The Pivot (Aurora/Cornellia ONLY)

[First Valerian Empire]

Recipient(s): The desk of the Office of the President of the Council of Ministers
Date: March 14, 2014
Sender(s): Valyrian Office of Foreign Affairs
Subject: Norvenia/ADTO/Cornellia

Dear Sir(s),

I must apologize for any confusion I might have caused in my last communique regarding the situation in Aurora and how it related to Cornellia; because it doesn't.

It is my understanding and that of quite a few individuals that Valyria is not only a sovereign nation but one with some influence and your proposed basing would put troops from another major power within striking distance of Valyria. This simply cannot and will not be allowed. You have every right to support your ally and if my sources are to believed; potential relatives in law in all endeavors, however placing men who aren't from Aurora, who don't serve Aurora and quite frankly, don't belong in Aurora is not acceptable.

To put it as simply and bluntly as possible; we here in the Empire and in Aurora for the most part subscribe to the theory of respective Area's of Influence or backyards for future reference. New Edom has no business in my backyard and if you continue on this course of action, I will fight you until either we reach a suitable compromise or one of our countries is a fallout ridden wasteland.

I trust that you as a wise and reasonable leader will let such a simple and easily fixed situation ruin our budding and quite possibly very profitable relationship before it has time to fully bloom in the face of this Norvenian problem.

Sincerely,
Napoleon
Emperor of Valyria

[Norvenia]

Ajax-class Light Nuclear Aircraft Carrier CNS Ockham
First Global Naval Interdiction Group, Norvenian New Model Army
Occidental Ocean, border of the Cornellian Empire
250 Kilometers West-Southwest of the Arcologian Coast

"Anything?"

"Nothing, ma'am."

Rear Admiral Carina Lawrence grunted softly and leaned back against the edge of the large, hexagonal holographic projector-table which rose, like an altar of grey steel, from the floor at the center of the Ockham's Combat Information Center. During the New Model Army reforms, naval commanders had been pulled out of their comfortable bridges and repositioned in the middle of the CIC. If you were going to command a networked fleet, the theory went, you belonged at the hub of that network, not at the command center of a single ship.

For her part, Carina Lawrence missed the view of the sea, the ocean blue below. The CIC was cave-like, dark, with dozens of officers in blue-grey naval NORVPAT sitting at their terminals, faces lit with the pale blue glow of display screens, with their fingers blurring over keyboards and their voices uttering hushed and cryptic phrases into headsets. Holograms hung in the air above the central projector-table: three-dimensional maps, status reports that scrolled as they were updated in real time, and above all a massive three-dimensional projection that showed the networked data of every radar, sonar, electro-optical sensor, UAV, and satellite to which the First Global Naval Interdiction Group had access. All of that data was calibrated, combined, and represented graphically in that slowly turning hologram - known as the Fleet Operations Display, or FOD - on which was marked the radar and sonar signature of every single fish and seabird for four hundred kilometers around. No one ship could achieve such a depth of scanning detail. Four ships, a submarine, and a satellite network, all networked to supercomputer-level processors? That was a different story.

So Carina Lawrence understood why she was stuck in the CIC. But she missed seeing the ocean, and she missed her big leather bridge chair. There was no place in the CIC for the fleet commander to sit, which was why Lawrence was now awkwardly leaning against the main projector-table, arms folded over her chest.

"Nothing, eh?" Lawrence raised her eyebrows to herself and nodded slowly. She believed it; any ship, any stealth fighter, any submarine, would at least yield the ghost of a signature to the networked scanning power of the whole Group. "Good." Lawrence ran a hand briefly over her face. "Very good."

There were, Carina Lawrence knew, three main points at which the First Global NIG was at the highest risk for attack. The first was in the Tartarian Ocean, passing between Arbites and East Klamath; the Curia had openly threatened to fire on the Norvenian fleet during that part of its voyage. The second was off the coast of southern Belisaria, when the Group would come within spitting distance of a sizable portion of the entire Ossorian navy. The third was right here: at the edge of the Cornellian Empire's seas, where those gulfs opened onto the vast oceans of interregional waters. If the dictatorships of Cornellia decided to make good on Ios Melin's threats to keep the First Global NIG out of Cornellia entirely, then the forces of autocracy would make their stand here, and hit Lawrence's NIG as soon as it came into range.

Apparently, though, they had chosen not to do so. Admittedly, the fist of Cornellian tyranny might still be on its way, about to show up on long-range radar or the networked data from the E-2Ds. But Lawrence doubted it. It's their region. If they were going to deploy fleets to hit us as soon as we arrived, then the fleets would already be here. No. Lawrence nodded slowly. They've decided to play this smart, and let us pass. Which is all we asked for, anyway.

"Looks like we're in the clear," Captain Carter Brooks said quietly. A grizzled old warhorse with a talent for making a small number of fighters go a very long way, Brooks was the Ockham's CO, subordinate to Lawrence in fleet operations but a king aboard his own ship. Now, Brooks raised his eyebrows. "Maybe the emperors and generals don't want a fight after all."

"Let's hope," Carina Lawrence replied quietly. "As far as I'm concerned, this mission will be a success if we complete our tour without a shot being fired. We'll have established a precedent for peaceful operations in Cornellia, given the Guarantee some teeth, and brought everyone home alive." Lawrence sighed, eyes fixed on the Fleet Operations Display, probing its glowing depths for a sign of danger. "I just hope that everyone involved lets us do that."

Carter Brooks grunted, a noise of mingled assent and skepticism. Lawrence chuckled tiredly. "You want a fight, captain?"

"No, ma'am," Brooks replied quickly. "It's just that I'm not quite as optimistic about our odds of avoiding one." The captain scratched his short grey beard. "Still, I reckon that's why you're at the con and I'm not."

"Yeah?"

"A-yup. The brass wanted someone who would try everything before she went to weapons green." Brooks shrugged. "All for the best, if you ask me. I wouldn't want your job, ma'am."

Lawrence pondered this for a moment, and then she smiled slightly and gave a small nod. "I think, in a roundabout way, that's a remarkable bit of praise, Captain."

"I'll give the champagne toast when we're safely in Callaban," Brooks snorted. "Orders, ma'am?"

"Steady as she goes." Carina Lawrence straightened, and clasped her hands behind her back, nodding to the navigation station. "Let's see whether the ocean in Cornellia looks any different from the ocean back home." The admiral paused. "And one more thing: make sure the flags are up."

"Already done," Carter Brooks replied with a smile.

And so, surrounded by the steel veil of its air group, the First Global Naval Interdiction Group sailed slowly across an arbitrary line drawn on some far-off map, and - with their Norvenian flags billowing bright and shining in the sun - four ships and a submarine arrived at last in the waters of the Cornellian Empire.

[New Edom]

Oceanic Fishing Vessel Peter and Paul, approximately 270 Kilometers West-Southwest of the Arcologian Coast

Mostly the trawlers used by the New Edomite fishing fleet were older vessels. They rattled, they needed constant repairs, they reeked of oil, rust and fish, and they were always being jury rigged. Many of them were crewed by traditional fishing families from Harbourtown, Fineberg, Sterry, Lookinghaven, Sixington and Reme. Usually a family owned a trawler and maintained it, but in some cases they were owned by larger associations. Reme fishermen generally belonged to a Century or guild association that pooled resources, and they tended to be among the wealthier fishermen. Sixington fishermen usually belonged lately to Collectives, like unions, that more or less did the same. They grumbled about it, since mostly they’d been forced to join by the Socialists in Sixington. The ones from Bara Province and Haran were often the poorest, and there was some serious concern about this. This was why they were fishing abroad, since there had recently been a crackdown on overfishing Sabre Tooth Salmon, which were a tourist attraction. Most of the fishing ships that went south were ice ships, with large freezers inside to keep the fish frozen for sale. However those who dealt in more exotic foods, or else shellfish and mollusks for the Roman markets had tanks to keep the creatures alive.

The beds were nearly always damp and the cabin soon smelled of damp when the heating was extinguished. The smell was at its worst on sailing days after everything had been shutdown whilst in port. Mattresses were stuffed with things like straw, corn husks, and some were just a block of foam. At least they were going southwest; apart from protective gear they would stay naked the whole day while they just did the ship’s work. There were few women, and most of those were from Sixington. It was a hard life, but the rewards were great for a working class Edomite family.

The net would be trawled along the sea bed for between 1 - 4 hrs depending on the amount of fish being caught. Too much fish could cause the lower end to chaff on the seabed and create a hole. The fishing grounds they had found, which they had been assured were legal to fish in, seemed rich in mackerel, bonito, smelts, eels, mullet, and various mollusks, bivalves, crustaceans. The Roman luxury and commercial markets would pay well for what they got.

One of the ships was in the process of dragging; they had used a combination of sonar and experience to detect that a large school congers were ahead of them earlier, and were now sweeping them up, joy and excitement on their faces; they were going to make a killing. Not only were they tasty eating, but they were much coveted in the Belisarian markets.

This particular vessel, the Peter and Paul, was also well armed—most New Edomite fishermen were armed, but it was well armed, and in addition, it had a number of aerials and satellite dishes attached. Like other vessels out for the eel run, it was far from home. And like several others it had a new employer in addition to their fishing. They were also well prepared for Arcologian pirates, with anti-boarding devices, AK-74 automatic rifles, 2 PK machineguns, RPG-16 rocket and grenade launchers.

Now and then the captain would send messages via an encrypted satellite uplink he had. This was done on a semi-regular basis of anything on a list of interesting items his new patron’s agent had provided. He had a new set of items that he diligently reported, and then hearing an altercation between crewmembers went to deal with that. A furious youth called Uriah was shaking his fist at the captain’s younger brother, who had played a prank on him with a small shark.

“Could have lost my hand, you idiot!” Uriah was shouting.

“Put the boat hook down anyway,” said the Captain sternly. “I decide who lives ad dies on this vessel. Got that?” He was a lean, grey haired and hard faced man, and even without putting his hand to his knife few would even think of crossing him.Eyes dropped; his 2nd Mate cried, “What are you waiting for you pigs! There’s fish to be iced, let’s get moving!”

He nodded, then looked out to sea. He could not see what the sonar had picked up, what the radar had detected, but he knew they were out there. He flicked his penis in that direction with contempt and went back to work.

[New Edom]

From the Office of the President of the Council of Ministers
To His Imperial Majesty Napoleon I, Emperor of Valyria

---

I will gladly avoid placing New Edomite forces in Seahold when Your Majesty agrees to remove all Valyrian forces from Fort Peter in Free Garza. As King Diego IV is my brother in law and part of the Cornellian Peacekeeping Organization, I hope it is clear to you that this would not be difficult for me to achieve.

However there is no need for this. Surely a mere 25,000 personnel, a few ships and planes are no threat to the mighty Valyrian Empire. If there is some other concern that your government has, I will gladly advise my ambassador, General Achan, on how best to come to an amicable arrangement.

I have the honour to be,

[New Edom]

NENS Elijah

The crew of the NENS Elijah, a Divinus Class Diesel Submarine, had been together for more than four years, and was as tight as any family could be. Elijah, had the to some proud to others dubious distinction of having been the first naval vessel to fully integrate women. It also shared the name with the fleet’s admiral, Prince Elijah Shalmaneser, and so it was called the Prince’s Sub and the Second Flag and other such nicknames. He was an admired man in the fleet, considered a fair taskmaster, a good leader, and a lucky man to serve under; it had been his command that had sunk 16 Ralkovian vessels in a day and run the gauntlet of the Ralkovia

First Lieutenant Stephen Gatam, who came from an excellent Baran family whose service in the Navy went back to the 17th Century, and he felt the eyes of the other seven personnel in the conn on him discreetly. He knew they thought of him as someone with something to prove, someone who wanted to make admiral one day, and that he had a reputation of being a hardass—though he wondered if they appreciated that he was merely trying to excel at his job. The helmsman, Coxswain 1/C Joseph Put, cursed under his breath as the First Lt. came up behind him and peered over his shoulder.

