Seeing Red [AMW]

[Nova Gaul]

Palmyra, Emesa

About 10 kilometers southwest of the bustling, crowded Old City in Palmyra sits the leafy, breezy and well planned suburra of Petra. The ‘Cyberjaya’ district, the pulsing heart of Emesan high-tech industry, borders a number of large parks planted in the English fashion and surrounds a shallow and sparkling artificial lake, Petrajaya. Here too sit most modern Emesan centers of government, from the Ministry of Defense to Finance. And it is in Petra that the Emesan Prime Minister keeps his residence, the Perdana Palace.

The large palace, only completed in 1983 at the height of the Emesan economic boom years, is a symbol of Emesan political progressivism in the form of Roman classical architecture and local Malay feng shui. The present Prime Minister, the hitherto extremely popular Liberal Mr. Clement Julian, had this morning convened his National Security Council—consisting of Finance Minster Gnaeus Publius, Deputy Prime Minister Max Dona, military Chief of Staff General M.T. Niger, Inter Services Intelligence (ISI) Director Quintus Fabius and leader of the Conservative Opposition Hercules Porcina—to discuss, in secret, his growing apprehensions regarding the real situation in the Nationalist Republic of Dra-pol.

Conspicuously absent was the Foreign Minister, Lucius Macro, who had left earlier in the week for an emergency visit to Emesa’s most important ally, Great Walmington. Macro had been tasked with soliciting renewed English attention towards the NRD, which was quickly becoming a topic of grave concern south of the Marcian Line.

“And so,” Finance Minister Gnaeus Publius was wrapping up and earlier observation, “it is my contention, Mr. Prime Minister, supported by the facts I may add, that both the rising unemployment and slackening demand for Emesan real estate are not domestic phenomena. They are a direct result of perceptions, however accurate they may be, that National Republic of Dra-pol is on the verge of collapse. And we all know what such a collapse would mean for Emesa.

“Therefore, any internal tools utilized by this government to alleviate the situation, be they increased unemployment benefits or adjusting interest rates, will likely have a negligible affect.”

Deputy Prime Minister Dona chimed in: “Such perceptions are also causing your approval numbers to fall, sir. People believe that you are not doing enough to shore up the Nationalists, and by connotation not doing enough to preserve our own economy. You’re under 60% for the first time in six years.”

“Shore up the Nationalists?” asked Mr. Julian, more to himself than anyone else. “Does anyone know if the Nationalists even need shoring up?” The short and rotund fellow, known for nearly comically bright waistcoats, usually brimming over with joie de vivre, grew flush. “Can any one of you tell me, gentlemen, how in the hell this whole ordeal began? We’ve been neighbors and allies to the Nationalists for decades upon decades! Why is everyone starting to worry now?”

ISI Director Fabius cleared his throat. “Most likely that assassination business with Admiral Bong Hsin-ro set things off, I’d say. Then there are those pieces about widespread corruption and Red Bamboo insurgency that the Bugle and Standard keep turning out. Those aren’t helping.”

The sale of the top English papers were exceeded in Emesa only by the Palmyra Sun, the constitutional monarchy’s paper of record.

“Well?” queried the Prime Minister. “Is there ‘widespread corruption and Red Bamboo insurgency’ in the NRD? I mean, is it all actually true?”

Mr. Julian was greeted by four blank faces. Stalwart Conservative Hercules Porcina was busy cutting the butt from a fine cigar. At last, it fell to Max Dona to state the painfully obvious truth: “I don’t think anyone knows, sir.”

The Deputy Prime Minister had hit the proverbial nail on the head. Simultaneously, the truth dawned on the assembled Emesan MPs—the problem with the NRD, which was growing to encompass Emesa, was precisely that no one had any idea what was afoot in the Nationalist state.

There are few things markets can abide more than uncertainty.

“Well, then, I think it is about time that we find out! If decisive action is what is called for to shore up our economy, indeed, our nation’s livelihood, then decisive action we shall take!” declared the Emesan Prime Minister imperiously, rising from the head of the table. The other men followed suit.

“Mr. Dona, get me someone in authority in Kheol, now! On the phone! I want to know exactly what is going on with the Nationalists.”

”Very good, Mr. Prime Minister,” Mr. Dona left the conference room, motioning to a nearby secretary to get on the line to the Nationalist Government.

“Mr. Fabius, I want a dossier on all recent intelligence we’ve garnered from the Reds. Radio, television, newsprint, hearsay, anything that might be of use in trying to determine their frame of mind.” The intelligence director nodded, and left the room. Clement then turned his attention to the Finance Minister.

“Get some new polls taken, Gnaeus, work up some new fiscal projections. I want to know that if the Empire of Emesa is seen to take ‘decisive action’ to ensure Nationalist integrity it will rekindle a bullish market. We must know, absolutely, whether or not perceptions about the NRD are responsible for recent economic setbacks. If they are, I want some silver bullets, if they aren’t, I want long-term solutions, yesterday.”

“Right away, Mr. Prime Minister.” The Finance Minister trotted out then, immediately setting his fingers to buzz on the screen on his smart phone.

This left only General Niger and Mr. Porcina in the room. Mr. Porcina, his presence at the meeting a mere formality, made to leave, but the Prime Minister bade him stay with a hand gesture.

“General, if things in the NRD are as bad—or God forbid, worse—as recent rumors suggest, is the military in a position to intervene substantively on Kheol’s behalf?”

“Mr. Prime Minister, the EAF can project a PASKAU special-forces unit, a full battalion, into the Nationalist Republic within twenty-four hours. I expect that within five to ten hours after that, PASKAU teams will be able to engage, and eliminate, any Red Bamboo units encountered of NRD soil.”

