!" He shrieked. "They've found me. Dios, they found me! The feathers, so many feathers. Feathers. Hehe HAHAHAHAHA. FEATHERS! Hehehe. Honk! Honk! Honkhonk! HONK!"

General Ríos watched in opened mouthed horror at the transformation. Before his eyes the squad leader rolled into the darkness under the bunk, still honking to himself. He turned to the doctor who raised an eyebrow. "OK, you may have a point."

[Achtklan]

It was Federico's first day on the job. And unlike his colleagues, Federico was antsy about everything. Everything. He threw a fit in primary school because a girl was looking at him. It irked him, so they sent him to an all-boys school. Eventually, they discovered that Federico was actually talking about boys, so they sent him to an all-girls school. They also sent him to see a doctor - the doctor quit the next day and committed suicide via post-femural exsanguination. It was evident in early days that Federico was going to be an outcast for the rest of his life, but he was a smart chap. Terribly smart, and he knew that he was sick. So he tried to cure himself by getting himself into a crowd of people at the mall. Unfortunately, he managed to get himself surrounded with an army of mannequins and deluded himself into thinking that he was cured of his extreme phobias. He graduated from the university when the university offered him a diploma just to get out of the bursar's office. He also got his phD the same way, although whoever was giving him this stuff should have realized that his masters in art history didn't quite match the phD in quantum physics.

Anyway, the reason why the Bureau hired Federico was because his extreme phobia was a useful tool. He was the most antsy inquisitor on the block. And it was his responsibility to track the progress of Operation:Canal Dummy. In fact, for the first day, he accompanied the Chief Inquisitor himself to the Chancellor's office. He was nervous in elevators, but he only needed to remind himself of the last time he broke the elevator on the 103rd floor (people died... tragically...). They walked out of the elevator, and immediately he put a mirror in front of him. Secretaries made him antsy. He followed the Chief Inquisitor into the Chancellor's room, where he was busily meeting with the Energy Minister.

"... ah well, that's good news to hear. I'm always encouraged when spacetime diffraction can be improved. Until next time, gentlemen, Minister."

Federico shook his head, plugging his ears with his fingers. He was antagonistic towards meetings that he wasn't involved in (well, to both, but he'd learned to control the latter). The Energy Minister nodded and exited with his advisers. Hugo sat in his chair with a smile from ear to ear. Federico looked away - wide grins upset him very much.

"Chancellor Hugo," the Chief Inquisitor began, "we're ready to commence Operation: Canal Dummy..."

At that moment, Federico exploded. He went to the nearest lamp vase and shattered it to piece. "BUGS!" he shrieked. "THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!!!"

"Bugs?" Hugo replied, a bit shocked. "I thought we'd gotten rid of the pests..."

Immediately, Federico turned to the Chancellor's desk and broke every pen in the pencil holder before reaching out to the curtains and yanking them off the windows. He threw his chair at the windows, and then stomped on a portrait. He zipped over to the mantle over a fireplace and started to hit it with a steel mace. He then tossed the steel mace out the window before yanking the chairs from under the Chief Inquisitor and the Chancellor, tossing them out the window much the same as he was doing to everything else. And at long last, he tore into Hugo's vestments and tossed them out the window, sparing the man his one reprieve. The rest of the room, unfortunately, was a mess.

"He wasn't hunting roaches, Hugo," the Chief Inquisitor said, as if he needed to clarify Federico's point.

"I see that."

"As I said, it is time to start Operation:Canal Dummy. Federico has been preparing a brief for your information only. And by preparing a brief, I mean he has been working his arse off to tell what we're going to do and then to monitor the situation from his comfy padded room - which is just about the only place where he can monitor this operation."

"Very well," Hugo said, using the torn curtains as a makeshift dress.

Federico nervously stood up and started to talk. "I'm sorry about my outburst... it's just so unnerving when you've got more than one eye in the room." He muttered under his breath, "they're still here!!!", and then continued. "The first part of the operation has been completed. The agent has been inserted into..." He interjected again in a hushed tone, "the bugs are everywhere!!!", before continuing on. "...Santazuela, where he's been instructed to start wreaking havoc. And by wreaking havoc, I mean I have no clue what he's going to do. But that's why I'm going to watch him to make sure he..." Again, an interjection, "they've got eyes on the box!!! eyes on the box!!!" and continuing on. "...doesn't do anything embarrassing like assassinate a secretary of defense or blow up our embassy that we don't have in Santazuela. Needless to say, Sargossa is going to be more than flustered about what might or will possibly going to happen."

