We Must Move On: Insaanistan Post-Civil War [IC/Read OP]

[Mosarat]

https://www.nationstates.net/page=dispatch/id=1665056

President Mikhail Pavlov was shot by a Russian assassin. It came as no surprise that this would happen after Pavlov recklessly said in a speech ordering Putin to back away from Ukraine or face assassination. Now Pavlov was shot in the shoulder. Wounded but alive and expected to make it. It was a warning not just him but all of Gaia.

Meanwhile the Joint Chief of Staff of the Seniat Union sent a telegram to Yusuf.

From: Meret Isaev, The Joint Chief of Staff of The Seniat Union
To: Yusuf Abdul-Ghaffar President of The Republic of Insaanistan
Dear Comrade Yusuf Abdul Ghaffar:
This is The Joint Chief of Staff of the Seniat Union. We offer you an olive branch to you in your effort to repel New Antarctica. Our nation is fundamentally opposed to the Communist government there and is very concerned about it’s occupation of the Sharifistani border. The President has given authorization to allow the Blue Army to help Insaanistan and we hope you accept the offer.
Sincerely, Meret Isaev, The Joint Chief of Staff of The Seniat Union

[New Antarcticania]

After the discovery that Sonakion is in fact just a bunch of insurgents, RETCONNING Antarctican objectives to blowing up the separatists instead of blowing up the Jundallah. Still supposedly accepting the request for aid from the rebels, but the Antarctican government is trying to join team isan here for the sake of preserving the status quo and stability. And this means attempting to negotiate with the Langenians and Isannis, which they are doing, this is just a placeholder.

"Aileron, Flaps, check."
"SLAPSHOT 11, checks complete, taxiing to cat 1."

"Haha, bombs go BOOOM BOOOMMM"
LCol Nikita Romanivich "SLAPSHOT 11"
1403th NSS "Caucasia's bombardiers"
2nd air arm
Battlefleet Caucasia
Somwhere in the North Atlantic.

He guided his Front gear carefully into the Catapult until the Visa-vested Man in the front of his MiG-29K raised his arms in a signal to stop.
It was a fine aircraft, the 29. An array of Bombs, drop tanks, and a couple of R-77 BVRAAMs (in case the Langenians and Isaani fighters disagreed with their presence) bristled on her hardpoints. Piloted by people who know what they're doing (unlike some air forces who uses the MiG series).
The Navy-blue paint seems to be absorbing the sunlight aimed at it while the catapult crew line up from a safe distance.
Green flag, deflectors up.
Red flag, Positions secured, Final pressure test on Catapult.
Yellow flag,
Launch!

Several hours later...
Somewhere above the North Atlantic
145km to Moroccan coast
1st Lt Vassily Berieva "NODICE 23"
238th NSS "Cherenkov's vultures"
2nd air arm
Battlefleet Caucasia

"80 miles to Moroccan coast", the AEW&C announced, "BVRs at the ready, assume combat formation. We've got AESAs off and ready, lets chop some Rebel ass!"
With the flick of an Master arming switch, the Plane's AESA radars spun to life, detecting aircraft (who wasn't stealthed) up to 500km. However, Berieva isn't going to be chopping any rebel ass today, for he was flying an unarmed MiG-29KEW. A domestically modified variant of the MiG-29K with it's Weapon hardpoints and other items deemed unnecessary for it's main purpose, Radar jamming.
When in range, The KEW could have serious implications for any SAM system's Early warning radars, severly hampering their ability to see where the targets are, not to mention even acquiring a lock. And though it's due for replacement later this year, it's still an reliable jammer that can still hold a lot of power in the modern battlefield.
Despite being completely unarmed with the exception of a drop tank on the centerline, it was Berieva's flight of these radar jammers that is leading the charge. Followed closely behind by the regular MiGs and Yak-44.

The 20-plane-strong formation was speeding towards the Sonikonian airfield, whose coordinated were lovingly provided by the Soniakonians themselves. For they expected relief, supplies , and faith from the Antarcticans.

In reality, though. The only thing they'll be getting is 250lbs bombs falling on their tarmac like the autumn rain.
The war has begun.

[New Antarcticania]

OFFICAL COMMUNIQUÉ FROM THE MINISTRY OF EXTERNAL AFFAIRS, AN OFFICIAL BRANCH OF THE CURRENT GOVERNMENT AND CABINET OF NEW ANTARCTICA.
To: The Government of Isaanistan
Encryption: ABSOLUTE HIGHEST

For 2 years now, have the Governments of New Antarctica, Isaanistan, and Subsequently Langenia been in a state of 'cold hostilities'. For 2 years now have this corner of the world in the world we call the Mediterranean have been the world's new frontline, the result? A powder keg that appears like it's going to explode with a mushroom cloud. Well, I am pleased to announce that all branches of this one's government--including the Premier. Have decided to say "No more!" To throw the water at the keg before the flame reaches the end of the fuse! And to bring this region to a more brighter world of peace! If not for us, for our children! For our elder to die under a peaceful sky and not under clouds of ash! For the future prosperity of all! And the existence of The insurgency in the Maghreb region will make an excellent first step towards this new movement of Peace instead of war.

The Insurgents have sent cries of plead in transmission after transmission to send aid to them im the forms of weapons and bombs, giving us coordinates to certian foward or Main bases where we believe to house most of the insurgent's Command staff. If Antarctican aircraft were to approach this base under the guise of giving support to the rebels, than they should be able to deliver a fast and punishing blow to Rebel and Insurgent Morale and Cohesion, not to mention their capabilities.

All that we ask is for you to allow us to take this step, for the future of all of us, where embassies stood in place of barracks and Missile silos!
-signed, Artomy Groznyavich, Secondary Chief minister, Ministry of External affairs.

[Insaanistan]

The communique reached the Insaani Intelligence Agency.
And it threw them into a frenzy.
One agent, Qasem Bouaid, jumped up to rush it over to the Presidential Residence. “Qasem, wait,” someone called, but he paid no heed, rushing out the door. Qasem waved frantically for an Uber. One soon pulled over and he jumped inside.
“The Presidential Residence!” he said hurriedly. In true Insaani fashion, his driver zoomed off, breaking every speed limit & running most of the red lights. Qasem was jostled throughout the car, leaning with every sharp turn, and bumping his head every run over speed bump.
The driver finally pulled up to the Palace. Qasem jumped out of the car, forgetting that he had to pay for an Uber.
“Hey!” the man yelled in Arabic. “You haven’t paid, you donkey!”
The Uber driver got out of his vehicle and ran after Qasem. Qasem didn’t notice the man behind him as he dashed through the same hole in the fence Mars & Alexis had. Only this time, there were guards near it, and they yelled at him to stop. When he didn’t, one grabbed him, but Qasem punched him in the face. The others then pulled out their weapons and began firing warning shots at him. They then chased after him, the Uber driver behind him.
Qasem knocked on the door. A servant opened it.
“How may I-“ he began. Qasem knocked the man down and pushed passed him.
“Hey! Get back here!” the servant yelled, now also chasing Qasem. Qassim pushed past people left and right, finally making his way to Abdul-Ghaffar’s office. He was there speaking with Marcel, Karim & Moshe when Qassm burst in. They all looked up & rose from their seats when he came it.
“Sir!” Qasem said. “We just got a communique from the Antarcticans. They intend to engage in strikes on our land, but the strikes are gonna be against Soniakon, sir!”
Abdul-Ghaffar as his aides blinked astonished at him. Then, about 5 seconds later, Abdul-Ghaffar’s phone buzzed. A call from the IIA chief. Abdul-Ghaffar answered and put it on speaker phone.
“Mr. President, we just received a communique from the government of New Antarcticania, request we and the Langenian government approve that they strike at Soniakon targets in the Maghreb region.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” Abdul-Ghaffar said. He hung up. Qassem stood with his mouth wide open.
“You mean I didn’t have to rush here?” he asked.
“Guess not,” Marcel answered.
The last thing Qasem remembered was hearing footsteps at the door, and an Insaani guard tackling him to the ground.

