NATION

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Imperial Reorganization (MT | OPEN)

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]

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Monahtan
Diplomat
 
Posts: 730
Founded: Mar 26, 2009
Ex-Nation

Postby Monahtan » Mon Jan 11, 2016 4:17 pm

National Incident Command Center
Underground Finestra


It was just after dawn, although the windowless bunker where the Imperial Council sat gave no indication other than a wall of world time zone clocks on the wall. The Emperor was dressed in khakis and a black polo with his Imperial seal embroidered on the left chest. As he entered the Strategy Center, the room stood from their chairs. Emperor Mikhail waved his right hand simultaneously with a, "please take your seats." A security officer closed the door to the Strategy Center and an audible click could be heard through the room as the magnetic locks engaged and a red LED light came to life above the door.

The Emperor, along with everyone else, lowered himself into a black leather office chair. In front of was a laptop and stacks of reports from the night before that weren't serious enough to wake him up for. "Status?" he asked the room.

Minister Osipov, the chief defense official for the Empire, began first, "The First, Fourth, and Eighth Battle Groups are on station, Admiral Milorad Atanasov commanding. The Third and Fourth Armies have been fully recalled and are stationed at various strategic locations around the Empire. The Thirty-Third Imperial Trooper Division is en route to FIAC and all personnel will arrive within eight hours. The entire Second and Third Air Forces are on alert and Imperial air space is controlled with concentrations over major metropolitan, military, and political locations." He paused just long enough to look down at his laptop when Mikhail began.

"Cancel all leave and holidays, Minister. Recall all military personnel to their stations. Maybe you missed the fact that we are facing an imminent threat of invasion. I want the entirety of the Imperial military standing by."

"Of course, Your Majesty. We've already issued cancel orders and the Forty-Third Logistics Group is being tasked with transporting personnel back to their duty stations, but it will take time."

"Speed it up. What of the Tenth Battle Group sailing to Sharko?" the Emperor asked.

"Still two days away from linking up with the Livanian fleet. Speaking of which," Osipov finished, motioning across the table to the international minister, Alik Federov.

"You've been briefed on their proposal, Sir; how would you like to respond?" Federov asked.

"Cordially," Mikhail said flatly. "I want these threats eliminated permanently. We will agree to the terms they proposed. Also inform them of our intentions with the Tenth."

"Now," The Emperor said turning back to Osipov. "Missile defense?"

"The missile defense network is fully operational. We will see any ballistic missiles with plenty of time to intercept."

"Enemy aircraft?"

Osipov shot a glance over to General Akardy Aksenov, the Chief of Staff of the Imperial Air Force. "The radar network is in the middle of overhaul. We should see anything coming, but there's a chance something could slip through. Which is why we've increased aerial patrols over Imperial air space."

"Extend air range by three thousand miles. Get the Strategic Bomber Wing airborne," the Emperor ordered.

"Your Majesty, they would be unescorted. Our fighters do not have a combat range adequate to protect them."

"Do it, Minister. We cannot depend on our early warning systems."


Image



To: The Livanian State
Fr: The Ministry of International Affairs, The Empire of Monahtan
Re: Proposed Treaty




Honorable Raul Marquez-Goya y Saavdera,

It is with great pleasure and confidence that I announce to you the Empire's intention to accept your proposed treaty. During this time of great uncertainty, we welcome your friendship. Please find attached in an encrypted file my direct contact information for quick communication.

Furthermore, we have dispatched our Tenth Naval Battle Group to link up with your Second Livanian Fleet in the event the aggressors do not rescind their threats of hostile action.

Please note that during this stressful time, the Emperor will be unavailable directly. Please forward all correspondence to my office. Should you wish to contact my equivalent in the Ministry of Defense, his office's contact information is attached as well.

We look forward to this new era of friendship.

Respectfully,

Alik Federov
Minister of International Affairs
Image
Last edited by Monahtan on Sun Jan 17, 2016 7:38 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Matthew 5:9 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.

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Quirina
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5960
Founded: Dec 30, 2010
Ex-Nation

Postby Quirina » Mon Jan 11, 2016 11:31 pm

Bulgar Rouge wrote:@Quirina, satellites are not that easy to interfere with. There is very little in the way of disrupting optical observation satellites, unless your ship mounts an array of giant lasers to "blind" the satellite and carries a small dam to power them. The same goes for radar interference. You can disrupt signals locally, preventing enemy GPS devices in the area from functioning. But to disrupt observation satellites themselves, you have two options - either detonate a thermonuclear weapon in the upper thermosphere (and the effect of this will only last hours anyway), or take control of every data dump point for every satellite that operates on a non-geostationary orbit. Receiver stations can be located anywhere on the planet, even ordinary users can receive the transmissions. Also, I'm using a mix of commercial satellite observation updated hourly and intercepts from foreign satellites, along with a network that captures and gives these signals to me. I do not operate anything in orbit of my own, nor any aerospace command and control assets.And again, unless your ship is the size of a small mountain and has several phased array stations with overlapping coverage on it, it's very unlikely that you'll be able to discern an observation satellite from a scientific satellite or even larger space junk.

