NationStates

April 8, 2017. A large force of JMI soldiers came down from the hills to attack the port of Hamikari. This was nothing new. The port was a highly strategic location and had been attacked before. But the chants were different. Instead of singing socialist anthems like the Internationale, they sang something else. Their faces were painted like monkeys. They held amulets of Hanuman. The flag they bore was no longer plain red with the hammer and sickle, but orange with a white monkey bearing the hammer and sickle. The Maoists had changed from a purely political force to a theological one. The attack was successful. Panic reigned among the nation. It only grew once it was revealed that the High Pujari of Janakkhara had been killed by a monkey that had been loosed in the royal palace. Prince Sanjikapur sent out a distress call.

---

The low hum of diesel engines filled the air as the column of APCs roared towards Hamikari. Each one carried 12 soldiers of the Janakkharan Armed Forces Special Division. These soldiers sat together, crammed in like sardines, preparing for the inevitable fight. Their vehicles juddered across the rough plain, shaking the soldiers inside. Inside the lead vehicle was Captain Ravindra Phakesh, commander of the attack. The attacking force was composed of around 5,000 men, 1,000 of whom were elite members of the Special Forces. 1,200 men were coming in in the APCs, supported by 20 tanks. This was the main thrust, designed to crush the centre of the insurgent's base. Another 500 were being parachuted in from above during the attack. 1,000 were being deployed from the sea on assault landing craft eerily similar to those used on D-Day and the rest were footslogging in. There was to be support from the air and artillery provided from further positions in the hills.

On paper, the attack plan was perfect,Captain Phakesh thought to himself as the armoured brigade pushed on. The target was a small force of nutjobs who had gone crazy after living up in the mountain for too long. Their successful attack was merely a fluke, and they would be crushed under the might of real soldiery.

He clenched his rifle tight. Then what felt wrong? He asked himself. Doubts were beginning to creep in. But he pushed them aside. There is no need to fear. A tiger does not fear the goat. He sat in silence, glancing furtively at the other soldiers in his APC. They all seemed to be nervous. Pre-battle nerves playing up, he told himself. A glance at his watch told him that it was 10:30 PM. They were likely less than five minutes from their target. He sighed. He was ready to fight.

He never did. Two seconds later, the APC was engulfed in bright flame as an improvised explosive device was detonated. The device emitted shrapnel and flames, and through more good luck than good craftsmanship managed to set alight the fuel supply of the APC. An inferno enveloped the vehicle, and all it's passengers. Several other bombs exploded, with mixed results. Gunfire started from all sides as previously concealed guerillas burst out and attacked the confused convoy. Molotov cocktails and RPG rounds fired in crippled several tanks and the survivors, their morale broken due to a lack of training, turned to withdraw.

---

"Malam!" cursed corporal Jay Ghandi, diving to the ground to escape from a withering hail of rounds that flew in from the dark. He felt one round ricochet off his helmet and silently thanked the divine Devas that he had been wearing it. His own rifle had been lost in the frantic escape from his own vehicle, its tracks blown off by a mine. He drew his sidearm and squeezed off two rounds into the night, hoping that he might hit an assailant. The ambush had worked perfectly. Thanks to the burning vehicles the government troops were lit up and visible, while the guerillas still had the advantage of darkness. Jay scanned the wall of darkness but saw no movement. He tried to crawl across the ground and made it to lieutenant Anish Kumar, his platoon commander. He got on the radio that was in the deceased lieutenant's pocket and called to base.

"This is corporal Jay Ghandi of Anvil. We have been ambushed. We're under fire. Command is dead. Requesting backup."

The reply was curt, but back at base the commanders were alarmed. "Hold your ground. The Infantry will be there soon."

Command was right to be worried. The infantry wave was designed to be a mop up. They would not be up to the task of breaking through the defences. Unless the paratroopers succeeded, this attack was almost doomed.

---

Lieutenant David Singh checked his parachute for the fifth time. He knew that it was ok, he had done this a thousand times, but still checked. He did not want to end up a stain on the jungle floor like the prisoners that he had taken during the Yangi campaign against the guerrillas five years ago. They had hoped for information, but when it became clear that there was none to be gained the prisoners were thrown from aircraft to their deaths.

He looked out at their target, ready. By now the tanks would have rolled in and his mission to be an easy one. Suddenly, searchlights came on. Flak from hidden batteries that had not been noticed in earlier recon missions spat hot lead towards the planes. One shot clipped the wing and the plane spiraled out of control. With a large flash, it hit into the jungle below. Within minutes many more planes joined it. This attack had failed too.

Jayasur, Janakkhara
Reginald Turrell Center
Operation Norton HQ

Romulus General Ewan Davit sank into his recliner in the Head Office of the Reginald Turrell Center, an office usually occupied by Neeraj Gupta, a wealthy businessman from the Indian mainland. When Operation Norton was dreamed up and the Reginald Turrell Center was decided upon as HQ, he had been convinced to take a holiday to Miami. Davit had been flown in on the same day and the two met each other by accident at Jayasur's airport, an awkward long range skirmish of stares and funny looks ensued until Gupta's plane arrived and he was forced to withdraw, the only casualty being his dignity.

The office was vast, a desk the size of a king's bed, a kitchenette with all kinds of cooking equipment, a small bedroom, a central meeting room... Even a full bathroom! Davit confined himself to the desk alone, he'd use the rest, yes, but only when his work was done. A week of planning and debating had led to Operation Norton and he was the commander of all of it. The troops, the planes, the ships, in total he had the lives of 30,000 men in the palm of his hand. Hunched over his desk, Davit signed another supply form, sighing as he looked up at the clock. Five 'o Clock... "Christ almighty..." He groaned, stretching out his arms and yawning. The clock ticked on, Davit signed another paper.

'bzzt bzzt' It was his StratopadTM. "Huh?" He gasped, confused and surprised by the sudden vibrations. 'bzzt bzzt' It continued. Davit picked up the device and took a look at its screen. 'one new message - Septimus' Davit tapped the notification on his screen and read the message out loud. "Joined with Logistics group, left Frederiksland. ETA for Task Force is 34 hours."

---

---

A MESSAGE FROM YOUR DEAR COMMANDER COMRADE

Iskandar Sakchai Metharom

HOURS BEFORE, SOMEWHERE IN JANAKKHARA

The rainforest highlands of this island nation were untouched, in many ways. The rapid rise of the hills of this State were an impressive geological occurrence, with a multipolarity of environments from the savannah-esque plains and lower salty deserts, to the transitional alpine heights of the nation. Plenty of space from bottom to top, with the labyrinthine jungles accessible in many places by only the most experienced outdoorsmen. Iskander Sakchai Metharom, known to his own troops as 'The Adept One,' had convened a meeting. The tall man was stocky, clearly fit though he did not exercise beyond moving from command post to command post, and had dark skin upon which an orange paint was applied. Dark tattoos adorned his upper body and arms, clearly visible in his brown tank top shirt. His immedaite aides, more like bodyguards and guides, had accompanied him, though he was very proficient with the heavy AKM slung across his back.

This was a meeting of equals, the communist leaders of Jannakhara, who before now had not met together. Now, under the cover of the thickest canopy in the most inaccessible reaches of this nation, the most wanted figures of a disjointed communist rebellion had met. They had made many agreements with a huge network of couriers and illicit communications, forming the shape and style of their operations, and they had made Metharom a commanding general by virtue of his alliance building. Jay Gupta, Amar Vemulakonda, Jeetendra Mhasalkar and his younger brother Bambang Metharom had met. The Jannakharan Militants of the International (JMI), the Red Star of Jannakhara (RSJ) and the illegal Communist Party of Jannakhara, their membership having been targeted by the Jannakharan powers-that-be, all fought for the same aims. Communism in this nation. But it had been the elder Metharom who had sold the dream and the design.

Religion in this place was deeply-rooted, the human's eternal fascination with death and the afterlife a driving force in Metharom's adoption of the Hindu god Hanuman for this new umbrella organisation. The unity of these Communist groups, so finally sick of the Government's pursuit of them, were going to take the fight to the enemy.

Contacts within the Jannakharan government had found some intelligence, suggesting a clear attack.

This would be the first act of the HPLA, as Metharom stood over a 'mud map' of the known area of operation. 'His' forces, united now with the signatures of some of his highest-ranking lieutenants, had been moving there under cover of darkness and the environment over a period of days and weeks. His special forces, under his brothers command, had provided the finest intelligence, though their true and secret mission had not yet begun.

ARUNJASHARA PLAIN

The dead of night and the guerillas fight. In cells ranging from four to hundreds, Metharom's soldiers of the Hanuman People's Liberation Army had gotten to know each other, enthused by their new command of the greatly admired - yet ever elusive - General. With orange pain, they applied the features of Hanuman, the monkey god of strength and devotion, to each of their facess. Armed with a gluttony of stolen and otherwise acquired weapons, an arsenal as varied as the men, they were facing the moderately well equipped forces of the Government they now contested. Their weapons ranged from bolt action rifles, AKMs and AK-74s to the heavier machine guns and RPGs common on many battlefields. Landmines, built in the factories scattered in the towns and highlands of this country, were the source of one of their greatest tools - the IED.

It was best to know that the Government were considered largely ineffective, and they had lost the general trust of the people. They felt as if they could walk where they pleased, trampling the people and their livelihoods, crushing their culture in the name of capitalistic development and their own pockets. Their rulers and monarchs had gotten fat on honey, while the people suffered on marrow.

The first attack was launched by the Shiva's Avatars, their own special forces. A mass attack by rocket propelled grenades, taking place as the first APC detonated an IED, would overwhelm any force's vision. The light hills to the east of the huge convoy granted a cover for RPG fire. The IEDs seemed to cook off as the enemy formation rolled over them, with vehicles going up in illuminating flame as some occupants tried to escape. The barrage of RPG fire pockmarked the earth, but not very many hit. As government fighters turned their attention to the hill with clear tracer fire, the guerillas had kept their heads and bodies down low. Indeed, they'd used the 'Gallipoli method.' It was low cost, but the RPGs had been mounted on Y shaped branches and stick tripods, connected to a guerilla's fingers a few dozen metres out of the way with a simple wire-pull mechanism. Pull the wire, get RPG fire. It had served more to overwhelm the enemy forces than anything, and the relatively small unit of the SA here was a distraction as much as an attacking force.

