Freedom From Fear (ATTN Conglomerate, ODECON)

[Oseato]

FMS Peiter Denyenes, Second Fleet
Linking up with Leistungi Fourth and Nineth Fleets, International Waters

Several flights of FA-16 Priests roared over the carrier and her close escorts as they moved north. A few of the Stryx fighters that had been flying CAP over the fleet also headed north toward the friendly Leistungi fleets. As they found the closest Leistungi picket ship, a Kardinal class frigate, they overflew it closely waggling their wings in salute before heading back over the Oseaton fleet. All of the aircraft were armed to the teeth with a variety of different missiles. Anti-ship missiles were clearly visible on the FA-16's flying over the fleet, more were being prepared for a strike against Conglomerate forces.

AWACS aircraft also circled the fleet, providing up to date information on the entire composition of the fleet and providing warning if any unidentified aircraft attempted to violate the airspace around the fleet. Ships across the fleet ran numerous drills to test the fire control radars and tested the electronics of the onboard missile systems in order to assure their operational status. Helicopters flew across the fleet tracking possible submarine contacts, dipping their sonar occasionally to check a strong contact, ASW planes zipped over the water dropping patterns of sonar buoys for the same reasons. Meanwhile, Admiral Phillips was in the CIC of the Deyennes speaking with his task force commanders as they formulated the plan to strike the Mian fleet in conjunction with the Leistungis. As he watched the updates on the different components of his fleet come in, Phillips spoke, his words going out to the entire fleet.

"Gentleman, those who have been in this situation before with me know that I'm not one for long winded speeches about glory or how we're doing this for the betterment of liberty or even our dear Vaderdaal," as he continued to speak, Phillips laughed to himself at the though of his Cravanian ancestors reacting to one of their own speaking the boere language instead of proper Cravanian English. He wondered how they would feel about how Oseato had returned itself to its Afrikaner roots even after years of Cravanian rule and influence. However, as quickly as the thoughts came they left to be replaced by concerns of the upcoming operation. "Instead I shall keep this short and crisp. It's time to put these bastards in their rightful place; whether that place is the bottom of the sea or in hell itself, I don't know. But I sure as hell know that their place is not here on these waters challenging the might of the Federalemarine! I expect nothing less than the complete annihilation of whatever conglomeration of ragtag sailors they dare attempt to throw at us. I know you all will perform with the utmost courage and to the fullest extent of your ability. That is all, alle voorspoed en God seën."

Some across the fleet cheered, others nodded, but the entirety of the fleet knew the gravity of the situation. They would do the job they had joined up to do regardless of their feelings, prejudices, or qualms. As klaxons sounded out across the fleet, the Oseaton sailors ran to their battle stations knowing the task before them and what was expected of them. Failure or success, they were Oseatons and would do their damnedest to ensure victory.

[Abruzi]

After several long weeks the Abruzian fleet neared the capital of the Conglomerate, Sanctuary. The massive city lit up the sky to the North as the weary sailors and Marines gazed upon it for the first time. Abruzi had in the time they had been absent officially joined the Conglomerate as a full member and as such their orders had changed from establishing a rally point in Sanctuary to staking out the all important section of the city that would be constructed by Abruzi for representation in the Conglomerate's massive home of steel and concrete.

Saoud and the other Marines excitedly discussed the possibility of a two day pass for R&R as they had been confined for their vessels for the better part of a month. The digital camouflage clad men sat around a bubbling coffee pot as they talked, optimistic until the hand of command reached down and squashed all of their relaxation ambitions. Lt. Anderson the leader of PFC. Saoud's platoon stepped into the cluttered squad bay and said,

"Orders were just received from the homeland. We the Marines will receive fresh supplies airlifted in from Abruzi, from there we will be placed on Bald Eagle. In the event one of our allies get's into the shit we'll be the ones to go either bail them out or get shot to hell right alongside 'em. I want you all ready for work once we dock so get your rest now girls, we have a hell of a lot of work cut out for us."

The Lt. smartly stepped out just before the Marines near exploded in groans. After three weeks of transit they had to go on Bald Eagle the most stressful and dangerous operation an Abruzian Marine could receive. As the Lt. said the Marine would be on standby waiting for someone to bite off more than they could chew, then it would be their job to go save them. It was high risk to say the least as re-supply was not guaranteed nor was a save LZ.

The Marines of the First Platoon of the Second Company of the First Marine Division swiftly packed up their coffee pot and began to clean their weapons, Abruzi had never been to war alongside the Conglomerate but if things kept moving like they were that would change.