“She’s steering smooth and steady, sir.” The helmsman, a chunky but sturdy minded man from Sterry, found the 1st Lt annoying as hell but kept it to himself; it didn’t do to cross such a man. He was always double checking everything, it drove him crazy. Gatam, for his part, found Put a good helmsman but an insubordinate and troubling man who had a habit of saying the tail end of a provocative remark that Gatam could never quite figure was meant to be attributed to him or not before he and whoever he was talking to fell silent.

"Conn, sonar contact," the sonar operator called. Put breathed a little sigh of relief.

"What do you have, Dedan?" Lt. Gatam asked. He hated that he blushed whenever Sonar Operator 2/C Timna “Blackie” Dedan spoke. She was called Blackie because she had genuine jet black hair, and she was not necessarily a film star beauty but aboard the boat she was one of the most attractive women; out of her jump suit she had an athletic but exquisitely feminine body. But anyone who served on a submarine, anyone who lived in New Edom was used to seeing the opposite sex bare; it was the undressing and the fact that he knew she was fraternizing with one of the apprentice sailors during his training that embarrassed him. If he’d reported it right away it would have been done, or if he’d quietly had a word with her or both of them…but instead he had figured out when they had their liaisons in the fan room—the fan room of all places!—and he couldn’t help but watch. She was tight and professional as a sonar operator—and as a lover as well apparently.

When she looked up, her face was serious—as opposed to her playful look as Apprentice Seaman Seir received when she used her cleavage to pleasure his arousal. . "Surface contact, sir. Four small screws, making eighty turns per minute, overall length about seven hundred feet."

"Cargo freighter, tanker? What?"

"The screws are too small and too fast to be a cargo vessel or tanker, sir." Dedan said, “I think it’s an ocean going fishing ship.”

"Position?"

"Range twelve thousand yards directly astern, course one-seven-zero degrees, speed fifteen knots," Dedan reported. "She'll pass almost directly above us, sir. ETA, twenty-two minutes."

"Will she pass to our port side or starboard?" First Lieutenant Gatam asked.

"To the starboard. The range will be about forty yards."

That put Elijah to the east of the contact. Gatam went to look through some charts. The enlisted men breathed a sigh of relief for the contact; the Lieutenant needed something—anything—to keep his mind occupied, instead of breathing down their necks.

He fumed. He wanted to go to periscope depth, but it was such a clear evening with a full moon that he didn’t really want to just in case it was a spy or something. This was another thing people didn’t understand—the need to do things perfectly right.

“Sir?” Dedan said, turning to him. God her mouth was pretty, she was cute enough to eat up. But that was wrong thinking. They should never have put women in front line…

“What is it, Dedan?” he was looking over the chart notes. She could be right, it was probably a fishing boat or small freighter…

“I can hear some music, and I can hear the machinery, I’d bet my ass it’s a fishing ship.” Dedan said. And she had a nice curvy spankable rump too, an ass worth betting on. Dedan knew she liked taking it like the Greeks, begged Apprentice Seaman Seir for it.

He sighed. “Very well. Carry on.” He was regretting his orders that there should be no tea or coffee in the Conn. It might at least give him something to do.

The Elijah was part of a vast convoy, making its way from Cornellia to Aurora part of a large allied exercise taking place. Amphibious and transport exercises were among the most important in the New Edomite National Navy, considered vital to national security abroad. Several times amphibious landings had demonstrated fiercely New Edom’s opposition to international communism and other threats. And there was a tense worry-anticipation at the possibility of Norvenian or Valerian interference now.

Other submarines of the same class were out like flankers and scouts below the convoys, which were carrying planes, helicopters, machines and troops. Carrier Air Patrols, helicopters dipping sonar buoys, and a web of radar and sonar was part of the nation’s ‘far flung battle line’ set in motion by the mighty unseen hand of Perrin Pahath-Moab, guided presently by Vice-Admiral Prince Elijah Shalmaneser, whose gloomy presence was somewhere above in a carrier…

James Lawrence Class Carrier Teman

Prince Elijah felt one of his black moods coming on, a deep and abiding inward sorrow that he could scarce shake off. He had the keen sense of having failed his family, having failed his nation, and felt that what acclaim he received was improper, false and wrong, and felt a sense of shame that he received it. If he were a man of integrity he would fling his medals into the sea, he would refuse all honours and join a monastery, suicide being improper for a Christian.

Having spoken with his subordinate admirals, the commanding general of the ground forces General Hesperinus and with General Vrinn via a secure telecom, he had felt briefly a sense of exhilaration; a plan, an operational plan to finish the job he had begun a year ago! Even the unpleasant presence of Hesperinus could not still that in him; in a way in fact he wished he were here in his stateroom with him now. Hesperinus was a vile man, all the worst traits of the Edomite Baran aristocracy in Elijah’s opinion; a false Christian, a vile abuser of women, obsessed with ambition and swaggering power. Yet with his beastly cunning and energy one of the most effective army commanders there were. He would far rather have worked with say Unwerth, Augrim, even Nicanor though he was a crude peasant, but Hesperinus kept him on his toes. He was, fortunately, off in Seahold already meeting with his opposite numbers, preparing the way for the ground forces to arrive.

Now—with all in motion, with all the staff planning, intelligence gathering and operational planning being done by others, all he could do was wait. HANNIBAL satellites were to confirm information passed on by the Seaholders; a small squadron of Divinus Class diesel electric submarines had been dispatched to act as mobile listening posts. All he could do was wait, listening to the oracular reports of his analysts. He sat at his writing desk and began to write, feeling a relief in doing this. He considered what he was to write about his senior staff, to his fiancé.

Being a woman I am sure you would rather hear about my staff and our relationships (Queen Mara has advised me that women often enjoy hearing about such things) and so I shall do my best.

First, there is my deputy naval commander, Rear-Admiral Phinehas Hanneghan. A family man, a Baran of modest birth, he is a very solidly professional officer, and while he can be annoyingly stubborn at times it is also this quality that makes him courageous, rather like a good hunting dog. I inquired about personal matters and apparently he enjoys playing checkers, a game which I do not enjoy. He is usually on board the Calafia, aKaztlan Class Amphibious Ship, which is a landing helicopter dock suitable for launching such aircraft as the Terrier multi role fighter.

Second, there is the Air Commander, Captain Joanna Heep, one of the highest ranking officers in the Fleet who is a woman. She is a very skilled pilot and air commander, has had a very interesting career including combat operations and staff. As you are no doubt aware I am subject to depression and I find her company is helpful as she is so highly professional and intelligent at the conduct of her job. There is no duty more stressful in the fleet than night or bad weather air landings, and she has done a great deal to train and prepare our pilots throughout the last four years. I requested her as Air Commander personally from Admiral Button, who agreed. Captain Heep is unfortunately an unregenerate sinner, cohabiting and fornicating with men during shore leave, indulging in drunken and riotous behaviour like many pilots. and I would be sad to discover if she has ever had an abortion as there is no record of her having taken pregnancy leave. Mixed are the blessings of having women in the fleet—they have taken both the best and worst habits of the men, and none are worst than the aviators.

Third, the Captain of the Fleet, commanding my flagship, Captain Joachim Merari. I do not like Captain Merari. He seems to take issue with the fact that I am on ‘his’ ship and that I sometimes give orders he would rather not give. A man who has risen high in the ranks of the navy, he seems to be a prima donna who dislikes having me and my staff aboard. I find that he laughs too much, shares too many personal details of his life with his immediate subordinates, drinks coffee on the observation deck and eats too much fish. I would rather that he was more professional in his conduct, and I am thinking of having him disciplined. It is too late to replace him, unfortunately. He also has a vulgar nickname, one which amuses him and which I would rather not repeat to you. Lest it sound like I am merely complaining, I take this to be a challenge to my command which I somewhat relish and find takes me out of my depression.

Fourth: my Operations Commander, Commander Elisha Javan. Imagine my interest at discovering that his name is Elisha! You may not be aware but Elisha was the right hand man of the Prophet Elijah! He also ironically happens to be nearly bald, and so for obvious reasons he is nicknamed “The Bear” which I find most appropriate. He has a good sense of tactics and planning, and has a very mathematical mind which I find very useful. Javan has successfully planned several operations whose nature I unfortunately cannot disclose but which I find very pleasing to my present purpose. I wish he did not smack his lips in the wardroom but it cannot be helped; apparently he gets a dry mouth. I have advised him to drink more with his meals, but he says that gives him indigestion. I am dubious about the quality of the physicians he has been seeing. Commander Javan is a film aficionado and regularly puts on film festivals when people have time to watch them, which is not often. His favourite film is “Independent Tow Truck Driver”. I cannot figure out why, as I believe it is a terrible film.

Fifth, my Intelligence Commander, Commander Hadoram Peleg, who is a foul mouthed and blasphemous man I am not happy with in personal matters but delighted in in professional. How like Janus I must be, to rely on such a man. He has however built an excellent team of analysts, cryptologists, signalers and other specialists including specialists in computers and all that concerns them, and has good contacts in the Council Police, in Air Force Intelligence and other important areas of operation. This man is one I unfortunately rely upon, though I have intimidated him sufficiently that he is very obedient; he had been given leave to have unfortunate habits by my predecessor, Admiral Galt. Among other things he has malodorous genitals even after a shower. This makes me dubious about the pictures of the woman he insists is his wife.

[Arbites]

Tartarian Ocean

The Norvenians had made the mistake of announcing their plans to the entire international community. They had made the mistake of lacking international or even Aurora's consensus. They made the mistake of daring Cornellia to meet them head-on. Most importantly, however, they made the mistake of lacking true conviction. Norvenian worship of democracy paled in comparison to veneration of the Immortal Emperor.

This was not an invasion fleet, just a paltry flotilla meant to charge around and make noise. It could not take, much less hold, any territory. Even if the Norvenians meant to colonize Cornellia, even if they established a foothold, their supply lines would be severed as their toy soldiers were bled white. The region was uniting against them, and, Emperor willing, against the spreading plagues of republicanism, secularism, and socialism.

Such were the thoughts of Admiral Rahal as he made preparations to welcome the Aurorans to Cornellia. AWACS were covering the entire passage between the Imperial mainland and East Klamath, operating out of bases on both ends. The HHV Emperor's Hand was in the Ura Sea as well, flying AWACS past the southern tip of Arcologia. Two carrier battle groups, Rahal's Southern Fleet based out of Rhodinia, and Admiral Rothbard's Fifth Fleet, were awaiting recon confirming the Norvenians' position. If they wanted to play chicken, they would not find Rahal wanting.

Rothbard was a bit more proactive. The attack submarine Scylla lurked south of Arcologia virtually on the ocean floor, engine and active sonar off. Captain Hampton kept his men silent through prayer, unconventional perhaps, but effective enough when it was one sub against a Norvenian battle group and potentially all of Adiron's NAS Eos. If they had to move, they were to crawl as slow as possible under electric power. In the meantime, the sub would be listening very carefully with its passive sonar.

Emperor willing, the Norvenians would be just as subtle as ever.