Hugo scratched his head. "That's our plan? Make them mad at Santazuela? That seems a bit out of touch with reality, considering they're already engaged in a civil dispute. I mean, do you want them to start posting pictures of General Delgado in a bikini posing with a goose? There's really not much more you can do to upset the situation there."

Federico continued. "The objective is to disrupt the canal traffic. Although I can inform our agent that he should post up a giant bulletin board of General Delgado on the canal, to make a distracting view for passing vessels, and then hope that one of them crashes and disrupts the flow of the canal..."

"I was being sarcastic," Hugo replied.

At that moment, Federico screamed and jumped out the window. Hugo just stood there a bit shocked. The Chief Inquisitor sighed and dialed a number on his phone. "Yes, Freddy has jumped again." He put away the phone before assuring the Chancellor. "No worries. We've got a parachute on him. He's prepared for this kind of stuff. Besides that, he's the best lie detector we've ever hired." He started to walk out of the room. "Sorry about the mess though. We'll clean it up."

After the Chief Inquisitor left, the Secretary entered the room with a phone book at hand. Even though she spent the entire time outside of the room and away from the action, she seemed to know just what Hugo needed. "When do you want to schedule your room remodel?"

---

SANTAZUELA - Watson - a name so reviled in Achtklan that no one ever dares bear that name. And anyone who does is volunteered away to serve in the Bureau's Alien Surveillance Transgressive Autonomous Rendering Delivery Service (BASTARDS) - which unfortunately had so many 'Watson's that they ran out of numbers to use. So the next best thing was to just assign anyone named Watson - they're all traitorous rejects anyway...

Such was Watson's duty, and having been called up at the last moment, he was surprised to find himself in Santazuela. Aside from the burning buildings and the loudspeakers shrilling with controversy, it was a pretty nice place. And it was pretty important as well, since Santazuela formed part of the Trans-Branta canal system. Why it was semiautonomously ruling itself with military forays from Sargossa routinely terrorizing its population from the terror was that Jarque's regime remained a mystery to Watson, but he wasn't there to investigate the mystery - he was there to instigate something. And in the midst of so much instigation, he found it hard to do anything. I mean... it's still Sargossa. And the people are oppressed by a medium-sized government touted a excessive Retail market. Seriously, the first thing anyone did to him was offer to sell him a kidney. Watson had a good thought about it - he didn't need another kidney. Another thing about it was the squirrels. They were all sporting some Che Guevara hairdos, and some were tossing knives and grenades at people. Well, at least the grenades were expired and they weren't tossing nuts either - people are allergic to nuts.

And so in this strange country of Santazuela, there was a distinct feeling of "no matter what I try, I'm going to fail". Watson realized that if he were to succeed, he would have to work quickly in order to avoid the depressing and demoralizing spirit of the land consumed him. On top of things, he was going to have to find a way to update his progress back to Achtklan without rousing suspicion that he was an agent in the country. I mean, nevermind the fact that he wasn't Sargossan (whom people generally despised in these parts anyway...), he wasn't Santazuelan either. It was a double dose of "who cares if we kill this bastard?".

Fortunately, he had a plan...

---

NOVA CAMBRIA - The vice foreman was still on the phone, listening to the twinkling hold music, wondering why Civil Citizenry engineers were still digging out the canal. After all, it had been weeks since he last got an update, and it didn't appear that anyone was going to stop them. And he wasn't really complaining; thanks to their hard work, they were back on schedule - even ahead a little bit. Sofnikos Anaxaux was just now popping out of the ocean, although he wasn't certain if they were intentionally building the island or continuing to use the dump site that the Alleklannen ships had used before. In any case, progress was going full-steam ahead.

And just as he was just about to give up, there came another group of individuals. He held the phone against his shoulder. "And who might you be?" he asked them.

"We're the civilian engineers sent from Camwood. We're here to help."

"Orite... Camwood. Just what we were expecting..." Totally not - he was being sarcastic, as if you could read that. He facepalmed himself as he glanced over at the highly efficient CC workcrews plowing through the mountain. In the next few hours, they would move out again, just to keep pace with the forward-setting progress. If things continued, CC would have this canal done in a week.

"Um, what do you want us to do?"

"Join the rest of your friends from all around," the vice foreman replied. "We've been getting offers from left and right to come help build this darned thing. And you know the darnedest thing? We still haven't figured out where maintenance is. Anyway, this is the Big Dig, and those guys are doing all of the digging. If you want to stick around, there's a beach party on the Goose Coast..."

