Pandæmonium (MT, Semi-Open, Canon RP, TG for Info)

[GeneralHaNor]

4th Azurian Encampment,
Outside Fort Doe

It was a days since Major Lelouche received the most shocking news ever, and he was still struggling to actually believe any of it, but it was plain as day, he knew in his heart that beyond those gates lie they true enemy of Azura, and he would expose the monsters for who they are.

"Captain Hunt, round up Bilosecks and Milosy, and come to my tent, we have business to discuss" Lelouche hopped off the radio, it was time to get back to work.

"Sir, reporting as ordered" Captain Hunt chimed, following behind him was the Tech Sergeants, Milosy and Bilosecks.

"We are through the looking glass here, cliche I know, but apt" Lelouche paused. "If we want to see justice, and live to administer it, we are gonna need to prove it, Captain Hunt, I want you to gather men you can trust explicitly, and nobody else, I want you to form a recon team, we need to gather intel, covertly"

Captain Hunt paused..."I don't even know where to start, sir, we have no names, no trail, just a terminal, and a clue"

"I'm aware, I've done some ground work for you, I have intelligence sources and contacts left over my royalty days that operate in this region, they owe me a few favors, mainly for not executing them on the spot like the filthy traitors they are." Lelouche took a deep breathe to prevent his anger from reaching a boil.

"Anyways, are you aware of Mu-Empire/Azura Transnational canal project?"
"The what sir...?"
"It's a project request submitted by a Mu-Empire conglomerate and diplomats to the New Azurian Restoration Government, it calls for New Azura to secede half it's territory, and an Island for the creation of a "Free trade zone" for the purpose of building a canal across New Azura "

"Madness, surely we wouldn't agree to such a thing"

"We already did, Hunt, it was submitted on day 2, and approved on day 3, Rushed as it were"

"Azura was destroyed to build this!!...I can't believe that"

"Believe it, a plan this massive doesn't appear overnight, it takes funding, and years of research and planning, I have on my desk here, the business proposal of a multi-national consortium of business and government interests to build this canal, filed over three years ago, this conspiracy is larger then us all"

"Everyone is in on this?"

"Everyone of importance hunt, this is why the foreign legion was staffed with foreign officers and soldiers, so when the day came, we wouldn't feel a commitment to help new azura, but rather just obey orders and come home, General John Rengal is a wild card that is slowing their plans, the longer he sits in New Azura, the longer it's gonna take for them to complete this deal, New Azura was sold out, not for an ideology, or for misplaced loyalty, but for profit, pure unmitigated greed"

"Bastards, all of them...where do I start"

"I have a list of names, I want these people followed covertly, record everything, as for Bilosecks and Milosy, I have a list of business accounts, the people funding this project, I want the money trail followed to the actors in New Azura, it's a long shot, but maybe this is our ace in the hole"

"You have your assignments, dismissed"

Hunt, Milosy, and Bilosecks exited the tent, and Lelouche sighed, Lelouche had an assignment as well, to alert John Rengal and tell him why it was important for him to stay put in New Azura.

Lelouche got something else from his contact, an older Solmian Cypher Device, the code was old, but the channel would be secure, John Rengal would recognize it, and accept it.

Time to get to work

Code: Select all


Boot sequence
Transmitting
188.345
Reciept Device, 2229567
John Rengal
Encrypt data packet
LVL

[The Naacal]

109th Decontamination Battalion HQ,
Field Hospital 1
32 Kilometers outside of Molyneux.
New Azura

Since the initial teams came in, more and more equipment and personel were coming in from Mu territory. The site had grown from field tents to quikcrete bunkers and buildings as the MASH unit slowly grew into a full scale hospital. Even then it was not enough, there was simply so much death...

Colonel M'ralyth was in his office in the building housing the HQ for the 109th Decontamination Battalion. The rad count had been falling, though was still high enough to require the wearing or protective gear outside. Indications were in a week or mor it would be possible to walk about unshielded. The Thermal Units worked night and day, grimly converting the bodies of the dead into fuel oil. Though gruesome it was preferable to adding plague to the nightmare cocktail of agony the people of Azura already suffered under.

In the hospital chelation drugs were running short. More had been ordered from central Naacal, but would take some time to arrive. Combat engineers were building an airfield to allow large transport planes to land. The New Molyneux International Airport had taken a ground burst from a 100 kT MIRV. The runways were irreparable, and the radiation... Bulldozers and concrete mixers were working nonstop, getting a simple parallel-runway strip built. Hopefully within a week it would be operational.