[Jenrak]

It had been a few days since the small scuffle and the tiny mobilizations of the current Thrones placed her off guard. Sephilia was sweating and clenching her teeth everyday, and it only seemed inevitable that she would turn to emergency powers to maintain power. A mysterious force was affecting the fringe Nakros states, and the Satirians were already applying for ODECON membership based on aggressive positioning within their region. The Conglomerate was waiting for a move from ODECON to finalise the declaration of war to a full on invasion, and she had only recently heard of the explosion regarding Authaulus' death and Nahk's murder.

Long and pale fingers were running through frazzled hair and she was clenching her teeth so often in the past few days that she was on the verge of declaring an immediate dissolution. An immediate Primeskaus of combating power. "Who is going to take care of the Tempestras and the Core?" She asked Mahara, whose head was low and bowed faithfully though painfully in a wave of insecurity. Sershenan was already waging war on the Defesians in the south, and the Sandurian Kings were already prepared to commit offensives against her at any sign of weakness. At least, it seemed to be - she had shown many signs over the past few days, and the declaration of war by an unknown enemy through the use of one of her cruise missiles did not help.

Only chaos wrapped itself around her, and the sheets that moved the clouds in her small world because to move so quickly it seemed that fake storms would ravage fake mountains. Her throne was left with her presence but bare of any power that she commanded. All of it faded to her words, and what seemed to be her triumph became her downfall. She clenched her teeth again, as her once soft hands were cut with the nails that dug deep into her palms. Her chest was rising and falling in anger, confusion and anticipation for the worst. She shook her head, her chest rising and falling once more.

"This...isn't happening." She spoke with a gruff anger unlike her soft cavalcade of song. "This...isn't - "

"It's happening, your Highness, and if I must be so frank as to say so," Mahara prepared himself, a small gulp of his own gutso as he walked eggshells around Sephilia, "you need to take immediate command. You need to show the Amalgamate that you are in charge. By Primeskaus if need be."

"I don't know if it will win the war, however. I - "

"The war isn't your concern!" Mahara snapped back, his own fists clenched at the thought. "Lady Sephilia, if you wish for me to call you that by the end of the day, then allow me to do my job as a proper adviser. Take control of the Amalgamate as the Primarch of the Core, then take control of the Tempestras as the Vizith of the Church. Appoint Denise as your Primarch, and Saerus as your Tempestra. Allow them to - "

"The Lords will not allow it." Sephilia contested irrationally.

"The Lords are too busy being killed by this mystery foe for us to pose a real threat." He was shaking with anticipation and rage. "My Queen, this is your chance. Make the most of it. If you wish to end this war, then all of the Amalgamate against them. You can only do that by solidifying your existing power base. Let the weaker states burn so you can arise at the top and stay there." Mahara was such a whithered husk before her magnificence, and here it seemed as but a lowly old man stood before the words of an angel. Though it wasn't Sephilia who was giving counsel - it was Mahara. Edoqlius, a crazed and psychotic man who bathed in blood and drank the tears of others, was giving Sephilia counsel on how to run a breaking Amalgamate empire.

And she was believing it. Soft skies a lit upon the fabrics of a false atmosphere moved with her movements, and there, by whims of words and thought and resolution alone, she rose, clenching her teeth no longer. "Get the message out, Edoqlius. I will drag the Amalgamate, kicking and screaming if need be, to succession."

[Reijvajik]

The President shuffled slowly across the courtyard of the Capitol, shoulders hunched, cup of coffee in hand, and bags hanging like swollen tears from his eyes. The morning air was cool and crisp, the slight breeze sending small chills running up his spine, until they were nullified by the wooly, black scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. Small, wilted leaves fell gracefully from the old sycamores planted symmetrically on either side of the pathway in which he was standing, drifting slowly to the ground, where they would be swiftly swept away by the maintenance staff. Winter mornings in Wysken were always cold, carrying with them a sense of melancholy, but for some reason, ever since the pressures of leading a nation had been heaped on him, they had taken the liberty of reminding him of how old he was getting, and of how many things there were going on in the world that were completely out of his control. War, of course, being one of them.

Promptly, a small man strode towards Kristofferson and offered his hand. He looked him over: for some reason, he bore the resemblance of a large, polished stone, his head being barren, and his waist seemingly larger each time he saw him. Beneath his white, unbuttoned collar was a faded, red tie, which was tied with a small knot at the neck. He carried under his arm a plain manila folder, the "All-You-Need-to-Know Presidential Dossier", no doubt, from which several sheets of paper hung precariously, on them printed the happenings which he would have to stress over for the day, before promptly forgetting of them the next day. He could see the seal of ODECON on the top of one of the pages.