[Callaban]

To:
The Commonwealth of Norvenia
Chancellor House
Aurora
The Office of the Norvenian Chancellor, Chancellor Malcolm Griffiths

From:
The City Of Callaban Ltd.
Department of Foreign Affairs
The Cornellian Empire
Chloe Sharp-Ping
Representative
Organization for External Relations

Regarding: "freedom of the port"

Message Follows:

Greeting and Salutations:

You may consider your uniformed personnel to have "freedom of the port" & the city.

You may also want to remind your personnel that, with a little informal organization, many of our consumer shops and services ofhfer advantageous group rates.

I look forward to our future communications regarding mutually beneficial economic opportunities.

I would also be very interested in feedback about your military's experiences and impressions of Callaban.

If it is acceptable, I would like to host a short survey on our website. The information obtained is aggregated and seperated from personal information. those that like can use their eddress to enter a prize drawing after completion of the survey (only one survey/entry per participant).

Winners select their own prize from a small catalogue.

A pleasure communicating with you,

Chloe Sharp-Ping
Representative
Organization for External Relations
The City Of Callaban Ltd.

[Late Roman Empire]

To: His Imperial Majesty, Napoleon I, Emperor of Valyria
From: Imperator Caesar Valerian Augustus, Emperor of the Late Roman Empire

Sir,

We are certainly well aware of the need to attain surveillance and intelligence regarding the Norvenians and what threat they constitute to all of us together. That being said, we would like to make it clear that there are few, if any Norvenians staying in the Empire at present, due to having been deported from the country. In the event, however, that some illegal residents of Norvenian origin are discovered on our soil, perhaps something can indeed be arranged.

Also, it should be noted that we have been approached by Regnum Albion about possible closer co-operation against Norvenia as well, and we have a good ally in the Allied States of New Edom, a nation which is led by an honorable man named Brigadier-General Perrin Pahath-Moab. While our own background is in diplomacy, and his is in the military, we have many common interests with each other and with yourself. Having met the man ourselves and honored him with a military decoration, the Order of Constantine, we believe that we can commend him unto you with all good conscience, in the hope that this can help expand the potential of an inter-regional alliance.

For while intelligence-sharing is useful, so too is matching the force projection abilities of Norvenia with our own, and this can be better done if the nations of both regions collaborate with each other in this mission. There are dangers, of course, as with all dramatic foreign policy revisions, but we believe that the benefits of a potential partnership among the aforementioned nations, both Auroran and Cornellian alike, can well outweigh any risks.

We anticipate eagerly your own response to this our letter.

In Hoc Signo Vinces,
Imperator Caesar Valerianus Augustus

[L Ossienne]

To: Office of the Chancellor, Commonwealth of Norvenia
From: Office of the President, Republic of L’Ossienne

Honorable Chancellor:

Regardless of the status of the Norvenian task force, you are still very much welcome to come to L’Ossienne and speak with myself concerning Norvenian policy concerning the region of Cornellia. I look forward to your arrival.

Sincerely,
Michelle LeClerc
President of L’Ossienne

Hôtel de Claudette
L’Estaque, L’Ossienne

A cool spring day had claimed the city of L’Estaqe, the capital and gem of L’Ossienne and Michelle Leclerc sat in the well tended garden that was enclosed by the famous Rococco structure that was the Hôtel de Claudette. Beside her was her Tatra Mountain Sheepdog, Pierre, who was more than content to let his momma stroke his head as he relaxed. A starling began to sing noisily in a nearby Laburnum whose numerous sky blue flowers had the President engaged in idle thought. It was an absolutely lovely day and it would make a wonderful backdrop for the arrival of the Norvenian Chancellor.

Michelle looked away from the tree and waved at a waiter that was standing at the ready a few meters away. The older gentleman, his hair carefully groomed and his suit well pressed, walked over to the president and offered her a small bow. “Comment puis-je vous aider?” The gave the experienced waiter a smile and a nod. “I believe the Chancellor is due to arrive soon, Olivier. Please remind the staff in the café and greet our guest when he arrives.”

Olivier bowed again, “Mais oui, Madame,” and walked into the hotel to accomplish what Michelle had asked of him. The man had spent the better part of his life, some forty years, as waiter and it showed very clearly the way moved and the way he held himself with perfect poise and perfect confidence.

[Norvenia]

To:
The Commonwealth of Norvenia
Chancellor House
Aurora
The Office of the Norvenian Chancellor, Chancellor Malcolm Griffiths

From:
The City Of Callaban Ltd.
Department of Foreign Affairs
The Cornellian Empire
Chloe Sharp-Ping
Representative
Organization for External Relations

Regarding: "freedom of the port"

Message Follows:

Greeting and Salutations:

You may consider your uniformed personnel to have "freedom of the port" & the city.

You may also want to remind your personnel that, with a little informal organization, many of our consumer shops and services ofhfer advantageous group rates.

I look forward to our future communications regarding mutually beneficial economic opportunities.

I would also be very interested in feedback about your military's experiences and impressions of Callaban.

If it is acceptable, I would like to host a short survey on our website. The information obtained is aggregated and seperated from personal information. those that like can use their eddress to enter a prize drawing after completion of the survey (only one survey/entry per participant).

Winners select their own prize from a small catalogue.

A pleasure communicating with you,

Chloe Sharp-Ping
Representative
Organization for External Relations
The City Of Callaban Ltd.

OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE OF THE GOVERNMENT OF THE COMMONWEALTH OF NORVENIA

To: Rep. Chloe Sharp-Ping, Department of Foreign Affairs, Organization for External Relations, The City Of Callaban Ltd.
From: Foreign Office, Chancellery of the Commonwealth of Norvenia
Re.: First Global Naval Interdiction Group
Encryption: Level X

Dear Ms. Sharp-Ping:

Thank you for all of your cooperation. The First Global Naval Interdiction Group has been informed that it now possesses the freedom of the port of Callaban, and a memorandum has been sent to the Group's sailors advising them of the possibility for large-group discounts at many of your city's shops and service providers. I have no doubt that they will put both the freedom of the port and your commercial information to lawful and productive use.

Equally, such a survey as you have suggested is entirely acceptable to this Office and to Admiral Lawrence, the commanding officer of the First Global NIG. Obviously, internet access is available on all Norvenian naval vessels; if you merely put the service on the website of Callaban's Department of Foreign Affairs, then the sailors of the First Global NIG will be publicly informed of its existence, and I do not doubt that you will end up with a pool of several thousand responses.

Once again, thank you for all your help, information, and cooperation. It has been a pleasure as always doing business with you.

With highest regards,


Mr. Henry Baxter
Chief Special Envoy for Corporate Relations

COMMUNIQUE ENDS

[Norvenia]

Ajax-class Light Nuclear Aircraft Carrier CNS Ockham
First Global Naval Interdiction Group, Norvenian New Model Army
Occidental Ocean, border of the Cornellian Empire
230 Kilometers West-Southwest of the Arcologian Coast

"Admiral?" Lieutenant Commander Margaret Clayton glanced up. "We've got some - interesting - readings on ESM."

Admiral Carina Lawrence turned, her hands clasped behind her back, and raised her eyebrows. "Commander?"

Clayton paused, studying her screens. Thanks to the comprehensively networked nature of Norvenian fleets, she was not the ESM operator for the Ockham alone; that role was held by a lieutenant. Rather, Margaret Clayton was the chief ESM operator for the whole Group; her terminal showed the combined, computer-analyzed data of every electronic support system and passive radar on every vessel and aircraft in the First Global NIG. As a result, information came to Clayton second-hand, but it also came with a clarity and depth that no single shipboard system could ever match on its own.

"Well, Admiral," Margaret Clayton now reported slowly, "to put it briefly: we are not alone."

Lawrence turned to face Clayton fully, her green eyes steady on the ESM officer. Carina Lawrence was herself the child of a Bratoslovoukian immigrant mother and an Old Anglo father; she had grown up in Wrenwatch, with her eyes watching the sea and her ears filled with the din of a dozen different languages. As soon as she was out of college, Lawrence had gone straight into officer training back in the old, independent Norvenian Navy. She loved the ocean; she had wanted to sail, to feel the waves rock the deck beneath her feet.

Margaret Clayton was different; different generation, Lawrence thought. Clayton was younger, from a mid-sized town in the Northeast near Abacem. She had turned out to be a computer wizard and had signed on with the New Model Army mostly because the military offered the cutting edge of electronics work. The younger woman had gone through the grueling New Model Army training regimen; Lawrence knew that Clayton was still a crack shot, despite the fact that this was an almost useless skill for an ESM officer. And, Lawrence reflected sadly, Clayton knew everything there was n\to know about passive radar signal analysis, but she never even set foot on the flight deck, never felt the sea breeze or smelled the salt spray or watched the ocean stretch away to the far horizon. She spent her whole day in front of those screens and holograms, and was happy to do so.

It's a different navy, Carina Lawrence thought, and that's for sure.

But on the upside, Margaret Clayton was almost absurdly good at her job. From passive signal analysis, she had picked up something that the whole networked active radar power of the fleet had missed. Carina Lawrence nodded crisply. "All right, Commander. We're not alone." The admiral waved a hand. "Show me."

Another hologram appeared above the central projector table; the main Fleet Operations Display contracted in midair to accommodate it. The new display showed reams of data, faintly glowing blue, floating in the air. In front of them, diagrams and specifications of various radars flickered, blurring through variations in search of a match.

"We've got two categories of contact," Margaret Clayton explained briefly, "both with some advantages and some issues." Clayton gestured and the data stabilized. "Right here, we've got a signature from within a hundred klicks, almost certainly seaborne, definitely very slow-moving. They've been scanning us regularly for quite a while - half an hour at least. Radar is pretty advanced, probably AESA, which is why we're having trouble getting a lot of data on it; it keeps frequency-hopping."

"Tell me you've got a solution to that."

Clayton smiled. "No frequency hopping or frequency modulating radar is actually random. They're pseudo-random, but there's a pattern underneath - there has to be, or the receiver wouldn't be able to piece together a coherent picture of what's out there, and the whole point in radar would be lost. There's an algorithm for that. Crack the algorithm, and you can track the frequency-hopping pattern and get all the data you need."

"And you're cracking the algorithm," Lawrence nodded.

"Yep. We've networked the different ESM systems in the Group to cover different frequencies, which means we're already picking up almost every pulse. That gives the networked computers enough data to crunch that they should be coming back with a reverse-engineered algorithm within the next few hours." Clayton raised her eyebrows. "But I already have a guess as to what this is."

Lawrence smiled. "Shoot, Commander."

Clayton tapped at her keyboard, and the Fleet Operations Display expanded back to full size. Another keystroke, and one of the icons on the display - a little more than forty kilometers away now - turned glowing yellow. "That," Clayton explained briefly, "is a ship in our A.O."

"We know that," Carter Brooks snapped crossly. "Networked radar picked it up more than three hundred kilometers ago, and satellite surveillance had it on scope before we even entered the region. It's a fishing trawler, probably from somewhere on the western coast of Acheron."

Carina Lawrence's gaze didn't move from Margaret Clayton. "Go on, Commander."

Clayton shrugged. "Admiral, it may be a fishing trawler, but it's also seaborne, very slow-moving, and within a hundred klicks of us. What data we can get on this AESA strongly suggests that it's pulsing us from the general direction of that ship." The ESM officer shrugged. "Frankly, Admiral, this is open ocean. There's a lot of space out here and not that many ships. That leaves us with maybe half a dozen vessels that could be carrying this radar, and that trawler is far and away the most likely."

"It's a military radar," Brooks objected. "Could there be a military ship?"

"Not within a hundred klicks of us," replied Lieutenant Commander Ralph Bradford. Bradford was Clayton's counterpart on active radar, responsible for the collated and analyzed data of every radio-based scanning system in the fleet. "Believe me, nothing is that small or that stealthy at close range. We'd have seen a surface ship."