“What if the situation requires more than a special forces battalion, General Niger?”

The Chief of Staff’s face grew grim indeed. “Just what sort of situation do you anticipate, Mr. Prime Minister?”

Mr. Julian took a deep breath: “We must consider the possibility of a full military deployment and intervention.” General M.T. Niger nodded.

“With your permission then, sir, I will put together a comprehensive operational schedule for your approval.”

“Do so. But until such a plan is ready for Parliament’s and His Majesty’s approval, not a word of this to anyone. Until further notice, this entire situation is to be classified.”

“Very good, sir.” General Niger left.

“Well, Hercules, farthing for your thoughts?”

The Conservative MP, in flawless morning dress, slowly lit and drew on his cigar—like so many luxuries in Emesa, from the English empire.

“You know how I feel about your free-trade ‘sunshine’ policy towards Sul-pol, Clement. You know, in general, that I and mine have long cautioned you and yours against putting such great value in these foreign alliances that in my estimation are not conducive to strong, Emesan policy.

“However, despite our disagreements, the Conservative Party will not attack you in this matter. If it comes down to a short-term question of Nationalist integrity, I can promise you our support.” He smiled.

“But handle yourself carefully, Clement, or come the next election our roles may be reversed. God willing, that is, if nothing worse happens.” Whereupon the men shook hands and Mr. Porcina departed.

Alone now Clement Julian returned to his desk and began to work the phone. He would first contact his foreign minister, already in the City, and instruct him to relay recent developments in Palmyra to Mainwaring’s office, with further instructions to increase his solicitations ‘tenfold’ on the NRD’s behalf. That accomplished, he put the calls through to Amerique and Chrinthania, relaying to the executives in both countries—strong countries—his growing apprehensions about the situation in Southeast Asia. “This mild economic situation is only, I believe, a precursor to a more serious period of instability”, he would say. With rather less hope, he also put calls through to Nibelunc and Avarga, going so far as to even put a call through to Valendia...after all, with a colony so close, it would be in the best interests of the Prussians to carefully observe these developments.

Finished with that task he called for a complete copy of the Protocols of the Parliament of Nations and sat down to read.

[Chrinthania]

The sound of the tip-tap of fingers on a computer keyboard was the only sound in the room. The light from the monitor illuminated the darkened room. A clock nearby read 4:17 a.m. A young man wearing a backwards ball cap and a pair of sweatpants read the e-mail on his screen. Moment by moment he'd read and reply, read and reply. Mostly trivial matters were being dealt with. Simple questions that required simple answers.

He reached for his coffee mug when the phone rang. Ringing phones at nearly half-past four in the morning at 1 Colfax Avenue in Denver were never good things. He took a sip of his coffee before answering the phone. On the other end of the phone was none other than Clement Julian's Foreign Minister. Once the pleasantries were exchanged came a somewhat lengthy explanation of concerns over the so-called Sulpol.

Prime Minister Taylor Ellison, still in his sleep attire, listened intently to the comments of the Emesan minister. It seemed to Taylor that the Emesans wanted military action or support of some kind. Such a request was, in spite of the Emesans best effort, falling on deaf ears. The idea or reentering Drapol again, or doing any military actions in Southeast Asia was something the Chrinthani were unwilling to do. Fond memories of the first Drapol war were still very much alive in the Chrinthani mind. Taylor was unwilling to get the nation into another long, drawn-out war in a part of the world where the chief exports were death and malaria.

It wasn't as if Taylor had the final say either. Emperor Nathaniel still had to sign off on it and everyone knew his aversion to war. However, as a nation Chrinthania viewed as an ally, Emesa was assured that if it could be proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that Drapol was on a path to war against either Sulpol or Emesa, the situation would be readdressed at that time.

With that, Taylor ended the call and proceeded to get ready for the day.

[Nova Gaul]

Palmyra, Emesa

Chrinthania’s hesitance to get involved in any situation itself involving the odious Drapoel Reds is perfectly understandable, while Chrinthania’s future promise to reassess the situation should the Communists run amuck is taken very well by Mr. Julian’s government in Palmyra.

While Emesa had long since firmly tethered itself to Great Walmington, the progressive Chrinthani democracy—and its robust economy—was much esteemed by the Southeast Asian state. A long string of successive Liberal governments knew it was in their vital interest to court the strong, Western democracy, and had done so accordingly. In many respects the Chrinthani were a bit too forward and outspoken for the reserved Emesans, who had taken their cue towards modernity from the equally reserved English. However, there was no question in Palmyra that if Red Dra-pol should once again resort to their nearly genocidal militarism (and at this point, if was a question of when rather than if for the Emesans) a strong Chrinthani response would be instrumental in preserving democracy in Asia.

To that end, the Chrinthani were cordially invited by Mr. Julian’s government to dispatch a ‘fact-finding mission’ to Emesa with the goal of, eventually, assessing the real situation in the Nationalist Republic of Dra-pol, derisively known as Sul-pol. The Emesans themselves, 1 Colfax Avenue was informed, were preparing such a mission of their own, if for no other reason than to relieve fears that dampened the Emesan economy of late, and hoped to be joined too by the proverbial ‘old hand’ of Southeast Asia—Great Walmington.