Thanks for seeing these corrections, however, I do have to clarify that each of my capital ships have broadband multifunctional jamming stations that can jam such satellites tracked by my missile range instrumentation ships that can detect missiles and satellites on orbit, along with cooperative effort in jamming any hostile satellite that passes by with ships of such feature, therefore rendering harder time for the enemy to detect my vessels during voyage, even with imaging satellites simply because the jamming will only make the image distorted when submitted to highest command, even though the operator of said satellite captured the said area clearly, not to mention that satellite jamming is a daily occurrence in the Middle East. Aside from which, I do intended the aircraft carrier to be seen, since it just left port, doing all the primary drills and preparing to open its important systems. Satellite imagery is easy to foil, especially when the weather is unpredictable, where clouds can provide me enough concealment when I am moving my fleet. You may see few small ships, and that's it.

Also, I do need to note that it'll take several hours for satellites to circle, and hours to days for information from foreign satellites to get to its intended users of such information, like yourself.

Bulgar Rouge wrote:Also, could you explain how you surveyed my shores with those recce aircraft ? My nation is located on the Black Sea coast. You are not even past Gibraltar yet.

Secondly, who told you I'm going to Bulgaria? My fleet is currently moving around the Tropic of Capricorn.

Bulgar Rouge wrote:Finally, will you make a puppet for the DRC or what ?

Lastly, I'll be the DRC through this account, while also playing Livania
एक, सच, अजेय
The Great Federated Noble States

"Strength determines the fates of the world, and the same should be applied over oppressors." - Maharajah Purva Ashvath IV


Call me Quirina.

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Monahtan
Diplomat
 
Posts: 730
Founded: Mar 26, 2009
Ex-Nation

Postby Monahtan » Tue Jan 12, 2016 8:45 am

((OOC: Hey guys, in an attempt to keep OOC to minimum in the actual thread, I created an OOC thread for this RP. OOC/Discussion - Imperial Reorganization (MT | OPEN)))

Matthew 5:9 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.

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Maldovo
Lobbyist
 
Posts: 22
Founded: Jan 09, 2016
Ex-Nation

Postby Maldovo » Thu Jan 14, 2016 9:14 pm

International Airspace
A few kilometers away from Monahtan

As the plane soars through the skies, the beauty of the earth is witnessed, Prime Minister Adriano Gucci mumbled. Adriano and his colleagues knew fully well what their goal at Finestra was: to attend discussion of the threats received by the Empire of Monahtan and at the same time, secure the creation of a mutually beneficial friendship between said Empire and the Imperial State of Maldovo.

As the plane approached the Finestra Imperial Air Center, the seatbelt sign lit up and the members of the Maldovese delegation away from their seats promplty returned and fastened their seatbelts. As an eagle descends from the skies, the plane descended towards the runway and parked on its own designated area. As the door opened, Adriano and other members of his delegation strolled down as Monahtan officials escorted them to a helicopter which would bring them to the National Incident Command Center underneath the Command Complex.

Vengiorno, Maldovo
Capital of the Imperial State

The Imperial Congress had authorized the Armed Forces in engaging in military combat, just short of a formal declaration of war, in order to aid the Empire of Monahtan. The resolution, titled 'An Act Authorizing the Imperial State of Maldovo to Engage In Military Action Against The Enemies of The Empire of Monahtan', had passed with flying colors. The Senate, Maldovo's upper house, passed the resolution 94-7 with 3 abstaining while the House of Representatives had passed the resolution with a final vote of 837-75.

With the Armed Forces now authorized to engage, Operation New Friend was quickly planned and authorized. The plan was to mobilize a joint task force and relocate her just outside the territorial waters of Monahtan. This task force would aid the Empire of Monahtan should those hostile nations choose to continue with their threats and land within Monahtan. To achieve this plan, Joint Task Force Beta was deplotyed. Consisting of units plucked from the Imperial Armed Force's various service branches, the task force sailed out towards the Empire.