---

Things were about to get even more complicated.
There had already been both pro-Ukraine & pro-Russia protests across Insaanistan. But with the news of a Ukrainian unit slathering bullets in pork to kill Russian Muslim soldiers, reports of NATO border guards refusing to allow black & brown people in Ukraine to escape, and the update that Russia had bombed a Ukrainian mosque, the protests on both sides got worse. Way worse.
People waving Ukrainian flags on one side, and people waving Russian flags on the other. People on both sides also waved Insaani & Chechen flags.
The Pro-Ukrainian demonstrators, while largely native Insaanis, also consisted of Tatar refugees from across Eastern Europe, as well as many Turks, Chechens, Poles & Ukrainians. The non-Insaanis among the pro-Russia protesters largely consisted of pro-Assad Syrians, Chechens & Kamilistanis.
Things were at a boiling point, as the two sides, in Muslimbol at least, began to approach one another.

[Insaanistan]

“Davud!” Maryam yelled at the top of her lungs. “Où sont les tasses à café?”
Davud came into the kitchen and and opened the cabinet that contained them. “Same as where they usually are,” he replied in French. He handed her one.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “You know how it is.”
Davud smiled, “Don’t worry, I know.” He took a good look at her. She was tired and she looked it. Her blue eyes had bags underneath, proof of her sleep deprivation. She slumped over the table, yawning constantly. Her curly Amazigh hair was uncombed and disorderly.

Davud grabbed the spices for qahwah out of a jar and placed them in a coffee maker. He added the water and the machine did the rest. Northwest African coffee was different than the stuff he drank at Starbucks, that was for sure. It had rose hips, cardamom, and most surprisingly, spicy pepper. He was used to that time of heat being in food, not in drinks. He placed the steaming cup in front of his wife.
“SaHa, Daud,” said Maryam. She whispered “Bismillah” before taking a sip of the drink.
“God bless Shaykh Āli ash-Shadhili,” she said in Algerian Arabic, referencing the Yemeni man credited (according to legend, at least) to have invented coffee by chewing on some random berries he saw on a bush, because why not? Switch to Classical Arabic, she said, “May God be pleased with him.”

“We have to go to the doctor’s today,” reminded Davud.
Maryam groaned. “Do we have to?”
“We need to make sure everything is okay,” Davud said. Maryam rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said, taking another sip of her beverage. She pointed at Davud and added, “But we’re stopping to find something to eat on the way home, got it?”

[New Antarcticania]

"All conditions green, airframe is solid, we're good to go."
"Roger that. Hey, AWACS! You got the tapes?"
"Tapes?"
"Old video back in the day from Somalia, Frogfoot pilots used to play this old number and those rebs would cream their pants in liquid brown.".

25 miles to the Moroccan coast
24 hours after the Antarctican statement

It was, again, dark as shit. The only source of light the pilots could see is the glow from their instruments and Displays. The cascade of the night covers the Navy blue Colour scheme of their MiG-29Ks. The flight lead looks at his Navigational system, only 20 miles into Isaani airspace now.
"20 miles", the AWACS announces, the operator reaches for the tap in a cardboard box under his console.
"Uh, Overture number 14?"
"No, number 52."
He finds a tape.
"Oh.... what is this... it's in german....Die Walküre num-"
"Shhh! Don't spoil it!" The pilot interrupts "Just put it in the player and wait until we reach target"
"Player!?" Another pilot intervenes
"The crew of that AWACS rewired their Yak-44 with an tape player."
"Jesus christ, and i thought eight air arm war fucked."
"Ehhh, they usually give the more prolific carries more leeway, 'specially if they're the ones that rack in kills."
Back to the operator, slaps the tape into the player, turns to the transceiver, and turns the Knob to the "all frequencies" notch, picks up the transmitter.
"This is AWACS berieva of the Antarctican Naval Air force, First Air Arm. Flashing IFF to all Langenian and Isaani Aircrart within range of this transmission, Copy if you hear this, out."

[Mosarat]

“Davud!” Maryam yelled at the top of her lungs. “Où sont les tasses à café?”
Davud came into the kitchen and and opened the cabinet that contained them. “Same as where they usually are,” he replied in French. He handed her one.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “You know how it is.”
Davud smiled, “Don’t worry, I know.” He took a good look at her. She was tired and she looked it. Her blue eyes had bags underneath, proof of her sleep deprivation. She slumped over the table, yawning constantly. Her curly Amazigh hair was uncombed and disorderly.

Davud grabbed the spices for qahwah out of a jar and placed them in a coffee maker. He added the water and the machine did the rest. Northwest African coffee was different than the stuff he drank at Starbucks, that was for sure. It had rose hips, cardamom, and most surprisingly, spicy pepper. He was used to that time of heat being in food, not in drinks. He placed the steaming cup in front of his wife.
“SaHa, Daud,” said Maryam. She whispered “Bismillah” before taking a sip of the drink.
“God bless Shaykh Āli ash-Shadhili,” she said in Algerian Arabic, referencing the Yemeni man credited (according to legend, at least) to have invented coffee by chewing on some random berries he saw on a bush, because why not? Switch to Classical Arabic, she said, “May God be pleased with him.”

“We have to go to the doctor’s today,” reminded Davud.
Maryam groaned. “Do we have to?”
“We need to make sure everything is okay,” Davud said. Maryam rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said, taking another sip of her beverage. She pointed at Davud and added, “But we’re stopping to find something to eat on the way home, got it?”

Across the street from their home an old style French car was parked. The car contained one Konrad Dekker. Dekker had recently graduated college and left the internship exchange program. Now he was a free lancer and occasionally a civil servant for the Coven. Nicholas Muller came to him asking him for a request. Muller had given him a newspaper from the Coven’s main news outlet Chronos the front headline detailed a break out from a coven prison in remote Sadistan. Daniyal had broken out of prison and disappeared. The trail had run cold. However one a coven investigator found that Daniyal had made his way to the Earth universe. With Gaia potential at risk for attack the coven realized that he needed to be tracked down. Upon inspection it was a case of jinn possession similar to Davud’s case. It was also coincidence that Daniyal and Davud where each other’s counterpart. Konrad was sent to check up on this and he was correct. He then drove off and no one noticed.

[Insaanistan]

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of the match. I saw is in the stadium jubilantly shouted. Insaanistan had just beat the Comoros, in a 3-2 win against the East African island country.
Insaanistan was going to the World Cup in Qatar. Insaani flags flew as the fans chanted the “Jundallah” nasheed. Those watching at home were also celebrating. However deep down, everyone knew why everyone was so eager the country was going to the World Cup. While it was an honor & privilege to attend, they were mostly hoping for a distraction from the past few years. Doing well in the Cup would be like a reversal of a curse, a vessel of hope.

---

Ramadhaan was fast approaching. Across the world, Muslims around the world were preparing for a month of fasting, prayer, and togetherness. The month of Shâban was holy, to be sure, but Ramadhaan had even more significance in Islam.

In Madinat al-Islam, Royalist Sharifistan, Shaheeda, Muhammad and Khadijah were preparing for Ramadan, or Ramazan as it was known there, as well. Shaheeda had gone out with her cousin in order to head to the bazaar to purchase food in anticipation of the month.