The Empire of Emesa would never, at least, not at this stage, reveal its secret desire to rekindle a Parliament of Nations that would preserve the increasingly dysfunctional National Republic: but that was surely its intent. This would explain why Emesa was busy reaching out to Great Walmington, Chrinthania, Nibelunc, and even Avarga. In the nearly made-up mind of Clement Julian and Liberals, and indeed even the Conservatives, preventative measures to shore-up in the beleaguered Nationalist Republic in the short term were far preferable to renewed, long-term military engagements with what may well be the most tenacious, implacable, and maniacal enemy on the face of the earth.

[Cassanos]

Munstra, Nibelunc

„The most tenacious, implacable, and maniacal enemy on the face of the earth.“ If only there weren't so damnably many of those. Nibelunc was wary of what might be construed as Emesan fearmongering, having just extricated itself from a bloody, though short, campaign with murderous maniacs much closer to home. Of course, Albert Fischer would not tell his Emesan counterpart exactly that, but through his diplomatic politeness, his point came through: Nibelunc was tied up with obligations in North Africa, especially the disarmament of the Areopaite military forces and the return of the Nibelung troops. Economic assistance was, alas, also out of the question for now, since the Federal Republic needed to put its own economic affairs in order, namely the numerous industries which only now began receiving sufficient oil for full-scale production.
In the spirit of international cooperation, though, Nibelunc would increase its haphazard intelligence-gathering efforts in the region, and Fischer would, after discussing the matter with the Alderman, inquire whether Emesa would harbour a Nibelung aircraft for ELINT/SIGINT operations.
Despite this token gesture – quite obviously aimed to please Nibelungs allies, especially Avarga and Walmington - , Fischer reiterated that the Federal Republic had washed its hands of Sul-Pol as far as treaty obligations were concerned. The repressive regime in the NRP had been deemed an unfit partner for liberal Nibelunc, and while Emesa's progressive political system itself was laudable, Nibelunc could not be seen propping up a regime like the NRP government. Were the Sul-Poel willing to engage in political reform, maybe edged on by the flourishing example of Emesa, this might change, however. Not to mention that it would greatly increase stability in this region, a worthy goal which all nations would to well to support.

[Amerique]

Somewhere in the Sea of Dra-pol
Approx. 500 nautical miles due south of Songac

The calm serenity of the South Asian tropical sea, cast in a brilliant vermilion under the setting sun, was poised seemingly in direct defiance of the intensity and danger ever-present in the region since the Dra-pol War. Nature itself seemed to obscure the thick atmosphere of tension which blanketed the lands which reached this sea, one very likely to break at any moment and for any reason should the staring match between Dra-pol and the myriad representatives of the Western world ever reach a climax. In its politically-neutral name, the body of water always at odds with the forces of two competing world doctrines was referred to as the Sea of Dra-pol or, less commonly, the South Asian Sea. In deference to the history of the American Republic's United East Indies Company rule in Songac until nationalization at the end of the colonial age, the Américains still took to, on occasion, designating it la Mer des Indes Orientales, the East Indian Sea, conjuring images of riches untold in silk and spices awaiting discovery and exploi- ahem, free trade.

Today, the sea of azure and aquamarine beneath the oriental sun was no longer plied by sailships of bountiful cargo looking to trade at their window into the deep of Dra-pol, a port-of-call by the name of Songac Island where a fusion of Western and Asian ideas, people and even architecture came to mesh together seamlessly. Instead, the island city-state remains with its unique blend thriving, though it is on much different footing now. Far from being the plutocratic, stratified and foreign corporate outpost of the past, the Free City of Songac was, at least on paper, an autonomous protectorate of the American Republic itself, a bustling, meritocratic, highly-multicultural micro-state about three million-strong whose ascent to respectability in the financial and technological fields, along with a zone of exclusion in the Sea to secure oil interests, led to greater wealth on average than its protector and former master-by-proxy. In this backdrop, it was no coincidence that the Entreprise, one of only two nuclear-powered aircraft carriers which a typically-isolationist Republic half a world away could muster, was not only stationed at Songac but routinely running patrols of the offshore oil fields and conducting readiness exercises should the worst possible scenario come to pass.

It was over this very same enigmatically harmonious sea which explorers and merchant seamen alike had gazed across in the past couple centuries that Capitaine Lazare Boisclair, CAG of VFA-41, surveyed across through his HUD as he maintained cruising speed on his C/A-18F Super Frelon naval strike fighter. Light posturing from outdated Red Drapoel fighters from the mainland aside, likely in response to the Republican Navy's own exercises in the region, his Naval Flight Officer in the back, Lt.(jr.) Gérard "Gérrie" Tremblay, had yet to detect anything as they pushed deeper out to sea in advance escort of the carrier group. On his immediate left and right in an arrowhead formation with Capt. Boisclair were two similar Frelons, one belonging to 1^er Lt. Pádraic Donohue, the other to 1^er Lt. Adèle Lacroix. Standard operating procedure was to reserve any non-mission relevant chatter for later in the mess galley, though it did occur quite often when you had a flight of pilots who were either close friends or had formed a spirit of brotherhood aboard the carrier. When it came to the first flight group of squadron VFA-41, it was a little bit of both; the pilots and NFOs of all three Frelons, with the exception of Capt. Boisclair, had all known each other since flight school back at Annepolis and, some even before that at regional Army-Navy basic training at Jonquière in the Wisconsin region of northern Terre-Indienne. The second element of the camaraderie in VFA-41, brotherhood, came from the distinct, confidant and supportive role that Capt. Lazare Boisclair had undertaken for the men and women of the squadron as patriarch ever since any of them had arrived on the Entreprise. Yet despite the camaraderie, a mix of fatigue and uneasiness from the palpable tension of the situation in the Sea of Drapol translated to a radio-silent patrol ahead of the nuclear carrier this time around.