"News from ODECON?" he asked, his voice raspy, like sandpaper. He cleared his throat, but that seemed to come to no aid.

"Indeed, Mister President. As it happens, the various fleets of ODECON have been put to sea. There's some clips from a few of the newspapers, if you want them... the Austerbeck Druk-Registreer..."

He began to thumb through his folder, several sheets falling into the snow at the sides of the path. Quickly gathering them, he brushed them off, before smiling, with embarrassment, at the President.

"Come, we'll walk, Johnston," he said, heading for his office. But before he'd walked a few paces, he stopped, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Johnston watched him with curiosity, as his eyes glazed over and his mind seemed to return to deep thought.

"You know, it's funny. There's all this hate, all that death, slaughter, whatever, that we're looking to defeat, and the only means we can use are more hate, more death, more slaughter. Sometimes, Johnston, I come to think about whether or not we're all just stuck in a vicious cycle of some sort." He looked over at Johnston, who simply glanced back at him before staring at his shoes. There was a sort of heroic stoicism in his eyes, like that in some medieval war general, even though he'd never been to war, even seen it first hand in his life. After a while, all there was was silence as they both gazed off into different directions.

"Well, what do you think, Johnston?" the President asked finally, his lips growing pale from the cold.

"Well, I guess you can't think of it that way, Mister President. After all, we're talking about liberating a people, here. The ends justify the means, if you ask me. Fight fire with fire, no?"

"I'll have to admit, Johnston, I don't know anymore. But I don't suppose we have a choice but to take our part. Tell the Admiral of the Navy to ready our ships and have them on high alert. I'll make sure we let ODECON know that we're at their command."

He sighed, and walked off, leaving Johnston standing, alone, in the courtyard, with his hands in his pockets.

[New Azura]

Operation Capricorn
Royal Armed Forces Central Command (CENCOM)
City of Nor'Calais, Molien Prefecture, New Azura
Tuesday, May 18th, 2010 - 1630 Hours Military