"Submarine buoy?" Brooks suggested. "That would explain the slow movement."

"It's possible," Clayton replied, "but we don't have any AESA radar buoys on file for anyone in Cornellia." She tapped briefly at her keyboard. "Hell, we don't have any LPI submarine radar buoys on file at all." Clayton shook her head. "It's that trawler, Admiral. I'm confident of it."

Lawrence nodded. "Commander Parker?" The Ockham's CAG, seated in a nearby chair while not really looking at his terminal, gave a slow nod. "I want an F-29 Warrior watching that trawler twenty-four hours a day." Parker nodded again and spoke quietly into his headset. "Commander Clayton, crack that algorithm and get me an ID on the type of radar. I want to know who's watching us."

"My money's on New Edom or Arbites," Carter Brooks spat. "Military gear dressed up in civilian clothes - this has their fingerprints all over it."

"Whoever it is," Lawrence replied, "for now they're just keeping an eye on us. Let me know when we have something to really worry about."

"Well," Margaret Clayton said with forced cheerfulness, "that brings me to my second observation."

Lawrence chuckled ruefully. "I had to open my mouth. What is it, Commander?"

The ESM hologram expanded again, and several yellow icons began glowing toward the outer edge of the Fleet Operations Display. "Those," Margaret Clayon announced grimly, "are AWACs. Between three hundred and four hundred kilometers out. Definitely airborne, moving fast, close to the southern tip of Arcologia. They're toward the edge of their effective range, and the low-RCS design of this Group has probably got them confused - we look like fishing boats from that distance, because they don't have the depth of scanning to analyze out our silhouettes. But they've almost certainly spotted our E-2Ds on CAP."

Lawrence turned. "Commander Parker?"

The CAG shook his head. "Hawkeyes might have been made, but everything else up there is fifth-generation stealth fighters, Warriors and Shadowhawks. They might have spotted a few of my birds, but only a few."

The admiral nodded. "Commander Bradford?"

"We've got the AWACs on scope," Bradford replied, "but they are small, and moving fast, and in the last hundred klicks of our reliable overlapping networked scanning area." Out to four hundred kilometers, Lawrence knew, every radar in the Group could be networked to scan in concert, giving an unparalleled depth and detail that could spot even stealth fighters; beyond four hundred kilometers, only the E-2D Advanced Hawkeyes and the long-range scanning radars on the CNS Broadsword, the CNS Everett, and the CNS Talbot could be networked. The result was a significant decrease in detail, down almost to what a non-networked fleet would ordinarily have. The unidentified AWACs were inside that inner zone, but only barely. Bradford shrugged. "If you wanted to kill 'em, we could kill 'em. We've got a hard enough return for a missile lock. But we're going to have trouble IDing them with absolute confidence at this range; the detail is too fuzzy."

"Best guess," Lawrence said briefly.

Bradford and Clayton replied in unison: "Arbites." The two lieutenant commanders glanced at each other, and then - by some unspoken accord - Bradford continued. "These are small planes, analogous to our Hawkeyes. They're carrier-based, Admiral. Arbites and possibly Ossoria are the only countries crazy enough to send a whole carrier group to block our path, and we already know where Ossoria is planning to cause us trouble. That leaves Arbites."

"Plus," Clayton added, "these radars are good, but they're not cutting-edge: I don't think we're dealing with AESAs here. If New Edom or Ossoria were coming to tangle with us, they'd send their best."

Lawrence nodded. "The Imperium," she said wearily. "This could go bad but fast." The admiral straightened. "All right, then. Commander Parker, keep those AWACs on scope, and be prepared to shoot them down if we get hit."

"I'll put a Shadowhawk on each of them," the CAG promised.

"Good." Lawrence turned to Clayton. "I want to be notified when ESM decides that those AWACs can get a clear view of this Group. The moment that the Imperium figures out where we are, I want to know that they know."

"I can do that," Clayton replied. "Computer analysis ought to be able to reverse-engineer what those planes are seeing. When that image matches our actual disposition, you'll know."

Lawrence nodded. "I'm setting the fleet to Condition Two. Move to full-spectrum defense. All pilots to their aircraft, and stand by to scramble the alert fighters. Double our analysis on any possible airborne threats. If it looks like an insect but it could be a stealth fighter, I want to know about it. Put active and passive sonobuoys in the water. Pull the Basilisk back and get it hunting for enemy attack subs. Get all weapons systems and CIWS checked and ready, especially the Brizos. And get the torpedo decoys ready. If they do decide to hit first, they're going to come from everywhere at once, and try to overwhelm us in the first minute. We're not going to let that happen."

The noise level in the CIC rose several decibels as the fleet officers hurried to their tasks. Carina Lawrence leaned on the projector-table and studied the holograms in front of her. Uneasily, she closed her eyes. Don't let them shoot. The prayer was awkward, even in Lawrence's own mind. Don't let them shoot.

"Admiral?" It was Lieutenant Commander Alisha Dyer, the fleet navigation officer. "Admiral, any course changes?"

For a moment - just a heartbeat - Admiral Carina Lawrence considered the question. And then she took a deep breath, and straightened, and shook her head. "No, Commander. Stay the course."

[United Valik]

To: The Honorable Malcolm Griffiths, Chancellor of Norvenia
From: Basil Pappas, DDS, Prime Minister of United Valik

Sir,

I am speaking directly to you, rather than through our respective foreign ministers, because I am hoping that calamity can be yet avoided. While I do not approve of the O'Donnel Doctrine or your recent naval exercise, I am appealing to your reason and common sense, in the hope and prayer that you will grasp that this region is a powder keg and all that it requires is a spark or match to make it explode dreadfully into a war so destructive that millions perish.

It is my belief, indeed, my strong conviction, that your continued activities will only harden the hearts of your adversaries toward you and make an armed conflict imminent. However, should you relent and show restraint, should you perhaps prove willing to speak with at least those democracies such as Valik which have expressed our displeasure in this matter, it will be a step away from the abyss and toward a restoration of the status quo ante. Valik, as you know, is neither a weak nor a cowardly nation, but rather one that stood up in defense of two neighbors, one a democracy and the other a theocracy. Yet we also know when stirring up trouble does more harm than good. As the Scripture states, "He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind." (Proverbs 11:29) We seek, rather than troubling Cornellia or Aurora, to resolve these matters peacefully, if at all possible.

Granted, you have been lucky so far, but I urge you not to push that luck. Sending a naval group of whatever size, even through international waters, in a region populated by hostile autocracies which outnumber the democracies, is a recipe for a very messy conflict indeed. All that it requires is one false or wrong move, and a war can begin even by accident. As you should well know, wars are easier to commence than to terminate.

I urge you, therefore, not to continue to feed the paranoia of these tyrants and despots. They have plenty of their own without your aid. Just consider, in the past two years, three authoritarian regimes (Late Roman Empire, Gavinium Magnus, and New Othman) have all begun serious liberalizing reforms that will almost certainly transform their nations into democracies in time, as long as events do not reinforce their more autocratic and suspicious instincts. I admit that none of them are ideal by Valikan standards, to say nothing of yours, but they are making progress and this whole crisis threatens to undo that process.

Of the three, New Othman ironically comes closest to being a complete republic, lacking only a constitution in the usual sense and a competitive election, direct or indirect, of the head of state. Even then, if the head of state becomes a ceremonial figurehead with little or no political authority, the whole issue becomes moot. In the case of the Romans, they are the sort that would easier accept an elective Principate restrained by the Senate than a Westminster system, from what I gather. However, every provocation given the Emperor antagonizes him and makes him more inclined to favor a Tartarian-style autocracy, especially as he is wed to a princess of Tartarus and thus allied to that large, usually isolationist empire. Gavinium, of course, is on a long, slow, but steady development toward a constitutional monarchy, barring a slide back into the whole "divine right of kings" mentality or some Hobbesian influences a la Ossoria.

I say this to point out that, despite what seems to be a complete rout of democracy by the forces of autocracy in this region, alarmism and interventionism are not called for, as democracy still has a strong, fighting chance here. Even in New Edom, where a certain Boy General rules with an iron fist, he has kept the older institutions of a now purely ceremonial monarchy and the National Legislature, in place. As he cannot live forever, or even presumably hold power forever, there are the rudiments of a constitutional monarchy in place to possibly replace him. They would require some help, but what does not help is a hostile relationship between a major non-Cornellian democratic power and one of the most powerful military dictatorships in Cornellia.

Patience sometimes can bear fruit, which is why United Valik has normal relations with New Edom, trades with New Edom, and attempts to work with the President of the Council when he happens to be right on a key issue, usually of foreign policy. We would like to recommend this virtue of patience to Your Honor, hopefully that you see its merits in the near future.

Sincerely,
Basil Pappas, DDS, Prime Minister of United Valik

[Norvenia]

To: The Honorable Malcolm Griffiths, Chancellor of Norvenia
From: Basil Pappas, DDS, Prime Minister of United Valik

Sir,

I am speaking directly to you, rather than through our respective foreign ministers, because I am hoping that calamity can be yet avoided. While I do not approve of the O'Donnel Doctrine or your recent naval exercise, I am appealing to your reason and common sense, in the hope and prayer that you will grasp that this region is a powder keg and all that it requires is a spark or match to make it explode dreadfully into a war so destructive that millions perish.

It is my belief, indeed, my strong conviction, that your continued activities will only harden the hearts of your adversaries toward you and make an armed conflict imminent. However, should you relent and show restraint, should you perhaps prove willing to speak with at least those democracies such as Valik which have expressed our displeasure in this matter, it will be a step away from the abyss and toward a restoration of the status quo ante. Valik, as you know, is neither a weak nor a cowardly nation, but rather one that stood up in defense of two neighbors, one a democracy and the other a theocracy. Yet we also know when stirring up trouble does more harm than good. As the Scripture states, "He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind." (Proverbs 11:29) We seek, rather than troubling Cornellia or Aurora, to resolve these matters peacefully, if at all possible.

Granted, you have been lucky so far, but I urge you not to push that luck. Sending a naval group of whatever size, even through international waters, in a region populated by hostile autocracies which outnumber the democracies, is a recipe for a very messy conflict indeed. All that it requires is one false or wrong move, and a war can begin even by accident. As you should well know, wars are easier to commence than to terminate.

I urge you, therefore, not to continue to feed the paranoia of these tyrants and despots. They have plenty of their own without your aid. Just consider, in the past two years, three authoritarian regimes (Late Roman Empire, Gavinium Magnus, and New Othman) have all begun serious liberalizing reforms that will almost certainly transform their nations into democracies in time, as long as events do not reinforce their more autocratic and suspicious instincts. I admit that none of them are ideal by Valikan standards, to say nothing of yours, but they are making progress and this whole crisis threatens to undo that process.

Of the three, New Othman ironically comes closest to being a complete republic, lacking only a constitution in the usual sense and a competitive election, direct or indirect, of the head of state. Even then, if the head of state becomes a ceremonial figurehead with little or no political authority, the whole issue becomes moot. In the case of the Romans, they are the sort that would easier accept an elective Principate restrained by the Senate than a Westminster system, from what I gather. However, every provocation given the Emperor antagonizes him and makes him more inclined to favor a Tartarian-style autocracy, especially as he is wed to a princess of Tartarus and thus allied to that large, usually isolationist empire. Gavinium, of course, is on a long, slow, but steady development toward a constitutional monarchy, barring a slide back into the whole "divine right of kings" mentality or some Hobbesian influences a la Ossoria.