A single voice cut the unease in the air, one belonging to Lt. Gérrie Tremblay.
"Tally three... no, four contacts on RADAR over the horizon. 2 o'clock, 117 leagues away, heading South 10-degrees west at approximately 294 leagues per hour, closed formation."
Capt. Lazare Boisclair sprang into action and responded on the radio.
"Flight lead to all Frelons, prepare intercept course on unidentified bogeys. Weapons hot, lock but hold fire until I give the go. How copy?"
"Copy."
"Roger that, flight lead."
Capitaine Boisclair then turned behind and, off radio, gave an order directly to NFO Tremblay.
"Verify their transponders and give me a sitrep as soon as possible, El-Tee. I want to know if they're Red, Nationalist or god knows what else could be flying over this cursed sea."
Lt. Tremblay knew his duty now could decide the fate of many nations, though he had been trained enough and these patrols had become such constant routine that he did not let the gravity of the situation get to him, while still not being relaxed to the point of losing focus. They were not in the "Armée de chaise" (Chair Force), as it was playfully called by the other armed services, they were Naval Aviators, and in Amérique that meant that much more was expected of them than their ground-based counterparts. While the Walmingtonians and Valendians had just begun their sea trials of the beginnings of a carrier force, the Republican Navy had been primarily focused on aircraft carriers since the end of the Great War, in much the same way that the RWN had a thing for missile submarines and destroyers, with compliments of nuclear aircraft carriers, smaller diesel carriers and assault carriers for the Republican Corps of Marine Troops.
"Aye-aye, Capitaine."
Boisclair's pilots did not normally show fear or unease, so he was one of the few COs on Entreprise who knew them well enough to gauge their responses and Tremblay's dry, all-business response hinted at a sleep deprived and edgy state. Typically, Gérrie would jokingly refer to him by the corny moniker "Lazer Boisclair" when off-radio to both take a friendly jab at Cpt. Boisclair's first name and to relieve some tension during patrol.

Nevertheless, a wrong reading of the nationality or intentions of the aircraft they shared the skies with ahead of them could well cause an international incident or, worse, war. Several minutes of uncertainty and stress were interrupted again by the Lt. in the lead naval strike fighter.

"Transponder signatures appear to be... "

[for this new post] OOC: Any of the parties involved in the Drapoel Crisis are free to join in as the incoming fighters. Either to defuse the situation and discuss a joint training operation with the Entreprise or, better yet, if Drapol wishes to join as a good opportunity to raise tensions, then break off, have an incident or start the war.

[from original post in Something's New Under the Sun] OOC: I'm not sure though I may have taken a few liberties with the details in this but I was trying to prevent spending time stopping to look some things up and other things I wasn't quite sure on. For reference, the "leagues" mentioned as a unit of distance was based on the French pre-metric unit of measurement which filled the role of a British mile and was ~2.46 miles, for anyone interested. I will mostly be using names for the Americans which, interestingly enough, are characteristic to French-Americans in Maine and Louisiana but not European French (to differentiate from the more sophisticated Euro-French in the Valendian substate of France). Partly because the settlers in the New World were predominantly lower-class farmers, some with no family names and partly because some were orphans or wards of the state who adopted names suited to the pioneer spirit. They're not really Occitans that much, I presume the Huguenots who settled early Amérique would mostly be from Northeastern France or Normandy and their names will sometimes reflect that. I used "El-Tee", a common spoken short form for Lt. from Lieutenant because it would be pronounced roughly the same in French as well. Image courtesy of Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Eduardo Zaragoza through the U.S. Navy website.

[Nova Gaul]

Intelligence Post Gamma-5 ‘Triton’, Ko Surin Nua Island

Forty miles off the coast of Northern Emesa the remote listening station Gamma-5, nicknamed ‘Triton’ and tasked mainly with observing any Drapoel naval or aircraft maneuvers, began to pick up a number of air and sea borne contacts on the South Asian Sea—as the Emesans referred to it. Experiencing the first multiple contact scenario in recent memory the base (little more than an airstrip, several barracks, a few concrete blockhouses and reconnaissance arrays) immediately phoned in the information of Emesa’s northern military district headquarters in Arx [Ranong].

Initially, Emesan intelligence officers suspected Dra-pol of opening a prelude to a new series of communist aggressions, and were only minutes away from issuing alerts and ordering a general military mobilization. Fortunately for the fragile Emesan economy (and state of mind) subsequent information—radar readings and satellite data—informed the Romans-come-Anglos that it was in fact—of all things!—what appeared to be a large scale maneuver by les Américains.

Which left the Emesan military and political establishments fuming: Amerique could hardly have a chosen a worse time for such maneuvers, given that the Nationalists, emerging from a long stupor apparently, had commenced military crackdowns against drugs-lords in Grosur. The combined activities of the NRD in Grosur and les Américains on the sea might very well make the CPRD (skittish at the best of times) fearful of martial actions against them. And there was little doubt in Arx, and eventually Palmyra, that if the Drapoel expected something they would react quickly and without mercy.

And in doing so, they would plunge South Asia into a new round of the internecine Drapoel conflict that was the greatest fear of every Emesan.

But, on the other hand, Prime Minister Clement Julian and the Emesan high command took such large scale military maneuvering as a sign that Amerique, at least, intended to maintain a large and potent presence in South Asia, and would stand by Songac and by default the Nationalists, the Emesans, and democracy at large.