As the last RPGs sputtered from the line on the upper part of the hill, yet more were fired from the north-north-east, with accurate RPG fire putting bombs on targets. There were hundreds of men, and they'd brought their heavy weapons - too much, Iskander would later muse - to bear. The suicidal rush of the HPLA was triggered by whistle blasts, and hundreds of men in orange faces, bearing their white and orange flags, all wearing white armbands to distingush themselves, rushed the enemy. Many armoured vehicles were disabled, and some extra grenades and molotov cocktails cleaned off a lot that weren't.

Needless to say, the Jannakharan government forces returned bleary fire, terrified by the loud screams and constant explosions rippling about them. Crazy mountain men, maybe.

A guerilla, Suchart Preecha, carried an AKM and fired wildly at the enemy forces he saw before him. He ran quickly, to the rear and left of a slightly older man of another cell. A wounded soldier had taken potshots at them using a pistol, and blown a hole in the guerilla's brain, the man falling forwards and pushing up dirt. As he dropped his own weapon, a civilian-style Ruger Mini, Preecha returned suppressive fire, picking up the gun and firing one handed with his AKM. He moved aside, out of that soldier's line of sight, not knowing if he was hit or not.

The hundreds of guerrillas - certainly down from the thousand or so that had started, many who occupied usually noncombat roles - were fast. They overwhelmed the soldiers and came for their guns, picking up their enemy's rifles and rocket launchers and medical packs, with some survivors smacked about before being blindfolded and hand-tied, led away into the jungles. Those who could not walk were summarily executed, killed by the bayonet to save ammunition.

Vehicles began to explode as the now-laden guerillas moved back into the forests, dropping home-made smoke grenades in the immediate AO to lessen the chance of any infantry wave or armoured vehicles targeting them as they made their way back into the forest with their treasures. There were dozens of rendezvous points and drop points, which guerrilla logisticians would later collect for distribution around the numerous areas of operations. Combat guerrillas would likely return the battleground later, to raid the area for any remaining valuables.

In this part of the country, dirt tracks could criss-cross parts of the jungle. It wasn't much, but enough for the strategic placement of a few technicals. The various cars - Hiluxes, Patrols, even a light van - had once carried construction equipment, or advertising, or had been public transport. Now they were mounted with DSHkM and a few M2 heavy machine guns, with their gunners the lucky recipients of the few night vision goggles the guerrillas had stolen. As the expected aircraft came overhead, flying low with a false confidence that their ground troops would've cleared out the rebel, they would've realised their mistakes. The tracers lit up the sky and aircraft fell from the sky into the jungle, fortunately on a glide path that would take them well over the heads of the tactically retreating guerrillas.

In the end, over a hundred of Metharom's men had become martyrs. But surely the damage to the cocky government forces, used to an iron fist rule, had fared much worse.

Mahakrishna, Janakkhara
Naval Base, HMNS Magnesium
1. Battlecruiser Sqdn, Flagship

HMNS Magnesium struggled at her mooring lines as her Farnham Steam Turbine Engines slowed to a shuddering halt, at the other berths of the bustling port and naval base the other two Dauntless Class Battlecruisers of the 1st Battlecruiser Squadron and the four transport ships of the Operational Logistics Group sat moored and unloading their cargo of men and machines. Columns of dark-skinned uniformed soldiers marched along the docks and formed into ranks by battalion further into the naval base, their vehicles and other pieces of heavy equipment gathered behind them as they were lifted gently off of the ships.

Rear Admiral Barret sat calmly on the bridge in his leather chair, overlooking the disembarking procedures. He turned as several of his officers entered the bridge and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "How long until everything has been unloaded?" He asked, looking towards Lieutenant Sally Jenkins, his liaison officer with Commodore Aberdeen, the commander of the Operation Norton Logistics Group.

"Two hours, sir," Jenkins replied. "We can put out to sea and leave the Logistics Group to unload if you wish though, sir."

"Hmm..." Barret considered the prospect of getting out early, the time was approaching ten o' clock... A perfect time to begin searching for incoming shipping and smuggling ships. "Contact the harbormaster," Barret ordered, "we're putting out to sea as soon as possible."

---

Jayasur, Janakkhara
Royal Palace

Count Ibrahim Graire, the Imperial ambassador to Janakkhara, jogged along the well-decorated hallway in a desperate attempt to keep up with Sanjikapur, the royal Prince of Janakkhara. "Your Grace!" He called desperately trying to get the autocrat's attention. The Prince had been immensely paranoid over the past few days and was stressed beyond belief, he had eaten little and got very little sleep, his dark brown hair was beginning to show strands of grey. He was losing faith in his advisors, his people, the foreign support promised to him by the Vionna-Frankenlischians and even his own gods. A large section of his country was up in arms and directly challenging his rule, there were rebel insurgents in cells all over the country and thousands of dollars worth of funding, tons of ammunition and hundreds of guns were being smuggled in each day through regular shipping, making their way unscathed through the country's corrupt customs officials and going directly to supporting the rebel cause.

"Your Grace!" Graire called again, panting as he finally caught up with the Janakkharan Prince. Graire was not a fat man, nor was he particularly thin, he could be considered nothing more than an average Indian man in appearance. His skin was slightly paler thanks to his Vionnan mother but in every other way, he was the epitome of a regular Indian gentleman. "Your Grace..." He said, coming face to face with Prince Sanjikapur and bowing curtly while still breathing heavily, "I am pleased to report to your Highness, that His Imperial Majesty's forces have made port at Mahakrishna and are prepared to support your Highnesses cause against the Marxist traitors."

OBSERVATION POST ร, OVERLOOKING MAHAKRISHNA

The HPLA could not exist without intelligence, and the urban environment wasn't called the concrete jungle for nothing. People of all types joined the HPLA, before as many organisations but now united. While the Great Attack of Arunjashara had been a rallying cry of the now-growing organisation, pictures of the orange-faced guerrillas who had been martyred now being released in propaganda in their home areas, it took hard work like this to give a proper intelligence picture to the HPLA's regional commanders.

Made Kakek was a cafe owner at the bottom floor of this building. Well-known for having the best varieties of local teas and coffees, his place was a common stop on the way to the port, base and nearby businesses. It was a good place, and a good crowd. The three storey building, of which he resided in the third floor, had a good view over the port. And the man himself, with his regular visits out to the farmlands of this region, had naturally come into contact with the HPLA - of which he was a quiet member. With that in mind, he had agreed to provide reports on movements in harbour. Having a CCTV monitoring system then made sense, and an unofficial addition had made it possible. A camera in the window, camouflaged between plants, provided a constant eye over the habour. The HPLA had given the man a HD camcorder with a view suitable to reach out and see the targets. Small boats and foreign warships drew his attention, and with encrypted messaging apps the cafe owner had reported what was happening in the city.

There was, of course, a solid contingent of soldiers and guards at the base and around the city. The HPLA was not strong enough to operate in the city, let alone a secure area like this, so for now the intelligence of the Magnesium - identified by virtue of it's hull number on Wikipedia - would be suitable to allow HPLA planners to protect against the massive warship. The Prince clearly had received foreign aid.

Opportunities may emerge from it, and a battleship was a big game prize for a communist guerrilla force.

But as sailors began preparations on the large combat ship, the cafe owner noted that the logistics vessel was not performing similar options.

He sent a message to the HPLA as the logistics ship continued unloading.

En route to Jayasur

The chartered Genesis Aerosystems Freedom 94 jet took off on its first leg from the port of Touloux, Terre Des Gaules. The flight was out of the International airport, but if anyone cared to check for records for a properly registered flight, they wouldn’t find any. The government on down to the local authorities looked the other way, and the USG Security Corporation paid all the right people to ensure their arrangements in Touloux, whether by boat, truck, rail or aircraft remained in the shadows. Touloux, Gaul was also the site of the largest recruiting office and where flights of USG recruits took off from on their last leg to the home USG island.

Even since the Falkasian raid on Panto Leto, they hadn’t changed the point of departure, but only stepped up security on both ends, as well as onboard the recruit flights. There just wasn’t a better option to reach the island out in the Madurin Sea by air. This particular flight, though, was going the other way, out from Panto Leto, out of Touloux, and out of Teremara all together. There would be several stops along the way, in mostly friendly ports where their cover would remain secure while they refueled, until they could reach their destination in the Empire of Nifon, from there, after picking up some extra passengers, the journey was not done. They had a longer ways to go before they reached Jayasur, Janakkhara, where their hosts from the monarchy awaited.

On board the flight at the moment, besides the crew, was a man who had boarded immaculately dressed in a dark Savile Row suit. He’d removed the top blazer and vest and hung them in a forward closet near the cockpit, to keep them wrinkle free as he prepared notes and reviewed dossiers, both paper and on his GXT tablet. He had a rich, cocoa color to his skin, a slightly rounded chin, and what had been described as very sympathetic, larger than normal doey brown eyes. On his head, he wore a maroon turban wrapped tightly. A badge with the Uli-Schwyz-Galien logo was prominent at the center of the turban. To the left of the South Asian man, across the aisle sat a Latina woman with a bronzy complexion that could be described as voluptuous and buxom, or of more than ample weight, depending on who you talked to. She was also dressed smartly in a suit with a modest skirt just above her knees. She also was reviewing paper and digital documents and making edits.

Both of them sat silently, enjoying sips of bottled water as they worked. The man looked briefly at the woman, raising his bottle. After a moment, she looked up and smiled, responding in kind.
“I’m almost done with the draft. I’ll send it along to your email.” Wifi was enabled on board the flight and the USGSC had a handful of satellites they’d launched through a client that enabled such transactions averaging 25-35 Mbps, utilizing Ku-band frequency.

“Good. I look forward to reviewing it.”