I say this to point out that, despite what seems to be a complete rout of democracy by the forces of autocracy in this region, alarmism and interventionism are not called for, as democracy still has a strong, fighting chance here. Even in New Edom, where a certain Boy General rules with an iron fist, he has kept the older institutions of a now purely ceremonial monarchy and the National Legislature, in place. As he cannot live forever, or even presumably hold power forever, there are the rudiments of a constitutional monarchy in place to possibly replace him. They would require some help, but what does not help is a hostile relationship between a major non-Cornellian democratic power and one of the most powerful military dictatorships in Cornellia.

Patience sometimes can bear fruit, which is why United Valik has normal relations with New Edom, trades with New Edom, and attempts to work with the President of the Council when he happens to be right on a key issue, usually of foreign policy. We would like to recommend this virtue of patience to Your Honor, hopefully that you see its merits in the near future.

Sincerely,
Basil Pappas, DDS, Prime Minister of United Valik

OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE OF THE GOVERNMENT OF THE COMMONWEALTH OF NORVENIA

To: Office of the Prime Minister, Federal Democratic Republic of United Valik
From: Office of the Chancellor of the Commonwealth of Norvenia
Re.: Cornellian Policy
Encryption: Level V

Mr. Prime Minister:

Thank you for your message. Given your record as a democratic statesman who has led his country through a terrible time, your words carry great weight with me. I am honored that you sought to reach out and contact me personally, and I hope that this will not be the last time that we communicate.

Equally, I appreciate your insightful appraisal of the situation in Cornellia. Unfortunately, I cannot concur with your conclusions. It is true that the Late Roman Empire, Gavinium Magnus, and New Othman have all begun various liberalizing reforms. In the case of New Othman, I am very hopeful that within the next year, the Republic will meet the ADTO Treaty's definition of democracy, and Norvenia will be able to enter into full diplomatic relations with it. While the day when Gavinium meets these definitions is doubtless further off, I pray that it too will come within my lifetime. The reforms in the Late Roman Empire, however, have not kept Constantinople from aligning with and supporting forces of reaction and dictatorship from Arcologia to Shrailleen, as I am sure you are well aware; it would, in my opinion, be naive to regard Mr. Valerian's agenda as being in any sense democratic.

On the other side of this equation are the forces that press nations in Cornellia not toward democratization but toward ever more tyrannical dictatorship. By contrast to your three examples of dictatorial nations which may, God willing, someday democratize, there exist at least two obvious cases (New Edom and Free Garza) where democracy has been rolled back or crushed altogether in the last year alone. In other words: while no nations have actually democratized, two have fallen to tyranny in a twelvemonth. You tell me that democracy has a strong, fighting chance in Cornellia, and I hope that you are right. Unfortunately, my own government's reading of the situation is that democracy in Cornellia faces an existential crisis, and will not survive the next decade without strong outside support. It is our hope that Norvenia will help to provide that support.

That said, I am hardly going to pretend that my government's actions have not imposed a cost for everyone in Cornellia and Aurora. It is undeniable that recent Norvenian policies have increased tensions across Aurora and Cornellia. The Guarantee of Cornellian Democracy is neither mild-mannered nor tactful. And while I regard any open conflict as profoundly unlikely, I do not regard your fears thereof as unreasonable. However, I am utterly convinced that the cause of democracy in Cornellia would have been dealt irreparable damage by any further Norvenian inaction. You ask me to act to restore the status quo ante, but the status quo ante represents the destruction of democracy in Cornellia at a rate of at least one coup per year. That is unacceptable to me. And so, while I accept your concerns, I have faith in the moral and practical necessity of my government's actions.

Similarly, both circumstances and principle make it impossible for me to revoke the deployment of the First Global Naval Interdiction Group. Such a policy reversal is impractical, because the First Global NIG has already entered Cornellian regional waters and has committed itself to make port at Callaban. And for the Group to turn back would assuredly be interpreted by the dictatorships of Cornellia as a sign that the Commonwealth fears their blustering threats. For them to believe this would only inspire further aggression against the democracies of Cornellia, your own included. The enemies of Norvenia must understand that when this Commonwealth makes a promise, large or small, then that promise will be kept to the letter. Much though I honor your concerns, and much though I would like to discuss this matter with you further, I cannot now revoke the deployment of the First Global Naval Interdiction Group.

I am not, however, unwilling to compromise. I am unwilling to yield in matters of principle, but perfectly willing to discuss matters of practical policy. I will not break my word once given, but I would consider it an honor to hear your opinion on how best to go forward from this difficult situation. I deeply regret that you feel that I have been unwilling to speak with those democracies, such as Valik, which have expressed displeasure in this matter. On the contrary, I would welcome the opportunity to discuss how Norvenia and Valik can cooperate in these difficult times to the mutual benefit of both our nations.

By this time tomorrow, I will be in L'Ossienne in person, to discuss these and other matters with President Leclerc. If you or another representative of Valik would like to visit me there, then I would welcome the opportunity to discuss these issues in person. Equally, if you would grant me the honor of an audience in Glauconeum, then I would be more than happy to meet with you there after my conversations with President Leclerc are concluded. I earnestly desire the opportunity to work with you in these difficult times; I hope that we can find a way to cooperate to that end.

With highest regards,


The Hon. Malcolm Griffiths
Chancellor of the Commonwealth of Norvenia

COMMUNIQUE ENDS

[The Cookish States]

Ciudad Contierra, Chancellor's Residence

The Chancellor had watched the news, as had every citizen. They all knew of the debacle happening between what was largely considered the two power blocs in the multi-regional area. Hushed talk of an apocalyptic war, and massive amounts of volunteers for the armed forces showed that many feared the upcoming thought of a war or even a paralyzing blockade. The government had been paralyzed for the past few months, with Congress split 50/50 between the Progressive and Nationalist parties. This had never happened before in history, but eventually the emergency elections for Congressman in North Cookeland halted the government shutdown. For the first time in two years, the Nationalists held some sort of power. 55 representatives were Nationalists, and 45 were Progressives. After the bribery scandal of 2013 within the Progressive Party, they lost much of their gusto with the populace, who turned more toward the conservative wings as a result and to Chancellor Soymer's dismay. Now, Congress is screaming for action against the entire damn continent of Cornellia whilst being totally oblivious as to the dynamics of it all.

Now, the Nationalists backed Soymer into a corner. He was forced politically to enter a room of generals and Congressmen to discuss a plan of action, while he would've preferred to focus on local issues instead of an international pissing contest. Exhausted, he rested his chin on his hand while his elbow dug into the annoyingly cold glass table.

"Okay, give me the rundown so far, what's going on? All I know is what's been on the news."

General Distenfield raised his hand awkwardly and rose, having never met the Chancellor.

"Yes, General?"

"Mr. Chancellor, it's an honor to finally meet you. Ahem, the very basic rundown is that the Edomites accussed two Norvenian envoy's of conspiracy to murder someone important. This could have been solved and investigated quickly, but the LRE and Arbites cut ties with Norvenia, us by extension, in what appeared to be an attempt to exasperate the situation. Most sources agree that this was all planned out to circumvent our government shutdown to insure that Norvenia would go it alone, without their closest ally, which might depopularize it on their end, resulting in a moral victory for the Cornellian nations. The Cookish bear's awakening may have thwarted those plans, so my advice Mr. Chancellor is that we issue a statement demanding...something, no one has agreed on an official stance yet. Primary objective right now should be to get our foot in the door so that we don't appear to be abandoning Norvenia any longer, because I'll tell you, it's a shitstorm."

"I like it. Simple, to the point."

After looking through a few reports compiled just for him, he spoke

"Alright, I think I'm tracking here. First, what is the situation with potential informants in New Edom? Do we have anyone that isn't so blatantly Cookish that he could infiltrate somehow?"

The Intelligence Advisor swooped to the Chancellor's side, pointing to a profile.

"There does exist a Mr. Westin, who is still residing near Cookish Stadium. He is known to have contacts who could potentially allow him to touch base with Moab himself, if we're lucky enough. I believe there's a Colonel he's reported having correspondence with. I would advise we set up a secure link of communications with him first, he's been communicating with us by overnight mail from various places, and satellite phone when possible."

The Chancellor raised his eyebrow.

"Alright, squared away, this will be a very general and abstract mission from him, but here goes. I want him to infiltrate the Edomite military as best he can, and try to find a way to keep relative tabs on General Moab. Step one is knowing where this man is at any time. We'll cross reference our satellite imagery with Norvenian counterparts, with his intel, it should be easy to use the satellites to hone in on a more exact position. I'm not saying we're going after this man, but if we can know where he is, that's a card we can hid until the time is right.

Now, as far as military involvement goes, Malcolm has notified me that they do not desire our naval involvement. Our ships wouldn't fare well, and it's far outside our strike radius honestly. I have already approved the deployment of two companies from the 1st Ranger Battalion, 72nd Special Operations Division. I've spoken with Company Commander Young and SFC Guerra personally, I have faith that these few will represent us well for the time being. They are aboard the CNS Ockham awaiting any request for a QRF. I understand the Norvenian's could more easily do it themselves, but a slight increase in complications is worth this show of support. As you all know, this is old news, they've been deployed since February, but I figured I'd let everyone in this room know."

The meeting continued at a slower pace, with logistics, semantics, and syntax taking priority.
________________________________________________________________________________________
A and C Companies, 1st Ranger Bat., 72nd Special Operations Group
Aboard the CNS Ockham, Occidental Sea

A rough and hardy man, Commander Young played on his tablet in his room, complaining that the Norvenian Wifi was password protected. His men immortalized him with how they talked, but he was a man like any other. He got drunk, he had bad days in PT, and he even made mistakes, he just hid them better than the privates and other enlisted personnel. A knock slammed onto the door, it was Sergeant First Class Guerra of Alpha Company. Alpha Company only sent six men as a permanent guard aboard the ship. Norvenians were the most trusted of all allies, but no one was trusted by any military to not steal equipment. So, when Bravo Company would leave on the helicopters, the six men of Alpha remained on 100% security guarding the spare equipment with multi-tools and canteen cups. He had a joke of an assignment, Guerra did. Regardless, he opened the door to see what was happening.

"Rumor has it that there'll be a fire drill tonight Sir, do I tell the guys or what?"

"Yeah, let them know. Is that all?"

"No sir, I think you should see the Captain, you've been in our little area the past two weeks we've been here. A few of our guys got into a scrap with a Norvenian sailor, and tensions are a little higher than is normal for our nations. Just discuss it with him, just to make sure that the upper echeleons are on the same page. That's all I have to say Sir."

"I appreciate it. It'll be good to do something other than await orders. Send a private to tell him I'll be coming up in about an hour. I'd go now, but he may be busy. Oh, remember to prep the guys for chow in 45 minutes. PT comes right afterward."

Sergeant Guerra groaned as he went upstairs to get the Captain of the ship, Ranger PT was awful, especially right after eating. The CO was looking to see a blubbering mess of Rangers slipping in their own vomit.

[Norvenia]

Hôtel de Claudette
L’Estaque, L’Ossienne

Malcolm Griffiths was utterly exhausted.

Once, back in Sremski Okrug during the peacekeeping mission there, then-Captain Griffiths and his platoon of Rangers had been instructed to evacuate a Sremski village of some two hundred souls from the path of an advancing brigade of the Okrugian People's Army. The Okrugian nationalists had irregular forces on motorcycles and technicals out in front of the main path of their advance, and those irregulars kept hitting the Norvenian peacekeepers from behind in an effort to complete the genocide of Sremskis living in Okrugian territory. The platoon had settled into a routine: walk a few miles, engage in a firefight with twice their number of irregulars, regroup the refugees, and walk a few more miles before the irregulars came back for their next attack. At the end of the march, the refugees and peacekeepers had walked close to a hundred kilometers and fought sixteen high-intensity engagements. It took more than fifty hours, and Malcolm Griffiths did not sleep a wink the entire time.