Consequently the Emesan authorities would attempt to contact the Américain fleet and learn their mind, and if they were just engaging in a standard military exercise. The Emesan authorities would also warn the Américains that NRD crackdowns in Grosur, combined with their own apparent exercises, might contribute to a dangerous situation. Yet the Américain presence in the South Asian Sea was, Palmyra would say, most welcome, and the Emesans eventually suggested a series of joint military exercises.

And that was when Gamma-5 picked up new contacts on radar. And those contacts were not Américain.

[Dra-pol]

Phse'lok, Central-Eastern National Republic of Drapol

Drifting amongst some eighty-five thousand residents of what represents one of the largely agrarian NRD's five principle cities are many of those thousands only recently arrived from across what ordinarily is one of the world's least porous borders.

The last year in the NRD had seen terrorist bombings throughout the country (most blamed on Communists though rarely had credit been claimed); a rapid escalation of so-called friendly fire incidents thanks to defection or infiltration, most notably the incredible exposure of the Drapoel National Navy Commodore (and de facto principle of the ruling junta) as a Chaoist, and his destructive shooting rampage in the halls of power; and the equally unexpected initiation of a military operation against a, 'narco-army' said to be run from Da'Khiem, conducted without anyone knowing who remained in power in Kheol.

”And this was supposed to be our salvation.” Nai Sam really wasn't giving the Emesan investigators what they wanted as he told his story over juice and sticky rice in a dirty roadside café. ”Nobody here will hire me because they think... either I'm Red Bamboo, or they think, 'Oh, he's from the west, they're all backwards, he must be stupid. He doesn't know how to work a television, let alone a cash register or a computer!' And I still get blamed... people on the street still say I'm a dirty immigrant, stealing their jobs.” A smile broke over his face without obscuring any of the hurt. ”In the People's Republic, I always had a job, until I was arrested by the Banat. Now my benefits have been cut. When we first came, after the amnesty, the government said we'd all get housing, and gave us money, and everyone wanted to see us and ask about the other side. But a year later, I only get a few pounds a month, and the houses we were given are just small rooms in old tower-blocks with no facilities. We're all there together, and we're all desperate. There's much crime, now.”

Nai Sam was one of several thousand Drapoel from the CPRD transferred to the NRD in what had been a high profile deal involving the release of political prisoners in return for one-off financial aid and the release of a captured Communist 'super spy'. Da'Khiem presented it as a continuation of Hotan's mercy, first exhibited before he became Director, when, as a field commander during some of the heaviest fighting, he escorted Parliament of Nations POWs through Communist lines as a gesture of good-will. The arrangement wasn't widely publicised within the CPRD beyond some general reporting of an amnesty granted by the benevolent Director, for it was felt to be of greater importance in the regime's international propaganda effort than in its domestic campaign. In the NRD, however, it had been greeted with much fanfare. People like Nai Sam were encouraged to speak of their harsh treatment in Communist labour camps, and to express their gratitude to the Nationalist government for negotiating their freedom.

Within months, however, things had changed for the worse. Nai Sam of course denied being such a case himself, but many of the refugees, it was soon revealed by the Nationalist press, had actually been arrested for ordinary criminal offences, usually of violent character, and had only later affiliated themselves with opposition movements in order that their detention could be portrayed as political in character. Some had even been urged to do so after rare visits by international aid groups or under-cover anti-Communists. Once in the NRD, their imprisonment was over, and some re-offended, robbing and killing on the streets of Phse'lok and other towns and cities. Hotan had, in essence, divined a method not only for emptying his prisons of expensive career criminals and labouring his enemy with same, but of convincing said enemy to pay him -however little- for the trouble.

Days after Nai Sam's interview with Emesans, who had no doubt hoped to find fuel for the anti-Communist engine and perhaps signs of strong support for the Nationalist government, residents of those tower-blocks he described became a focus of domestic news media, when dozens of them rioted, frustrated by their sense of exclusion and their worsening poverty. The police, a rum enough lot at the best of times and now particularly on edge -especially regarding people from the CPRD- thanks to Bong Hsin-ro's deadly outburst and the on-going collapse of the government, reacted as police with low morale and big sticks often will in the face of violence within a perceived alien community. Several refugees were hospitalised and many more arrested, some of them while still receiving treatment for their cracked ribs and split heads. The next morning, bulldozers and cranes moved in, and Nai Sam's block was torn down, “...owing to fire-damage and low official occupancy”. Many of the refugees, it seemed, lacked any particular documentation entitling them to any specific address.

Having never in reality been anti-Communists, per se, no few pardoned thugs from the CPRD would soon be seeking to re-associate themselves with the revolutionary state and its struggle, which, they now understood, was their own.

Grosur Department, Northern NRD

Rioting on the streets of Phse'lok and even shooting and self-immolation in Kheol would have been welcome respite for the men asked to fight in the northern highlands, in the Golden Triangle. Nationalist troops once again found that although their Walmingtonian .280” Automatic Infantry Carbines tended to give them a slight edge in range when compared to the small-arms wielded by their enemy, this knowledge was of little comfort when said enemy remained invisible until one was all but standing on top of him. Single-fire, a ten-round magazine, and savage recoil compared poorly in close-quarter fighting against thirty intermediate rounds fired in three seconds.

Some of the men were fairly certain they'd once been told that Kheol was negotiating purchase of P.51 assault rifles from Walmington's Royal Small Arms Factory, and even that the deal was done. But all that seemed to arrive was a fleet of Stockley armoured limousines such as the one in which DNA commander Yu Cho-min now toured flatteringly-described battlefields.