"Attention! His Majesty the King!
The sovereign regent of the Azuran Kingdom was more attuned to the idea of dispensing with the formalities of his titular role as King of the Azuran Empire, but being the lone heir in the House of Alexandros usually served to preserve historical traditions, rather than break with them. All in all, having become a murder (in the Royal Palace, no less) stood to be enough of a reason to desire a cessation of formalities and to get down to business.
King William VI walked briskly towards his seat at the end of the meeting table. Central Command's C.O.C. (Chief Operations Centre) had an exquisite little meeting room, similar to the King's own Control Room back in Capodimonte. It was secluded from the main visual data room in the facility, and was adjacent to the airstrip in an underground bunker-type facility. The table was filled out with various representatives of the Royal Armed Forces - Army, Navy, Air Force, S.R.S. Corps, Prefecture Guard, Poinsettia Sentinels - and a few diplomatic representatives, like Senator Michel Avalon from Molien Prefecture. Avalon was the head of Parliament's Chief Military Revue Board, and was a token piece of the old guard sitting in Parliament, endlessly debating politics. If it weren't for his initial promise upon taking the throne, William Alexandros would have throttled every single self-serving politician serving in the institution.
At least Michel had the good sense to mind his manners, politely and professionally bowing to the King of New Azura. William took his place behind the table, having a military aide push his chair in behind him. With an extension of his hand, William brought everyone back into their chairs.
"Gentlemen," he began, "I know that there are a plethora of rumors and uncertainties heading into this meeting. Verily, I'm sure most have heard by now of Consul General Hawkins'... resignation from his position..."
The last line was delivered lightly, but there was no mistaking the challenge in the King's voice. Of course, rumors would be circulating regarding the murder of Neal Hawkins, a member of the King's inner circle of trusted counsel by the King's own hand. Whether the King held the lawful right to murder a treasonous bastard would have to be discussed another day. He was sure that he knew Michel Avalon would be interested to see where Parliament's jurisdiction fell in prosecuting the sovereign regent.
"Well, allow me to assuage the fears that you may be feeling right now. Indeed, Consul General Hawkins has resigned from his post, in a manner of speaking, and I have already contacted his replacement. In exercising my authority as the Sovereign Regent of New Azura and her Colonial Empire, I have decided to promote Field Marshal Alistair Konica to the position of acting Consul General for the immediate future. Consul General Konica is currently transferring his private affairs from his office as Governor-General of Yehuda Prefecture to Central Command here in Nor'Calais. We'll expect him here before night's end."
The King paused for a moment, attempting to take the pulse of the room. Alistair Konica was a well-respected member of the military establishment, although he was far more active in the attempted military coup of Elijah Velez than William would have liked. Still, Konica had never slighted him personally, and the man's military intelligence was exceptional, making him a perfect fit for the role until a personal protégé could be groomed.
The King continued: "Now, onto the purpose of our gathering here today. Ever since the Royal Government of New Azura made overtures to the Conglomerate in January, we've known that this day would come. Now, rest assured, New Azura has maintained an exemplary military apparatus over the years, yet we've come of age within the current geopolitical spectrum. New Azura is a feared military power, renowned for its tactical prowess as much as its rigid efficiency on the fields of war. I'm not excusing the criminal acts of Daniel McAllen, mind you, nor do I justify the brushfire wars of President Karvounis or 'Emperor' Elijah. However, New Azura has made her bed, and now she shall enjoy the fruits of her labors."
A deathly cold pallor enveloped the military conference room, just as the King had anticipated. Speaking of the devastation that New Azura had wrought in Albrante was one thing: the nation had been nigh obliterated by a fiery onslaught of Hellish proportions - it's people maimed, it's treasuries plundered, it's lands raped of their material worth - under the oh-so-watchful eye of Daniel McAllen. Elijah Velez had somehow managed an even greater feat of macabre gruesomeness, putting twenty-three million Azurans to the sword in a blistering nuclear holocaust. The Azuran Keys were stll feeling the effects of their nuclear annihilation, though the King postulated that the festering biological weapon loosed in the ruins would probably be a much more horrifying ordeal, as fanatical as the idea seemed.
"We need to remember that the Kingdom of New Azura, for better or worse, is considered a nation best left alone. How many wars have been prevented, merely at the mention of our involvement? How many diplomatic aides have wept bitterly at the thought of meting an 'Albrantan Fate'? Could there be a more appropriate time to take advantage of New Azura's military capabilities?"
"My lord," Sky Marshal Hirsch piped in, "I believe I speak for all of us here when I say this, though please, forgive me if I overstep my bounds." The King stared at him silently, more than a bit perturbed at having been challenged with a response.
It was a damned rhetorical question!
Marshal Hirsch had no perception of the King's thought patterns, unfortunately. "The Conglomerate's hierarchy has specifically stated that we're not obligated to participate in their current struggle with ODECON, seeing as we weren't diplomatically recognized as having any part in the conflict from its inception. I mean, isn't that what we're here for to discuss today? Military involvement in the struggle against ODECON?"
The King seethed, but kept his words in check. Festering an internal conflict amongst his top military echelon wasn't the best way to conduct business. Not with a military conflict looming on the horizon. "Indeed, Sky Marshal Hirsch, that is what we are here for, and yes, I have perceived the inherent nervousness of our military brass in launching a full scale campaign in such a broad-reaching conflict. Yet where was this nervousness when the Serpent War was raging at sea? Where was the objection to aiding guerrillas around the world in their fight against tyrannical dictatorships? I see no cause for concern, even in the face of such a monumental task."