USGSC emails were heavily encrypted, as was their whole network. So they could send such data comfortably. At least more comfortably than a totally unprotected network.
These two individuals actually worked for the Intexa, the support arm of the USGSC. The Intexa had many divisions, thousands of agents and countless resources at their disposal. They were in charge of everything but fighting on the ground, and even sometimes got caught up in that. The Intexa handled supplies, purchasing, recruiting, legal matters, contract initiation and fulfillment, reconnaissance and intelligence, which most often involved pre-contract scouting, (unless they were specifically hired on for strictly an intelligence contract), and a myriad of other support duties.

Finally, he opened the draft in his tablet and looked it over.
“Very nice. I think this will work as a rough draft until we can fill in the other details and desires of our potential client.”

“I can only go off the information that you have provided me.”

“...And you did well. There’s a lot of ‘stray voltage’ (misinformation and useless data) out there on the vine about Janakkhara, so with what confirmed data we gave you, you did good.”

In front of the man and woman, instead of another front facing row of seats, were tables on each side of the aisle, and some very comfortable swivel seats that could lock in place with a lever. They were empty now, but reserved for their guests.
The timing of getting the draft could not have been better as a flight attendant strolled back to them.
“The pilot says that we’ll be arriving at the airfield near Ishikawa soon.”

“Excellent, thank you.”

They touched a bit of turbulence as they broke through some wet weather, then they were through to a clear patch and the air strip was right upon them. The pilots were pros and they just kissed the strip with the back wheels, and then gently the gear fully gripped terra firma once more.

It was just a few minutes before a truck approached the plane with its lights off. A few men were shepherded out and to the stairs that had just been unfolded. The Intexa man and woman had risen and awaited as their guests got on board.

When they entered the aircraft, he bowed.
“Welcome aboard, I’m Mandrakhar Singh, a Chief Operations Officer for the Contracting Division of the Intexa, and this is my colleague, Graciella Nacimiento, a Chief Legal Officer with the Intexa Legal Division.”

Murakami Kentaro slowly looked into Singh’s face as he analyzed the person talking to him, carefully studying his visage for anything that could be useful to him during the negotiations - for sure one of the most important points in his life, and this was an important chance he received to propel himself up the corporate ladder and give him an edge among his brothers and nephews competing for the positions among the board of the powerful zaibatsu. Being a son of the current prime minister and arms tycoon Murakami Akira, Kentaro was prepared to assume this role since his early childhood; given best education possible and taught by the very best of teachers. Yet, now his father has left the company to assume the office of the Prime Minister in Shogun Kojiro’s government, leaving his uncle in charge and his future not so certain. Thus, to ensure his career’s proper progress, Kentaro had to do something outstanding. And the chance came when his father told him to handle the contract with USG security company… something that he could not afford to miss.

“Konichiwa to you, Singh-san, and konichiwa to you, Nacimiento-no kimi” he bowed slightly to both “I am Murakami Kentaro, currently member of the board of Murakami Zaibatsu and I come with a letter of authentication from Ishikawa permitting me to negotiate the contract on the bakufu’s behalf, as well.”

When looking at him, the man and woman could see a gentleman of 38 years of age, with a wide, oval face, visible mongoloid extended cheekbones, a pair of small pointy eyes illustrating everything around with two jade eyeballs and short, dark hair covering his head like a bamboo forest. He was wearing an extremely expensive smoking jacket to signify his material status. But despite his - relative - youth, there was also an aura of majesty and strength coming from this Nifonese kunshi, along with a feeling of energy and a will to act. After all, the Murakami were an ancient and noble clan that had given Nifon such heroes as Murakami Kenshin, who was one of the central characters in Asuka Monogatari - an epic having as much influence as the Illiad or Arthurian legends had in their cultures.

“An honor. Let’s sit and talk further.”
Singh waved to the seats and they sat down after shedding coats and stowing bags. A flight attendant brought beverages as they prepared to take off again. Once seated, Murakami Kentaro continued,

“Please allow me to skip the ceremonials, but I will get straight to the point.” Murakami’s face remained polite and emotionless,
“The government of the Empire of Greater Nifon is overextended at this point, and does not consider Janakkhara to have enough strategic importance to direct greater attention. Yet at the same time, Kojiro-sama is rather concerned about the possible spread of communism in the region and the potential of an oni - led revolution to destabilize the whole area in the future. That is why the bakufu eagerly agrees with your offer and has dispatched me to conduct the negotiations. After all, according to reports I have read, material aid is what the Janakkharan military would require most...”

Murakami took a sip of water and continued:

“Now, the question is ‘What does the Janakkharan government require exactly?’ At this point, both Gunpeitai and my own sales department have had insufficient data to formulate any kind of offer to you, Singh-san. But know that Murakami Defense Industries has all that their military would possibly require.”

So far, both were making a positive impression on the Nifonese entrepreneur - especially this Singh, a man whom Murakami had already seen as capable enough to be employed for such a dangerous task.

“Well, as you know, Murakami-san, the USGSC has already been a valued customer of your company’s wares. We know the quality of what you provide. We invited you along to the contract negotiations in that you might get a foot in the door of a new market and also...We think that the Janakkharan government would benefit from your equipment and arms, regardless of our pre-existing relationship with Murakami. As advisers, we would be able to work with your people and theirs almost seamlessly, based on the extensive knowledge we have of your equipment. Hence we will, a bit more than subtly, push for them to form some kind of partnership with you as well. Of course, we don’t have any type of clauses in our contracts that stipulate a client must purchase arms from a preferred supplier…”

A flight attendant came back around to make sure that everyone was buckled into their seats. She informed them that the plane was almost refueled and would be taking off soon from Ishikawa. They all nodded acknowledgement.

Graciella Nacimiento continued, as contract wording was the attorney’s specialty:
“So, as Mr. Singh said, we don’t have such clauses of preferred suppliers that we put into our contract. It would make the client feel kind of strong handed if we did. We are going to negotiate the security/advisory contract, then we will give you a very favorable introduction...By the way, we did inform them that you were coming, as we didn’t want to launch a total surprise on them and risk a social gaffe. However, we haven’t gotten a specific confirmation back, other than they looked forward to greeting us. So, anyway, we give you your favorable introduction, then it is up to you to secure a further, separate sales meeting to negotiate your own contract with their Defense Ministry. We will be there to put in the good word.”

Singh took another good slug of water. He’d like to be sipping at a gin or scotch, but he needed to stay sharp for now. Their hosts may offer such a beverage in further meetings once they arrived, so he needed to keep fresh for then.
“Thank you, Ms. Nacimiento. Now, as regards to the interests of the Imperial Nifonese government. We actually were not aware that Janakkhara was even a concern for them at all, but I guess it would figure. The great news is that Nifon will not have to worry about sending any military assets to the island as that is already being covered...We think. Besides ourselves, I have been led to understand that one, possibly two nation states will be sending military assets to help stabilize the situation and also advise, as well as hunt down the communist insurgents. At the moment, I don’t know who these other foreign benefactors are, but I’m sure that will be answered when we arrive, should the Janakkharans be forthcoming with such information. I sure hope so as it will be critical to our negotiations.”

Singh took a break to let Murakami Kentaro respond.

“I hope so, as well” replied Murakami, slowly taking a snip of water, “but at this point you need to understand that Ishikawa is really concerned about the underdeveloped nations in the South, especially after the incidents with Furukuran Sea Anti-Nifonese Front. The goal is as always to contain the spread and influence of communism. Should the aki get more ground, Heavenly Father knows where we will find them next...”

As Singh might have understood, Murakami was coming from a nation that survived virtually the entire XX century in a siege mentality, first against the European colonial powers, then against communism, and now a similar mentality was developing already towards the globalization. The Nifonese were firmly convinced that all gaijin around them were conspiring to destroy their culture, and many more nationalistically minded individuals were eager to believe that the real reason why an oni is lending its power to the communist revolutionaries is to establish a foothold for a future attack on Nifon.

“However I would dare to say, Singh-san, that my sales department has informed me of the rather unsavory state of the Janakkharan military, including the huge problems with corruption, the low level of training and the aging, mediocre equipment. I do believe that since it will be their special forces units that will be most likely at the frontline, I have propositions for new equipment for them. This will include issuing a new series of uniforms based off of the one used by the Rikugun, in digital tiger stripe pattern as used by the Imperial Nifonese Army, as well as a new body armor, and a new rifle, which is currently entering service in the Rikugun’ special forces - TERA Type 5.”

Kentaro handed over to Singh series of brochures containing descriptions of Murakami products he was proposing to him.

“TERA Type 5 is first bullpup of Nifonese construction that ejects forward rather than to the side, removing many issues with comfortability.“ Young Murakami pointed at two tubes above the barrel, one serving to remove the gases via short stroke piston, the second to eject the shells. “It uses the standard 7x41mm Arakawa, a very successful round in service in Rikugun since 1979. Another weapon we may equip the Janakkharans with is the Type 26 single shot RPG, using thermobaric warheads against communist fortifications. Now I am aware it is rather old weapon, but it will still perfectly fulfill its role in demolishing a fortification, and it’s low cost actually has an advantage.”

Singh broke in,
“Yes, I am aware that we have some in our arsenal and I think they’ve been used to good effect on several contracts. I think our advisers will be able to train them well on the use of the Type 26 RPG.”

“For indoor combat, we may offer a Type 300T SMG with 50 round magazine fielding 7.7x25mm Nifonese round, far superior in terms of penetration than 9x19 mauser.”

“Another weapon that I am familiar with and that is in use with the USGSC forces, I believe. Murakami-San, if I could steer you towards the overall picture again. Not that I’m disinterested in the specific arms that your company produces, but it’s not the focus of why I was sent on this particular journey. I was hoping that we could discuss how we could introduce you to the Prince and the Janakkharan government and open that channel in order that a steady line of material support can flow in to the Island and stem the tide of this communist insurgency. Also, how much of it will be paid by the Nifonese government, versus how much you’re expecting our mutual potential client, the Janakkharan government, to pick up the tab? As I mentioned before, word on the vine is that they have at least one foreign backer, as yet unrevealed, if not more. I don’t know the scope of support that they might be getting from these mystery benefactors. It could be eventual military support, some humanitarian support, or it could be as little as some friendly supportive mention in the international media. We just don’t know and I don’t think we can rely on anything substantial without specific confirmation..”