-Carrier Strike Group Beta
--1 Nimitz-class aircraft carrier
--2 Ticonderoga-class cruisers
--2nd Battle Squadron
---2 Arleigh Burke-class destroyers
---1 Adelaide-class frigate
-3rd Expeditionary Flotilla
--1 Tarawa-class amphibious assault ships
--1 San Antonio-class amphibious transport dock
--1 Tinconderoga-class cruiser
--1 Arleigh Burke-class destroyer
--1 Adelaide-class frigate
-1st Expeditionary Group
--1st Battalion Landing Team (1,000 men)
--1st Fighter Attack Squadron (12 x F35B)

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Dahon
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5892
Founded: Nov 11, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Dahon » Fri Jan 15, 2016 4:42 am

Hakubone Naval Base.

Hakubone, Suzumi.

5:00 am.

An unusually sweaty Yamane Hiraku made his way past the Dahon naval troops that were conducting their morning exercises at that ungodly early hour and into the hastily built hangar that served as the rather ramshackle home for one of the queendom's two Serpent transport helicopters, the entirety of the nation's air force, clutching a wrinkled envelope matted with moisture and clasped shut with the seal of the ministry of Foreign Affairs in his hands. Seeing the Yakumokami talking to two middle-aged men -- one dressed to regulation and expressionless, the other almost slovenly dressed but attentively if not intensely listening -- the Foreign Minister briskly walked the last few meters that lay between him and them. Before he closed the distance the expressionless man's right hand briskly went up in salute to the woman before him and then withdrew the way Yamane was coming in. Knowing what was coming next, Yamane waved the man off with a quick flick of his free hand-- a career naval officer who had been fortunate enough never to experience war firsthand, a someone who went by the name Fumide.

The slovenly-dressed man spoke first in a familiarly casual, almost wormish drawl, "Aw, thought you'd never arrive, Yamane. On the other hand, we can't have you fly over anywhere with that sw--"

"To business, gentlemen," the Suzumikami cut him off, "especially you, 'Sensei'. Yamane-san, developments? I see you didn't bring any diplomats with you. May I have your envelope?"

"Your Highness," Yamane said as he handed the soaking-wet envelope to her, "I just walked on ahead before them, but they're here at the naval base. Anyhow, only Bulgar Rouge has responded to our communique, and they still insist on the dissolution of the Empire as a sine qua non of negotiations."

The Yakumokami, having opened the envelope and brought out enough of the letter for her to be able to read the first few lines of text, nodded and said in reply, more to the contents of the letter than to what Yamane said, "Poor saps, they really are taking this too seriously, this 'revolutionary' game of theirs. 'Unnatural'? If we are going by age alone, empires like that of Monahtan's would be the epitome of all that is 'natural'. But of course we in Dahon don't subscribe to that."

Feeling she had given herself away with those last few words, and in any case having scanned through what seemed to her an exceptionally rude and even vaguely threatening letter (so those who support Monahtan will taste their self-righteousness measured by boots and bombs? sounds about right), she turned to 'Sensei'. "You've said that you can handle Bulgar Rouge and the Sharko Federation by yourself."

"I've also said you shouldn't offer yourself up to the proverbial altar. The last thing this nation needs is to lose two kami, one to love and the other to naivete." A shocked gasp later, he continued, "We're running on fumes already, what with Kiako in intensive care, and I don't want your brat and that brat leading Dahon."

The Suzumikami clenched her teeth but knew in her heart that her interlocutor was right -- her own oldest daughter, while a fast learner for all her 12 years (the same age the third Kanamekami rose to power and unified us all, she mentally noted), was not yet kami material -- and no one in their right mind entrust Kaname Sumire with the safety or well-being of anything for an extended period of time. So she said, "I guess this is your time to convince them of the prudence of waiting. I've also directed Marshal Fumide to put the navy on full alert -- a belligerent who's brash enough as these two are can't be trusted to keep their hands off these shores, convinced of their superior virtue. Yamane, please fire off a reply to their reply immediately, tell them we're meeting in... what in the world is a Tamboko?"

"It's a country off of western Africa, in what used to be part of the Congo, Your Highness," the Foreign Minister helpfully supplied.

---

Not necessarily, was "Sensei's" snide remark, of necessity concealed from his sovereign.

---

Image

The Queendom of Dahon
Ministry of Foreign Affairs


To: the leaders of the Democratic Republic of Bulgar Rouge
From: Yamane Hiraku, Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Queendom of Dahon

Greetings.

We've received your communique regarding the Monahtan situation and, while we still insist that the Empire be allowed to remain as currently constituted, unmolested by either your of by Sharko forces insistent on bullying a country to an uncomfortable conformity, we will consent to a diplomatic meeting in Tamboko. Due to other more pressing local concerns, Her Highness the Suzumikami will not be able to accompany the delegation we will be sending to parley with your party; however, she has appointed another top official of the Dahon royal government to head the delegation and talk things over to a conclusion that satisfies all parties.