"Your Majesty," Director General Windham quipped, "you may rest assured that our nervousness is in no way, shape, or form an indictment against the postulation of our success probability in entering the Conglomerate-ODECON War. In fact, given the Royal Government's generous contributions to our defense budget, I remain quite convinced that our country's finest will account themselves beyond all measurable expectations before all is said and done. No sir, my lord, our nervousness is an anxiety to learn the extent of our involvement in the conflict."
A gruff chorus of agreements and nods flooded the conference room. Senator Avalon, even, seemed to be nodding for war, albeit for a totally different reason. The scumbag, intentionally inciting hawkish behavior to gain a bit more civilian authority through his seat in Parliament. Nonetheless, he was a scumbag with a little bit of authority, so the King would gladly welcome the schmuck to his camp. Anything to gain political support from the civilian government.
"Then I shall make my official proclamation to this military tribunal, for your edification and examination." The King motioned for a military aide to approach him. "Would you please secure me a cup of coffee please. Lots of cream, even more sugar."
The orderly gave a courteous bow before promptly making for a cup of coffee to please his King. William continued: "It is my distinct desire to demonstrate to the Conglomerate... our commitment and our loyalty to those who we would call brothers-at-arms. The allies of New Azura must know that the men and women of the Azuran Realm will stop at nothing in defending her territorial interests, and those of her allies. Gentlemen, ODECON has taken to firing on Conglomerate vessels, refusing captured vessel crews the basic tenets of civility and, dare I say, human rights. Such a barbaric practice is hypocritical when considering their 'objective' in enacting such macabre practices. Now, let us not delve into the subject of chattel trade, for we have not the time nor the energy to discuss such practices here. What we must examine is the casus belli for our involvement in the War of ODECON Aggression. Verily, I say unto you, that inasmuch as we must prove our loyalty to our allies, we must prove our fierceness to the tyrants and the despots of the world. Ergo, I formally declare that New Azura shall seek - and obtain - a full and complete Declaration of War against the various member-states of ODECON, lambasting said member-states with the full and utmost condemnations this government can muster."
A chorus of applause and thundering agreement filled the room, thus lending a bit of credence to Director General Windham's postulations. It would serve to reckon that the top figure of the military's primary Special Forces branch would have the pulse of the nation's military elite. William was interrupted from the lavish applause by the military aide, who had procured his cup of coffee. The King politely accepted the ceramic mug before giving the slightest of nods to the young aide. Sipping at the piping hot mug, William found the taste of the coffee to his liking.
"Sir, permission to speak, sir?" It was his new Field Marshal-to-Be, Thomas Wentz. Only an Army puke...
"Granted," William mused humorously.
"Sir," Wentz began, "I've had my staff take the liberty of preparing a full and complete dossier on the individual nations of ODECON. In addition, with the full blessing of Consul General Hawkins prior to his resignation, my staff has prepared a complete military strategy for your approval."
Okay, so he's an Army puke with a bit of foresight.
"Extrapolate," the King commanded.
Wentz started in. "Well, Your Highness, at current projections, our Matériel-to-Manpower, or "M2M" Ratio is at approximately 50-to-1. We've allocated enough money from our war treasury to fund our military fifty times over. In fact, we have such a surplus of weaponry and matériel from Lyran Arms and LG Defense Contractors that we gave serious consideration to selling off our older McElveen models. With the scope of the ensuing conflict, our military stockpiles will provide us with a great numerical advantage over our adversaries. While their industrial facilities must pump out more vehicles, ships, planes, weapons, and ammunition, our industrial facilities may concentrate on not only staying ahead on production quotients, but also continue to produce material goods for our economy. In short, New Azura has never been in a better position to wage war."
"Very good, General Wentz. Continue!"
Wentz moved a stack of papers from a manila folder, speaking as he read them. "Our military facilities in the colonies have been inspected for the year, and all facilities have checked out. We have no less than ten garrisons in each of our twenty-four colonial dependencies. Our overseas protectorates are currently standing strong in their own defensive maneuvers, and our administrative districts are well secured, or are otherwise of no strategic concern given their proximity to our main sovereign lands. Therefore, with a full military complement of three hundred and fifty million active soldiers, sailors, and airmen, discounting our contingencies in the Prefecture Guard and the Poinsettia Sentinels, it is the recommendation of the Council of Marshals that you allocate no more than one hundred and twenty million troops to any overseas engagement, forty million troops to the defense of our colonial dependencies and sixty million troops to be kept in reserve on homeland defense. In addition, we recommend the full mobilization of all military reserves, in addition to the activation of the Prefecture Guards and the Poinsettia Sentinels for comprehensive military protection of the Azuran mainland."
The King allowed the General to finish, then slowly nodded. "Not bad, not too bad at all. Are there any major objections to to the plan submitted by General Wentz and his staff?"
It was the Air Force's Major General John Burnside that made a petition. "Sir, with all due respect to General Wentz and his allocations, such a Herculean effort would require more funding that anyone at this table would care to admit. If we are to continue to invest in our next generation of weapons research, we must be more fiscally minded. Those troop deployment totals are simply too astronomical to consider!"