”Yes” joked the men, ”The battle of Mrs. Sanda's kitchen, where Private Pha burned his mouth on soup, and Private Nu got the clap, and where we heroically expended box after box of matches and several cans of gasoline, because the enemy's stay was long through, too scared to face such a heroic commander as our brave Yu!”

And then, typically, a few light mortar rounds would whistle down from the hills, somebody would lose a limb, and everyone else would either be force marched on a wild goose chase littered with deadly traps or else sent back to a strong-point feeling less than accomplished for their losses. But at least the officers could write up another engagement with enemy forces and the destruction of a base used by militia. They must be running out of those, by now! Yu Cho-min would be pleased... ”You don't see the Commodore* getting after our enemies like this, eh!?”

*Commodore Kang Soon-Gi is to the Air Force as Yu to the Army and Bong was to the Navy; Kang and Yu appear to be the most senior members of the junta to have survived the 'incident' in parliament

Revolutionary Sea

Within spitting distance of the Andaman Islands, Entreprise was steaming daringly close to the periphery of the effective combat radius possessed by the UPAAF's favoured maritime strike aircraft, the KJ-3 Fedakwong, numbers of which were based at M'aek (and, at a stretch, similar aircraft out of P'unghae could also threaten the French if, instead of returning home after a sortie, they were to swing east for M'aek).

Today, though, no Chaoist strike aircraft were airborne within hundreds of kilometres of the imperialist warship. Interceptors were another kettle of fish entirely, and the quartet of S-7 Hotan fighters now thundering through the South East Asian skies with droptanks and air-to-air missiles under-slung would have no problem ranging to the Andamans and far beyond, had that been their task.

Guided by land-based radar, they were to intercept, identify, and shadow aerial contacts suspected but not confirmed to be associated with the Franco-American aircraft carrier known to be operating in the region.

This response was not terribly far from routine on the Chaoists' part, though the use of four aircraft rather than one or two represented a slight change, perhaps reflective of a growing confidence in the PAAF's ability to conduct regular sorties and to maintain men, machines, and fuel supplies.

Greater in scale and intensity were military activities elsewhere. Guard ships or maritime aircraft operating on the sealanes around Sun'gachi would do well to heed an increase in midget submarine sorties from the mainland, for though most were operating only in observational roles, the boats were quite capable of carrying and deploying mines. Meanwhile, on islands north of Emesa's Gamma-5 listening post, Communist heavy guns conducted rare test firings towards the sea, some of the 170mm pieces lobbing shells to ranges greater than the gap between their bunkers and the Surin Islands. Though no rounds were directed at the islands (which several former imperial and revolutionary leaders had in the past referred to as Drapoel territory, though Hotan was not known to have mentioned them in any of his public speeches), several fell within two kilometres of the shore, cultivating short-lived ivory shoots in the water.

[Nova Gaul]

Perdana Palace, Palymra

“Mr. Prime Minister,” asked the reporter, a stunning brunette who had a heritage equally Roman and Malay, “given what some are calling the polite refusal of Nibelunc to affirmatively reengage the Parliament of Nations and continued silence from arguably Emesa’s most important ally, Walmington, how do you justify your continuance of ‘Sunshine on Dra-pol?”

Mr. Julian, impeccably dressed as always, today in a Valendian pin-stripe suit, looked rather flush. His physical form had battled long between fading sportsman and budding gourmet, and at last it looked as though the gourmet would win.

The ‘Sunshine on Dra-pol’ policy was becoming the popular name for what was in fact Mr. Julian’s first pieces of legislation, the Nationalist Republic Assistance Bill or NaRAB. Basically, the bill provided the Nationalist Republic of Dra-pol with nearly a billion pounds a year in loans to be used for defense and infrastructure spending that was to be paid back, at nearly zero interest, many decades in the future. It also included free military training at Emesan facilities for Nationalist troops, and essentially amounted to a long-term stopgap that was designed to continually prop-up a government that was continually failing. Worse, especially for the Prime Minister’s conservative critics, the bill provided precious little commitment on the part of the Nationalists to reform themselves politically into a more stable democracy.

“First of all Miss Luyen the conversation with our good friends in Munstra is very much an ongoing dialogue,” corrected Clement Julian. “There is little doubt in my mind that should vital Emesan interests come under a threat, from the Choson People’s Republic of Dra-pol or from anybody else, then the Republic of Nibelunc will continue to remain a close an ally as it has always been.

“Secondly, just because Great Walmington does not continually announce their commitment to preserving the status quo is Southeast Asia does not mean that they do not have a vested interest in doing so. I am in constant contact with my good friend Mr. Mainwaring,” which was a white lie, although Mr. Julian esteemed the Englishman most doubted the feeling was reciprocated, “and I can assure you, with absolute certainty, that Great Walmington and the Empire of Emesa remain of one mind in regards to policies pertaining to the CRPD and NRD.” That, of course, was a blatant lie, but it was delivered impeccably. Mr. Julian had attended posh Godfrey College at the University of Chaspot, after all.

The Prime Minister took open questions from the press, by tradition, four times a year at his official residence at the Perdana Palace. Today the media, abuzz with incredible happenings throughout Southeast Asia, were giving Clement a run for his money.

“Mr. Prime Minister,” opened Laurent Tong, chief political correspondent for the important Palmyra Sun, “if I may continue that line of questioning, many of your most vocal conservative—and indeed liberal—critics believe that NaRAB assistance should be frozen until such time as the Nationalist Republic commits to significant reforms regarding rumors and facts of funds misappropriation and human rights abuses. Your reply, sir?”