Sincerely,

Yamane Hiraku
Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Last edited by Dahon on Thu Jan 28, 2016 9:35 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Authoritarianism kills all. Never forget that.

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Great Carlistan
Envoy
 
Posts: 216
Founded: Aug 25, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Great Carlistan » Fri Jan 15, 2016 5:11 am

Imperial Diplomatic Corps Jet,
Monahtan Airspace


The flight attendant approached the group delegates sitting in the back: "My lady, gentlemen, the pilot has instructed me to inform you of our imminent landing at the Finestra Imperial Air Centre."

"Alright, thank you very much." Van Zievan sighed. She loved the feeling of soaring above the clouds and looking down onto a world of toy trains and cars, but hated landing and lift-off. She would cling onto her seat as if falling out of the sky and keep her mouth open like an over-sized carp to keep the pressure from pressing against her ears. It looked ridiculous and she always considered herself lucky that her Imperial colleagues had the decency to keep their faces straight ahead pretending they had not noticed.

"Hey! Eric, I would like to go over the proposal for the naval detachment with you, can you come sit next to me?" Frederiks voice pulled her from her thoughts back to reality, to see that the junior diplomat had been making to sit down next to her. She could not help but smile at Frederiks wit; not only had he saved her the embarrassment of looking like a fish infront of a junior diplomat, but also reminded her of his name.

The voices around her became increasingly distant as the plane began its descend on the military base and she watched the landscape below her, the roads, the distant buildings of the Monahtan capital of Finestra and, finally, the runway of the air centre. Van Zievan let out another sigh, out of relief this time, as the plane gently touched down. At that moment, the IMPDISEC team rose and, while two remained at the door, the others started moving towards the Imperial delegation.

"Miss Zievan", the commanding officer adressed her, "Sergeant Tupol will be staying with the plane, the rest of us will be coming with you. I must ask you to stay with us at all time, we have not had diplomatic contact with the people of Monahtan before."

"I understand your concern captain, however, that will not be possible. We must meet the people and especially the Emperor of Monahtan with the proper respect and armed personnel may offend them. If you are told to stay behind, I am telling you now that you will not start answering back or refusing to cooperate with local security forces. Understood?"

"Certainly, Miss."

"Very good. I see a helicopter there, that will probably be how they wish to transport us to the place of the meeting, best behaviour everyone!" she joked, but immediately became more solemn: "Imperator defendit."

The Capital Complex,
City of Finestra,
Empire of Monahtan


The Carlistinian delegation and their security agents got off the helicopter, to be greeted by a member of the Monahtan government and immediately set off into the direction of the Strategy Centre. They had been told they would meet the Emperor there and were discussing amongst themselves, as the Monahtan glanced back at them.

"How do we greet their Emperor?" the young diplomat, Eric suddenly asked.

"Ehm... I would say we greet him as per Imperial protocol, we fall to our knees, Miss van Zievan bows, the guards stand in the back." The Defence representative had not thought of this before.

"But that is our Imperial protocol! What if they have a different one and we do something unforgiveable? If someone does not give the due espects to our Emperor..." Eric trailed off.

At this point, Frederik stopped walking and turned around: "You are right. We did not expect to be confronted with the Monahtan Emperor this early on, what do we do?"

"I really do not see any reason for panic", van Zievan was getting impatient, "we present ourselves and our plea to use their shipyards will be brought forward, as for how to greet him..." van Zievan turned to their guide, who bowed respectfully, "we apologise for being so ill-prepared, but maybe you could help us with that question before we meet your leader?" The official looked around, as seven pairs of eys were now on him.
Imperator defendit Imperator vivat!

Map

"My touchy subjects are a bit... touchy" - the most important thing to know really.

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Bulgar Rouge
Minister
 
Posts: 2397
Founded: Dec 08, 2013
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Bulgar Rouge » Fri Jan 15, 2016 6:36 am

Image
DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF BULGAR ROUGE

FROM: Foreign Affairs Committee
TO: Yamane Hiraku, Ministry of Foreign Affairs
ENCR: Rila-BZ300 (medium, diplomatic)

Hearing our call is a wise step on your part. The authorities of the People's Republic of Tamboko have prepared an assembly hall in Mambasa for the meeting. Security is maximum. Our representatives are already en route, you will be meeting Brother No. 7, the People's Commissar of Foreign Affairs.

People's Committee of Foreign Affairs



Unknown location, southeast of Monahtan

Image
The bombers' high-pitched scream could barely be heard inside the cockpit. "Blinders" were long-written off as viable aircraft due to their insufficient range of only 5,000 kilometres and poor maneuverability. But with a refuelling tanker and a single Kh-22 missile on board each, the four birds were about to make a menace in Bulgarian hands. After flying at a very low altitude of about 150 metres above the sea, the aircraft sharply rose up to 5,000 metres and equalised with the horizon to begin the maneuver.