"General," Wentz exclaimed, "I see no cause for alarm with this package. The mobilization of our Azuran Expeditionary Force will be the most consuming effort of our mobilization. The defense of our colonial dependencies and the Azuran mainland itself can be done by men and matériel already present in those locations. Mounting the AZEX Force will be costly, yes, but no more costly than any other large scale mobilization that we've undertaken."
"The S.R.S. Corps is fully prepared to mobilize one hundred and twenty divisions for the Wentz Plan," Director General Windham added. "Though I must remind my colleagues here that the Royal S.R.S. Corps alone mobilize in half the time that it takes our sibling branches, owing to the nature of our military services. It would be a wise move to deploy the Corps first, even if mobilization efforts keep the brunt of our Expeditionary Force in New Azura for the time being."
The King nodded approvingly. "Do you concur, Sea Marshal Johnston?"
The Navy's top military officer concurred. "Your Majesty, it is the official policy of the Royal Navy to allow the Royal S.R.S. Corps the usage of our primary troop ships for the purposes of disembarkation and deployment. We further concur with the strategy proposed by General Wentz."
"Very well," the King nodded. "General Burnside, will the Royal Air Force be up to the challenge? I know that your objections to this strategy have been noted."
"With all due respect, Your Highness, I would like to extend formal apologies to my colleagues here today. If it be the will of this tribunal, Sky Marshal Victor gives his full and complete approval. We could have our contingencies mapped and mobilized within ninety-six hours, given enough support from our logistical chains."
The King rose stoically. "You'll have the support. You'll all have the support. Gentlemen, I go now to secure the unequivocal support of Parliament. If Parliament signs off, the public will sign off on this endeavor. Make no mistake, 'tis a mighty endeavor that we now find ourselves in. Surely, New Azura has yet to see a fiery tempest the likes of which we are prepared to meet. Yet the Lord above has ordained this generation to see the rise of the Azuran Superstate. We will not falter, we will not fail, and we shall never surrender. You have my official approval to mobilize according to the Wentz Plan. I'll leave the official paperwork to my adjunct, to be completed no later than 0900 Hours tomorrow. Gentlemen, you're excused."
The military brass all rose from their seats, most with varying degrees of optimism etched into their hardened features. As expected, General Wentz arose beaming from his chair, though the King managed to temper down his enthusiasm greatly. Still, the boldness to suggest nigh-total mobilization on the part of General Wentz, even if it was a mere smokescreen to a military industrial complex already in place was pretentious, ostentatious, and down-right conceited. New Azura needed more leadership with the chutzpah to be so bold.
As the more quiet military attaches began filing out of the room, the King began to ponder - and not for the first time - New Azura's true military potential. Sure, she'd amassed a colonial empire that was second to none, but what could New Azura do when given a virtually limitless supply of weaponry, ammunition, food, clothing, oil, and manpower? Having such large pools of men and matériel at their disposal gave the Azuran military command (and by extension himself) the kind of luxurious resources that bred undue optimism. Undue optimism was the bastard love child of unbridled power, and it was that unbridled power that concerned William the most. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Nonetheless, he had the information he needed, the rather brisk meeting had been adjourned, and it was time to leave. He had plenty of work to be done before he retired to Capodimonte for the evening. His thoughts had been heavy with the treasonous act of his friend, Consul General Hawkins. His death, albeit heinously executed, was the deserving punishment of a traitor to the King. Still, it would be an act that his conscious would be forced to wrestle with for the remainder of his life.
The situation in the Azuran Keys was a different matter entirely. The poor souls trapped in the ruinous wastelands of the Nuclear Decontamination Zone had done nothing to deserve the insanity that had been loosed upon them. The fluke militia attack on the aircraft carrying that damned Andromeda Strain, that engineered viral hemorrhagic fever was unfortunate enough as it was. Now, just as the population was beginning to grow wise about the situation in the Keys, a new war was in its final stages of development.
William sighed, taking another sip of coffee from his mug. It was definitely not the most convenient of times to be dealing with a military quarantine of a white zone, that was for sure. Yet New Azura was irrevocably tied to the success of the Conglomerate, both militarily and financially. Some of the most trusted allies to the Royal Government were already heavily engaged with ODECON Forces. To refuse to fully aid the Conglomerate at this stage of the game would be treasonous - something the head of the House of Alexandros could not, would not afford at this stage in the game.
For sure, New Azura's sudden entrance to an already vast and destructive tempest would only fan the flames of war hotter. Truly, the specter of war was beginning to wax increasingly brighter among the hawks of his counsel. This day had been coming for some time, sadly enough. Despite the King's personal reservations about the chattel trade, this wasn't the time, nor the place to be discussing such ethical concerns. As he'd said to his military counsel: New Azura had made her bed. Now, it was time to lie in it.
William took the last sips of coffee available from his mug, sitting the ceramic cup down upon the table top once he'd finished it off. There was still plenty of work to be done before he could call it a day. Resolved to his destiny, King William VI valiantly strode towards the conference room door, confident that the Azuran Empire was about to experience the most intense conflict it would ever experience.