Singh knew that it was all just speculation until they touched down in Jayasur and were able to suss out what the government needed, what they wanted and what they already had. All these questions might be answered in short order upon arrival.

“Hmmm. I understand.” Murakami’s face remained stone like “In such case I think that their denka should not have any qualms about negotiating with me. After all, my father is the 1st Daimyo of Hara and current prime minister of the Empire of Greater Nifon, also extremely renowned in the business world. Not to mention that I come from the Murakami family, as well...”

In Nifon, the family was everything. It was the basic unit of the society and often even the basic goal in life. In such society, being descended from one of the most prominent samurai clans, and especially one member of which was one of the key unifiers of Nifon during the Asuka period and a legendary general put on par with Sun Tzu. It was already enough to put Kentaro on pedestals among the Nifonese and win him respect from foreigners.

“I would like to know about the denka.*” Kentaro continued “What is he like? What are his habits? All of these insights could be extremely beneficial during the negotiations, after all. One of the standard strategies employed by Nifonese businesses is to hire former government officials to introduce us to their associates - this is often done at parties, but I imagine that given the nature of the current situation, you may want to introduce me to the denka on some other occasion, Singh-san, one that you will likely find far quicker than I would. ”

Singh nodded.
“I think, or I hope, that in this part of the world, many would know of the very prestigious line of your family, Murakami-san. However, when it comes to the Prince...The denka...I don’t think we know as much about his habits and his predilections. So I’m afraid we can’t help you there at the moment. We’re going in as blind as you, even though as you say, it would be beneficial to know more. We simply don’t have that insight into his character. All we know is the current situation and the government’s failure to stem this insurgency which is getting more out of control by the day…So...I could introduce you right away when we are given an audience, but as to whether the denka will wish to talk to you right away, that is another matter. I guarantee you that we will do our best to strongly encourage a meeting between you and government representatives, if not the denka himself.”

“Patience is a virtue of the victors” Kentaro slowly moved his hand over to his tie, correcting it while looking directly into Singh’s eyes “Please do then, even the lowest ones. I hope that the Denka will be open for this meeting, especially considering the scale of the aki uprising...”

Singh waved a hand in a gesture of easy compliance.
“Of course. I really don’t see why he wouldn’t be open to such a meeting. We will do our utmost to make such a meeting happen. I would be most inclined to hear more about the Nifonese Empire and Murakami Arms’ place in it. Also, maybe we could discuss more of the detailed developments that you were previously discussing that your company has made recently with your arms.”
He was overtly changing the subject away from the multitude of questions that could only be speculated upon. They would get their answers soon enough, Singh was sure.

The two parties discussed Nifonese politics, the place of modern PMCs, and the continuing struggle to push back Marxism in nations that were rising up on the international scene, as well as the new projects of Murakami, with small breaks in between to snack and refresh beverages or use the restroom facilities before they landed in Jayasur.

Within a few hours, they were touching down in Jayasur, Janakkhara after clearance from the tower authorities. The USG crew led the way first with an eye towards security, with the two Intexa officers following as well as Murakami and his party. Right away, both Singh and Kentaro were looking for the government representative that was tasked to meet them at the nation’s only international airport.

• Aki - Nifonese for “reds”.
• Denka - Nifonese honorific for non-sovereign royalty. Nifonese consider it dishonorable to refer to royalty by their name.

NOTE: Co-RPed with New Aeyariss.

Janakkharan Military Top Brass
Jayasur

There was chaos in the Command Room as reports from the failed attack streamed in, then more as the survivors limped back to base. The Infantry had been withdrawn quickly after the arial attack failed, yet the march home had been hard and particularly deadly. Only 3,000 soldiers had survived the assault, a veritable military failure by any record.

General Bhumidol Ayudeva turned to his subordinates, a look of resigned shame on his pale face. "We must seek outside help. Our own military is not worth the pittance we spend on it. We have shamed our ancestors this day. I expect you all to train your troops better. We shall plan. We shall not lose this war."

The other officers nodded solemnly and filed out, leaving general Ayudeva alone in the room. He clutched his small amulet of Ganesh close to his heart. His weary lips slowly mouthed out a silent prayer. We prayed for many things, but one in particular stayed in his mind the longest. Please ensure that I face no retribution for my deeds from my sovereign.

---

Prince Sanjikapur
Jayasur
The prince walked through the hallowed halls of the devas. At every step down the finely woven carpets sewn from golden thread a single bell tolled, filling the air with a crisp ringing. At the side of the carpet stood ten thousand higher beings, each one wearing the finest silken garments and bearing silvery scimitars in fine jewelled scabbards. Their eyes were all fixed on the prince. He was dressed in his fiery, but as he stepped closer to the golden glow at the end of the carpet he felt his clothes change. Their sheen faded, the colours and fine stitching tearing away and making way for a new face. Now he was dressed in but a pauper's rags, harsh to the soft skin of one who had always felt luxury. The carpet made way for a bed of sharp stones, that cut at his now bare feet. Now all was darkness. The Higher beings had judged him, and sent him here. The observers were now craggy trees, their forked branches reaching out to stare at him. In the trees, monkeys with glowing red eyes threw stones at his frail form. He still carried on, desperate for aid towards the golden figure of Sheva up ahead. he bowed low, enduring the torment. He kneeled and kissed Sheva's feet.

"I am broken, lord. My armies rout in the face of a weaker force. What may I do that shall end these torments and return balance to my lands?

Sheva did not answer. He stood solemnly above Sanjikapur, his aloof expression holding.

"I beg you, o merciful Sheva. Please grant me a shred of your ethereal wisdom."

Words filled the air as the god spoke.

"What one drop of water may not break, a river may. Do not look to one's own army and believe it to be a parameter. It is merely a block among the fortress. You have friends in high places. They may lead you on. And watch your back. The monkey is ever treacherous. Yet he fears the flame."

With these words spoken, the mighty god dissipated into a mist and Sanjikapur was left alone in the blasted woods of his own torment. Truly, what Sheva had spoken rung true in his heart. He felt contentment return to his heart, and slowly dissipated back to the earth. He felt a tugging at his shouldear, and looked.

He was back in the halls of his palace. He looked and it was the pale man from Vionna-Fankenslisch. The man was obviously distraught and saught his answer for something.

"Would you please repeat that? i must have missed it. I was having a dream, a great vision gifted to me by the gods."

---

Representative Srijama
Jayasur Military Airport

Representative Srijama smiled, taking in the summery atmosphere as he drove out to meet these foreign guests. He was glad they had come. The principality was in grave danger. He hoped that any friends could help out and restore peace. The car slowed to a halt as the car reached its destination by a plane that had landed on the tarmac. As it was a visit by foreign dignitaries, the plane had been redirected to the small military airport south of the city. airport was not probably the right word though. This was more of a glorified airfield with some grand statues and a less shabby interior. He stood in his polished, bespoke suit manufactured in Hong Kong and looked at the soldiers as they disembarked from their transport. When they got off he greeted them with a huge smile.

"Welcome to Janakkhara. I shall be your royal representative today until your meeting with the prince."

Jayasur Military Airport

Nacimiento and Singh toted shoulder bags that were larger than your typical carrier bags, but smaller than your typical hikerr's packs. The heaviest bags were toted by the plane crew out to where the Janakkharan airfield crew took care of them, placing them in cargo carriers.

“Sat sri akaal! I’m Mandrakhar Singh, a Chief Operations Officer for the Contracting Division of the Intexa, and this is my colleague, Graciella Nacimiento, a Chief Legal Officer with the Intexa Legal Division. The Intexa is the support arm of the USG Security Corporation. This is Murakami Kentaro, of Murakami Arms. I hope that your people may give him an audience. I hope to discuss that with the Prince or your high command...or both, among many other things including our contract.”
Singh didn't bother to introduce any of the other members of the party, as they would be having little contact with the representatives of the government or the Prince.

They climbed into the provided transport and were whisked away from the airfield by the head representative and his entourage. To Singh, Janakkhara was both tropical and exotic compared to the frigid, icy wasteland he had been working in only a couple days prior, and also very familiar and intimate to his youth. Part of his mind told him he was home, and another part told him he well in the fire now. Only the next few hours would bring clarity and hopefully success on another solid contract.

Jayasur, Janakkhara
Royal Palace

Ibrahim Graire fidgeted uncomfortably under the prince's gaze, "Your Grace, I wish to report to your Highness that forces of His Imperial Majesty have landed at Mahakrishna to support your Highness in his just crusade against the Marxist traitors and heathens." He proclaimed proudly to the monarch before him.

Vionna-Frankenlischian Embassy
1 Kichisaburou Avenue North
Musashi District, Hashirajima

Travis Redman sat on his bed, rubbing his eyes thoroughly as he yawned loudly. 'Sleep can wait...' He told himself. He had no idea why he was so tired, he was prepared for a challenge, a debate, anything... But certainly not approval from the start. He had just returned to his home in the top floor of the Vionna-Frankenlischian Embassy in Hashirajima after an emergency visit to the Hashirajiman government. It was his job to bring the Independent Naval Province into the fold in Janakkhara and, as the nation had a small military and few official ties with Vionna-Frankenlisch, he had expected a fight to get their support but it appeared that the two nation's newfound friendship meant a lot more to the Hashirajimans than it did to the Vionna-Frankenlischians. Travis's back creaked and cracked as he stretched out, 'Perhaps...' He thought, 'A short nap might be in order...'