Mr. Julian responded with force and vigor:

“There is no question that our friends in Kheol have, indeed, significant issues which require addressing. The fact that they must deal with terrorism undertaken on behalf of communist agitators, and drugs-lords seeking to exploit the rural population for their own profit, does not negate the fact that the establishment of a fair and equitable government is their greatest priority. I can now reveal to you all that I have, and personally have, held several meetings with General Yu-Cho Min, and with other members of the Republic’s directorate. Let me assure everyone that the NRD is committed to reform. I believe that recent police actions undertaken by this government to wrest Grosur province from drugs-lords, and which preliminary data suggests ii meeting with great successes, is a clear sign of Kheol’s intent to get things on the right track.

“And let me also assure everyone, especially those people watching in the People’s Republic, of this—the Empire of Emesa is a committed ally, strategic partner, and friend of the Nationalist Republic of Dra-pol. Any external attempt to influence, destabilize, or militarily engage the NRD would be taken as a direct declaration of war upon Emesa itself.

“The Empire of Emesa is committed to domestic reform in the Nationalist Republic of Dra-pol, and is committed to preserving their continued national integrity. On both points the empire will remain non-negotiable.”

At that point one of Mr. Julian’s aides came and whispered into his ear about a ‘situation’ that was developing in the South Asian Sea and which required his attention. At once. The Prime Minister nodded briskly to the aide and addressed the gathered correspondents.

“I am afraid I must cut short our meeting this morning. But thank you very much,” and the Prime Minister of Emesa left the podium.

Strait of Malacca, 200 miles Northwest of George Town Island

Built by shipyards in Great Walmington less than five years ago, the Lekiu-class frigates were the most modern vessels in the Emesan Royal Navy. Presently one of the ten vessels, the RNS Yarrow, received hot orders to cancel a planned patrol of the vitally important Strait of Malacca and make all-speed to the isolated intelligence outpost Gamma-5.

Notable for it’s anti-aircraft capabilities and swift speed (28 kts) the EAF High Command wanted the vessel on hand—at the PM’s personal insistence—to 1) respond to a mild show of artillery force by Drapoel forces in islands north of Ko Surin Nua and 2) to welcome what appaeared to be a large Américain battle fleet with a top-notch vessel of their own.

[Amerique]

East Indian Sea, near the Andaman Islands

"Transponder signatures appear to be..." A short pause followed which worried Capt. Boisclair.
"Sir, they're Red Drapoel; communistes. Looks like four S-7s."

Among the three C/A-18Fs, lead flight of squadron VFA-41, the communications link fell silent. They had had some tense encounters with Drapoel interceptors before, usually over international waters, but none had dared to venture out so far out into the Sea, just two hundred nautical miles south of the column of sea designated the Exclusive Economic Zone of the Free City of Songac. After all, they did seem to be vectoring towards what were essentially Songacien territorial waters, wherein lay plentiful offshore oil fields which, combined with Songac's notoriously uncompromising pro-free trade attitude, were the secret to Songac's success. After all, that's what assured the revenue and wealth per capita of the tiny microstate, its very lifeblood, would be higher than most of the "Western" world, including the American Republic which pledged it protection (in return for a substantially handsome share of the profits and favorable prices on barrels of crude). With its precarious and volatile location, the very survival of the some 3.5 million-odd people of the city-state lay in the balance. Much like the American Republican Navy of generations previous, during the 18th and 19th centuries in particular, would jealously guard and protect the Fluyts and East Indiamen of the Republic's trading companies, as they shipped spices, tea and other extremely valuable commodities to and from the Spicelands of South East Asia, so too do these modern-day seamen in the service of the American Navy find themselves in the same role, albeit for the spice of the latter-day: petroleum. Entreprise would not bow lightly to this posturing on the part of the Reds.

In the tower of the nuclear aircraft carrier, the CIC was abuzz with activity, as confirmation of the RADAR contacts was sent back and forth and the senior bridge officers tensely listened to the radio line with the lone squadron running Combat Air Patrol. Leaning over the command table was a figure short in stature yet commanding in demeanor with a swarthy complexion, readily identifiable as the CO of the ship. This man, Commander Williame Maurois, gazed up intently from behind his spectacles at the monitors displaying a real-time reading of the situation. Unlike much of the junior crew in the CIC and many of the pilots on board, Commander Maurois met the possibility of hostile action with stoic resolution, regrettable should it happen but not outside his element. After all, he had been a career navy pilot since before the start of the last Drapoel War and had voluntarily served throughout the entire War on nearly every aircraft carrier in the Navy at that time. One of which, the Jean Adams, withstood an impact from indirect Drapoel rocket attacks which nearly set the whole carrier ablaze but, with the help of nearly all hands, was contained to the flight deck. Needless to say, despite the Commander's fracas with the Fleet Admiralty recently (which busted him down to Commander), the confidence and paternal admiration he inspired in the men and women of his ship, and his years of experience, ensured he would remain in command of the Entreprise as a valuable asset in the region for the time being.