The defense perimeter around the facilties were set up, but fortunately had not been needed. There had not been much bandit activity in New Molyneux...likely because there was not much left to raid or steal. Further north, the Imperial Army's armored spearhead was advancing in support of the Freekish airborne forces even now on their way to deal with the Solmian-backed rogue forces.

But for here, for now, all that mattered was saving people from a hellish death.

[Ekraysia]

XX Corps, 15th Army
第二十兵團 - Dìèrshí Bīngtuán, 第十五軍 - Dìshíwǔ Jūn
Around 500km East of San Monahan, Azura
09:12


The landings of the 15th army had been called off once the radcount had been established as high. Fortunately, the Ekraysian soldiers had landed in Radiation suits, and many in vehicles. Once it had been established that there was absolutely no-one here, the secure perimeter had been scrapped. The 15th Army's XX Corps and the Nuclear and Specialist Corps had ensured that no soft-skinned, open vehicle made it near the beach, and now, with the radcount still high, had decided to race inland as far as possible, in a massive column of Ekraysia's best troops, laden with fuel and spares, that ran for miles. A column that shook thevery earth as it proceeded.

They had no guarantee of safety, and while the divisions and regiments were placed in order, all had driven inland as far as was possible on their external fuel tanks and tracks. Inland. Here, the wind would help them, and the radcount was decreasing. But still unsafe. On the ruined roads of developed Azura, tanks and personnel carriers raced side-by-side, encountering nobody else. Occasionally, they'd have a glimpse of FY-9U fighter aircraft from the carriers, and once so far, LY-10s had performed an airdrop to them.
They had tankers with them. But that fuel might not last them to Molyneux. And until they made contact, they were alone.


Imperial Navy of Ekraysia
Gothic Waters
06:58


Sunrise over an eerily quiet and beautiful day aboard the Carrier IES Dongbei Haijia, part of the epic concentration of Ekraysian land, air and especially naval power. Supreme General Liao Meilin sat in silence on the bridge, decked with its huge, blast-resistant windows. The three golden stripes and four bars on his shoulders sat testament to his ability, but here his mind was beyond that, just looking out at the stunning dawn and the pink shades cast across the dull grey warship. He wasn't alone.
The officer of the watch was also here, leaving the job of manning C2 to the Captain, who was also awake. Vice-Admirals Wu Han and Xing Xianning, Admiral Jiang Wenbo and Supreme Admiral Zhang Jinyuan, a relative of the emperor, leant against the back wall. All were too tired to be particularly formal. Wenbo spoke up.
"So, sir?"

Back to earth. He turned round, leaving his face to be gently lit up one side, and revealing his sleepless eyes on the other.
"What?"
"So what do we do now?"
"Get breakfast. There's a bowl of noodles waiting for us"
He grumbled, shying away from the window.
"I have little appetite, until I know what I will be doing"
Zhang Jinyuan, a younger cousin of the Emperor. The resemblance was striking, and both knew the monarch very well. Zhang, though, was under Liao Meilin's command for the operation. In theory, anyway, they were of equal rank and the forces involved were, regardless, too big for a single commander to handle.
"And what do you propose, Gong?"
"Well, brother Liao"
He said.
"We've called off our landings. We've landed in the most irradiated area and our troops are racing inland to save themselves. I've thought of landing as far west as possible, but that also is highly irradiated. We have little option but to land somewhere in Naacal. Although, I've been thinking"
"What have you been thinking?"
"The Solmian foreign legion unit, I believe, is causing a lot of trouble. It will not be contained for some time and is running rampant. In the meantime, though, I happen to know they are only landing in the extreme east of the Azuran northern coast. If we were to land a little north-west of them, or even directly behind them, then I believe we have a safe landing point and can contribute decisively to an allied success"
"Which navy has the north coast?"
"Just the Central Navy, 6th Army embarked"
"An interesting idea. I'll eat on it. If we were to land another army there and the remainder of the 15th, they could quite conceivably form a whole army group"
"Do you think it's possible?"
"Possible? It's the best idea we've had. Let's go"

[The Naacal]

109th Decontamination Battalion HQ,
Field Hospital 1
32 Kilometers outside of Molyneux.
New Azura

A report had just been given to Colonel M'Ralyth from High Command. It stated there was an Ekraysian unit on the way, but they would likely be short on fuel. As they were heading to Molyneux, additional tankers had been sent. Salvage teams were also recovering what fuel they could from those gas stations that remained intact and unburied.