In that instant, the engineers disappeared, off to join the beach party, wherever it happened to be. But more importantly, the vice foreman heard a tone on the phone. "Hello?" he heard the muffled voice say. He quickly lifted the set.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! I've been trying to get a hold of you!"

"Is anyone there?"

Before he realized his mistake, the phone set was upside down. He was speaking into the receiver and listening from transmitter. He tried to flip the phone, but by then he could hear the dull monotone ring loudly, indicated the line had been cut. He sighed as he dialed the main office again.

ooc: I'm writing this in a furious rush. If there are any blaring word omissions/inclusions/random departures from sanity beyond the usual, please let me know...

[Achtklan]

*This is long over-due, so many great apologies and great thanks for the patience*

"... as you can see, it is clearly time for the great pistachio harvest to commence. And needing all the help we can get, it will be necessary to coordinate the extra hires during this season for pistachio farmers to ensure that the greatest amount of pistachios are harvested and sold overseas for... whatever it is that people use them for. We really don't care, they're a cash crop and the Minister of Agriculture is here to make it count for us. Now... what will be needed are some contracts for the many thousands of pistachio farmers to hire migrant workers at sub-standard rates, with minimal guarantees that these migrant workers will be housed. Of course, they'll have to leave their families for so many months, but we'll be happy that their kids aren't overflowing in our schools at least..."

For once, the Agriculture Minister actually had something to say... and frankly Hugo didn't like the tone of the conversation.

"Are you suggesting that we economically exploit the underprivileged margins of our society to farm pistachios?"

The Agriculture Minister stood there aghast. "No! Absolutely not!"

"That's what it sounds like."

"But that's not what it is. We're granting these people to have a work opportunity in the great Federal Republic!" The Agriculture Minister made it sound like that was a big deal.

"By paying them sub-standard rates?"

"Well, they're not citizens."

"Separating them from their families?"

"They're living overseas! Think of cost to relocate all of their families!"

Hugo shook his head. "I think you are going to have to find a different way to harvest pistachios cheaply."

"Well, there is another way... we could hire a bunch of privateers to reappropriate the pistachios from Nethertopian stores and resell them as our own. It'll cost a lot to hire privateers, but with the profits we make from the reappropriation, we'll have more than enough with the current exchange rate for pistachios."

Hugo wanted to do a faceslap there. "And what about our pistachio farmers?"

"They can start to grow muffins."

"You mean bake?"

"No, I mean grow. Muffins do grow on trees, you know."

Hugo did faceslap there, and his reaction was near unanimous from the whole assembly of ministers present. Even the Trade Minister, who was notoriously adventurous in his dealings, couldn't help but laugh at his co-minister's failings. 'I could imagine ten thousand better ways to present that,' he thought to himself. But Hugo would have his reprieve, as no sooner did his hand leave his face than did a messenger come bursting through the door with news.

"The island is finished!"

That brought cheers from the table. For the past whoknowshowlong, those crazy kooks from Sofnikos Anaxaux had camped out on their square. In fact, they camp-out had taken so long that protesters for other things joined together in a protest against the "island", which they thought was some metaphor for something else. It was only after the first two weeks did actually learn it wasn't a metaphor. Some of the protestor went back home to blog about something else, while some others joined the protest to build the island faster. That caused other problems, which unfortunately we have neither the time nor the space for it here. Needless to say, it caused the Chancellor many great headaches and nightmares - especially since his bedroom faced the square where the protests were occurring and the loudspeakers were ominously aimed toward the sky. He would have thought that the protesters were chanting their protests, but the Sofnikene campers (who weren't protesting at all, in fact) happened to have horrible gastrointestinal fortitude and a high fiber diet. Embarrassing toots erupted at the wee hours of the night...

But that didn't interest the Trade Minister. "What about the canal?" he asked the messenger.

"They're not done yet actually. They're almost done, but they wanted to know where to put the rest of the dirt."

The Trade Minister had a few good places, but he would need to confer with Hugo in private about that. He had just the opportunity in a moment. After the announcement, Chancellor Hugo decided to adjourn the Ministers' Meeting for a private conference about the Canal project. The Trade Minister came nearer to Hugo, along with the inept Foreign Minister and the Defense Minister. No doubt, he was there perhaps to discuss implications regarding Sargossa's unofficial intervention some time ago.

Hugo brought out a map for the men to observe.

In fact, he brought a couple of maps.

The Ministers and Hugo went over the schematics and logistics for the project.