---

Royal Armed Forces Southern Command (SOUCOM)
City of Port Veronica, Vespera Prefecture, New Azura
Tuesday, May 18th, 2010 - 1710 Hours Military

For once, it paid to be sick.
Sky Marshal John Victor had been struck down by the most Hellish case of the flu he'd ever seen. Unfortunately for him, it could not have sidelined him at a worse time. He'd had to send a staffer to Nor'Calais for him, one who didn't share his optimism for the capabilities of the Azuran military machine. Of course, Victor wasn't a war hawk, not by a long shot. Yet his brand of loyalty and dedication to ones friends had translated pretty early on into a "Pro-Conglomerate" stance, at least in terms of waging war with them.
Nothing if not persistent, the Victor Clan.
This was true. Victor's family had been well established in the annals of Azuran Military Tradition. His father, Thomas Victor had served beside Thomas C. DeWitt during the final Azuran-Montemayoran Conquest in the early 1980s. Though DeWitt's passing was difficult to bear, Victor had been instilled by his father to always place loyalty and allegiance to the uniform, not who was wearing it. For John Victor, it had become the principle that had driven his life.
Still, it was with a somewhat mild shock that the word had arrived so quickly from Nor'Calais - mobilize. And from the sounds of it, that young prick Wentz had managed to ramrod his proposal down the King's throat. Whether or not it was the correct course of action would be determined once New Azura made it to the war zone. Victor sincerely hoped in the mean time that the aggressive Wentz wasn't going to tie up too many resources in defending New Azura's more vital domestic interests.
Even still, the whole quarantine zone in the Azuran Keys was causing the NORCOM Brass fits up in Saxony. Wentz was a WESCOM figure, operating without the cumbersome restrictions of having to contain the world's most insidious biological weapon from escaping to civilization. After the tonnage of nuclear Hell that had fallen on the Azuran Keys, did they really warrant the designation of "civilization" anymore? Perhaps blasting those worthless rocks to Hell and gone had been a blessing in disguise. Had some idiot yahoo unleashed that damned bug on Azuran soil, everyone would be quite nicely screwed.
Victor sighed, already growing tired of his musings. He'd managed to scrape his influenza-riddled ass out of bed long enough to make it to his desk, where he'd promptly collapsed in a fit of cursing and exhaustion. Still, he could stand to sign the mobilization orders for the Air Force's contingencies. After all, the Royal Air Force was his pride and joy! There was no way in Hell that he'd let Windham and the S.R.S. Corps take all the initial credit. If ODECON was going to feel the full thundering fury of three hundred and fifty million screaming Azurans, it'd be the Air Force that gift-wrapped them a nice big "fuck you kindly" first.
All that was required to remit the official order was to sign on the dotted line, thanks to the miracle invention of the military teletype. The official designation of crews and their deployment locales would be handled during the follow-up inspections. It would take a few more hours before exact dossiers would be drawn up, and even then it would take at least forty eight hours for the pilots to have memorized their target dossiers. Still, it was a start. Even Victor could take solace in that.
Already, the hubbub was engulfing the tarmac hangars outside his main office. Air crews on their fivers were undoubtedly aware of the imminent declaration of war. Hell, even though the King was theoretically responsible for at least broaching the idea with Parliament, no one was going to begrudge him a little leeway in the matters. Parliament had demonstrated time and time again that they'd lick the King's naps if it meant holding on to any vestige of authority in the way things were going. If the King was such a trusting sort, they'd have all be locked up and imprisoned for gross incompetence on the spot.
Victor checked his watch, scowling that he'd continued to waste more of his precious time. There would be plenty of season left following the war to mull over how best to dick over Parliament. For now, his primary focus was to prepare the grounds for the Royal Air Force. There had been a lot of upgrades made to the standard flight packages that most of his Air Wings were using. Still, he preferred the more comfortable McElveen models, thanks to their efficiency and their reliability. The Lyran material was mostly geared towards the Army, but LG Defense Contractors had produced a lot of new planes and equipment for the Air Force, and most of the McElveen models had been requisitioned to the Prefecture Air Guard back in February. It was unfortunate that he didn't have more McElveen equipment lying around, though the operational maneuvers with the new birds had been a rave review.
Victor finished signing his Hancock to the paperwork, leaning back in his chair. There was still the unknown variable lurking off in the horizon. Now that the top levels of the Royal Government had seen what Rickenbacker-Praxa could do, would there ever be a call to instigate a limited intentional release in a war zone? And if so, would the Air Force be called on for the job?
Like Hell!
John laughed heartily, then attempted not to hack up a long in the process. There was no chance in Hell that King William, as foolhardy as he could be sometimes, was going to risk using an untested Andromeda Strain in battle. Hell, he'd had enough trouble making the call to manipulate the virus up north in the Keys, which was proving to be an increasingly wise... or idiotic movement, dependent on which side of the political aisle you happened to fall on.
John Victor didn't much care either way, for it didn't really affect his plans. Not immediately, anyhow. What would affect his plans would be the mobilization of all available Air Wings on active duty. The monumental task ahead of his Logistical Corps would be a daunting one, but one that he was confident could be achieved successfully and without major delay. The Logistical Corps of the Royal Air Force had been drilled and re-drilled for countless years, owing in part to their ties to the Missile Defense Network. Even after the mantle of New Azura's missile command structure had been passed, the Royal Air Force had been drilled to perfection, both in combat, detection, repair, and logistics. They were among the very best in the world.
Sky Marshal Victor slowly rose from his chair, a bit wobbly at first. But as his legs dug down for the additional strength, a renewed sense of pride filled his heart. The Royal Air Force was prepared for all eventualities, including its insertion into a World War. The men and women under his command were well adapted to fighting for their lives in civil struggles, so a struggle over foreign lands was well within the realm of possibility for success. That his pilots had been bred for viciousness and tenacity in the air gave them an edge that couldn't be matched easily. With their numbers, training, and equipment, they could take on the world.
They're ready. Are you ready?
Victor shook his head. Only time would tell.