“How much for lamb kebabs?” Muhammad asked a kebapci.
“30 each,” the man replied.
“Thirty? Can’t you lower it, brother,” Muhammad pleaded.
“Brother, I have children to feed,” the man said.
“How about 15?” proposed Muhammad.
“15? I shall lose my kebapci if I sell so low. 27!”
“27? Do you wish to bankrupt me?” Muhammad accused. This was a game that people in most non-Western countries knew well: bargaining.
“Should I sell my kebabs for free then?” questioned the man. “If I wanted to make sadaka I would go to the camii!”
“I’ll give you 17!”
“Why should I sell so low? You are not the sultan!”
“I could get kebabs for 10 at another kebapci!”
“Then find someone else!” the kebapci said. Turning away. Muhammad walked away. But he knew the game well. He had only gone a few paces before the man called out. “Wait, Muhammad!”
He turned around, both men hiding a smile poorly. Walking back to the kebapci he said, “Yes, brother?”
“I’ll go down to 25.”
“I’m giving you 20 each,” Muhammad said.
“Done,” the kebapci conceded. Muhammad picked up several and placed them in a box. He handed the money to the man.
“Ramazan Kareem,” the kebapci said.
“Ramadan Kareem,” Muhammad replied. He turned and walked a couple steps before frowning and stopping. He turned back to the kebab-seller.
“How the bloody hell did you know my name?” he asked.
“Sorry?” said the kebapci.
“You called me Muhammad. How did you know my name is Muhammad?”
“You are a Muslim fellow. Most of us are named Muhammad. I’m even named ‘Muhammad’, though in Turkish: ‘Mehmet’.”
“Oh, okay,” Muhammad said, seemingly calmer and satisfied. He walked away from the stall, off to find Shaheeda and more food.
When Muhammad was finally out of sight, ‘Mehmet’ let out a breath.
That was waaay too close, he thought to himself. He mustn’t know, he can’t know.
Shaheeda was holding naan, baklava & börek in one bag, and lamb & goat meat in the other. She was walking through the bazaar, curious to see if there was anything else she wanted or needed. Then she saw her.
“Junaida?” said Shaheeda. The girl turned around and looked in the direction she heard her name from.
“As-salaam alaikum!” Shaheeda greeted.
“Wa alaikum as-salaam,” came the reply.
“How are you?” Shaheeda asked, “We haven’t seen you in forever.”
“I’m doing just great, Junaida told her.
“Shopping for Ramadan?” asked Shaheeda.
“Mhm,” Junaida said. The bazaar was busy & boisterous, but the silence between them that ensued was somehow louder.
“You know, you’re welcome to join us,” Shaheeda finally said. “Like, for iftar & pishnamay.”
“I-“
At that moment, Muhammad found his cousin.
“Shaheeda, over here!” he called, running towards her.
“Don’t you your phone on you?” he asked. “I called you like, 20 times!”
“I left it on silent, I’m sorry,” she said. Muhammad finally noticed Junaida there.
“Oh. Hi! How are you?” he asked.
“Fine, fine,” Junaida said. “Shaheeda was just inviting to me to have iftar & pershamay with you all.”
“And… did you accept?” he asked.
“I was going to, but then you showed up & now I’m not so sure,” Junaida joked.
“Really, mate? That’s not fair.”
“I’m joking, relax,” Junaida said. Turning to Shaheeda, she said, “I’ll think about it, inshallah.”
“Good enough for me,” Shaheeda said. “Salaam!”
As she and Muhammad got ready to leave, Shaheeda stopped & asked him “Why did you look so worried, anyway?”
“I thought maybe they found you,” he said.
“What? Why would you think that?”
“Some guy at the bazaar, he… never mind, it was stupid,” he said, cutting himself off.
Shaheeda raised an eyebrow.
“Well, we’re off, Junaida. I hope you’ll take me up on that offer.”

[New Antarcticania]

The Slavidad Triumphant 30 A. Rubles|APR 1/2022
"Truth Triumphs forevermore"

NEW MODERNISED T-72s, T-80s TO ARRIVE IN SHARIFISTAN SR'S INVENTORY. MORE TO COME, SAYS POLITBURO
--------------------------------------
The fence that forms the Tal Langaniyah Air Force base has been packed with Everyone from military enthusiasts to Journalists - Local and foreign Last Thursday. And for good reason.
At precisely 1:00PM that afternoon, several IL-76s have arrived after taking off from Gromsk Air force base and undergoing refueling operations in The colonized region of Hoding. It had finally reached the last legs of it's nearly 24-hour-long journey across the Atlantic.
From there on, it was granted the prestigious reward of an water cannon salute whilst taxiing to hangar to unload it's cargo.
Several hundred pictures were reportedly taken and spread to Articles and Small-time Blogs alike of the newly Arrived Tanks and the IL-76 itself

Image taken of the first IL-76 making it's final approach
The Exchange was the result of the
Нью Эйдж (lit. "New Age") Armaments Program. As proposed to Politburo by the Minister of defence last summer with the goal of Replacing and ModernisingThe Sharfari Army's Inventory of T-64s and T-72 Urals. This first line of IL-76s are only the fulcrum of the first "Group" of ~210 T-72B1MSs and T-72AV (TURMST-T)s. The latter of which was either purchased from the Syrian Armed forces or were Domestically modified to exact specifications at the Sakilovka Combined Arms Modification Plant (ScAMP) using The Antarctican Surplus of T-72 Urals.
Plans for Modernisation of Small arms and Infantry fighting vehicles are Currently in review by the Ministry of Defense and Politburo - Politburo media correspondents claim.

Yet still, No reputable source has an bead on what both governments plan to do with the original stock of now immanently useless T-64s and T-72s. As Training rotations in the newly arrived tanks are scheduled to begin next week for Sharfari crews. Rumors are floating about of Sales plans to South African states like Zambia and The Congo with price upmarks of Zero to Negligible. Or, perhaps even more Dark of an prospect - selling the tanks on the Black market for the use of Insurgents and Syndicates.
So far, these allegations have been staunchly denied by Politburo and the government at large, stating that these allegations are "Nothing less than Anti-government conspiracy Theories, made only for the sake of Being conspiracy Theories - with no evidence whatsoever and the backbone of a wish"

The Minister of External Affairs' speech on last Friday's gathering of Politburo:
"We all wish that the rest of The Mediterranean, and indeed some parts of Africa finally come to the light of reason, Harmony, and Peace. But so long as there is any desire to take over the Righteous nation of the Sharifistani Socialist Republic. We will have no rest in ensuring that the best arrangements are made in order to support the defense of this wholly independent nation form foreign aggression and Chest-thumping"

ANTARCTICAN MILITARY TO ENGAGE IN "PARTIAL DRAWDOWN FROM SHARFARI REGION" CLAIMS MINISTER OF DEFENSE, "BUT AIR FORCE IS STILL TO STAY"
-----------------------------------------------------

The Ministry of Defense have announced an partial withdraw from the Socialist Republic of Sharifistan. The target? The 132nd Guards Combined Arms Army

A part of the original liberation of the Socialist Sharifistan, the 132nd has been stationed in the Eastern theatre after the war indefinitely, until Last Thursday, where the Ministry of defence officially Announced the permanent withdrawal of this Army. Meaning that there will only be Two Antarctican Divisions in country.
However, the Presence of the Antarctican air force in country would not change a bit, as the Ministry claims. As there are still Dozens of Antarctican Squadrons Undergoing regular rotations in and out of Theatre.


an Su-34 flying over the skies of Sharifistan

And whilst the absence of the 132nd
Will certainly have an effect on the Antarctican defense of the region. The total withdrawal from Theater will certainly not be in sight for a long, long time.