Mahakrishna, Janakkhara
Light Company, 1st Regiment
3rd Jallottan Infantry Brigade

Major Oetiker strode back and forth looking up and down his assembled Company, his hands neatly bound in each other's grasp behind his back and his swagger stick carefully clutched between his arm and torso. Beside him, another company smartly marched through the open gates of the naval base, left arms swinging in time and rifles shouldered. "Atten'shun!" He ordered suddenly, bringing his right arm to his side sharply and the other one grasping the swagger stick under his arm, in front of him, his company stood smartly to attention. "Right beraz! Platoon officers, one pace forward, march!" a cohort of around thirty officers stepped forward out of formation. "All mortars are to stowed away, crews are to be spread out amongst the platoon, HMG teams are to guard entrances to the base. We will divide the base down the middle, Battlegroup A will take the left, Battlegroup B will take the right. Battlegroup Captains, I trust you to post your platoons accordingly and Platoon Lieutenants, I trust you likewise with your Sections." His briefing done, Major Oetiker smartened his stature and adjusted his pink beret. "Company, to your duties, fall out!" He ordered, his Battlegroups turned and marched away in their opposing directions.

Off the Coast of Janakkhara
HMNS Magnesium, Flagship
1. Battlecruiser Squadron

"Sir!" A midshipman called, snapping Rear Admiral Barret out of his midday snooze, "Vessel ahead, sir, two points off the port bow!"
"Very good, midshipman," Barret replied, standing up from his chair, "Can you make her out?"
"Yes, sir. She's a Cardwithian merchant, sir, ten kilometres out, feeder by the looks of things." The midshipman answered, looking at the electronic chart on the table next to him.
"Tonnage?" Barret asked, "Is she registered traffic?"
"Yes, sir, she's registered by the looks of things. Although we can't get any details on her destination, nor her cargo. As for tonnage, the wee bugger should be around 15 thousand tonnes."
"Definitely a feeder, Midshipman." Barret agreed, "Establish radio contact and order them to hold for boarding."
"We've tried, sir. Can't raise them on anything and it's far too sunny for light signals. And trying flag signals would be worthless, she's not one of ours."

Barret turned to another midshipman, "You," he ordered, "Bring me the Commander of Marines." He ordered.
"Yes, sir!" The midshipman replied, saluting.
"And you," He turned to an Ensign, "Prepare a helicopter and two boats."
"Aye, aye, sir!" The Ensign too saluted before quickly following the midshipman off of the bridge.

Near Cardwithian Freighter
Magnesium-1, KvH-02

Magnesium-1 hovered precariously close to the unidentified Cardwithian Feeder, below, a pair of RHIBs pulled up alongside the larger vessel. Sergeant Tomlinson, with a megaphone to hand called to the Cardwithian sailors on the deck below, "Ahoy there! Please prepare for boarding, do not attempt to resist, we are from HMNS Magnesium, Imperial Vionna-Frankenlischian Navy! This is an official search warranted by the government of Janakkhara, of which you are in the territorial waters of. Please present your captain to the commander of this boarding party!"

With no further warning, Marines from the boats below began to climb up the side of the vessel, utilising grappling ropes, and another group rappeled down from the Darlington-Hoffried KvH-02 above. Sergeant Tomlinson turned to rappel down, Lieutenant Edburg prepared to follow him, ordering the pilot as he did so. "Stay here and circle the ship, I want me and the ship to know if they jettison any cargo."

[Location: Hashirajima Navy Headquarters, Nagato District Naval Base]

Rear-Admiral Kiko Honda, of the Hashirajima Navy Home Fleet, frowned as he read the document handed to him. Across the conference room table sat... someone he did not expect to be handing him his orders.

Marshal-Admiral Fubuki. Highest ranking officer in the Hashirajima Armed Forces. Someone who really had no reason to take time out just to speak to him personally.

After a finishing the document, the rear-admiral glanced up from the tablet. "Permission to speak, ma'am?"

"Sure, go on." The individual before him gestured, waving a hand casually.

"... why me? I'm merely a staff officer. Have been so for years, really. I don't think I've ever led a fleet since the last engagement we had with North Korea, and that's just at flotilla level."

"Well, it's really to get you back into the swing of things. I've checked your records, and you really are selling yourself short, Admiral Honda. Top of your class at the Naval Academy, excellent performance in Operation GRAND LINE, Order of Distinguished Service... Special Class, even. Ever since I saw your file, I've been wondering. Why are you merely a staff officer?" Steepling her hands before her, the head of the HAF leaned forward to eye the officer before her.

"... I assume this room is secured?"

"Everything we speak of here stays within the four walls, Rear-Admiral. You have my word."

"In that case..." Honda took a deep breath. "Operation SUNA. That's why I stepped away from frontline postings."

A nod, in reply. "Right... that was a right mess wasn't it..." Then... "You're that Honda? Chief-"

"- Warfare Officer, Special-type cruiser HS Ibuki."

"Well, that's a coincidence isn't it? In any case, admiral. This is just a humanitarian aid assignment. Your... fleet's task is merely to escort men and materiel over to Janakkhara. There shouldn't be any combat, that's not our intention. As to why you're selected... let's say Vice-Admiral Matsuda was the one to recommend you. And I'm the one sitting here instead of him because he thought you needed a little... persuasion. So... what do you say?"

Sighing, RADM Honda nodded. "Very well then, ma'am. I'll take the assignment. What's my flagship this time?"

"As I said, it's coincidental. It's HS Ibuki, the new light carrier."

[Location: HS Ibuki, Indian Ocean]

"Admiral, we'll be approaching our destination within the next day, sir." Navigation called out, snapping the rear-admiral out of his thoughts. "Assuming current conditions hold, of course."

"Understood." RADM Honda nodded absently as he reviewed the latest intelligence reports on the Janakkhara situation. While it is a small island nation far beyond Hashirajima's sphere of influence, or even remote concern, the high command had seen fit to contribute at least a token force as a show of support, at the behest of the nation's ally, Vionna-Frankenlisch. Comprising mainly of medical and logistical assets, this deployment was never deemed to be a combat-focused one. Which was probably why he accepted command of this task force. Not that he really had a choice, to be fair.

With one last glance, he left the bridge and headed for the Ops Room. There's someone he needed to contact.

[Location: HS Sagami, Indian Ocean]

Captain Akashi was meddling with one of the trucks assigned to her for this deployment when a staff officer came to her with a handset. "Ma'am, it's the rear-admiral." Getting out from under the vehicle she was working on, the captain casually wiped her hands on her overalls before taking the phone. "Akashi speaking. What's the matter, admiral?"

"New report from the spooks. Apparently the rebel forces are becoming more active, thought you might like to know. Oh yes, also got more info about our hosts. Abysmal training, and you'll probably pop an aneurysm if you see their equipment. So I would say you guys are on your own."

"Lovely." The captain replied drily. "Does Dr Takahashi know? He's operating more on the ground than I am, no pun intended."

"He'll be informed in turn. For now I think I'll have the Sagami based off whatever port we are assigned. No point leaving her too open to possible attacks."

"We aren't exactly harmless, you know?" Akashi muttered as she passed the cafeteria, pausing for a moment before deciding to duck in for coffee no. X of the day.

"You aren't a combat ship either. Just don't take unnecessary risks."

"Understood, Admiral. By the way, you want some coffee delivered over to the Ibuki?"

[Location: HS Ibuki, Indian Ocean]

Glaring at the gunk in his own mug, Honda sighed. "... I really hate you right now, you know that? This is all for now. I'll update you if MIO sends over anything else." Putting down his own handset, the rear-admiral sighed. 'Those shipbuilders couldn't have taken a page from the Yamato when it came to the officer's mess, could they?'

Marksville, North Cardwith

He stretched as the cigarette dangled from his mouth. It was a Ruita, a Cardwithian local brand that he would not see the likes of again for possibly a long time, aside from what they had managed to pack away. The glimmer of sunrise was just starting to poke at the waves on the horizon, beyond the bay. It was a short break, as he didn't view himself as above the work of loading up the planes with their specialized gear, along with the rest of the PASG and SO troopers. Regular Air Force crews loaded the pallets of arms, munitions, radios and other various supplies they were bringing on to the AN-225 Mriya.

Besides the supplies, there were one hundred and sixty three other Cardwithian personnel packing into the cabins of the two cargo haulers. 72 were PASG, the newly reconstituted People's Action Strike Group, composed of PAST (People's Action Strike Teams) cells. Almost all of them veterans of the Hutanjian War and having seen service across the islands of the Wishton Sea. PASG and PAST were direct action branches of the United Freedom Front, the ruling party of the DSRC. The rest of the 91 cadre would be made up of soldiers from the 24th Special Operations Battalion of the CPA (Cardwithian People's Army). These were just the first of many that would eventually head to Janakkhara to join their socialist brethren in the HPLA.

Hopefully, upon arrival, the supplies would quickly disappear off the tarmac to trucks that would take them on to their respective depots. It was token really, in terms of what the HPLA needed, but it was representative of the mass of supplies that the DSRC intended to send to keep the march of socialism progressing forward. When they were all loaded up and the advisers were strapped in, the Mriya took off, followed by its escort of 6 CF-29s, as well as an IL-78 Midas air refueler.

---

West of Harikami, Janakkhara

Several hours later, the CF-29s broke off from the group to circle out about 80 km from Janakkhara, with the air tanker. They didn’t want to risk an engagement with government air patrols, but needed to escort the Mriya back home when it was done being unloaded. Should JAF fighters try to intercept the Mriya, the CF-29 multi-role fighters were ready to swoop in and take them on.

As the cargo hauler landed and taxied to a stop, after barely avoiding dumping off the end of the air strip, the commander of the group was already bounding down the ramp.
As the HPLA representatives walked out to meet him, he raised his hands,
“Hello, comrades! I am Colonel Barrington Dobuka of the People’s Action Strike Group of the Democratic Socialist Republic of the Cardwith Islands. We are so happy to be here to help you with your revolution!”

The HPLA soldier, an officer of a combat group that had managed to snatch control of this airport with the help of sympathetic staff and a distracted local police and military contingent - particularly alarmed by the fighters off the coast - came up to meet them. He was bleeding from the head - his ear had just been shot off and then patched up - and the cigarette dangling from his mouth was certainly not just tobacco filled.

Trucks, a variety of medium sized civilian ones with covers or tarps over them, now ascended upon the rear of the aircraft. They maintained loose spacing and a couple of old forklifts sped up to the Antonov too, assisting with the loading process.

“We talk revolution later, for now we try not go big boom-boom.” the fighter said, spitting on the crackled runway. He rose his hand and looked behind him. A Toyota pickup rolled up, driven by another guerrilla.