The flight leader, call sign Alfa, was piloted by Major Pavlin Gotsev. In the NPLAAF, the man was a legend. Outside this branch, he was the most hated man in the military establishment. His obedience and belief in the system knew no bounds, and he was willing to sell his own brother out to the Party if he suspected any wrongdoing or deviation from the Party line. And he did so. But the Air Force considered them their hero - previously a fighter pilot with his humble MiG-21bis, he led the group that intercepted SACTO bombers in Bulgarian air space during the Fatherland War and personally shot down three of them. He was the man to re-introduce discipline in the Air Force after decades of rot and collapse. Gotsev lobbied to expand it even in the pre-Purge era, when military commanders were overwhelmingly insisting to keep the NPLA an all-ground force and keep "unnatural warfare branches" out of the picture. Finally, he was the one to orchestrate the arrest and execution of most of these commanders.

Now, requalified into a bomber pilot, he led the charge into what he believed (just like the Party) was a punitive raid designed to show the world that empires and capitalist states were to be declared no more. After their expansion was halted, it was the time to begin culling these regimes and achieve the final revolutionary victory. Right after he began the final inspection of all flight systems, he recalled a film scene he saw in his pre-Revolutionary days. The crew of a strategic bomber, in defiance of their own government, doing the same checks right before dropping a nuclear bomb on a communist state bent on introducing "foreign substances" into the capitalists' precious bodily fluids. Gotsev smiled at the irony that he was about to launch a destructive conventional attack against an imperialist state himself, from the cockpit of a socialist bomber.

"Distance to target."
- "Distance 545 kilometres."
"Acquisition of target."
- "Target acquired Alfa."
- "Target acquired Beta."
- "Target acquired Gama."
- "Target acquired Delta."
"Warhead arm."
- "Warhead armed."
"Flight trajectory and pre-programmed sequence synchronise."
- "Trajectory and pre-programmed sequence synchronised."
"Release and fire in 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...release and fire."
- "Released. Missiles on their way."

Four Kh-22M long-range multi-profile missiles fell off the bombers, then suddenly powered and began a steep downward descent at a speed of Mach 5, or almost 6,200 kilometres per hour. On lock were the four biggest radar installations of Monahtan, which were about to fall blind in a few minutes. The enemy would then be completely oblivious to the 156 cruise missiles headed towards them. Smiling at the irony of the NATO nickname for his bird, "Blinder", the scene he recalled from his youth and humming the tune from it - much to the curiosity of his crew - Gotsev gave order to turn back and head to the nearest aerial refuelling point for a safe return home.

"To launch depth !" Admiral al-Maghasi's voice roared from the submarine's speakers while the crew were rushing to ensure everything was prepared for the launch. The bombers had done their part. Now the Mason-class slowly rose up to a depth of 30 metres, suitable for missile launch. On the command deck, 156 red dots on the schematic display of the sub turned yellow, indicating they were now armed. Coordinates were uploaded - strategic infrastructure and economic assets scattered around eastern Monahtan, including its five largest cities. The only element missing was the Party's confirmation to begin the strikes...
Last edited by Bulgar Rouge on Mon Jan 18, 2016 11:02 am, edited 1 time in total.

This nation does not reflect my RL views.
Singaporean Transhumans wrote:I'm only saying that, well, even commies have reached the level of selling counterfeit and drugs in their storefronts, we can't be any less.

The Holy Therns wrote:Politicians make statements. It's their substitute for achievement.

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The State of Monavia
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1555
Founded: Jun 27, 2006
Right-wing Utopia

Postby The State of Monavia » Sat Jan 16, 2016 1:26 am

January 9, AD 2016
1330 hours local time


Crown Communications Center
First floor, Royal Residence
Chalcedon, Capital District
Imperial Federation of the Monavian Empire
Northwestern Nova


Competent political leaders tend to understand that it is difficult to practice statecraft without having access to adequate quantities of funding, personnel, facilities, equipment, and sheer luck. To truly attain mastery of these resources, however, a leader of the state much acquire an intimate command of information, which is most precious and potent commodity to enter mankind’s comprehension. It was for this reason that the Crown regarded knowledge—not currency or technology or land—as having a value exceeding that of even the finest jewels. Indirect sources of information such as the Imperial Federation’s intelligence services and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Media Processing Center had considerable merits in terms of their ability to satisfy this need, but the bureaucratic complexity that existed in those places often hindered and delayed its fulfillment. The monarchy solved this problem by establishing the Crown Communications Center in 1952, though almost immediately thereafter the staff who worked there playfully dubbed it the “Triple C” and ensured that its nickname endured.