Picking up the microphone in the newly built communications bunker, the Colonel sent a message to the approaching Ekraysians. "To CO: Imperial Ekraysian XVth Army. This is Colonel M'Ralyth, 109th Decontamination Battalion, Imperial Army of Mu. We have a field hospital and security compound set up outside of the ruins of New Molyneux. Radiation count currently at 4 rads per hour, we have clean zones and decontamination gear set up. If you need fuel please send requirements and coordinates. M'Ralyth, CO 109th Decon, Out."

Walking down a corridor to the CIC, M'Ralyth studied the tactical display table. Scuttlebutt was saying there was some sort of political deal in the works between the Azuran Reconstruction government and Solm. The Colonel had a dark feeling about that for some reason...

[New Azura]

A Whisper in the Wind...
HAM Radio Operation Center West Randlemann
Two Miles from Randlemann, Etowah Province
Friday, November the 9th, 2012 — 10:31 AM EAT

In the distance, Michael could see the skeletal remains of Cheltenham, still smoldering after two years of unmitigated Hell. The charred, broken remnants of what had once been a great and mighty country were represented in the ruins of the dead city, and it reminded him every day of what had been lost in the days of Pandæmonium, as the era of the Azuran Holocaust had come to be referred to as. There was little that remained of the country once governed by a great and noble Federal Republic—despite its flaws, its abundant disregard for the rules of preservation, the Azuran people living in the eastlands had always managed to rally around the democratic cause. Even in the times of the turmoil wrought by the Imperialists and the fanatics, Azura had survived. It was that trait of strength that the Az'ra Vor-Cailene Rithos in West Azumethronnia and the Azur of the Amaranthine Fellowship often lacked—at least in the eyes of the First Azurans...

No one could ever say we lack the strength to survive now. Not any more...

Michael shook his head sadly, turning away from the view afforded by the bluff running alongside his grandfather's disused radio center. After traveling for months on foot, through the badlands where raiders and scavengers had turned his great and noble country into some primordial wasteland of barbarism, Michael Vida had finally managed to reach the abode of his progenitors—the grandparents who had raised him, and instilled in him the virtues that would guide him forward through an unforeseen future of harrowing survival and macabre horrors unimaginable just two short years before. The remains of his guardians, his source of strength were deceased and decaying when he had arrived, but their memory endured in the role his grandfather and grandmother had played in trying to help people survive in the immediate aftermath of the apocalypse. Few stragglers remained in Randlemann after two years in the wastes of what was once his homeland, but their spirit remained alive.

And it shall be reborn this day, in a fashion they could have never possibly imagined.

Eighteen months. It had taken him eighteen long, arduous months trying to scavenge the parts from the countryside to fix the controls for his grandfather's equipment—another two months to find enough fuel to power the generator long enough to test it out, and to repair the antennae that had once broadcast his signal throughout all of the Tripartite. How vindicating it would be to the memory of his grandfather to send out a lone signal, a whisper in the wind to Avsalon and Tsyion, letting them know that the Children of the Republic, of Cheltenham and Williamstown were still alive. Walking towards the back door to the facility, Michael was overwhelmed with the power of the remembrance of his youth, and the lessons his grandparents had taught him. Now, at the precipice of the final chapter in his life, those lessons were flooding back in an oncoming surge of love, his soul cherishing the memories of simpler times.

Hamburgers at the corner of town... fishing for bass in McCready's Pond...

Michael stopped by the door, looking over towards the graves that he had dug for his grandparents after arriving, what felt like a lifetime ago. On the eve of the momentous occasion, he felt oddly compelled to say something—he was not a religious man, and held no aspersions that they could hear him physically from some lofty plane of existence. Yet within his heart and soul, he knew that they were there with him, urging him to step beyond what he had planned on being and fulfilling the role that his country demanded of him. As far as he was concerned, the future of the Federal Republic Wastelands did not belong to the murderers, or the slavers. It did not belong to Avsalon or Tsyion, but to the virtuous survivors who had made it a point not to go down quietly into the night of history. The fate of a people was hanging in the balance—Pandæmonium had reigned for a season, but every season must come to an end. And at the end of the Federal Republic's end would come life anew, budding with the promise of a restored hope in all that was right.