“Get in.” he said, gesturing to the main commanders. They would be taken to see codename Balabah - Bambang Metharom. They didn’t have much time, because if they knew what was happening the Jannakharan Government Forces would be quickly on top of them.

Dobuka nodded, taking in the tense atmosphere, the HPLA leader’s bandaged head and the frenetic pace in which the rebels were moving. They hadn’t held this airstrip for long.
“I understand.”

He then turned back and took a step back towards the cabin of the aircraft and shouted in,
“Hohoro! Hurry! Hurreh ponos! Let’s git de crate empteh, off de ground and den we fade!” Fade into the jungle with their new HPLA comrades. Wishtonians, whether they were from The Cardwith Islands, Hutanjia, or Kenega, when talking with each other, tended to readily slip into the Wishtonian patois that was a sort of slurred English with French and native words in the mix.

The PASG and CPA commandos snapped into action, grabbing their own gear first, then whatever else they could carry to help ferry it down to the awaiting trucks. They had drilled for this, knowing that time was of the essence with a beleaguered revolutionary force. Not to mention that, living under the heel of the Hutanjians for so long, they also knew that to defeat ones conquerors, one must seize the moments as they were given.

Colonel Dobuka himself trotted back in to grab a few more things that he could carry and do his part to help load up the trucks. With the HPLA men and the hundred and a half or so Cards pitching in, the trucks were well packed in short order. The Cards might have pitched in with security, but the HPLA group seemed to have that in hand.

Dobuka nodded once more and put his hands out, palms up, in an equivocal gesture.
“We go?”

The HPLA man slapped the driver’s arm, yelling something at him in the native language. In turn, the driver stuck his head out the window, and a small convoy of three cars burst away from the airplane at a high speed.

“You got big stuff boss,” the officer said, admiring their shiny new weapons, in comparison to the faded wood on his AKM. “But can you fight, and would you die?”

The Cardwithian Colonel smiled.
“We are here for the cause, and we may die for the cause. But is there a reason to die needlessly? With better guns, perhaps you can fight for a better political advantage. Maybe get to a point where one day, you can win at the polls where you might not have won on that battlefield. But for now, we fight...and yes, possibly die.”

---

CPS Karolton
Off The Northeastern Janakkharan coast

Captain Rodham Esongu and whatever crew of the Karolton that weren’t keeping the ship going and preparing for docking within the hour, came out to the bridge and deck to observe the small boarding party and helicopter that closed in. They could see the Vionna-Frankenlischian ships on the horizon, binoculars brought their red and white castled flag into focus, and had in fact been warned that they might already be there in force. V-F forces had been surprisingly fast in deploying out to the Janakkharan theater. Things were escalating far quicker than probably anyone on either side had anticipated, and most of the events were being driven by the rebels and the government forces of Janakkhara, rather than from abroad.

Captain Esongu was a civilian merchantman, but like all Cardwithians, he knew that he could be dragged in to serve the cause at any time. Which, from the preliminary briefing he’d been given some weeks prior, he knew that he and many others of his colleagues were about to be drafted into service. On this voyage, they were testing the waters to see the reaction and how readily they could directly access the rebels in the patch of territory they held in the North. His cargo was humanitarian in nature: Medicine, food, agricultural tools and supplies, some basic electronics, water filtration systems, and clothing.

Luckily, at the last minute, they’d ruled out trying to sneak some arms in with the rest of the load, or he’d be in very big trouble in a few minutes. All his crew were well documented, and he’d probably have to fish all their papers from the safe, but he wasn’t about to go running to do that now unless they forced him to do so. Even so, he was fairly sure that at least one if not more of the men were CID (Cardwithian Intelligence Directorate), although if that were the case, he’d be one of the last to know. All in all, he had little to worry about and a lot of stink to make if they tried to confiscate his cargo or interfere with his route.

“Suh, dey hailin' us on de radio.”

Esongu walked back in to the wheelhouse to where the First Mate was manning the radio. The crewmember who'd informed him stayed out on the bridge deck, transfixed by the unfolding scene

“Have you answered?”

“No suh.”

“Good. Any chatter back to shore?”

“If dey is, we kinnah pick it up. Encreeptud o channel I nah heard.”

“DEY HEAH!” From an excited sailor out on the deck.

The Captain rushed back out to the observation deck of the bridge.
The military helicopter, of which the likes he’d never seen before, was some type of multi purpose, possibly utility copter. Somewhat like a Sea King, he thought. At least it wasn't a gunship, was one of the first thoughts he had to comfort himself.

He looked down as the RHIBs came along port side. Two of his men grabbed the high powered water canons they had mounted on the rails for repelling boarders and pirates. The Captain waved them off quickly. It was too late for that and they didn’t have the arms to properly resist a boarding. All that would happen is that his crew would needlessly be slaughtered, even if they had every right to resist the unjustified intrusion.

One of the white devils shouted into a megaphone,
"Ahoy there! Please prepare for boarding, do not attempt to resist, we are from HMNS Magnesium, Imperial Vionna-Frankenlischian Navy! This is an official search warranted by the government of Janakkhara, of which you are in the territorial waters of. Please present your captain to the commander of this boarding party!"

Before he could even respond (he didn’t have an obnoxious megaphone, but could broadcast over the boat’s address system which had a couple flared amplifiers on each side), the foreign sailors or military men threw grappling hooks up, which his crew men had to dodge in order to not get impaled, and began to climb up, rather than waiting for a ladder to be thrown down. They muscled their way through the crew, who true to their part, did little to get out of the way of the Vionna-Frankenlischian marines.

Esongu waited until one of them with the seemingly appropriate rank approached him.
“You have given me no time to respond, cooperate with your operations, or ascertain your credentials. This is most undignified and counter to maritime law and we shall lodge all the proper protests with the World Assembly. I, Captain Rodham Esongu, officially protest this unjustified imperialist invasion of the sovereignty of the Cardwithian People’s Ship Karolton and ask that you remove yourselves immediately from my peaceful, commercial vessel to de-escalate this international incident. You say you are here on the authority of the Janakkharan government? I ask you to prove that immediately, as well as provide any documentation that you have, not that it will likely justify your crimes. Papers first, then leave my boat.”

---

[First Part Co-RP'd with New Hayesalia.]

CPS Karolton
Off The Northeastern Janakkharan coast

Lieutenant Edburg stepped forward, using one arm to wave at his men to stand down, he listened attentively to the Cardwithian captain's complaints and then removed his helmet a gesture which, in the Imperial Navy, is a great sign of respect as removing one's headwear signifies that you and the other are equals. "My deepest apologies, captain, we had to board quickly in order to assure that you would not jettison any cargo. Which, might I add, I must ask you to inform me of the contents and prove that too. As for papers." The Lieutenant rustled around his pockets, finally finding the authorisation papers and his own Identification Book. He passed them over to the captain while still talking, "As for leaving the ship, sir, I'm afraid I cannot do so until you give me details on your cargo and destination."

CPS Karolton
Off The Northeastern Janakkharan coast

Captain Esongu noted the scaled back response of the Vionna-Frankenlischian Lieutenant (he recognized the rank up close). He took the papers in hand to inspect them.
"Mmmhmmm. I see."
He muttered as he continued to peruse the documents. It all looked in order, and as expected, he was running out of legal grounds to reject the inspection, no matter that they wouldn't find anything alarming. Still he had to put them through their paces to see how far and how quick they pushed the situation.

"I see. Well, Lieutenant, you will see that our cargo is innocuous. It is simply humanitarian aid for the Janakkharan people. Food, medicine and other sundry supplies. Basic items that the government of Janakkhara has so far been unable and unwilling to consistently supply their own people. Again, I officially protest this intrusion and unjustified inspection, but there's not much we can do to stop you. Inspect our cargo if you must and you will see that I am telling the truth. We are representing the good will of the Cardwithian people and our government. We are civilian merchantmen simply performing our peaceful, civic duties to the Socialist people of the world, who continually suffer under the rule of Imperialists such as yourself."
He waved back and down towards where the cargo lay in the hold below.

He handed back the Vionna-Frankenlischian's documents.
"I might add that any damage to the cargo will be charged to and recouped from your government by ours."

---

The Northern Peninsula
West of Harikami

The Cardwithian advisers rode in relative silence on the trucks with the HPLA guerrillas to their destination. Most of the area was jungle and hills. Little branch off dirt roads and paths were passed every now and then.
Dobuka pondered as they rode. Where there were hills, there were bound to be caves. He intended to ask if they had some kind of tunnel or underground hideaway system. Such systems were always used to great effect in many historic conflicts throughout modern conflict, including during the Hutanjian War that many of his comrades were veterans of. Especially in this day and age, merely hiding in the jungle above ground didn't save you from the rays and waves of modern technology.

It was impressive that the rebels actually held territory, keeping the Monarchists at bay, but considering that the government would probably be going on the offensive soon with their new allies, that wouldn't last. They needed to have a backup for when that territory was lost. The Cardwithians couldn't possibly bring in enough arms in time to forestall that from happening. They knew it and the HPLA leader should know it, too. There was one hope that might be an equalizer...

CPS Karolton
Off The Northeastern Janakkharan coast

Lieutenant Edburg nodded and took his papers back, placing them in his pocket he replied, "I understand but I'm afraid that is between my government and yours. As for Imperialism, that would be best taken up with our ground troops, Jallottan chaps from the colonies who have profited quite well from Imperialism. If you really wish to push things on the political front, I'm sure Rear Admiral Davit aboard the Magnesium would be happy to debate with you." The young marine officer chuckled and saluted, turned to his fellow marines who had just finished searching through the majority of the lower containers. "Well?" He asked, expectantly.
"Nothing, sir." Sergeant Tomlinson replied, saluting, "Just supplies... Food, Water and such..." Edburg nodded and wiped his nose with a silk handkerchief bearing the Golden Tower of Frankenlisch, sniffing from the remnants of a cold. "Righto, Sergeant." He turned back to Captain Esongu, "Once again, Captain, I deeply apologise for any disruption to your journey. May Andy wish fair seas upon you, you are doing his work." He gestured towards the containers of humanitarian supplies.