The duty of administering the Center fell upon a forty-five-year-old mother of two named Elena Honchar. Honchar’s position afforded her ample prestige and the facility she commanded had multiple shifts of staff on hand to keep it fully operational around the clock without fail. In spite of having these and other reasons to love her work, she simultaneously loathed the inconveniences that her position all too frequently entailed. The twelve-hour days she often put in left her with little time to manage her household or assist her children with their homework. The paychecks her husband earned as an orthopedic surgeon were handsome by any measure, but the number of patients he juggled every day often left him in a similar position. The end result was predictably depressing: the Honchars had enough money to maintain a comfortable existence but had nowhere near enough time to enjoy it.

Director Honchar did not expect anything out of the ordinary to occur on the ninth of January as she went about her duties that day. The sunny weather outside had melted a lot of slippery snow off of the sidewalks and defrosted the cars that her staff drove to work, so the entire complement present had a motive for feeling cheerier than they were the previous few days. The hours passed without anything notable occurring, the lunch break came and went, and by one-thirty that afternoon Honchar was ready to refill her thermos with water and arose from her seat at to make a quick jaunt outside. If nothing else, she now had an excuse to stretch her legs without having to awkwardly pace around the place.

“Mr. Demi,” Honchar called out to a nearby intern.

“Yes?”

“Check the fax machine.”

“Yes Director.”

Honchar returned less than two minutes later to find the intern reloading a printer nestled among dozens of other sleek, glitzy machines that lined the Center’s walls and counters. “Director, there’s a new fax for you in the hopper.”

“Bring it here,” she instructed.

The intern retrieved a single sheet of paper from the machine and placed it on Honchar’s desk. “It doesn’t look like much,” he commented, noting the message’s concision.

“I’ll just take a look and find out,” she replied as her sharp brown eyes began scrutinizing the page. The intern briefly paused before turning back towards his desk, only for Honchar’s voice to arrest his movement. “Mr. Demi, I’ll be taking this down the hall. You may resume what you were doing earlier.”

Honchar locked down her computer and departed for the antechamber leading into the queen’s office. The only security posted at the entrance to the antechamber consisted of a stocky, blue-eyed Royal Guardsman with dull brown hair and chiseled features. Like most senior administrators who had worked inside the palace for more than a few years, Honchar had grown accustomed to the sentinel’s stern comportment and hawkish glances, though his impeccable presentation never ceased to impress just about every visitor who passed by him. Honchar passed through the doorway without even having to pause in order to receive admission and strode across the antechamber’s gleaming marble floor to find a seat. Two of the walnut-framed bergères had already been claimed by members of the royal household staff who were waiting to be admitted, so she chose to settle into a vacant one that was located closest to the inner doors. The satin upholstery lining the antique chair was only somewhat more comfortable to sit on than her swivel chair, but then again, the antechamber was never intended to serve as a lounge in the first place.

The communications director only had to wait a couple of minutes for a number of officials to exit the office with one of the queen’s footmen in tow. The servant’s black woolen morning suit, matching waistcoat, and glossy black Oxfords certainly harmonized with the furnishings, which included an octet of ornately framed nineteenth-century paintings, a rococo-style chaise lounge, and a gilded brass chandelier that bathed the entire space in soft, yellow-hued light. Honchar rose out of her seat and handed the document to the footman so he could take it inside. “Please see to it that Her Imperial Majesty reads this as soon as she can,” Honchar explained. “I’m pretty sure it’s urgent.”

“Of course, Mrs. Honchar,” he replied demurely. “The august lady could use some excitement today anyway.”




1355 hours local time

Office of the Queen Coregent
First floor, Royal Residence
Chalcedon, Capital District
Imperial Federation of the Monavian Empire
Northwestern Nova


Minister Carter’s office had been the only Monavian bastion of officialdom to take notice of the reformation of Monahtan before the transmission of Federov’s most recent communiqué. Over the next few hours the number of officials who had reasons to monitor the situation multiplied as the Queen Coregent planned out how to address the document which the footman had just deposited atop her desk. Her first act consisted of writing a secure message to the Minister of Defense, a task that took much longer than she first planned since she ended up tinkering with the wording a lot to describe the issue at hand as clearly as possible.