[Insaanistan]

An emergency meeting was called at the African Union today by the Democratic Republic of Insaanistan. The meeting started with a congratulation of all nations who made it to the World Cup from the Insaani representative, Zeynep Abdulmecid.
[Abdulmecid speaking]: “I just want to congratulate our… fellow nations for their success on the pitch, and uh, we hope to see you there in Qatar, inshallah.”
The meeting topic, however, soon turned to a more serious topic.
[Abdulmecid speaking]: “We’ve seen Antartican aggression towards the region and our allies for years, but over the past few months, it’s been quite heightened and much closer to home. New Antarticania seems to wish to provoke a Cold War on the African continent. They have been aggressive towards at an increasing rate, seeking to provoke us and our Langenian allies to strike at them when they deployed ships just outside of our waters. They have engaged in a military buildup along the border of our ally, the Sultanate of Sharifistan. And now, it seems, they seek to persuade our fellow Africans into a war against us. I remind you all of how many African troops, from the North, South, East, and West, who were slaughtered in the war against New Antarticania’s attempts to expand their sphere of influence. Africa was ready then. It must be ready now. I am calling on you, our neighbors, our brethren, to band together with us. We are calling for our fellow African Union members to impose sanctions on high ranking officials in New Antarticania and Socialist Sharifistan, to impose tariffs on any Socialist Sharifistani or Antarctican goods, and to commit to declaring war on New Antarticania in the event of an invasion of the Sultanate of Sharifistan or Insaanistan by New Antarticania m, Socialist Sharifistan, or any of their allies. I know many of you are fearful of the economic fallout of this. I assure you, together, Africa will be able to continue on...”

The remarks are believed to be in response to rumors of possible sales to African states such as Zambia & Congo Brazzaville on the part of New Antarticania. It’s unclear as to whether or not Insaanistan was committing to investing in the Republic of Congo’s uranium mining industry and/or something similar to Zambia, but one thing is clear: Insaanistan’s position on New Antarticania has not changed a bit. We’ll be bringing in political analysts throughout the day to discuss this meeting and it’s repercussions.

You’re watching Deutsche-Welle Africa.

[New Antarcticania]

In response to the Isaani proposal of the African Union sanctioning trade against New Antarctica and her Sharfari satellite state. They shift their strategy.
Not only will they be offering the sales of Their surplus stock of T-72s to Zambia and the Congo. They offer the complete "Modernization" of their air forces, selling "Packages" Of MiG-29SEs and Su-27Ms. And armaments, munitions, and parts to sustain them for the long run. An enticing officer, especially when the price upmark is approximately 5%, you can't really ignore it.
And on top of all that, Economic stimulus is also a part of their offerings. Using State-owned resource extraction companies and Industrial giants - They make offers to "Subsidize" resource production and extraction in choice regions, whilst generating reveneue for the Zambian government (while the Antarctican government sneaks off with a sizeable piece of the profit. Not accounting for maintainance, of course.), they also provide hundreds of thousands of jobs and education courses to the locals. Providing significant boosts to both governments. And on top of that, they offer to provide their own organic security Elements to protect these sites from harm, harrasment, or assault.

So now, the sales of Military equipment to Zambia or The congo are now only a mere brick in the wall of this huge package, designed to accelerate the lifting of these two states from their status as less "well-off" or "Third world" countries. Something that no rationial human being or world leader can turn down at first glance.
Of course, they are flexible, as well. With large wiggle room for negotiation and changes to scale, Location, or timing.

The isanni government is selling their preception that the the Antarcticans intend to sell weapons of destruction and pain to sow and reap discord amongst themselves. Well, the Antarcticans responded by selling a different perception. One that offers them a future that no member of the African Union can be capable of, not to mention advertise.

[Insaanistan]

The Jundallah were turning out, and in large numbers. The recent events in Palestine had made the blood of nearly all Insaanistan boil. But Abdul-Ghaffar had his hands tied: no way he would be allowed to take military action against Israel. What he did do was release a statement.
“Israel has not only made it its policy to disturb the peace of our brothers in Palestine with daily raids on al-Aqsa. Not only do they violate their agreement with Jordan to keep non-Muslims from praying on the compound. Now, they have made it their policy to enter and attack the mosque every Ramadhaan. Sound grenades, tear gas, bullets in the mosque. Why is it so much of the Middle East silent?”

However, for the Jundallah, that wasn’t enough: they, and many other Insaanis, saw Yusuf’s statement as little more than paying lip service to Palestine. Protests erupted in Sinai, Cairo, Alexandria, Mogadishu, Casablanca, Tangiers, Algiers, and more. The Jundallah and their supporters marched through the streets of Muslimbol carrying flags of Palestine, the Jundallah, Hamas, Hizballah. As there were no Israeli embassies or consulates in Insaanistan, they gathered around the embassies of Palestine’s neighbors. They also demonstrated in front of the Presidential Residence.

Outside the Presidential Residence, the Jundallah took up singing a nasheed that a North African Insaani had composed affirming his faith in Islam nearly a decade before. Their choice of this nasheed rather than their usual songs not only demonstrated their devotion, but also their opinion of Abdul Ghaffar, and his government that, in comparison to what Yusuf had actually argued for in Parliament, was largely devoid of religion.

“I am an Insaani, and Islam is my religion
You called me backwards, you called me barbaric
You called me oppressive, you called me fundamentalist
Can you tell me how I am at fault
For keeping the Qur’ân & Sunnah close to me?
You like to propagate so-called ‘Modern Islam’
The ‘Islam’ of sagging pants & the ‘Islam’ of miniskirts!
For decades we have suffered from your secular regimes
You killed, stole, and looted and kept the people suffering
I am a person of faith, not Zionists or atheists
So don’t try to tell me to keep religion & politics separate
Listen to us clear: the Qur’ân will be our constitution”

Meanwhile, in the Sinai peninsula, Insaanis danced on their side of the border, performing the Levantine Arab dance known as dabke, and blaring Palestinian songs.

Israeli guards along the border stood tense, ready to shoot anyone who crossed over the border even an inch.

[New Antarcticania]

The Jundallah were turning out, and in large numbers. The recent events in Palestine had made the blood of nearly all Insaanistan boil. But Abdul-Ghaffar had his hands tied: no way he would be allowed to take military action against Israel. What he did do was release a statement.
“Israel has not only made it its policy to disturb the peace of our brothers in Palestine with daily raids on al-Aqsa. Not only do they violate their agreement with Jordan to keep non-Muslims from praying on the compound. Now, they have made it their policy to enter and attack the mosque every Ramadhaan. Sound grenades, tear gas, bullets in the mosque. Why is it so much of the Middle East silent?”

However, for the Jundallah, that wasn’t enough: they, and many other Insaanis, saw Yusuf’s statement as little more than paying lip service to Palestine. Protests erupted in Sinai, Cairo, Alexandria, Mogadishu, Casablanca, Tangiers, Algiers, and more. The Jundallah and their supporters marched through the streets of Muslimbol carrying flags of Palestine, the Jundallah, Hamas, Hizballah. As there were no Israeli embassies or consulates in Insaanistan, they gathered around the embassies of Palestine’s neighbors. They also demonstrated in front of the Presidential Residence.

Outside the Presidential Residence, the Jundallah took up singing a nasheed that a North African Insaani had composed affirming his faith in Islam nearly a decade before. Their choice of this nasheed rather than their usual songs not only demonstrated their devotion, but also their opinion of Abdul Ghaffar, and his government that, in comparison to what Yusuf had actually argued for in Parliament, was largely devoid of religion.

“I am an Insaani, and Islam is my religion
You called me backwards, you called me barbaric
You called me oppressive, you called me fundamentalist
Can you tell me how I am at fault
For keeping the Qur’ân & Sunnah close to me?
You like to propagate so-called ‘Modern Islam’
The ‘Islam’ of sagging pants & the ‘Islam’ of miniskirts!
For decades we have suffered from your secular regimes
You killed, stole, and looted and kept the people suffering
I am a person of faith, not Zionists or atheists
So don’t try to tell me to keep religion & politics separate
Listen to us clear: the Qur’ân will be our constitution”

Meanwhile, in the Sinai peninsula, Insaanis danced on their side of the border, performing the Levantine Arab dance known as dabke, and blaring Palestinian songs.