The Palace

Prince Sanjikapur smiled a wolflike smile. For years he had been held back in his rule by military incompetence. Now there were foreigners here who would be able to turn this combat around and allow him to reclaim his land. He said a silent prayer of thanks to the gods for this turn of good fortune. If all went to plan, this insurgency was soon to crumble.

"That news pleases me greatly mr Graire. Together with your men we shall be able to do just as you say."

He was interrupted by two aides who ran into the room.

"My lord," they panted, "We bear news. The USG forces have arrived, alongside representatives from Nifon. They request an audience with your grace."

His happy expression did not change, but this was even better news. The signs were aligning for a very good turn of events.

"tell their leaders to come here at 7 tonight. We shall dine and discuss this. Mr Graire, bring your nation's highest military official as well. We shall plan out how to deal with the enemy."

CPS Karolton
Off The Northeastern Janakkharan coast

"Righto, Sergeant." Lt. Edburg turned back to Captain Esongu, "Once again, Captain, I deeply apologise for any disruption to your journey. May Andy wish fair seas upon you, you are doing his work." He gestured towards the containers of humanitarian supplies.

Esongu had done his best to hide his reactions. At one point, it sounded as if the Vionna-Frankenlischian Marine officer was threatening to detain him and bring him to the Admiral in charge of their fleet for his disparaging remarks. It was far from a subtle threat and one that he noted for future reports. They apparently didn't take kindly to Marxist rhetoric, which the Captain was well aware that he was spouting. He took it in stride as part of his duty to the Democratic Socialist Republic and the great Cause. He would need to temper further utterances and desired replies that would involve something on the level of 'Imperialist Pigdogs' and the like. Being detained for such triviality after enduring this indignity and being close to being released would be ludicrous. Now was the time to get through this and carry on with his mission and possibly bring about something positive from their journey through the Wishton Sea and Indian Ocean to this forlorn island.

The reference to 'Andy' was especially intriguing to him. He'd been subjected to plenty of references to a God by fascist-imperialists in his time, but never heard such a mundane name attached to any such God, assuming it was even in reference to the Abrahamic religious deity. The Vionna-Frankenlischians had their peculiar customs, for sure.

"Lieutenant, I accept your apology on the condition that, now that you have conducted your unwarranted inspection, you clear my boat and let us be on our way."
He didn't bother to acknowledge the references to a deity or the attribution of their work to such.

CPS Karolton
Off The Northeastern Janakkharan coast

"Of course," The Lieutenant replied, smiling calmly, "Best of luck, comrade..." He said, pronouncing 'comrade' in a sarcastic yet still somehow friendly tone. He turned to his men and ordered them back into their boats, above, the helicopter lowered itself to the side of the vessel and allowed the rest of the soldiers to embark. Lieutenant Edburg pulled himself up onto the helicopter's deck, gave the side of the Karolton a light wallop on the side and saluted Esongu before giving the 'thumbs up' to the helicopter pilot who slowly, yet surely, pulled away in the direction of the Magnesium, which was slowly steaming away.

Jayasur, Janakkhara
Royal Palace

"Very good, Your Grace." Graire replied, smiling and ignoring the Prince's repeated use of the word 'Mister' rather than using his noble title. "Might I suggest that we pull the meeting forward a few hours? In order to secure their support as quickly as possible. It may be just a few hours, but in situations like this, every second counts... Trust me, Your Grace, I was a young Lieutenant in the Abbas Crisis and I know how quickly these insurgents can move. Just think, last week, Hamikari. Next week? Your own palace..." He said ominously, yet keeping his calm stature.

HMNS Magnesium
Off The Northeastern Janakkharan coast

"Sir!" The same Midshipman who spoke earlier called again, waking Barret from a light sleep. "Sir, the boats have arrived and the helicopter should be back in a minute or so."
"Very good, Mister Gilligan." Barret replied.
"Oh, and one more thing." Midshipman Gilligan added, "The Hashirajimans have arrived, they've a task force deployed nearby."
"I see, come to take some glory for themselves, eh?"
"Sir, I think it's unfair to-"
"At ease, Mister Gilligan, I'm only playing around." Barret cut in, chuckling, "That being said, I'd like you to get a message back to the Admiralty asking for reinforcements. We are hardly an effective force for such a mission. You can hardly deny that. We need screens, not capital ships."
"Aye aye, sir," Gilligan replied, saluting and turning to get the message to the radio room.

"Missus' Idris!" Barret called another Midshipman, this one a petite female, stepped forward.
"Sir!" She replied, standing to attention.
"Prepare the second helicopter, I am going to meet with the Hashirajiman Admiral in person."
"Aye aye, sir!"

HS Ibuki, Indian Ocean
Magnesium-2, KvH-02

The Darlington-Hoffried helicopter set down on the deck of the Light Carrier HS Ibuki, much to the surprise and interest of the surrounding Hashirajiman sailors and aircrew. Rear Admiral Septimus Barret stepped down from the KvH and adjusted his bicorn. He had decided to wear his dress uniform for this meeting. Behind him, Midshipman Idris set foot onto the deck of the Ibuki. She followed him, flanked by two marines as he headed towards the ship's tower.
He walked calmly onto the bridge as if the ship was his own, one hand on the handle of his sheathed sword, the other behind his back. He approached the Hashirajiman commanding officer his eyebrow raised, he smiled and held the hand behind his back out for the officer to shake.

"Admiral Honda, I believe?"

CPS Karolton
Off The Northeastern Janakkharan coast

Captain Esongu smiled easily when the Lieutenant left, only slightly puzzled as to why some of the marines rode boats while others were lifted away by the helicopter. He had let the petty slights slide on past him, not even rankling at all at the slap on his boat, even though it was in a bit of poor taste to disrespect their boat in such a symbolic way. The crew faded back to continue on with preparations for docking and locking down the ship for disembarkation as well as tidying up the mess left by the Vionna-Frankenlischian boarding party.

Soon, it was only the Captain and First Mate left on the deck outside the bridge, while another mid level crew member acted as Officer Of The Watch. The First Mate watched as the RHIBs got smaller and the helicopter returned back to its ship. He glanced at the Captain and with astonishment, realized that the Captain was still grinning, possibly never having stopped, but he couldn't be sure.
"Fideh! Cap'n wer de smile come from? Ya happy dey disrespect us and hold us up?"

"Mr. Zopako, I'm happy because we won a small victory there and I accomplished one of my missions."

"Heh?"

"Did you notice that their officer, the Lieutenant, never demanded the manifest for the cargo...or crew for that matter? They inspected it, yes, but they didn't match it to what we claimed we were carrying on paper. Secondly, only once did he request our port of call, and upon my misdirection with plenty of bluster and party rhetoric, he never pressed the issue again before taking leave."

"So...?"

"So, no cargo and crew manifests demanded. No passports or identity papers requested. No port of call reported. We can't guarantee that all their officers will majorly slip up in the future as this one has, but it is significant to note that for the very first encounter in Janakkharan waters between a Cardwithian vessel and a Vionna-Frankenlischian boarding party enforcing a loose blockade, that we got off so very light and clear."

"Fideh!"

"Indeed."

"Wot if dey did dat aw doo-sayn [intentionally] just to watch wer we go?"

"Good point, Mr. Zopako. So be it. Let them watch. If the HPLA's people do their job, and our crew does theirs, as well...We will dock and begin to unload, our people and theirs, the HPLA supporters that is, will be mixed up on the dock. If the Vionna-Frankenlischians or Janakkharan monarchists decide to start shelling or targeting them with missiles or mortars, they are bound to catch our crew in the cross hairs. It will be an open act of war on the Democratic Socialist Republic of the Cardwith Islands, not to mention an atrocious act on their own civilians. Sure to be internationally condemned...
As pre-planned, the HPLA porters will break the cargo up into small loads, fade off into the jungle in several different directions and rendezvous later to load up their vehicles. From there...I don't know. I'm sure they have their ways to avoid further government detection. Just as we did during the War to hide from the Hutanjians, New Edomites and those Neu Engollian mercenaries. They've been at it this long and survived, so they must be doing something right. Don't you think?"

"Ya sure, Cap."
It was a bit patronizing and long winded of a monologue, and the First Mate had done all he could not to roll his eyes and walk away. He had been there when the PAST officers explained the operation, so he didn't really need to hear it all over again from the Captain.
"Gin go take ovah for de O-O-W now, Cap."

"Certainly, Comrade Zopako. May the will of the proletariat guide your steady hand as we enter the bay."

"Uh huh. Dey do dat."
This time he did roll his eyes as he turned into the wheelhouse.

[Location: HS Ibuki, Indian Ocean]

Eyeing the foreign admiral impassively, RADM Honda took the proffered hand and gave a firm shake. "Indeed. I take it that you're Admiral Barret from the Vionna-Frankenlisch Navy. Now, I think we would be better located elsewhere." Glancing at his watch, Honda then called out to Navigations. "How long till our arrival?"

"A good hour, sir. Shall we hold it back?"

"Not necessary. Maintain course and speed. Now, admiral, shall we head for the conference rooms?"

With that, the rear admiral calmly headed out of the bridge, joined by a somewhat dimunitive female officer along the way.

As he opened the door to a seemingly random conference room, it revealed that both COL Takahashi and CAPT Akashi were already seated at the table, the first flipping through some documents while the other leaning back and sipping on a mug of coffee.

Smiling, RADM Honda turned towards his guest after taking a seat at the head of the table. "Admiral Barret, please do take a seat. Let me introduce the other commanding officers of this task force. This is Colonel Tetsuo Takahashi from the Hashirajima Army Medical Corps, while the charming lady there is Captain Akashi, from the Maritime Materials Command.

"Now... what brings you here today?"