Image

OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUÉ

Image

9 January 2016


To: Rt. Hon. Carl Blake, Minister of Defense
From: RR Crown Offices
Subject: Preparation for possible hostilities


Two days ago the Emperor of Monahtan announced that his subordinates successfully completed a comprehensive government reorganization in which the previous communist regime was abolished by popular referendum in favor of a newly-founded monarchy. The emperor’s declaration prompted Minister Carter to congratulate the new sovereign on our country’s behalf, a gesture that was duplicated by a number of other foreign states. Shortly after these events transpired, the Sharko Federation and the Bulgar Rouge issued ultimatums demanding that the new regime be dissolved and the old one restored. Both of the ultimatums explicitly state that failure to comply with their terms shall result in the commencement of hostilities for the purposes of coercing the Empire of Monahtan into submission.

The emperor’s Minister of International Affairs, Alik Federov, has since announced as of 1330 hours MIST that his government wishes for all countries expressing support for the reorganization to send representatives to discuss possible courses of action at Finestra, the Empire’s capital city. This request implies that the Emperor of Monahtan does not regard his country’s armed forces as having sufficient capabilities to thwart an aggressive encroachment on his sovereignty without the benefit of external assistance. Furthermore, the Crown believes that the Imperial Federation is likely to find itself at cross purposes with the governments of the Bulgar Rouge and the Sharko Federation as a result of having expressed support for the emperor.

In light of these events, the Crown hereby directs you to convene the MNDC today to determine appropriate preparations for entry into states of hostilities toward the Bulgar Rouge and the Sharko Federation and to arrange for the timely collection of intelligence data regarding the aforesaid entities. The Crown further directs that Marshal Bogdanov be furnished with instructions to ready Orbital Defense Command assets for combat within twenty-four hours.


The queen made several telephone calls to members of the Royal State Security Council as soon as she finished drafting her war preparation orders so that she could summon them to meet in her office the following morning. In the meantime, she had another official to contact before the afternoon wore on much longer.




1447 hours local time

Office of the Right Honorable Frank Carter
Fifth floor, Ministry of Foreign Affairs Building
Chalcedon, Capital District
Imperial Federation of the Monavian Empire
Northwestern Nova


A substantial majority of Minister Carter’s daily workload consisted of administrative and ceremonial duties, so he naturally enjoyed the assistance of other Ministry officials in fulfilling his duties as the Crown’s chief source of foreign policy recommendations. Carter’s principal subordinates included Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs Augustus Borozan, who managed the Imperial Federation’s diplomatic exchange program, the Ministry Press Secretary Karl Golikov, and Ministry Chief of Legal Staff Laura Garmash. Carter’s most important source of assistance, however, was the Monavian Foreign Relations Council, a nine-member committee of the Empire’s most distinguished and capable foreign policy experts. In addition to analyzing the information that it received from subordinate levels of the Ministry’s chain of command, the Council functioned as a team of gatekeepers by filtering and condensing the dossiers, files, and reports that landed came its way.

An experienced civil servant named Robert D. Farrington chaired the MFRC, but the sagest member of the panel was Harold Brkovich, an elderly intellectual who held doctorates in political science and economics. His eighteen years of service on the Council made him its longest-serving member and endowed him with a certain grandfatherly air when speaking in front of collegiate interns. Brkovich was busy conversing with Carter in his office about the Monahtan situation when a telephone located on a corner of Carter’s desk emitted a shrill, high-pitched ring. Carter excused himself and spent a few minutes speaking with Her Imperial Majesty about the fax she had received and then resumed his conversation.

“Is everything all right, Minister?”

“I wish I could say it was. The communists opposing the Empire of Monahtan are refusing to soften their posture and they’re likely to declare war by the end of tomorrow.”

“That such a shame,” Brkovich commented. “I’m sorry it’s gotten so rotten over there.”

“It could be worse,” Carter conceded. “The countries hurling ultimatums at the new emperor have relatively weak military forces if Minister Federov is to be believed.”

“What did he say?”

“He sent a fax straight to the Royal Residence asking for the governments supporting Emperor Mikhail to send delegations to Finestra, the Monahtan Empire’s capital.”

“I suppose we’re sending one too?”

“Yes. Deputy Minister Borozan will lead the delegation and I plan on sending Garmash along to handle the legalese in case somebody wants to draw up a mutual defense pact.”

“Doesn’t this whole thing seem a bit…rushed?”

Carter sighed. “It’s moving along faster than I’d like and we don’t really know much about the people we’re supporting, but this sort of opportunity to establish a positive reputation abroad doesn’t come by often so we had better make the best of it.”

“I agree. When is our delegation moving out?”

“Tomorrow evening, if everything stays on schedule. The queen just informed me that she’ll select an ambassador to permanently represent our country’s interests before the evening is up. You remember how Ambassador Culler got his position.”

“Of course I do.” Brkovich chuckled. “Her Imperial Majesty invited him to her office around eight P.M. and blew through the formalities so she could offer him the position right away. I heard he took only an hour or two to recruit a crack team to accompany him to Bielostrov and that they flew out the next morning.”