With trembling hands and a heart bursting with affection, Michael began: "It's been a long time since I've heard your voice, Pawpaw... Nanny. You two were the very best of me—you always pushed me to go above and beyond what I thought myself capable of achieving. You taught me the value of life, and responsibility to help others in their time of need. I'd always..." He broke off, wiping a tear from a haggard cheek. "I always looked up to you guys; I wanted to be like you in every way that I could. When this, all of this... when our world crashed, the West Azurans, the Azumethronnians didn't do anything. The Azur sent soldiers for a while, then they left us alone, too. But you guys, you gave your lives to help save others. And, well... If I want to remain true to myself, I have to be prepared to do the same. I just wanted to say that... I miss you both. Don't you worry about a thing; you just rest now. I'll always remember what you taught me; and somehow, someway, I'm going to fix this. I'll always love you both."

Before another tear could slip the surly bonds, Michael wiped at his eyes with the back of his ragged old jacket, using his fingers to paw at the dust that irritated them. The gray skies overhead were poignant; the howl of distant winds the only sound aside from his breathing. Standing stoically by their graveside, the grandson of James Vida felt as ready as he ever would be. Walking through the hallways that would lead to the broadcast desk where his grandfather had once sat, the surge of memories fell away into a renewed focus of what was at stake. He could not afford to get trapped in the memories of the past—not until the day was over, and he had done his fair share. The wickedness, the purveyors of evil that ruled the land would not allow their keep to be razed to the ground without a fight, and Michael knew that there was a good chance that he would be brought to a violent end before the sun could even set. Yet this was his mission, and it had to be accomplished. He had no way of knowing whether things would ever be like they used to be. But if he had a part to play in salvaging what remained of the country he once called home, then his cue to stand up and dance was fast approaching.

Sitting down gingerly in the chair of his forefather, Michael slowly sat to work booting up the relay system, keeping a close eye on the portrait of his mentor as he prepared to begin writing the last chapter on the days of Pandæmonium...

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<<System Reboot In Progress>>

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<<System Restart Complete - Do You Wish to Continue?>>

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<<System Operating Within Normal Parameters>>

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<<Insert Password Now>>

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+_Command Insert Interface_+

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ACCESS GRANTED

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<<BEGIN TRANSMISSION>>

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<<This is Whisper Fire, broadcasting on a frequency of 177.959FA MHz in the wastes of Randlemann. I have a message for anyone that can hear me. To the halls of Avsalon in West Azumethronnia and Praeclarus in the Amaranthine Fellowship... and the good and noble people surviving here in the wastes of Eastern Azura, trying to survive in the aftermath of Pandæmonium. Know that in these dark days, the remnants of our old country may be extinct, yet the memory of all that was good in our nation survives in the heart of its people. Times are tough; many of us have lost loved ones—I share in the knowledge of this pain, having lost everyone that ever meant anything to me. Yet at the precipice of our end as a people, even as a civilization, I refuse to allow their memory to fade into remembrance. As long as I fight, and as long as I seek to carry on the legacy that they built for us, their memory shall never die. And our country shall one day live once more.

Our cities are broken, and our people scattered. Yet despite the horrors we have faced in the ravages of Pandæmonium, we have survived to make all things new. Whether you believe in a deity or not, our salvation from the fires of that dreadful day of judgment was no coincidence. Fate ordained a select few of us to remain behind while our friends and loved ones went to sleep. And I shall not allow the days to pass by without doing my part to salvage our country. The future does not belong to the murderers and the slavers, the drug runners or the mercenaries who have turned this country into a shallow grave of immorality. It does not belong to the uncaring eyes of West Azumethronnia or the Amaranthine Fellowship, or some foreign power. It belongs to us! After two years in Pandæmonium, it is time for our country to be reborn. The road ahead will not be easy, but it shall end with our triumph. So know this, to whoever might be listening—you are not alone. There are people who are fighting with you, each and every day. And your sacrifices shall not be in vain, Children of the East. We shall rebuild, we shall retake what is ours, and no one shall forget who we are, or where we come from.