When his plane landed in L'Ossienne, Griffiths was fairly sure that he was as tired as he had ever been, even at the end of that fighting withdrawal. The Norvenian chancellor couldn't remember the last time he had gotten a full night's sleep. The seemingly endless interregional plane flight from Astor-of-Stone had been dominated by reports from Admiral Carina Lawrence, briefings about the Holy Curia's cyberwarfare capabilities, arguments between foreign policy staffers about the loyalties of Regnum Albion, and the composition of yet another communique to United Valik, bearing the same message that had been sent to so many different heads of government: No, we are not going to change our minds; yes, we can talk about how to cooperate in those areas where we do agree anyway.

And so Malcolm Griffiths had reacted only with a mild, nonplussed surprise at the information that he was to meet President Leclerc for lunch in a garden cafe within the Hôtel de Claudette. "How far?" the Chancellor had asked Jack Norton, his security chief, as the two men settled into the limousine which was to carry them from the L'Estaque airport to the cafe.

"Half an hour," Norton replied briefly.

Griffiths nodded, leaned his head against the back of his seat, and was asleep in less than a minute.

Norton gently shook Griffiths awake a little more than thirty minutes later. The chancellor groaned, dug his thumbs into his closed eyes for a moment, and then popped a breath mint in his mouth and ran his hard hands over his face. "Show time," Griffiths muttered in Norton's general direction.

"Yes, sir."

"Great."

Griffiths levered himself out of the limousine and walked quickly toward the Hôtel de Claudette, with Norton hovering at his shoulder. The Norvenian chancellor looked like what he was: a tough soldier turned only fairly recently and somewhat uncomfortably to politics. Griffiths was a tall man of slightly over forty; his face was long and somewhat dour, with brilliant green eyes - now somewhat red with sleep deprivation - and crew-cut red hair. The chancellor had a boxer's build, lean and powerful, sheathed in a well-tailored three-piece suit of plain black wool and a double-breasted military-style overcoat of the same material. An enamel Norvenian-flag pin shone against the lapel of the suit, and a plain white shirt and bright blue silk tie added a dash of color; nevertheless, Griffiths somehow managed to make the ensemble look like a uniform.

But as Griffiths walked rapidly into the cafe, his long and confident strides eating up the sidewalk, he couldn't keep a smile off his lean, sober face. "This is a beautiful city," the chancellor murmured to no one in particular. The air was cool and fresh, the sun warm; a scent of flowers toyed about Griffiths' nostrils, and birdsong rang sweetly in the chancellor's ears. The elaborately carved Roccoco stonework of the great building in front of Griffiths gleamed golden in the spring sunlight. "What a beautiful day," the chancellor remarked to Norton, and the Federal Ranger nodded.

Now, Griffiths found himself greeted by a distinguished-looking older man in waiter's uniform, who held himself with utter poise and confidence. Griffiths marched up to the man and shook his hand in a firm, dry grip. "Bonjour," the chancellor announced, "je m'appelle Malcolm Griffiths, et je suis le Chanceller de Norvenia, ici afin de voir President Leclerc." There was a complete directness in Griffiths' manner, a characteristically Norvenian openness: brash and aggressive, but also straightforward, honest, and friendly. His French was swift and fluent but strongly accented, and accompanied by a tight smile.

[Arbites]

Skies over Southern Arcologia

By the time the Norvenians picked up the Imperial AWACS on radar, the damage had effectively already been done. The AWACS in use had detected a frenzy of radar activity from well outside the Norvenians' effective range using passive sensors. Active radar has to broadcast a signal strong enough to cover both the outgoing and return distances, meaning that outgoing radar pulses can be detected by a passive sensor at almost twice its effective range. Imperial forces had learned to exploit this in its wars against Adiron, as a means of countering a technologically-superior foe.

Admiral Rahal likened it to turning on a searchlight: you might spy something in the darkness, but in doing so you would reveal your own position. However, under those conditions, one could only get vague guesses. Rahal wanted a clearer picture.

Before the AWACS showed up on the Norvenians' active radar, Rahal beefed up their escorts. AWACS were valuable, after all, even if they were still within ferry range of the Imperial mainland. Five of the Imperium's locally-modernized MiG-29s were assigned to each aircraft. Rahal wasn't worried about overextending himself, he was in the Imperium's home waters. He did have a hornet's nest he was ordered to avoid kicking however; the Adiran Naval Air Station Eos on one of Arcologia's southernmost islands.

The Norvenians would have detected the AWACS as they flew just a bit farther south towards the source of the signals, escort fighters in tow (which were not using active radar). Not all of the Norvenians' assessments were accurate, however. Some of the AWACS being flown, the ones which picked up the trail in the first place, were A-50s operating out of southern Imperial airbases. Their receivers were large and sensitive enough to pick up AESA radar, their operators having trained with captured Adiran systems. The smaller carrier-based planes simply honed in on where the A-50s heard rustling in the bushes, then went loud with their active radars.

Eventually, the AWACS managed to get close enough to start picking up blips of their own, the Norvenian fighters and AWACS. Against Adiran Crows, the strategy was to get a powerful radar close enough to the enemy to negate their low-observable characteristics. Ordinarily that carried heavy risks and in Ceti was usually coordinated with OTH radar. In this case, however, the Imperial forces were aware that the Norvenians wouldn't shoot first. Considering Rahal's carrier group was on the other side of Arcologia and the Norvenians had no recon on him, that would be a bad idea. Furthermore, once the Norvenians detected the planes, Rahal's fleet went silent. They shut off their radar to avoid broadcasting their position, and bare minimal radio transmissions were made: ship-to-ship communication and even aircraft launches were carried out with old light signals. Like the Adirans, this foe would try to tap into their electronic communications. They couldn't do that if they didn't use any.

Soon the Imperial aircraft had strong enough signals for a missile lock, if need be. It was at this point that the planes halted their advance towards the Norvenian signals and banked onto a southwest course, assumed to be parallel to the Norvenians' own course. No attempts at target acquisition were made. All the while, the AWACS continued attempting to ping the Norvenian ships, not necessarily confirming exact silhouettes but gaining a rough estimate of the number of ships and position.

With this information in hand, one of Oculi, or "Emperor's Eyes" as referred to in Imperial state media, was requisitioned by the Navy. In an hour, the spy satellite would make a pass over the stretch of ocean identified by the AWACS as being the most likely position of the Inderdiction Group. As Rahal would be quick to remind the Norvenians, the Emperor's hand guides all.

[Free Garza]

The Free Garza City Matador,
Lisa Benitez

There has been much talk in foreign circles about whether or not the restoration of the monarchy, which admittedly is to many of us on the Left rather unpleasant news, by itself means that democracy is in peril or gone altogether from Free Garza. The earlier signs were less than promising, as the new King almost immediately made a pact with the First Valerian Empire, granting them basing rights, and then followed this up with a similar agreement with New Edom. He even permitted his sister, HRH Princess Blanca, to marry the Boy General, Brigadier-General Perrin Pahath-Moab. He also appointed a great number of monarchists to the cabinet and ordered a massive purge of Fascist infiltrators in the Revolutionary Party which still held many seats in the cabinet. He also reached a concordat with the Church, even to the point of merging the Monarchist and Catholic Action parties into the new National Democratic Party.

On the other hand, the King's first selection as premier was the last President, Carlita Ruiz, who headed an initial coalition government. When she resigned, His Catholic Majesty replaced her with Jacinta Castillo, who then headed a national unity government as premier. Castillo at the time belonged to the Social Democrats, now to the Socialist Party. The apparent basis for both of these appointments was that both had some kind of electoral mandate and were thus representatives of the people to His Majesty's government. In other words, the King set clear precedents for some kind of responsible government, rather than attempting to impose a premier and cabinet on the nation against the people's will. Maybe this is my own ignorance at work here, but this sounds rather like constitutional monarchy to me, rather than absolute despotism.

Granted, I have much dislike for what this king favors, notably monarchy, aristocracy, organized religion, and a somewhat more capitalist model of economics, not to mention his foreign policy. Indeed, you can be sure that I have been actively endorsing and supporting the Socialists and will continue to do so in the upcoming elections for both houses of the Cortes. Still, the very fact that I am free to do so speaks volumes about where Garza is under this king versus his grandfather. For better or worse, it seems, human rights, democracy, and the rule of law are here to stay. The gains of the Revolution are not entirely reversed. That, if nothing else, is reason for joy.

Let others wring their hands and panic. The rest of us have work to do.

[The Cookish States]

Official Communique
FROM:The Chancellor's Office, The Democratic Republic of The Cookish States
TO:All Cornellian Nations, ADTO
CLEARANCE:Open to public

In the face of extreme and heinous human rights violations, The Cookish people have seldom stood idle. While an ally grapples with a foe, political or physical, our people have never turned a blind eye. We are a reliable people, known for the strength of our word and our willingness to act upon it. As a nation, we cannot accept the various violations of even the most basic of human rights. The offenders within Cornellia are nearly too numerous to count. Even nations which have made recent reforms in order to clean up their act recieve no applause from us.

As a founding member of ADTO, The Cookish obviously second all current Norvenian resolutions, but I intend to extend upon those in this message.

The illegitimate nations which commit these heinous acts cannot be ignored. As of this moment, dossiers are being compiled to determine which "nations" require action for the good of their people by the International standard of human rights. Those nations found to be in violation of these simple rights will have 7 days to remove all of their citizens from Cookish lands or risk permenant house arrest. All Cookish citizens are ordered to leave the nation within those next 48 hours, and any existing foreign accounts to those nations will be frozen indefinitely. Ships from those nations will be boarded and retained, government planes will be grounded, evacuated, and destroyed. The nations upcoming upon this list will become persona non grata within the borders of the States. Our government will do everything within its power to see to it that their people are treated with the dignity and respect they deserve.

At this moment, we will refuse any talks with these nations until they announce that they are ready to discuss a democratic transition, a swift one. These enemies of humanity are not tolerated in my nation, and those who look away, or worse, commit these acts will always be foes of those who are decent hearted and freedom loving.

With Utmost Sincerity, Chancellor Faman Soymer

Chancellor's Office, The Democratic Republic of The Cookish States

__________________________________________________________________

Ana typed on her computer, she was a Colonel, but never wore the uniform. No one saluted her, and no one called her ma'am. She was an Intelligence Officer. Her job was on her secure laptop, nine to five, every day until she came home to her sons and husband. She recieved orders straight from the top to email her Norvenian contacts at around 1330, by 1334, the message had arrived.

To:The Norvenian Intelligence Agency

Cc, Bcc

Subject:CLASSIFIED, TOP SECRET

Good afternoon to you all, I come bearing a simple message. There is a possible Cookish informant within an area of interest in Cornellia. Higher would like to exploit this for everything it is worth, but requires collaboration through a more secure means. This email is encrypted and scheduled to self delete in thirty seconds. The meeting place is 1270 Doughloop Road, Dogniak, North Cookeland ZIP 4-176-12. Bring five of your most trusted and availible. We look forward to your visit.

Col. Ana Hartwright, Cookish Army Intelligence, Under Direction of Cookish Intelligence Agency

Only two people were scheduled to meet them at the small farmhouse in central NC, near Dogniak. The Colonel herself, and The Vice Chief of the CIA, Jeremy Head. The goal was simple, to achieve stable contact with Mr. Westin, renamed Tapeworm, to provide intel on General Moab. This was the first step, and would lead to many more operations.