"Surprisingly, we've been underbudget," Hugo said. "I'd like it's because those engineers from Civil Citizenry took over and they haven't sent us a bill yet for all of this. Of course, we're not the ones paying for this exactly - that would be the Nova Cambria Canal Authority... and coming to think of that, where are they right now?"

"Golfing?" the Foreign Minister replied.

"Why are they golfing?"

"Because... that's what they do?"

"The heads of the NCCA are golfing because that's in their job description?"

"It's supposed to build rapport with the customers..."

"But we're the customers. We are not going to play golf right now..."

---

"I can't believe we're going to play golf right now." Just goes to prove that Hugo can be contradicted in an instant. From the comfy yet uptight environment of an office building to the open and exposed air of a golf course. And of course, Hugo was the only one who decided to go out in yeolden golf garb, complete with plaid trousers, pink flamingo shirt, and a spiffy bolo tie. He looked ridiculous, to say the least.

"My, you're brave," remarked one of the NCCA directors.

"Anyway," the Trade Minister said, while trying out his putting with a 9-iron, "It's about time we got to talking about finishing the canal. We have heard that they're looking for a new deposition site for the excavation, right?"

"What?"

The Trade Minister gave the NCCA directors a grim look. They returned the grim look as his ball went flying into the air and hit a hapless pedestrian about 20 meters away.

"Where do we want to put the dirt?" the Trade Minister said, restating his original comment in smaller words.

"Right," the Chief Director said. "Well, we were looking at the Island site, and quite frankly, if we put any more dirt there, the sea is going sink, and we'll completely rearrange the tectonics of the Rushmore region. In fact, if we were any more careless, we could have caused the whole region to sink into that point and wipe out the continent. Doubtless, that would make some people happy (are you reading this CAMeister?!?), but we're not interested in wiping out great international communities for the sake of profits. We want to keep those people there so we can actually use that canal that we spent so much time building."

"And speaking of which," Hugo replied, "Have you heard word from the Civil Citizenry folk who so kindly intervened when our old equipment was stricken by a bunch of militant geese (the only official version of the events, since that's what the evidence suggests... unofficially and in truth, it was Sargossa...)?"

"Nope," they replied. "We wouldn't even know, because we haven't had a phone call from anyone."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Well..."

The Trade Minister seemed irked that the conversation was going away from his original intentions. He tried to divert it back on track. "So anyway, have you proposed a new place for the dirt to go?"

"Are you aware that you're supposed to yell 'FORE!' when you play?"

"I don't care how many times I have to yell! Just tell me if you've got a back-up plan!"

"No..."

"Good, because I have one." The NCCA directors and Hugo all perked an ear. "Supposing we started to put this dirt strategically in Lake Branta and start building an island there? I mean, we need a place to put it, but there's no other place to put it. And quite frankly, we need to equalize the tectonic pressure that was created when we built that island. So maybe, somewhere in Lake Branta?"

Immediately, Hugo shot it down. "No. We are not going to block the Canal." It seems he could read right through the Trade Minister's intentions. "If we did that, there would be nothing to stop Sargossa from doing the same here. And they've two canals. I'm not about to play sand castles with them."

"I wasn't thinking about that... but that's a good idea."

"No," Hugo retorted. "We're not going anywhere near Lake Branta. Besides, to get there, we'd have to use their canal. And... as much as I'd like to do something of that sort, we haven't the time or resources to continue something trivial like that. There are plenty of other places to put that dirt. We could possibly sell it to someone somewhere, because you know there's always some new country coming around on a raft wanting their own little sliver of Rushmore... We'll try that for a while. Just keep the dirt on barges until we can find a customer to buy it."

"That sounds splendid."

The Trade Minister nodded in tacit agreement. In his mind though, he realized that Hugo was now becoming more assertive. This might necessitate some changes...

Hugo then turned to the Foreign Minister with a quick little remark. "So, I'd like for you to contact the Nova Cambrian embassy to announce that this project will soon be over."

"Okay, what's a Nova Cambrian, and what's an embassy?"

The Trade Minister, still putting with his 9-iron, managed to hit the ball and toss the club at that remark. In total, he hospitalized seven civilians, for which he had to pay out of his docket. He still had no clue what 'fore' meant. Two hours later, after discovering that there were no embassies in Achtklan at all, the Foreign Minister was sacked - ending that tragic episode for good.

At least, this was finally done.

*PIS, if you want the original SVG stuff for the canal and Sofnikos Anaxaux, then I will gladly supply. Otherwise, you're welcome to just guess it all out.*