Have faith and believe, Azura. Whisper Fire, out.>>

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<<END TRANSMISSION>>

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<<TRANSMISSION TERMINATED / LINK CLOSED>>

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<<GOODBYE!>>

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[New Azura]

Who Dwells in the Dead Lands?
Conservatory Central Command Center [CCCC / 4C]
The Capital City of Tsyion, Amaranthine Fellowship
Saturday, the Tenth of November, 2012 — 0330 Hours

For the first time in what felt like a week, General Anushavan Kalanjian could feel the exhaustion begin to creep up on him. His rendezvous with obscene levels of stress and workloads had extended for closer to two weeks at this point, yet it was only now at the end of his ordeal that things were starting to boil over. Being the unofficial honcho in Tsyion with the rather unprecedented absences of the top brass of the Vardanyan Family had left an incredible amount of pressure on Kalanjian to get the job done right. On the surface, he had performed 'admirably'—so said the Arrajina herself via wireless cable from Europa. Underneath the seeming calm that had marked his reign as the Arrajina's military chief however, Kalanjian was moving to and fro with a great degree of trepidation, understanding that new ingredients into the ballgame at this late stage were dangerous.

There's always a catch, Anushavan sighed while pouring himself what seemed like the eighth cup of stale coffee in as many minutes. Things would've turned out alright, had it not been for an unexpected radio transmission from deep within the former territories of the Federal Republic of Azura. East Azura was such a graveyard that no one had bothered paying much attention to it—not even the Azumethronnians gave much consideration to the plight of the East Azurans trapped in 'Pandæmonium'. Kalanjian felt his shoulders slouch as he plopped down in his chair heavily, wondering—and not for the first time—if the Arrajina had made a tactical mistake leaving Tsyion. Her power base was centered in the capital city, so much so that any deviation from the city weakened the overall response of her government. It was a tactical weakness in the Amaranthine Fellowship's infrastructure that was readily improper and more than embarrassing for those in the inner-most circles of governance. The disorganized nature of things made his job much tougher than it should have been.

Luckily I have an 'ace in the hole'...

Even as he thought it, the tall, slender frame of his underling appeared in the doorway, knocking with a firm rap. Kalanjian motioned for him to enter his office, amazed at the punctuality of the assassin—he had arrived just twenty minutes after being called, which was quite impressive considering he lived more than thirty minutes away. John Cailean was an enigma, moving to and fro in the internal military apparatuses like some cryptic shadow, haunting even those who worked with him. Ostensibly a senior commander in the Order of the Nera Strega, Cailean's mission role had somehow eclipsed that particular title, sending him moving through all branches of the Conservators whenever a problem had arisen. Aside from dark circles under his eye and a bit of an unkempt appearance, Cailean looked remarkably benign to have been summoned on one of his rare days off. Kalanjian gave him an apologetic look, feigning the inability to let his situation sit for a day.

"John, thank you for coming," Kalanjian said with hesitancy dripping from his words. The General knew full well what the implications were of bringing the Nera Strega in on this assignment. "I wish it were under better circumstances."

Cailean sighed, easing into the padded office chair. "At 0330, I would hope the world was coming to an end. I don't very well receive days off in my line of work very often, so when I receive them, I prefer to utilize them to their fullest extent."

The General nodded sympathetically at that. "I understand John—believe me, I can sympathize. I've been stuck working materiel detail for the last twelve days nonstop it seems like. So much is going on right now, that I could hardly handle another priority alert."

"... Well," Cailean shrugged, "if I understood your secretary correctly, it seems as though we have just such an alert at the moment? Something about a low-frequency radio signal that you had picked up?"

Anushavan nodded quietly, leaning back into his chair whilst tapping on the armrest with jittery fingers. "Aye, a radio signal. It was weak, but we were able to pinpoint the location fairly quickly. It was a low-band amateur radio broadcast from just outside of Randlemann in the old Federal Republic territory."

Cailean frowned, cocking an eyebrow at the mention of East Azura. "The Federal Republic? How strange to get a signal from there after so many months now—I had been operating under the assumption that most of them were dead. We hadn't gotten a message out of them in what, fourteen months?"

"At least that long," the General responded quickly, grabbing his ceramic coffee mug. "We had a few bursts of activity from the HAM Radio enthusiasts that had survived in the first few weeks after the cataclysm, but as the gangs and the slavers started to set-up shot, broadcasts became fewer and further between."