Meanwhile, in the very same office, a cyber war was brewing. Viruses, Malware, and worms were being programmed as Edomite government officials and workers were being baited to accepting a probe via emails, labeled with various innocent sounding emails. One such email was from the school of an employees 10 year old son. The probe was designed only to be a port of access, and didn't register very large. Almost any antivirus software could find it, but they were looking for the inevitable few that had let such programs expire. All they needed was access to a few government computers, and the entire Edomite cyber-government would be at its knees. These attacks were sourced from IP addresses within the nation of Mizuyuki, a known cyberattack hotspot.

But, the attack wouldn't start any time soon. All Soymer wanted was the capability. Everything was being planned as a "just in case". By the CIA's reasoning, if New Edom could be made an example of, other nations may take the Cookish at their word and be more willing to adopt democracy and a bill of rights.

Ana whispered to herself...

"One bridge at a time."

_____________________________________________________

Fire Island AFB, Contierra, The Cookish States

The Brigade Commander prepared the recording. The simple smartphone said "Record your message, and then select recipients from your Groups and Contacts". His largest Group, "The First Ranger Brigade" was about to recieve a message.

"The lock is broken. The lock is broken. Say agin, if inaudible, please restart this message. The lock is broken."

As the phone started to send all of the messages, phones around the AFB began to buzz. The entire Brigade that wasn't deployed in the Occidental Sea was set on a two hour ACRF notice. Within two hours, the whole Brigade could be ready to jump in to a random place, probably in Cornellia. None of them knew the where or why, but they all knew to stay on their toes. Within 18 hours, the mission would be executed. By 27 hours, the first boots would be hitting the ground. By that point, the whole military would need to be recalled and put on alert status. This capability would be expensive, and costly in lives as well. However, The Cookish believed firmly in the Norvenian mission there, and were willing to support that mission in any way.

[Nalaya]

Avangardn Offices
Sevan, Nalaya

"Did you read the Cookish response to all this?" Inna Karapetyan said with a grin, leaning forward on Siran's desk. Hravad was off trying to talk sense into the Quarval-sharess, a fool's errand if there ever was one, so she was left to her own devices without him to bother. Paperwork had become very interesting with the new report. She was smoking as she talked, carefully keeping the ashes in the tray on Siran's desk. Last time some had gotten onto the carpet, Siran had thrown nothing short of a bitch fit.

The head of the Unkndirnei was sitting with her forehead against the surface of her desk, eyes closed as she searched somewhere deep inside herself for a reserve of patience enough to deal with this. "Only the ADTO would respond to human rights violations with more human rights violations. Also, what the fuck? Our crime is existing. How do they expect us to remedy that? By dissolving the country and allowing things to return to a vicious civil war? If they think we're a human rights violation, I'm sure they'd have no idea what to do fucking warlords and real atrocities."

"Well, they already encouraged Khavar to finally dissolve the Sulhanate, so Norvenia's not all bad. 'A wretched hive of scum and villainy' and all that is out of the political arena. How is that investigation coming, by the way? Did Kalousdian say?" Inna said after a moment of hunting for a bright spot

"The report read, and I quote, 'It would take substantially less time to determine who wasn't involved with the corruption. Their estimated number can be counted on an amputee's fingers'," Siran said with a grimace. "All the Vatani delegates are clean as a whistle. Honor codes don't allow for graft, apparently. Qasim was even polite about it, which is very impressive for a man of his disposition. This is what happens when the Avangardn steps back. Can't trust the Sulh to govern their way out of a paper bag. Ugh, this had better not turn into a war."

"Mmm," Inna hummed as she leaned over the desk and slid open a desk drawer to reveal a bottle of port and a pair of glasses. "If I had your job, I'd just drink it out of the bottle." She poured them each a glass and patted Siran's hand sympathetically. "So I take it you're not going to dignify it with a response."

"I wouldn't even know where to start. Besides, international post doesn't travel to the warped piece of space-time that is part of Aurora. Tearing people out of their homes, detaining ships, threatening everyone—" She drank a little too fast and the burn down her throat silenced her. She coughed. "Didn't TECT do that to them? I recall them being displeased."

"Something like it, anyway. They treat Cornellia as if it's full of lunatics, honestly. Did they even try talking to Gylias or Cacerta or Adiron? Now everyone's twanging like a high tension wire and the democracies are left twisting in the wind. Poor bastards," Inna said, sipping from her glass. Port was something to be enjoyed. She nudged Siran and held up her glass. "To hypocrisy."

Siran clinked her glass against Inna's. "May it die in our lifetime," she finished. "Now I'm going to go write a briefing for our lovely Protector and watch her try to process the information. If she wasn't already pissed, now she's going to really be unhappy. And no one likes the Tigress when she's angry."

[Gylias]

The silence of the corridor in the Government House was suddenly broken by a loud and short hitting sound, coming from one of the rooms with open doors. It then disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, leaving no sign of disturbance in the empty corridor.

In her office, Foreign Minister Margarit Vartanian was hunched over her desk, covering her eyes with her subtly shaking hands. Her mouth was wide open, making visible her gnashing teeth.

"What... the fuck... is this shit?!", she said calmly, her monotone voice betraying no hint of the anger and frustration agitating beneath the surface.

She finally returned to her normal position, and once again scanned the message on her computer, mouthing the words "for the good of their people", "destroyed" and "not tolerated" in silent disbelief. After taking a moment to process what she had just read, she opened a window to type her reply with grim determination.

"You think you can just fucking push us around like that, well, you got another thing coming.", she said bitterly as she typed her reply.

The Republic of Gylias
The People's Will Shall Be Sovereign

---

To: The Chancellor's Office, The Democratic Republic of The Cookish States
From: Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of Gylias
Subject: Fuck you.

---

In the face of extreme and heinous narcissistic destruction, the Gylian people have seldom stood idle. We are a reliable people, known for our ability to not force ourselves into other people's business without their consent. As a nation, we cannot accept the various toxic violations of a people's sovereignty from hopped-up hypocrites who give not a fuck about democracy but only seek to bully and swing their phallic militaries around the world stage to make themselves feel strong and overcompensate for something. Even nations which have made recent reforms in order to clean up their act and remember that they are not the centre of the bloody universe recieve no applause from us.

Fuck you, you idiotic bunch of crusading cunts. Thank you for your needless provocation that has just made everything worse in the region. Thank you for breaking things under the guise of protecting them. Thank you and the Norvenians whose arse you've got your head stuck up for profoundly insulting us, our friends and our allies by shoving your nose where it doesn't belong. Thank you for trying to steal Gylias' independence and impose on its foreign policy like self-centred imperialists. Thank you for bringing our two regions closer to a war for the sake of your childish delusion that the world revolves around you and you have to prove your strength by pushing smaller nations around like an abusive parent would their children, or putting them on a fucking pedestal like they can't possibly think for themselves.

At this moment, we will refuse any talks with these nations until they announce that they are ready to go away and crawl back under the rock whence they spawned from, swiftly. These enemies of humanity are not tolerated in my nation. I'd ask you to withdraw your idiotically Manichean "you're either with us or against us" bullshit, or lecture you on how incredibly authoritarian it is for a supposed "democracy" to start destroying government planes and boarding ships and arresting people for their ethnicity, but I already know I'm talking to a bunch of brain-dead, power-crazed dumbfucks that make sentient larvae look like the pinnacle of intelligence.

Oh, and go fuck yourselves.

Margarit Vartanian
Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of Gylias

[Cacerta]

SISMI Headquarters, Potenza
The Kingdom of Cacerta
Cacerta's Servizio per le Informazioni e la Sicurezza Militare had -- of course -- been keeping close tabs on the movements of Aurora's nations to and from Cornellian waters. Norvenia's incursion had come as no surprise to Mila as it seemed nearly impossible to talk down their Chancellor's stupidity of both issuing the Guarantee without consent and then blaming it on the region as if it was their fault. Elsa had already facepalmed herself once, thinking, That's almost as awful as saying that someone was raped and the way they had dressed was responsible for it.

She had it in mind that they couldn't get any more ridiculous until an official communique addressed to the Cornellian Nations arrived in her inbox from the Cookish States. If there was any faith left in the democratic righteousness of the Aurorans, it went right out the window. Immediately she placed a call to the Grand Admiral upon which they discussed the communique in great detail -- mostly addressing the lines of permanent house arrest and government planes being grounded, evacuated, and destroyed. Under what circumstances were these not violations in themselves?

It seemed almost shameful that they called themselves a democracy.

After several hours of deliberation, the two women decided that it would probably be in the Kingdom's best interests to redeploy their fleets. They would shoot a quick message to the Queen for her approval as it appeared the Aurorans wouldn't be coming to their senses any time soon. To their knowledge, the Ossorians were still deployed in the Sea of Mallia and if the Norvenians or Cookish decided to rub them the wrong way, Cacerta's own Royal Navy will be their to back them up -- which Elettra seriously doubted they needed. In any case, there was always safety in numbers.

[New Edom]

Council Police Information Security Office,
Fineberg, New Edom

Hannah Eben was one of the ‘new brew’ of Council Police recruited in the years following Touchstone’s success. Unlike people like Harcourt, Kohath, Anderman, Demetrios and others who had been recruited during the First Civil War, she had been recruited right out of University. A student of linguistics and history, her science minor had been computer science, and she found herself recruited for the National Air Force, in intelligence. However before she had even gone beyond the grade of lieutenant she had found herself recruited again—into the Council Police.

She was an attractive young woman, of mixed Haranese and Baran stock, with medium olive skin, dark brown hair, and of features which could easily be mistaken for any number of Cornellian ethnicities, which was considered a plus.

Because of her Air Force Intelligence training and computer studies, she was increasingly immersed in the techniques of computer security, both how to strengthen it, and how to compromise it. She was among a select group sent to Callban on a supposed University Study Group (which in fact was almost entirely consisting of government and corporate cyber security officers attached to the Council Police, Department of Defense and Arcanum Armaments persons)

One of her duties was to monitor the activity of the Saenger Bot.415 Computer Virus Program, which was a multipurpose computer virus which was used in a defensive or offensive deployment. The computer virus was encoded with a special tiered fail-safe structure, using Trojan Horse files to deflect attempts to root out and destroy the main code by anti-virus software. The virus would attach itself to a binary executable file, replicating as a fast-infector virus once introduced to a computer network. The Trojan Horses—computer worms designed as auxiliaries to the main file—would a network's anti-virus defense shield, which then would allow the main virus, Bot.415 to piggy-back on the anti-virus software itself, replicating in each file that the anti-virus software scans while using masking technology to eliminate its signature from the anti-virus definitions registry. The virus was designed to disrupt normal processor functions, causing systems failure in an enemy's military mainframes, thus disrupting ground-based guidance operations and radar monitoring capabilities. As an offensive weapon, the virus could be disseminated as a hack into an enemy's network. As a defensive weapon, which was the main thing that Hannah helped oversee along with her team, the virus could be used as a computer spike, counter-hacking an enemy's attempt to disrupt the New Edomites’ own computer networks by disseminating the virus in the enemy's own file system.

This system, procured during the acquisition of Anhausen Military Technology Systems by Arcanum Armaments, was considered to be one of the primary weapons of New Edomite cyberwarfare.

Oceanic Fishing Vessel Peter and Paul, approximately 250 Kilometers West-Southwest of the Arcologian Coast

“Could anything be more beautiful?” mused Captain Jared Candor murmured, and then said aloud to his brothers, as they moved over the glittering rippling expanse of the sea. What better life could there be? They had much fish in their freezers—but now they were being paid to pretend to catch eels and other fish—enough that if someone flew overhead, say, they would see the decks slippery and bright with blood and scales. Strange were the ways of God and man alike! However they were being well paid, so it was good.