Israeli guards along the border stood tense, ready to shoot anyone who crossed over the border even an inch.

Later that night....

It's going to be a busy night for Socialist Sharfari airspace. With Squadron after squadron of everything from Sharfari Su-25s to Antarctican MiG-29Ms traveling in wide circles, moonlight reflecting off of their Dark-blue Paint as they twisted an turned to stay in formation.
In the government, an ultimatum was issued to the Isaanis.
Keep your Jundallah from Assaulting the Israeli border, or face the consequences.

Why was the Antarcticans involved in this mattered? Simple. The Antarctican war machine.
Israeli Exports of almost anything from Spare Parts to Upgraded EW suites have kept the Antarctican Armed Forces well maintained and Modernized for years past. And the Antarctican government has absolutely zero intention to change their current buissness relationship. So how can Antarctica let the Harrassment of their top Arms exporter stand? They can't.
Henceforth, the aircraft on standby right now are only a radio call away from starting a third major conflict in the Mediterranean.

The Soldiers on the ground, though. Have taken this opportunity for shits and giggles. All across the Border fortifications and trenches, temporary Flag poles have been set up in the trenches and ontop of the pillboxes. Flying the Israeli flag, some with Industrial-grade floodlights pointed st them so the Isannis can clearly see them from a mile away.
Veterans of the Second Civil way and beyond, though. Have rembered a certian practical joke they used to pull... and so, they swiped the dust from their loudspeakers, and planted them up and down the line.
The Isaanis hear something in the distance...

[Mosarat]

In response to the flare up in Israel mass protests against the Israeli government take place in Tasir Anastasia and other places in Mosarat. In Kousel the same happens but there is fear that the protests will result in a period of mass unrest. Kousel despite officially settling the differences between Hebrews and Muslims has seen periods of mass unrest in its history. Usually due to a minor incident causing a racial flare up. The watchful eye of The Jamesian Republic has kept Kousel from descending into a violent race war. However tragedy stuck in Tasir as a Jewish woman was attacked by an angry mob. In response one of the few laws adapted from Islam which mandates that Muslims help and not hurt other people of other faiths, Including Hebrews. The members of that mob were fined and ordered to apologize to the woman and were sentenced to two months of community service.

Meanwhile The Prime Minister of Mosarat sent out a message of peace and solidarity.

[Insaanistan]

The Jundallah were turning out, and in large numbers. The recent events in Palestine had made the blood of nearly all Insaanistan boil. But Abdul-Ghaffar had his hands tied: no way he would be allowed to take military action against Israel. What he did do was release a statement.
“Israel has not only made it its policy to disturb the peace of our brothers in Palestine with daily raids on al-Aqsa. Not only do they violate their agreement with Jordan to keep non-Muslims from praying on the compound. Now, they have made it their policy to enter and attack the mosque every Ramadhaan. Sound grenades, tear gas, bullets in the mosque. Why is it so much of the Middle East silent?”

However, for the Jundallah, that wasn’t enough: they, and many other Insaanis, saw Yusuf’s statement as little more than paying lip service to Palestine. Protests erupted in Sinai, Cairo, Alexandria, Mogadishu, Casablanca, Tangiers, Algiers, and more. The Jundallah and their supporters marched through the streets of Muslimbol carrying flags of Palestine, the Jundallah, Hamas, Hizballah. As there were no Israeli embassies or consulates in Insaanistan, they gathered around the embassies of Palestine’s neighbors. They also demonstrated in front of the Presidential Residence.

Outside the Presidential Residence, the Jundallah took up singing a nasheed that a North African Insaani had composed affirming his faith in Islam nearly a decade before. Their choice of this nasheed rather than their usual songs not only demonstrated their devotion, but also their opinion of Abdul Ghaffar, and his government that, in comparison to what Yusuf had actually argued for in Parliament, was largely devoid of religion.

“I am an Insaani, and Islam is my religion
You called me backwards, you called me barbaric
You called me oppressive, you called me fundamentalist
Can you tell me how I am at fault
For keeping the Qur’ân & Sunnah close to me?
You like to propagate so-called ‘Modern Islam’
The ‘Islam’ of sagging pants & the ‘Islam’ of miniskirts!
For decades we have suffered from your secular regimes
You killed, stole, and looted and kept the people suffering
I am a person of faith, not Zionists or atheists
So don’t try to tell me to keep religion & politics separate
Listen to us clear: the Qur’ân will be our constitution”

Meanwhile, in the Sinai peninsula, Insaanis danced on their side of the border, performing the Levantine Arab dance known as dabke, and blaring Palestinian songs.

Israeli guards along the border stood tense, ready to shoot anyone who crossed over the border even an inch.

Later that night....

It's going to be a busy night for Socialist Sharfari airspace. With Squadron after squadron of everything from Sharfari Su-25s to Antarctican MiG-29Ms traveling in wide circles, moonlight reflecting off of their Dark-blue Paint as they twisted an turned to stay in formation.
In the government, an ultimatum was issued to the Isaanis.
Keep your Jundallah from Assaulting the Israeli border, or face the consequences.

Why was the Antarcticans involved in this mattered? Simple. The Antarctican war machine.
Israeli Exports of almost anything from Spare Parts to Upgraded EW suites have kept the Antarctican Armed Forces well maintained and Modernized for years past. And the Antarctican government has absolutely zero intention to change their current buissness relationship. So how can Antarctica let the Harrassment of their top Arms exporter stand? They can't.
Henceforth, the aircraft on standby right now are only a radio call away from starting a third major conflict in the Mediterranean.

The Soldiers on the ground, though. Have taken this opportunity for shits and giggles. All across the Border fortifications and trenches, temporary Flag poles have been set up in the trenches and ontop of the pillboxes. Flying the Israeli flag, some with Industrial-grade floodlights pointed st them so the Isannis can clearly see them from a mile away.
Veterans of the Second Civil way and beyond, though. Have rembered a certian practical joke they used to pull... and so, they swiped the dust from their loudspeakers, and planted them up and down the line.
The Isaanis hear something in the distance...

The Insaani and Sharifistani troops were enraged by the playing of Hava Nagila. Hoping to show the Communists on the other side of the border that they were unafraid, they began playing Palestinian liberation songs, such as “Dami Falastini” (“My Blood is Palestinian”). While most of the troops weren’t Arabs, the song was immensely popular across the Muslim world, with most Muslims knowing at least the refrain, if not the whole song. A few of the Insaani troops were in fact immigrants or refugees from Palestine, Lebanon, Syria or Jordan, and began performing dabke while twirling worry beads. The Insaanis & Sharifistanis waved Insaani, Royalist, Turkish & Ottoman flags, shouting across the border in Turkish “The reign of Abdülhamid has not been forgotten!”

Then the song “Ālli Kuffiyeh” (“Raise the Keffiyeh”) came on. When the following part of the song came up
“Let the shots fire in celebration and chant
Raise the keffiyeh while rolling it
Let the shots fire in celebration and chant
Raise the the flag in Ramallah and the Mountain of Fire (Nablus)”

Hearing this, the Insaani and Sharifistani troops, in true West Asian fashion, began firing their guns upwards in the air, as if at a wedding or celebrating a victory.
“Takbir! Allahu Ekber! Allahu Ekber! Allahu Ekber!” the soldiers, regardless of religion, chanted at the other side of the border.

---

“Mr. Yusuf! There’s a message from the Antarcticans!”
Abdul-Ghaffar put on his glasses read it, then slammed the paper onto his desk.
“Meddling communists!” he bellowed.

The message sent back to the Antarcticans was as follows
“If you dare attack us, it is you who will suffer, not us.”

[New Antarcticania]

Later that night....