Over the radio, the voice of the CAG of VFA-41 gave a reply to the agitated situation before them.
"Entreprise Actual, this is Flight Lead. Moving to intercept unknown hostile contacts but will not fire. Please provide warning and will relay to incoming Drapoel fighters. Over."
The XO of the Entreprise, Colonel Paul O'Hogáin, another veteran of the Drapoel War, was more than a little distrustful of the intent of any Drapoel and thus instantly opposed to the decision of Capt. Boisclair, an opposition he voiced to Cmdr. Maurois.
"Will, you can't honestly let the CAG make the call on this one. The Drap fighters are inside the weapons range of our fighters but we're still outside the range of their weapons. If we wait too long, that advantage is gone and if they do strike then, we may have at least the lives of two of our own to answer for."
"This isn't the first time we've encountered interceptors far from home, I'm not going to risk starting another war and the lives of millions over the possibility that they may shoot first. If they do, I have more confidence in the survivability of our pilots than that."
"Yes, but they've never been this far from home. The fuel they would have had to be equipped with to come out this far alone means they don't intend to simply have a look around, their weapons are hot and I would rather not let Boisclair make that gamble with our men. This is a restricted air space for the Drapoel, we are well within our rights to shoot them down without providing them a casus belli."
"Do you think the Reds will see it that way? Treaties be damned, I know if I lost three men and we didn't fire first, I would want to hit back. It's a tough call, and I'll let Boisclair handle this one. They're his pilots and he's marked for command, let's see how he handles the tough choices. Better he gambles six lives now than do so with 5,000 in the future."
"I hav-"
"Paul. Scramble the Alert Fighters. Lt. Deforêt, patch me through to the Drapoel fighters and have Lt. Lyun translate."

Lt. Deforêt linked the outgoing broadcast system to the probable frequency of Drapoel fighters, based on the transponder signals sent by Capt. Boisclair.
"You're through, Commander."
Cmdr. Maurois acknowledged and removed the comm-link from its jack.
"To all unregistered fighters of the Chaoist People's Republic of Drapol, this is Commander Williame Maurois of the American Republic ship Entreprise. You are approaching the No-Fly Zone, restricted airspace as per the 1988 Armistice and the territorial waters of the Free City of Songac, under the direct protection of the American Republic. If you are off-course, return to permitted airspace or CPRD territory accordingly. You have been warned."
The communications officer then readjusted frequencies.
"Commander, you're back with Captain Boisclair."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. Captain Boisclair, they have been sent a message. It's all yours now. Good luck, make us proud."
"Wilco, Entreprise Actual."

With that, Boisclair's Frelon fighter, spearhead of the formation of VFA-41, fired a short burst of the front cannon in a random direction away from the incoming S-7s, a warning shot for the Drapoel. Even had it been in the direction of the Drapoel S-7 interceptors, it was not effective cannon range, it was more the internationally-recognized signal for "maybe it's a good idea to turn around and go back the way you came now". It was all up to the Reds now.

[Cassanos]

Over the Andaman Sea
800 kilometres northwest of Penang

The Nibelung EKF-94 Harmodr surveillance aircraft, call-sign “Vixen“, was droning on at a steady 300 knots, ten-thousand metres above the grey-blue plain of the Andaman Sea as the situation developed. Its crew of sixteen working on a wide range of highly sophisticated SIGINT- and ELINT suites was composed of personnel fluent in at least English and Dra-Poel as well as Emesan Latin and local languages in some cases. They had been grabbed at a moment's notice from other units, since Heerbann intelligence had not maintained a permanent presence in South Asia since the late 1980s.
The aircraft, based at EAFB Butterworth in Penang province for now, had positioned itself so that it was well outside the restricted airspaces over the Entreprise's battle group and the People's Republic, respectively.
Ten minutes ago, the pilot had made adjustments to Vixen's course so as not to end up between the Americain and Dra-Poel fighters now closing in on each other. The Harmodr was unarmed except for its advanced E(C)CM equipment, but it was not supposed to be party to this stand-off, observing and listening instead. Soon, the men and women aboard could show how good they truly were, when they would try to break the Dra-Poel encrycption and listen in on their wireless chatter.
Entreprise had, of course, been notified of the Nibelung presence beforehand, and a data-link
had been established with the Emesan control centre.

[Dra-pol]

Kurosian City, CPRD



”...Nuclear terrorism is no foundation for a legitimate contract!”

The rarely-heard voice of Iim Iyun-ki, Secretary of the Republic and de jure head of government in the Chaoist People's Republic, echoed across the vast plaza dominating the public district in one of the world's great planned cities. Thousands of soldiers and Communist Party officials answered it with a single cheer and uniform skyward swinging of outstretched fists.

Giants of Dra-pol's imperial past, cast in concrete and bronze, gazed down upon mass human portraits depicting the symbols of revolution while the Secretary spoke derisively of white empire, and rank after rank of soldiery in the Unified People's Army provided him with punctuation in chants and gestures. A quartet of S-9 fighter jets, Fulcrums by PoN call-sign, screeched overhead, one peeling off right, another left, while a third continued straight and the fourth performed a dramatic change of course via a tight loop. From up there, the pilots could see as far as the military district, where radar masts associated with the city's Red Flag high-altitude surface-to-air missile regiment stood almost as tall as the public district's statues. With the howling of jet engines dimming, Iim went on speaking.

”The waters of the Revolutionary Sea belong by right to the Drapoel people and never to the foreign imperialist, no matter what his pieces of paper may record!” As before, the end of a sentence was chased closely by thousands of voices in a harmonious cheer lasting perhaps less than one second. ”They claim rights to our territory based solely on the Englishman's willingness to drop atomic bombs, and the Frenchman's willingness to ride on his bloody coattails. Well we have atomic weapons, too!”

Andaman Sea

As over the plaza hundreds of kilometres to their north, the four Chaoist fighters soon split up. While two loitered far beyond visual range, their comrades continued to advance, guided by shore-based radar to the general proximity of American aircraft. As usual, no direct response to foreign challenges was issued. Chatter between the aircraft and between the flight leader and ground controllers centred on orders for, “visual identification of intruders”.