And so good was God, and the men who served him, they sang one of their favourite sea going songs, only somewhat aware of the meaning but loving the rollicking tone of it, joyously lifting their voices as they prepared to head out to deeper waters, barely using their nets but mimicking such as they led out the towed sonar array with which they had been equipped, dragging hydrophones with them. And the while, the Kelvin Hughes 6000 surface search radar (E-F band) maintained contact. If asked, Captain Candor was prepared to say “there are pirates and wrecks around here—we’d be crazy not to be prepared.” Praise the Lord!

Calypso
To sail on a dream on a crystal clear ocean,
to ride on the crest of a wild raging storm
To work in the service of life and living,
in search of the answers of questions unknown
To be part of the movement and part of the growing,
part of beginning to understand,

Aye Calypso the places you've been to,
the things that you've shown us,
the stories you tell
Aye Calypso, I sing to your spirit,
the men who have served you so long and so well

Hi dee ay-ee ooo doo-dle oh
oo do do do do do doo-dle ay yee
doo-dle ay ee

Like the dolphin who guides you, you bring us beside you
To light up the darkness and show us the way
For though we are strangers in your silent world
To live on the land we must learn from the sea
To be true as the tide and free as a wind swell
Joyful and loving in letting it be

Aye Calypso the places you've been to,
the things that you've shown us,
the stories you tell
Aye Calypso, I sing to your spirit,
the men who have served you so long and so well
Hi dee ay-ee ooo doo-dle oh

oo do do do do do doo-dle ay yee
doo-dle ay ee
he dee Ay-ee
Hi dee oh ooo
hi dee ayee
hi dee oh ooo

[New Edom]

Fineberg, New Edom
Music played on the stereo.
In a darkened room a man and a dog sat; the man had his eyes closed and his arms folded across his chest, and the shades were drawn. The windows were bullet proof and concussion resistant, and so the rain was only a very faint sound against them. Now and then a flash of lightning would illuminate the edges around the windowshades.

The light played over his face, and revealed a few lines where the skin had been smooth. Now and then the dog raised a light and dark brown wedgelike wiry furred head when there was a faint rumble of thunder, but he was a brave dog and glanced at his master, then lowered his face, yawning, to his paws. At one point he got up, stretched his back legs behind him, wandered over to a bone, picked it up with a clatter of teeth, and wandered to his cushion on the floor, laying down with a grunt and beginning to lick the bone.

There were whispers outside the door.

I think he’s resting right now.
These messages are important.
He’ll receive them, and he’ll know about them. He always does.
Will you tell him later if someone in the cabinet informs him before he knows?
Why are you being like that?
Like what? Just knock on the door and find out…
No!
Alright, then I’ll do it…
He barely gets a moment’s peace as it is…

The man turned up the volume of the stereo, and the swelling crescendo covered the whispers. He put the remote down, and rested his hands on the arms of his chair again.

One of Rowena’s secrets was that she often scanned, downloaded, and by other means forwarded information to General Pahath-Moab without telling anyone she was doing it. This was a secret arrangement between herself and the President. By this and similar means he was kept informed enough so that even Minister of Police Harcourt was sometimes surprised by the extent of his knowledge. And in her case, why would someone suspect an often naked Leck female secretary, who rarely seemed to carry anything more than a tablet and her identity card, of also carrying information?

In this case, Commander Rautio, his Chief of Staff, knocked sharply on the door anyway, and heard a voice ordering him to enter.

The lights were still very dim, but one was switched on just behind the President, silhouetting him in shadows. Rover raised his head and gave a low bark. The music’s volume lowered.
“Excellency, there are two important messages for you, one from—“

“The Chancellor of the Cookish States, the other from my fiancée. The one from the Chancellor is nothing—he alludes to vagaries and makes threats based on them. We won’t answer—we don’t know what he’s talking about, even though we well suspect. If they do anything towards our citizens which is illegal or grossly unfair, we will respond accordingly. I would like General Harcourt and Mr. Kent to find out how many of our citizens are in the Cookish States and Norvenia or are traveling in the immediate vicinity. I will respond to Princess Blanca tomorrow morning. Thank you.”

“Sir!” Rautio was disconcerted, and a bit frustrated. How had Rowena known? He was Chief of Staff, damn it. Lately all he had control of was administration. Someone was conniving against him somewhere…

My dear Blanca,

You correctly understand that I have many duties right now. As I am sure you can appreciate, they occupy much of my waking hours. I will be in communication with your brother soon about matters of state regarding them, in fact.

I am sufficiently pleased that you will be my wife. I would like you to inform me of which parts of my country or of the region you would enjoy traveling to, as I intend to take some time off God willing in the near future. Also I have a slight concern about your national diet. While you were quite acceptable in form and figure when I last saw you, I’ve heard some disturbing things about heart disease. I’d like you to keep a calendar of your daily diet please.

I am also informed that the Queen would like to enjoy a shopping trip with you, so you can look forward to that.

With much affection,
General Perrin Pahath-Moab

[Deadora]

Akula-class Nuclear Attack Submarine ANS Dark Dawn
Sabri Sea, 300m below the surface
Approaching the Strait of Nalaya

Cruising near silently beneath the waves, the Dark Dawn and her crew were well underway on what would be the subs longest deployment since it left drydock. Commander Vezra Kahnsin surveyed the bridge crew, trying to gauge their feelings on the mission as they went about their duties. Deadora's submarine fleet was unique, somewhat surprisingly given the Navy's male-friendly reputation, in that they were the only vessels crewed entirely by women. While the benefits were clear in terms of weight, space, crew amenities and cohabitation, as well as simple competency, it had, in Kahnsin's opinion, the unintended consequence of making the crew more volatile. Men made the hierarchy very apparent, and gave a very clear picture of the flow of power. Take that away, and the potential for interpersonal conflict, especially among the basic enlisted.

Two Nadirii and a Kehrahnii walk into a bar. . .

Not that the Commander was overly worried. The crew of the Dawn had been together for years, had been on deployments from the Sea of Mallia all the way to the ends of the Arcadian coast. They were as disciplined as any crew in Cornellia, and with her officers quick to crackdown on any unacceptable behaviour, it didn't take long for the informal pecking order to settle into something much more civil than what you found in army or airforce units

This mission would strain the limits of their endurance, hers included. The Dawn was to pass through the Strait of Nalaya, head north into the Tartarian Ocean, locate the Norvenian Naval Interdiction Group and shadow them for the rest of their journey. And if by chance the Norvies found themselves in trouble, her standing orders were to aid whoever was giving it to them and sink what ships she could. Certainly the thought of scoring a kill made the prospect of spending weeks at sea more palatable.

[Common Territories]

---

Cookish Hypocrisy and Irony Buzzes TECT and Cornellian States.
March 28, 2014

Buzzing in the ears in many Commoner officials, including the Emperor's, is the recent public letter sent to nations around the Cornellian region. The letter, which has been received with anger and astonishment, has been condemned as "hypocritical" and "destructive". In the open letter sent out earlier, the Cookish Chancellor threatened nations, civilians and government, of harsh military and security actions -- included in these new policies are, "Those nations found to be in violation of these simple rights will have 7 days to remove all of their citizens from Cookish lands or risk permenant house arrest. All Cookish citizens are ordered to leave the nation within those next 48 hours, and any existing foreign accounts to those nations will be frozen indefinitely. Ships from those nations will be boarded and retained, government planes will be grounded, evacuated, and destroyed." The Emperor, Emperor JC, has especially taken this statement with great offense and has personally called it "atrocious and a stab in the back."

It's a slap to our face and to Cornellian nations; simply put -- it's atrocious and a stab in the back. After our two nations went through much deteriorated relations, the hope of ending such bad feelings is now dead and buried. The personal discussion I held with officials, and the TECT officials who negotiated as well, are all now fruitless in the eyes of Cookish officials. How can a democratic nation threaten civilians and government officials like it was the correct thing to do? This situation is so hypocritical that I cannot come up with a better example of hypocrisy -- only a hypocrite can claim to stand for democracy and threaten civilians at the same time. I will not stand for this, nor shall my government stand for this. I promise, with all the powers invested in my royal throne that if any Cornellian state is unjustly assaulted in any way, the Cookish shall be punished as retaliation. If the Cookish so much as harm a Commoner vessel, plane, or citizen, I swear beyond my royal blood that I shall seek holy vengeance upon the Cookish. Consider this message the end of our brokered return to normal relations and the end of our two nation's relationship forever; your embassy has already been seized and your staff deported. Don't worry about your citizens either -- they've remained on the deportation list since February of last year. I shall treat you with the same respect and curtsey you decide to place on others -- consider your to refusal to talk accepted as well, we wouldn't want to trouble ourselves. Finally; please refrain from going through with illegally assaulting planes, ships, or people. - Quoted from an interview with Emperor JC

Deterioration of relations began on February first last year when the Gavinium Magnus incident turned into a civil war -- Gavinium fighting for its right to independence, opposed Cookish rule. TECT entered the country promising aid and assistance to the weak country in hopes of building a strong relationship; the Cookish States however took great offense to TECT's actions. The "Cookish News and Happenings" paper labeled TECT as "Traitors" and as taking "Sloppy Seconds". As a reaction by Cookish officials; the Cookish government fired CLI contractors and deported them to punish TECT for its role in Gavinium Magnus -- something Congressman Scotsman of Franklin State said was "economic warfare". In its first news article; the Cookish News and Happening reported "... all TECT mercenaries are being removed from battle and into the TECT, with payment being refused, as well as the revocation of all military support to and from the colony." In a harsh response to the Cookish government; the TECT government attacked the Cookish government and people back with multiple actions. As reported on February first by Royal News: the TECT government cancelled a plan to re-fuel military jets traveling to the north from the south, closed its borders to Cookish citizens and officials, deported the small Cookish population, and insisted that the Cookish government pay its fees to CLI. CLI also came out with news of a lawsuit against the Cookish States, which it won months later in the TECT Supreme Court.

The next day, the response to TECT from the Cookish Chancellor mirrored TECT's response today. Reported the day later by the same Cookish paper, the Chancellor stated: "As for the deportation of foreign dignitaries, this is a child's action. Refusing to communicate with someone at cause of minor grievances is entirely irresponsible and downright dangerous. Never in the history of the Cookish States have we removed an embassy or its staff from the nation. Even during war with New Edom, their ambassadors and even their guards remained safe. The rounding up and deportation of the some 1,300 Cookish citizens is intolerable. You cannot simply purge a people you disagree with. We implore the TECT too withdraw its deportations, and to not cease communications with our government. Trade may be cut, lawsuits may be filed, and people may even be uprooted from their homes in Common territory, but by God may we maintain communication." The paper claimed also that the reaction of TECT was an "Overreaction" and that it mocked the capability of TECT to "crowbar the economy" as impossible. President Mark Hoover of TECT also made a statement the same day challenging the Chancellor considering the punishments, including the 1,300 citizens deported citizens, Hoover also talked about the CLI contract -- stating on behalf of its CEO that the lawsuit would still be in progress until the processed fee would be paid.

Since then; the lawsuit was won by CLI and relations returned to normal later on. The lawsuit was placed into question because of it being a TECT court, subject to possible bias. Months later, the Cookish approached TECT about returning relations. After negotiations took place; TECT and Cookish leaders came together to return relations to normal standings -- such as reopening embassies, opening trade once more, and working together for international goals. However; deportation lists were never updated and will more than likely remain so.