It's going to be a busy night for Socialist Sharfari airspace. With Squadron after squadron of everything from Sharfari Su-25s to Antarctican MiG-29Ms traveling in wide circles, moonlight reflecting off of their Dark-blue Paint as they twisted an turned to stay in formation.
In the government, an ultimatum was issued to the Isaanis.
Keep your Jundallah from Assaulting the Israeli border, or face the consequences.

Why was the Antarcticans involved in this mattered? Simple. The Antarctican war machine.
Israeli Exports of almost anything from Spare Parts to Upgraded EW suites have kept the Antarctican Armed Forces well maintained and Modernized for years past. And the Antarctican government has absolutely zero intention to change their current buissness relationship. So how can Antarctica let the Harrassment of their top Arms exporter stand? They can't.
Henceforth, the aircraft on standby right now are only a radio call away from starting a third major conflict in the Mediterranean.

The Soldiers on the ground, though. Have taken this opportunity for shits and giggles. All across the Border fortifications and trenches, temporary Flag poles have been set up in the trenches and ontop of the pillboxes. Flying the Israeli flag, some with Industrial-grade floodlights pointed st them so the Isannis can clearly see them from a mile away.
Veterans of the Second Civil way and beyond, though. Have rembered a certian practical joke they used to pull... and so, they swiped the dust from their loudspeakers, and planted them up and down the line.
The Isaanis hear something in the distance...

The Insaani and Sharifistani troops were enraged by the playing of Hava Nagila. Hoping to show the Communists on the other side of the border that they were unafraid, they began playing Palestinian liberation songs, such as “Dami Falastini” (“My Blood is Palestinian”). While most of the troops weren’t Arabs, the song was immensely popular across the Muslim world, with most Muslims knowing at least the refrain, if not the whole song. A few of the Insaani troops were in fact immigrants or refugees from Palestine, Lebanon, Syria or Jordan, and began performing dabke while twirling worry beads. The Insaanis & Sharifistanis waved Insaani, Royalist, Turkish & Ottoman flags, shouting across the border in Turkish “The reign of Abdülhamid has not been forgotten!”

Then the song “Ālli Kuffiyeh” (“Raise the Keffiyeh”) came on. When the following part of the song came up
“Let the shots fire in celebration and chant
Raise the keffiyeh while rolling it
Let the shots fire in celebration and chant
Raise the the flag in Ramallah and the Mountain of Fire (Nablus)”

Hearing this, the Insaani and Sharifistani troops, in true West Asian fashion, began firing their guns upwards in the air, as if at a wedding or celebrating a victory.
“Takbir! Allahu Ekber! Allahu Ekber! Allahu Ekber!” the soldiers, regardless of religion, chanted at the other side of the border.

---

“Mr. Yusuf! There’s a message from the Antarcticans!”
Abdul-Ghaffar put on his glasses read it, then slammed the paper onto his desk.
“Meddling communists!” he bellowed.

The message sent back to the Antarcticans was as follows
“If you dare attack us, it is you who will suffer, not us.”

Somewhere in the Eastern Border...

"What in the fuck are they doing?" The Colonel says in a hush as he observes the Mob on the other side of the border with his Binoculars.
"Well, by the looks of it, sir. We've riled them up." The radioman by his side replies.
"Bad taste?"
"Well, yes."
"I'd say, especially during Passover, of all times."
The Radioman gives a nod as he watches the Flashes of their rifles firing in the distance.
"Well, I'd say we ought to shut them up." The colonel puts the Binoculars aside "What do you think, Corpral?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good man." A solid pat on his shoulder "Tear 'em, 12 rounds." and the Colonel is off, leaving the radioman alone to carry out his orders.

In the mortar pits...

"FIRE MISSION!" The radio crackles through with a shout, Slapping the two mortarmen out of questioning just what the fuck were the Guys up front doing. They ran, nay, sprinted to their stations while the Radio was barking orders at them.
"USE TEAR GAS, AZIMUTH NINE-ZERO, RANGE.... ONE KILOMETER, ADJUST BY 300 METERS PER CALL..... FIRE FOR EFFECT!"
"AZIMUTH -- NINE, ZERO! RANGE... ONE KILOMETER! ADJUST BY 300 METERS IF CALLED FOR, FIRE FOR EFFECT!"
"CORRECT!"
One of the men on the mortar adjusts it to the coordinated thst was radioed in, Turning the knobs to it's desired number, ripping off the cover for the barrel.
While the other man grabs a Tear gas round From the ammo rack nearby, as indicated by the Striped white mark near the bottom of said round.
As he hangs it over the tube, the Mortarman looks to the border, and then at his Comrade.
He nods.
"FIRE!"
The mortarman drops the round into the barrel, and out comes the round seconds later.
They fire another.
And another one.
And another one.

[Insaanistan]

The Insaani and Sharifistani troops were enraged by the playing of Hava Nagila. Hoping to show the Communists on the other side of the border that they were unafraid, they began playing Palestinian liberation songs, such as “Dami Falastini” (“My Blood is Palestinian”). While most of the troops weren’t Arabs, the song was immensely popular across the Muslim world, with most Muslims knowing at least the refrain, if not the whole song. A few of the Insaani troops were in fact immigrants or refugees from Palestine, Lebanon, Syria or Jordan, and began performing dabke while twirling worry beads. The Insaanis & Sharifistanis waved Insaani, Royalist, Turkish & Ottoman flags, shouting across the border in Turkish “The reign of Abdülhamid has not been forgotten!”

Then the song “Ālli Kuffiyeh” (“Raise the Keffiyeh”) came on. When the following part of the song came up
“Let the shots fire in celebration and chant
Raise the keffiyeh while rolling it
Let the shots fire in celebration and chant
Raise the the flag in Ramallah and the Mountain of Fire (Nablus)”

Hearing this, the Insaani and Sharifistani troops, in true West Asian fashion, began firing their guns upwards in the air, as if at a wedding or celebrating a victory.
“Takbir! Allahu Ekber! Allahu Ekber! Allahu Ekber!” the soldiers, regardless of religion, chanted at the other side of the border.

---

“Mr. Yusuf! There’s a message from the Antarcticans!”
Abdul-Ghaffar put on his glasses read it, then slammed the paper onto his desk.
“Meddling communists!” he bellowed.

The message sent back to the Antarcticans was as follows
“If you dare attack us, it is you who will suffer, not us.”

Somewhere in the Eastern Border...

"What in the fuck are they doing?" The Colonel says in a hush as he observes the Mob on the other side of the border with his Binoculars.
"Well, by the looks of it, sir. We've riled them up." The radioman by his side replies.
"Bad taste?"
"Well, yes."
"I'd say, especially during Passover, of all times."
The Radioman gives a nod as he watches the Flashes of their rifles firing in the distance.
"Well, I'd say we ought to shut them up." The colonel puts the Binoculars aside "What do you think, Corpral?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good man." A solid pat on his shoulder "Tear 'em, 12 rounds." and the Colonel is off, leaving the radioman alone to carry out his orders.

In the mortar pits...

"FIRE MISSION!" The radio crackles through with a shout, Slapping the two mortarmen out of questioning just what the fuck were the Guys up front doing. They ran, nay, sprinted to their stations while the Radio was barking orders at them.
"USE TEAR GAS, AZIMUTH NINE-ZERO, RANGE.... ONE KILOMETER, ADJUST BY 300 METERS PER CALL..... FIRE FOR EFFECT!"
"AZIMUTH -- NINE, ZERO! RANGE... ONE KILOMETER! ADJUST BY 300 METERS IF CALLED FOR, FIRE FOR EFFECT!"
"CORRECT!"
One of the men on the mortar adjusts it to the coordinated thst was radioed in, Turning the knobs to it's desired number, ripping off the cover for the barrel.
While the other man grabs a Tear gas round From the ammo rack nearby, as indicated by the Striped white mark near the bottom of said round.
As he hangs it over the tube, the Mortarman looks to the border, and then at his Comrade.
He nods.
"FIRE!"
The mortarman drops the round into the barrel, and out comes the round seconds later.
They fire another.
And another one.
And another one.