HS Ibuki, Indian Ocean

"Charmed, ladies and gents..." Barret said, smiling towards the two officers before turning his head towards Honda. "Well, Admiral, our orders from the Admiralty are to enforce a blockade on the rebels and to search as much shipping as possible, apprehending all smugglers and arms importers. Now, there is a very obvious problem with this... We have but three ships, all Battlecruisers, this is obviously not a very efficient force for such a task. However, your doubtlessly effective task force includes a multitude of screens, Destroyers, Escorts and such and there's no denying that this would be a far more efficient force for the task at hand." Barret took a moment to pull the documentation for Operation Norton, along with his Order of Battle, from his pocket and handed it over to Honda.

"I have no power to command you... Yet. But I would like to suggest that you take the responsibility of organising and making up the blockade so that my own ships might be freed up to do what they are most effective at, providing long-range gunfire. We can get to the coast of Harikami by the afternoon and be getting shells on key rebel installations by midnight. That, combined with strikes from our admittedly small naval air group, could be crippling to the rebel cause." He finished, looking around the table for replies, finally noticing that Midshipman Idris had followed him into the room. "Missus' Idris," he said, benevolently, "Why don't you sit down, Midshipman?"

[Location: HS Ibuki, Indian Ocean]

Giving the documents a brief glance, Honda passed it over the the young female officer, who bears the markings of a Lieutenant-Commander on her shoulderboard. "Hmm... well, that would certainly be a problem. You see, we - that is, this fleet - have been given very strict orders to prioritise the safety and security of our own forces at sea. A blockade mission would very much be way beyond our mandate. Now, this situation we are in seems to be the result of an... unintentional oversight but no matter, for it does happen at times. And as your ally, I suppose I now have the responsibility to render aid.

"So here's what I can do for you in this case. I can spare some of our escorts for a few moments while we resupply and unload. Now, I bet such an esteemed individual such as yourself will understand that leaving assets in a single location in the face of an insurgency is... let's be honest here. Utter stupidity. One would simply be a sitting duck. So I will have to move my vessels around from time to time, and in those moments I'll need my escort vessels. No sane individual would even consider mobilising high-value assets without escorts, given how insurgents tend to operate."

Pausing for a moment to take a sip of water, the Rear-Admiral closed up his little explanation.

"So that's how it is. We'll be able to buy your fleet some time while your own escorts arrive, but that arrangement is not quite sustainable in the long run. Also, due to a most unfortunate lack of suitable assets, we regrettably would not be able to participate in any boarding action. I do hope that this will be sufficient in the meantime, and that your escorts are swift in their arrival. For your sake, really, since it's your forces that you're gambling with. To be fair, I understand your forces have arrived for some time, and it does seem that your luck's holding. For now, but best that we don't leave it to chance, hmm?"

Then the LT-CMDR frowned, and handed a piece of paper to Honda under the table. "この戦闘序列は護衛艦を表示されない。。。¹"

Crumpling the note in his hand after giving it a cursory glance, the admiral looked over at his foreign counterpart as if nothing is wrong. "Also, I do hope to receive the updated Order of Battle when your escorts arrive. It would be most vital if we are to coordinate our forces properly. I hope this is not an issue, Rear-Admiral."

---

1 - "There are no escort vessels listed in this OrBat..."

Jayasur, Janakkhara

The USG party and their Murakami partners traveled with Representative Srijama to the Palace. The city of Jayasur was as they might expect. It was exotic and tropical, with a mix of well to do, high class neighborhoods separated from slums. Singh took it in, noting in particular the slums, where the support for the rebels could come from, even right here in the capital. There were many suffering in poverty that would have no love for the Prince's enforcers. Somehow, that would need to change, but such wasn't the focus of the USG, nor probably the other allies.

As they had arrived, an Intexa intelligence update had been uploaded to the USGSC encrypted net and beamed via satellite to Singh's devices. He got the alert to his phone, but chose to pull it up on his tablet in order to better view the statistics and data. The allies had been identified as the Vionna-Frankenlischians and the Hashirajimans. It was no secret as one couldn't hide such massive, rapid deployments of ships and personnel. He read off the list of ships. What they could and would be willing to commit would have a big impact on the amount of personnel and equipment that the Janakkharan government would contract from the USGSC to supplement their forces and their allies'.

The downtown area was full of historic buildings and the Palace was impressive. They were led through the halls into a meeting parlor where the Prince arrived shortly. They all bowed.
"Your Majesty, it is an honor. I am Mandrakhar Singh and this is my colleague, Graciella Nacimiento, from the Intexa, the support arm of the USG Security Corporation. We will be negotiating the contract for bringing in forces to help in your struggle against the rebels. I'd also like to introduce our friend, Murakami Kentaro, of the infamous Murakami Arms Corporation."

The HPLA Camp
Somewhere in the Western Area of Northern Peninsula

As the USG representatives were meeting with the Prince unbeknownst to both the Cardwithian Advisory and HPLA commands, the Cardwithians were arriving at the Camp where they would meet with Balabah, the leader of the HPLA and fulfill their part of the widening conflict. The journey took some time as they wound through thick jungle, reminiscent of Nesselberg Island back home. Smartly, there was no direct road into the camp, and they had to go on foot at a certain point. They took note of the typical lack of discipline within the camp, where the rebels hung in groups, smoking and joking, in contrast to the outer security of the perimeter and trails leading in to the camp. Some women were about, some doing support duties, some armed fighters themselves. The orange flag of the revolution flew on a rough pole cut from a tree, luckily not high enough that it would be an issue to enemy air.

As they entered, they gave the rebels their space, respectful of them and nodding at them and waving when appropriate. It was natural that the HPLA members would be doubtful and cynical towards the Cardwithian men and women. They were obviously foreign, but not shockingly white, such as some of their international socialist friends, like the Nordic-Slavic ethnic Falkasians. Instead, they had a dark cast to their skin and the tight curly hair common for Melanesian folk like themselves. It wasn't their appearance though, that might garner doubt, so much as their ability to support and care about the HPLA cause.

Finally, they were given the audience they sought with the man known as Balabah.

HS Ibuki, Indian Ocean

Barret sat thinking for a moment, he had noticed the note passing from the corner of his vision but could not read what was written, he decided to leave it. This situation was... Unsatisfactory for him as he had no idea when, or even if, his escorts would arrive, Janakkhara was, after all, no priority for the MoD. "That is perfectly satisfactory," He finally decided on saying in reply, "Thank you, Admiral." He smiled and nodded kindly, holding his hand out for his Hashirajiman counterpart to shake. "Also, might I suggest that missu- Sorry. Midshipman Idris should stay her to act as a liaison officer between the two of us, she has a radio directly connected to mine which would make things far easier than communicating through ship-borne systems."

Jayasur, Janakkhara
Royal Palace

Count Graire stood aside the Prince, hands behind his back and face calm, he stood forward as the USG party introduced themselves. "May I introduce," He began, "His Grace Prince Sanjikapur, Prince, Protector and Autocrat of Janakkhara and it's peoples and Commander in Chief of the Janakkharan forces by land and by sea." He bowed to the USG men and to the prince before introducing himself, "I am Ibrahim Graire, Count of Kikan and His Imperial Majesty, King James the first's ambassador to Janakkhara."

[Location: HS Ibuki, Indian Ocean]

"That would be most welcome." Standing and shaking his counterpart's hand, RADM Honda gestured towards the door "Now, shall I see you to your transport, Admiral Barret?"

====================

After watching the Vionna-Frankenlisch helicopter lift off from the flight deck, Honda turned and headed back towards the bridge. Just short of reaching it, though, he turned towards the newly arrived liason. "Midshipman Idris, how about you head back to the bridge first. I have some matters to discuss with my staff, and I'll join you there in a moment."

He then nodded towards the female officer who had been beside him the whole while, and headed for an empty office just beside the bridge. "So... what do you make of the VF commander this time, everyone?" From a ledge across the room, Akashi snorted. "Classical VF attitude, from what I've seen in reports. Confident, a hint of arrogance, and seems to think he has command over everyone. I've took a look at the security footage, the way that guy was walking practically screamed 'I'm the king of the world.'."

"Takahashi? Any opinions on this?"

"Given their culture, it's not unexpected. They are a rather imperialist people, and such an attitude, between superiors and subordinates, is a common trend. Even Imperial Japan wasn't immune to such ... perceptions, back in the days."

"Fair enough. I suppose we just have to factor that into our plans, then. So, Asashio, what have you got on this guy?" Honda looked over at the Lieutenant Commander.

"Not too much, I'm not exactly in the cyber-warfare branch after all, so most of this is compiled from what they offered and whatever I could find on OSINT. Anyway... Rear Admiral Septimus Barret. Commander of HMNS Magnesium, Flagship 1st BC Squadron, Imperial Vionna-Frankenlisch Navy Red Fleet. Age, 41. He saw action in the Abbas Crisis and Prodavan Sovereignty Crisis, with one instance of being wounded in action for each conflict. Interestingly, he sustained a rather severe shoulder injury in the first conflict. Something about being impaled by a rather large piece of shrapnel, though from what I observed he seems to be holding up fine these days, range of movement is good with no signs of pain or stiffness. Which is kinda odd... anyway, the rest of his career milestones are detailed in the report sitting on your desk right now, shirei.

"In terms of personal background... he's married to a Tilly Barret, nee Oppelnhiemer. Two children, a daughter Jane, age 20, and a son, Adrian, age 10. The daughter is the commanding officer of the Marines detachment aboard HMNS Scandium. Family-wise, the Barrets are respected for their naval tradition, though not too widely known and still middle-class. While the Oppelnhiemers hail from Germana and are known in academia and medicine. The Oppelnhiemers also hold a Barony in their home country.

"Oh. And he had a history of gambling addiction. That's all.

"The ship itself is a Dauntless-class battlecruiser, not much to say about it outside of what we've got. That's unless they've majorly overhauled the ships in the last... should be two weeks. I'm pretty sure Yashima keeps her data very current."

"Annnnd I'm going to assume, given your honestly rather scary efficiency level, that MIO, ONI, Army Intel, and ARA all have a copy of the complete profile?" Honda raised an eyebrow at her.

Asashio merely nodded.

"Well, good job there. Now, I think our guest might just be running out of things to fiddle with right about now. Shall we head back to our respective stations?"

"Sure thing, teitoku!"

"Understood, sir."

"Yes, shirei."