[New Azura]

An Official Communiqué of the

Glorious Ixionist Empire of New Azura
From the Hand of His Eminence, the Righteous Ixion William VI

To: The Office of the President of ODECON
From: His Eminence Ixion William VI
Subj: An Official Proclamation by the Ixion

Honored Leader & Principal Figure of the Oceanic Defense Coalition:
It was with profound sadness and compunction that I learned of the current conflict being established between the various nation-states of the Oceanic Defense Coalition and those who are aligned with the Conglomerate. Verily, such a conflict as great as the one now present between these two vast and prodigious entities will be long remembered as a potentially monumental struggle that could potentially reshape the balance of power within the confines of the modern geopolitical spectrum. These two alliances maintain such a broad sphere of influence; nay, an expansive persuasion of authority and control, that any conflict between the two Herculean Titans is bound to cause a massive disruption to the internal affairs of nation-states and multinational alliances alike. That the current conflict has been contained to the perceived injustices, follow-on threats, and the pursuant countermeasures expected in an uncivil mêlée is commendable. Understanding, of course, that such a commendation should not be taken as a token display of our sentiments towards the Oceanic Defense Coalition.
The Glorious Ixionist Empire - and the Righteous and Noble Hegemonic Ancestry of the Alexandros Lineage upon which it was founded - has maintained the highest traditions of excellence, virtue, nobility, diplomacy, and civility. We have championed the cause of human and civil rights for countless generations. We have come to the defense of the defenseless, policed the lawlessness of tyrannical societies, clothed and fed the homeless, and liberated the oppressed. We've waged more brush fire wars to liberate an enclave of our human brethren preparing to meet their demise under threats of duress from a genocidal despot more times than you have wired official telegrams to your member-states.
We wish not to impute, convey, or in any other manner insinuate the perception that the Glorious Ixionist Empire of New Azura feigns innocence over the potentially serious consequences of the human chattel trade, which is a perceived grievance that prompted the formal procurement of a Declaration of War against the Conglomerate. Indeed, the official stance of His Eminence the Righteous Ixion regarding the human chattel trade is one of abject consternation, and in New Azura’s dealings with human chattel-trading nations, habitual trepidation. For the survival of our empire, the Ixion and the Righteous and Noble Hegemonic Ancestry of the Alexandros Lineage have historically ascribed to our sagacity a certain merit towards the convention of righteous mediation and judiciousness when dealing with hot-button political matters. Such a recourse is prudent, we would argue, when faced with the ever-present threat of annihilation.
The preceding notwithstanding, we wish to make it clear that your rash decision to declare a state of war between the Oceanic Defense Coalition and the member-states of the Conglomerate is a foolhardy gesture, and one that carries dire consequences. The belief that the Oceanic Defense Coalition could “right a wrong” with such a macabre and barbaric practice as open warfare deserves its place in the shameful annals of macabre human depravity. To believe that you can adjudicate an immoral wrong by punishing the innocent makes you hypocritical and weak. You should be ashamed of yourselves to the last.
Ergo, in keeping with the highest in diplomatic traditions, the Glorious Ixionist Empire of New Azura officially rebukes the Oceanic Defensive Coalition, charging upon it full condemnation for their needless and reckless attempt at bringing the international community to the bring of a worldwide catastrophe. Furthermore, the Glorious Ixionist Empire of New Azura denounces the war hungry nation-states who have threatened or placed under duress any nation, past or present, to achieve purely political goals. We call upon all nations of the world to condemn such a hawkish and unnecessary show of sabre-rattling. The Glorious Ixionist Empire of New Azura, despite our history, shall not sink to the level of ODECON's political and ill-served actions.
Our condemnation has been noted in the personal and public logs of His Eminence the Righteous Ixion on May 21st, 2010.

By the Hand of His Eminence the Righteous Ixion William VI,
Let it Be Done, This the 21st Day of May in the Year of Our Lord, Two Thousand and Ten.

His Eminence William Alexandros, the Righteous Ixion,
of the Righteous and Noble Hegemonic Ancestry of the Alexandros Lineage

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