“Make sure you follow me to see more livestreams like this!” one Insaani said, holding a phone while recording the display of the Insaanis & Sharifistanis singing, dancing, and firing their guns up towards the sky.
“Omer, I swear to God, turn the bloody phone off. No one cares about your Insta following.”
“Could we not do this while I’m still on?”
Then the explosions sounded. Fireworks? Who would’ve been able to smuggle them into camp.
“Get down! Get down!” came a yell.
Mortar fire. Sirens blared around the camp.
Speakers cracked pronouncing “We are under attack. Assume defense positions. This is not a drill. We are under attack.”
Then the gas.
“Allah irhamna! Allah irhamna!” God have mercy on us!

[Insaanistan]

Allahu Akbar
Allahu Akbar
La ilaha ila Allah
Allahu Akbar
Allahu Akbar
Wa lillahi al-Hamd
The Ēid Takbirat rang throughout Insaanistan, from Bangui to Mogadishu. But the holiday of Ēid al-Fitr was bittersweet this year. While they were glad to be celebrating the three day holiday, with most people off of work, there was still anger underneath the smiles. The situation in Palestine was bad enough. But the teargassing of Insaani troops by New Antarcticans made the populace even more upset. It was well-known that New Antarcticania refused to recognize the Geneva Convention, but nonetheless, they hadn’t committed war crimes against Insaanis in a while. Khutbahs across the country either urged Insaanis to patience or called them to resist aggression and oppression.

---

“Commie bastards!” Muhammad thundered, slamming his hand on the table.
“Calm down,” Khadijah urged. “It’s said and done, nothing we can do.”
“We’re simply looking at a screen, they keep replaying the same bloody video. And what do we do? Say it’s sad and move on.”
“What can we do? No one is supposed to know we’re here!” Shaheeda reminded.
Muhammad groaned. “I’m sick of hiding! We should be back in Muslimbol, leading the country out of trials and sorrow! We should be praying Namaz-e-Eid in Cairo! But we’re stuck here in Madinat al-Islam!” He rushed out the room.
“Where are you going?” Khadijah asked, as she and her niece ran after him. Muhammad ran through the halls, dodging servants and incredibly fragile pictures, vases and trinkets, before he made it to the front door. He opened it and cried out in Persian,
“I am a son of Insaanistan! I am the Prince of my people! Let us bring back a Caliphate! Let the Ummah unite once more!
“Muhammad what are you doing?” Shaheeda cried, trying to drag him inside
“O you who are Muslim! Come to our aid! Let us come together again! Where is the Ummah or Muhammad? Where are you sons of the Rightly Guided? Let-“
He slumped to the floor.
“What did you do?” Khadijah asked.
“Me? I haven’t done anything yet.”
A zip and Khadijah froze.
“I… I feel…”
She too fell to the ground. Shaheed a stood up.
“Khadijah? Khadijah? Are you-“
Zip
“O…okay…?”
She fell to the ground.
200 meters away. A man stood up, rifle in hand. Looking left and right, he packed up his rifle. He walked in the direction of Khadijah’s house.

[Insaanistan]

Groggily, Shaheeda opened her eyes.
“Wh… what…”
A voice was talking, but she wasn’t able to discern who it belonged to. She opened her eyes fully, and saw a man with his feet on the center table watching television. Slowly, she got up, and edged toward the man, whose back was to her. She came up behind him, and began to choke him.
“GAH! HELP! HELP!” he cried out in Turkish. Shaheeda covered his mouth with one hand and continued choking him with the other. Another man and a woman came into the room and frantically tried to get her off of him. It wasn’t until one of them said “Shaheeda, let him go!” that she realized the male was Muhammad. The woman she couldn’t identify.
She let go of the man who had then begun starting to recite the shahada.
“Who is this guy?” Shaheeda inquired angrily.
Two more men and a woman entered the room. “Calm down, dear princess,” one of the men said. “We’re on your side.”
Shaheeda froze. “How do you know who I am?” she questioned. The man smiled. “We haven’t been introduced, really. But we’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since you landed in Anatolia.”
“It sounds mad creepy when you don’t know the full context,” Muhammad said.
The man who Shaheeda had almost murdered, now significantly recovered, stood up and said,
“My name is Abdülfetih Kaya. Leader of the Hashashin, and friend of Mustafa.”
“I’m sorry, what?” replied Shaheeda.
“We have a lot to discuss, if you’ll allow me to sit this time,” Abdülfetih said.

---

Church bells toll as “God is Great” sounds off in Arabic in Palermo, Sicily. Midday prayers, Dhuhr, have just been completed. As people leave the mosque, one man enters, dressed in a white dress shirt and grey pants.. Removing his shoes, he walks up to a bearded Sicilian man seated reading the Qur’ân.
“Tariq Catalano”, he said. “Salaam!”
“Peace be upon you as well,” said Tariq. He motioned for the man to sit down.
“So, Giovanni,” Tariq asked. “Are you finally leaving the world of haraam or do you just wish to sit down for tea?”
Giovanni smiled slightly, “Same wit,” he said.
“Why would I ever leave it?” Tariq asked, smiling. “Tell me, what is it that you wish to talk about.”
Giovanni’s smile faded. “Actually, Tariq,” he said, “I’m not leaving the world of ‘haraam’…”
“You know I was joking, right?” asked Tariq.
Giovanni began looking around, averting Tariq’s eyes. “Tariq, I’m here to ask you to rejoin it.”
Tariq too stopped smiling. “What?”
“Tariq, there’s gonna be something, something big. We need all the help we can get for it, and I need you to be on our side.”
“Get out,” came the order.
“Tariq, just think about it. You live okay now, but you were living even better when you-“
“I said get out!” he thundered, pointing towards the way Giovanni came. Giovanni sighed, and got up.
“It was nice to see you again,” Giovanni said in a low voice, before he walked out.

[Erloane]

A convoy of rail vehicles is on its way to a small village. 3 rail infantry fighting vehicles in the front, a cargo train carrying medical and humanitarian supplies, a medical train for carrying patients to larger hospitals quickly followed by 2 more RIFVs securing the rear.

The journey was long but Erloaneans well adapted to the heat. Trains rolled on rails without interuption. Soon Erloanean soldiers arrived and begun unloading thier cargo. A crowd of Insaanis begun to approach Erloaneans.

[Insaanistan]

A convoy of rail vehicles is on its way to a small village. 3 rail infantry fighting vehicles in the front, a cargo train carrying medical and humanitarian supplies, a medical train for carrying patients to larger hospitals quickly followed by 2 more RIFVs securing the rear.

The journey was long but Erloaneans well adapted to the heat. Trains rolled on rails without interuption. Soon Erloanean soldiers arrived and begun unloading thier cargo. A crowd of Insaanis begun to approach Erloaneans.

The Insaanis surrounded the vehicle, curious to see the new soldiers. They could tell these men were not Langenians, who sometimes frequented the area, but were unable to determine where they came from. They spoke loudly, asking one another about the Erloanean troops.
“What are they doing here,” one asked.
“They’re unloading things out of their trains,” another said. “Maybe weapons?”
“Do they wish to make our village their base? Just what we need, the war to come to us.”
“Don’t complain before you know what’s going on!” someone retorted.
Two little girls walked up to the soldiers unloading the supplies. They both looked about 10 years old and both wore hijabs, though one’s headscarf was incredibly loose around her head; the first one wore blue jeans and a top that was purple, red, magenta and grey, while the second one wore an orange Saīdi dress.
“Are you Americans?” the first one asked in Saīdi Arabic.
“Are you going to turn our country into Syria?” queried the second.