"I remember those gangs," Cailean said with a certain nostalgic warmth. "It was one of the few missions the Arrajina authorized after we'd learned of the Federal Republic's destruction, going in and rooting out some of the more aggressive militants starting to band together."

"Indeed, it was a shame that she never let your teams finish the job," General Kalanjian remarked with a certain sadness. "Unfortunately, politics got in the way of lending assistance to our spiritual brethren in East Azura, and after awhile, well... you know how it goes."

Cailean shrugged. "I was never one that advocating going in to begin with—I always considered the operations in East Azura an unnecessary risk towards provoking the Cailenes to intervening for themselves. Caius Anaximander may be more trigger shy than his father was, but he's still a Rithos at heart."

"That's precisely why she scaled back the Amaranthine Fellowship's military obligations when she did," the General confessed with heaviness weighting down his spirit. "I do wish we had done more, but I can understand why the Arrajina would not want to risk bringing the West into a full-scale conflict."

"I concur," Cailean said with a certain resolution to his words. The assassin leaned forward slowly after a pause, seeking to steer the conversation towards a more practical summation: "I must inquire General, because I didn't figure that you called me in for a social visit. Is there a reason behind you sharing this information with me?"

The General smiled, but in no likewise manner was he intending to convey merriment. "John, I'm going to level with you. With the Arrajina in Europa and the rest of her political counsel scattered around the fucking world, things have been a little hectic around here. With the rumored Kravenic threats and this new terrorist network trying to muck things up for all involved, a lot of my staffers are on edge right now. That's why I need to figure out this radio signal business quickly and quietly. We're too late in the game for these kinds of surprises."

"Do you want me to go and eliminate the broadcaster?" Cailean motioned confusedly, prompting the General to shake his head.

"No, I don't think that we've warranted that level of involvement just yet; besides, this is officially off the books, and authorizing a kill order on an unknown priority in the heart of Pandæmonium isn't exactly the best way to keep a low profile. Besides, the missive was disconcerting, but not entirely threatening if you catch my drift."

"What did the radio broadcast say?" Cailean asked inquisitively. "To have put a bug up your ass at three in the morning—no offense, General—like this radio signal did, it must have been something of noteworthiness."

Kalanjian nodded. "It was a broadcast from a civilian, as best we can tell. From what we intercepted of it, it seems as though he's interested in gathering other civilians together in a foolhardy attempt at rebuilding their Federal Republic."

John stewed on Anushavan's words for a moment, considering them thoughtfully. After a pause, he slowly rose from his chair, pacing back and forth quietly in deep thought. The General knew full well what was on Cailean's mind, but he decided against breaking the silence of his meditation. Though John Cailean was a taboo subject in some circles, he was still amongst the most respected and appreciated black operators working for the Nera Strega. His willingness to get his hands dirty had won him as many friends in Tsyion as it had enemies in other parts of the world. That respect and healthy fear had been engendered in Anushavan from an early point onwards, allowing him to understand how and why some people deserved more respect than others. John Cailean was worth an entire company of soldiers on the battlefield, and he deserved some leeway as a result.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen, General. I've got a mental picture forming even as I speak. If this civilian—as you say—is some nutjob, then the gangs will take care of him soon enough, and we'll be in the clear. But if this guy has any sort of backing amongst the local population, that could start a major little turf war in the ruins of Pandæmonium. What's worse, any major activity going on in the East Azuran ruins is sure to get Caius Anaximander interested. At this point, we don't need that kind of hassle breaking loose on our northern frontier. Yet I fear that is exactly what we could get if we let this go unchecked."

"I agree," the General nodded affirmatively. "That's why I want you to fly northeast towards Pandæmonium and drop in on Randlemann. Get an idea of what the general mood is, and whether this broadcast is a one-time deal, or if we'll have some real problems out of that part of the region."

Cailean stared off into the distance thoughtfully, weighing the importance of the assignment before nodding slowly. "I'll observe the situation in East Azura for you, General. Just pray that things aren't going to get very bad."

"I will, trust me," the General said, standing to shake John Cailean's hand. The Nera Strega commandant nodded quietly, turning towards the door. Kalanjian watched the assassin leave, wondering—and not for the first time—if he was doing something that he would regret by sending Cailean into Pandæmonium. Calixte had been adamant about not wanting to plug resources into monitoring the remnants of Karovunis's, Mulder's and DeWitt's little playground that had been ruined for themselves. Again, he understood why Calixte would want nothing to do with the Federal Republic in light of the threat posed by the Western Imperiate, both at that time and in the present. Even so, Kalanjian had long operated with a sense of unfinished business in regard to the cataclysm which brought the East Azurans down. No one had ever definitively pinpointed the cause of the devastation, though the war which followed left little doubt.