[Mosarat]

While still waiting for Nura’s release the concierge of the hotel in Zurich gave the Sultan a telegram from a NM. One part told The Sultan to refuse it another part deduced that perhaps Nicholas Muller had wished to contact him.

The Sultan opened the telegram and it red

Your Majesty, I know that you are busy trying to secure the release of Nura Khan but I believe that something has come up that requires the attention of you Dr. Alton and Nura. Tell me once you have secured Nura’s release and I shall brief you on the situation at hand.
NM

I am correct. The Sultan thought. What could Nicholas Muller want to tell me about? What is it that I and Dr. Alton need to know about? Is it something to do with the dreams? Every time I dream something terrible is or is about to happen.

Despite being a mere human and no wizard The Sultan had always held a connection with the supernatural and magic. In fact the Hashem family had been intertwined with strange events. If it weren’t for the Prime Minister of Mosarat Binyamin Saleh who served in the late 1980s. The Sultan would never have been able to use his knowledge of the supernatural to battle Davud and help save the royals. Though what good that had been. It was because of the old Prime Minister he had been able to master the I Ching and return back to Earth to help the royals. It had also been that time that the dreams began happening. Saleh had explained “You have opened the door in your mind and body to do things that no ordinary human could ever do. That is why the dreams happen.”

Recently the dreams had been about a prison cell. A figure sitting on a cot. The Sultan didn’t know who it was but the person sat there for a while until the dream faded away. The Sultan perhaps thought it was a sign that Fazluddin had survived and being held somewhere. But with the telegram perhaps it was something more sinister.

[Erloane]

A convoy of rail vehicles is on its way to a small village. 3 rail infantry fighting vehicles in the front, a cargo train carrying medical and humanitarian supplies, a medical train for carrying patients to larger hospitals quickly followed by 2 more RIFVs securing the rear.

The journey was long but Erloaneans well adapted to the heat. Trains rolled on rails without interuption. Soon Erloanean soldiers arrived and begun unloading thier cargo. A crowd of Insaanis begun to approach Erloaneans.

The Insaanis surrounded the vehicle, curious to see the new soldiers. They could tell these men were not Langenians, who sometimes frequented the area, but were unable to determine where they came from. They spoke loudly, asking one another about the Erloanean troops.
“What are they doing here,” one asked.
“They’re unloading things out of their trains,” another said. “Maybe weapons?”
“Do they wish to make our village their base? Just what we need, the war to come to us.”
“Don’t complain before you know what’s going on!” someone retorted.
Two little girls walked up to the soldiers unloading the supplies. They both looked about 10 years old and both wore hijabs, though one’s headscarf was incredibly loose around her head; the first one wore blue jeans and a top that was purple, red, magenta and grey, while the second one wore an orange Saīdi dress.
“Are you Americans?” the first one asked in Saīdi Arabic.
“Are you going to turn our country into Syria?” queried the second.

A young officer and a translator approached the girls. Thier faces revealed, sleeves rolled back and rifles on slings and on safe. They squatted so he could see eye to eye with girls and smiled.

"We are Erloaneans. We come from a land of snow and ice to help you. The trains are loaded with food, water and medicine. Don´t worry, we´re here to help." said the translator. Young officer than whistled and soldiers opened the crates and prepared to hand out water and meals to Insaanis. Another translator not far from the girls begun speaking loudly in fluent Saīdi Arabic. "Salam. Please stand in a line. We will hand out food and water. If you have any seriously ill friends, relatives or family members please imform our medical officers to receive medications for them. There´s nothing to be afraid of, we won´t be taking long."

Other Erloaneans not currently busy acted as non-threatening as possible, hoping to make a good first impression.

[Insaanistan]

The Insaanis surrounded the vehicle, curious to see the new soldiers. They could tell these men were not Langenians, who sometimes frequented the area, but were unable to determine where they came from. They spoke loudly, asking one another about the Erloanean troops.
“What are they doing here,” one asked.
“They’re unloading things out of their trains,” another said. “Maybe weapons?”
“Do they wish to make our village their base? Just what we need, the war to come to us.”
“Don’t complain before you know what’s going on!” someone retorted.
Two little girls walked up to the soldiers unloading the supplies. They both looked about 10 years old and both wore hijabs, though one’s headscarf was incredibly loose around her head; the first one wore blue jeans and a top that was purple, red, magenta and grey, while the second one wore an orange Saīdi dress.
“Are you Americans?” the first one asked in Saīdi Arabic.
“Are you going to turn our country into Syria?” queried the second.

A young officer and a translator approached the girls. Thier faces revealed, sleeves rolled back and rifles on slings and on safe. They squatted so he could see eye to eye with girls and smiled.

"We are Erloaneans. We come from a land of snow and ice to help you. The trains are loaded with food, water and medicine. Don´t worry, we´re here to help." said the translator. Young officer than whistled and soldiers opened the crates and prepared to hand out water and meals to Insaanis. Another translator not far from the girls begun speaking loudly in fluent Saīdi Arabic. "Salam. Please stand in a line. We will hand out food and water. If you have any seriously ill friends, relatives or family members please imform our medical officers to receive medications for them. There´s nothing to be afraid of, we won´t be taking long."

Other Erloaneans not currently busy acted as non-threatening as possible, hoping to make a good first impression.

The Insaanis were relieved and overjoyed at the assurance and revelation. The women and girls ululated to show their gratitude. Smiles were all around as the Erloaneans handed out food to the Insaanis. Those who had sick relatives either brought them to the Erloaneans or gave the newcomers directions on how to get to the houses of the sick (though the directions were confusing and usually things along the lines of “The house is next to the rocks that look like a bowl turned upside. You’ve gone too far if you see a date palm that leans to the left.”). The two girls smiled at the officer and translator.
“Snow and ice?” repeated the second girl, “Like they get in the mountains of Sinai?” The first girl turned to the translator.
“Is snow what makes you people white? Can you bring us some snow? We’ll be white too!”

[Erloane]

A young officer and a translator approached the girls. Thier faces revealed, sleeves rolled back and rifles on slings and on safe. They squatted so he could see eye to eye with girls and smiled.

"We are Erloaneans. We come from a land of snow and ice to help you. The trains are loaded with food, water and medicine. Don´t worry, we´re here to help." said the translator. Young officer than whistled and soldiers opened the crates and prepared to hand out water and meals to Insaanis. Another translator not far from the girls begun speaking loudly in fluent Saīdi Arabic. "Salam. Please stand in a line. We will hand out food and water. If you have any seriously ill friends, relatives or family members please imform our medical officers to receive medications for them. There´s nothing to be afraid of, we won´t be taking long."

Other Erloaneans not currently busy acted as non-threatening as possible, hoping to make a good first impression.

The Insaanis were relieved and overjoyed at the assurance and revelation. The women and girls ululated to show their gratitude. Smiles were all around as the Erloaneans handed out food to the Insaanis. Those who had sick relatives either brought them to the Erloaneans or gave the newcomers directions on how to get to the houses of the sick (though the directions were confusing and usually things along the lines of “The house is next to the rocks that look like a bowl turned upside. You’ve gone too far if you see a date palm that leans to the left.”). The two girls smiled at the officer and translator.
“Snow and ice?” repeated the second girl, “Like they get in the mountains of Sinai?” The first girl turned to the translator.
“Is snow what makes you people white? Can you bring us some snow? We’ll be white too!”

The translator chuckled and responded "We don't get much sunlight up north. That makes us white. Snow can't change your skin color, but we could try getting you and other kids snow to play with. What do you think?"

Medics checked up on sick people that arrived with thier relatives, giving thier families or friends the necessary meds and giving advice. Thankfully, there were no seriously ill people yet. Soldiers set up tents for Insaanis so they wouldn't be baking under the sun.