At least publicly, Anushavan thought bleakly to himself. He had never quite wrapped his mind around the Judean element that had triggered the wrath of the Goths to intervene in the affairs of the East Azurans. There was a missing ingredient from the equation, made all the more damning considering Tsyion's apparent willingness to sweep the whole messy affair under the rug as if it never happened. Kalanjian knew full wealth that the government he was sworn to protect had done an increasingly brilliant job at hiding the truth about East Azura from the general populace. Yet something inside of Anushavan kept bringing up the possibility that the culprits for the attack were still at large, and that both Avsalon and Tsyion should be prepared in the event that things took a drastic, sudden turn for the worse. Until Kalanjian got eyes and ears on the ground in the ruins of Pandæmonium though, he would have no way of knowing the full scope of what was going on presently.

Well, there's no time like the present to find out...

Anushavan sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair while fighting a growing sense that something big was looming on the horizon.

[New Azura]

The Sorrows of Remembrance
HAM Radio Operation Center West Randlemann
Two Miles from Randlemann, Etowah Province
Monday, November the 12th, 2012 — 11:45 AM EAT

When the voices had dispersed, the Azur spy slowly began to crouch-walk his way forward to investigate the scene of the play. John Cailean had watched the drama unfold with a certain sense of foreboding, understanding at once that his experience in the ruins of Pandæmonium would undoubtedly be an interesting one, if not a potentially dangerous one. From his perch across the field from the radio station in the wide branch of a standing oak, Cailean had seen the caravan of slavers moving down from the lone road passing by the station. With the sudden appearance of the mystery women and their partner though, John had been caught unawares.

An interesting twist in our story, if so much were not riding on the line here.

The young radio operator's salvation hadn't seen Cailean in his roost, but they had passed by close enough to be disconcerting. It was a serious wake-up call for him after having discredited the idea of any serious threat lurking about in the wastes. Pandæmonium was a dying world, but that didn't automatically preclude the existence of potential threats that could pose a grievous challenge. He was good, but he wasn't invincible, and it paid to be reminded of it from time to time. Getting sloppy on the job wasn't just unbecoming—it was a recipe for utter, total disaster on a level hitherto unimaginable. He would have to be more careful in his movements.

When he reached the four bodies closest to the building entrance, Cailean stopped, frowning. The first corpse was already cooling; his body very nearly drained from the slugs that had slammed into his chest. Cailean stared for a moment into the uncaring, unseeing eyes that were turned upwards towards the grayness above, trying to get a feel for the dead man's former conscience. Reading an enemy after he was dead was a lost art in profiling—the practice of gauging his mental state at the time of his expiration. This man wasn't overly alarmed or stressed by the gun battle which had claimed him, Cailean concluded—the man's face was largely free of any expression of dread or worry, sans the slight grimace from the physical shot.

That, and there are no visible signs of tension left in the corpse pre-shot.

John exhaled sharply, standing up slowly whilst turning towards the other bodies, a look of chagrin on his face. As he had expected, there was a stout disconnect between the slavers and ordinary people caught up in the wasteful excesses of Pandæmonium. Whatever they had endured in the two years following the Cataclysm, the experience had broken them inside. All that was left was the rough hewn husks of what once had been men, but were now automatons wandering through a charred Hellscape, doing that which kept them alive and their enemies in the ground. These men—and their comrades who had fought with them—were wearing the face of death long before they arrived in Randlemann.

—And that means that they're going to be a bitch and a half to deal with, when it comes to the end...

It was a displeasing thought, made all the more disheartening with the sound of motorcycles off in the distance. Though he wouldn't know for sure until the cadre of motorcycle riders got closer, he could only surmise that the group that had arrived at the radio station were but a small party leading an advance for a much larger group. The reasoning was sound, but it didn't affect his plans either way—he wasn't wrapped up in this fight at the moment, and he had every intention of being gone with they arrived. Sighing, Cailean began to head back towards his perch, wondering how in the Hell anyone could have survived for this long in the midst of Pandæmonium.