“Talk about efficiency!”

“Well, how fast do you think this appointment will take?”

“Heaven only knows, Doctor. Anyway, I had better get back to work before any of the service staff come by and wonder where their taxes are going,” the minister added mischievously.

“I understand. You always know how to contact me if there’s a problem.” Brkovich turned towards the doors and started leaving, only for Carter to make another request.

“One more thing, Dr. Brkovich.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Telephone the MPC and order them to dedicate one of their terminals to monitoring the situation around Monahtan. I want them ready to alert the Council if anything explodes over there since this entire firestorm is just getting hotter by the hour.”

“Of course.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I need to formulate a response to Alik Federov’s announcement so he can breathe easily again.”

Brkovich shut the fancifully carved ebony doors behind him while his superior prepared another letter for his opposite number in Finestra.

Image


Hon. Alik Federov
Minister of International Affairs
Capitol Complex, Finestra
Empire of Monahtan

January 9, 2016

Minister:

Two hours ago my office received a copy of your most recent public announcement about reactions to your country’s administrative reorganization. I am sorry to have read that foreign states maliciously threatened your government over what is by all rights an internal matter not affecting them and I am pleased to assure you that my superiors are working to determine an appropriate course of action.

The Crown acknowledges that there is a strong possibility of Monavian involvement in the hostilities which your country is preparing to wage. As a consequence of this development, Her Imperial Majesty the Queen Coregent plans to send a delegation to Finestra within the next day or so. The Crown has also notified the Ministry of Defense about the threats which your people face so that the Imperial Armed Forces can assume an appropriate strategic alert posture and draw up plans for supporting your defensive measures. It is likely that your office will receive correspondence from them in the near future.

Sincerely,

Frank Carter
Minister of Foreign Affairs





1953 hours local time

Office of the Queen
First floor, Royal Residence
Chalcedon, Capital District
Imperial Federation of the Monavian Empire
Northwestern Nova


Carter’s predictions regarding the Queen Coregent’s method for selecting a new ambassador were strangely accurate that night. The process began in the Office of the Royal Chief of Staff, where one of the desk jockeys telephoned a career diplomat named Divna Jovovich and told her that she had been summoned to appear at the Royal Residence at eight o’clock that evening. The forty-one-year-old envoy had spent well over a third of her life in the Ministry and fluently spoke Russian and French, but none of her experience had ever included answering a surprise summons from the Crown. She spent most of her drive home contemplating what sort of outfit she should change into after dinner, though the daily rigmarole of yanking junk mail out of her mailbox and disposing of it briefly took her mind off fashion.

Jovovich realized that she did not have much time to cook, so she reheated a container of potatoes and egg rolls and polished off the remains of a salad she had made the previous night. She finished eating by seven-fifteen and rifled through her closet for several minutes before settling on a deep green sheath dress that fell to mid-calf at the bottom. Jovovich completed her costume with a choker of black pearls and tied her shoulder-length brown hair back into a neat bun to make it more presentable. She also left her handbag behind in favor of a black velvet duster that was just large enough to hold her wallet and keys so that she could reduce the time she spent waiting at the Residence’s security checkpoints.

The rush hour traffic that Jovovich had seen on the roads earlier that afternoon had already dissipated by the time she left her house for the government district, so she had little trouble reaching a park located just south of her destination just twenty-odd minutes later. The white granite drive she traversed on her way through the park was lined on both sides by gilded bronze statues of the Empire’s past rulers and the grounds just a few paces farther from the road were covered by groves of ancient oak and walnut trees which gave the fields a rustic charm which only the winter had been able to diminish. The envoy continued on, crossed the road separating the park from the Residence’s grounds, and stopped in front of a black wrought iron gate decorated with gilded ornaments. One of the men occupying the stout, neoclassical guardhouse spotted Jovovich’s car on one of the camera feeds and yanked a lever that controlled the outer gate so that she could pull up alongside the structure.

“Good evening, ma’am,” a sharply attired Special Federal Service officer greeted Jovovich from behind a four-inch-thick bulletproof window.

“Good evening. I’m Divna Jovovich from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I was asked by the Chief of Staff to come here at eight.”

“Please hand me your ID so I can run it past security.”

Jovovich complied and waited for the guard to run her name and photograph past the appointment records provided to him by the Residence’s main security office. The envoy glanced at her watch and saw that she had only about ten minutes left to make it inside, and the security check seemed to be suffering some kind of holdup. Jovovich nervously cast a forward glance at the massive inner gates that sat ahead of her and began to wonder if she had just driven up to the entrance to a gold depository. The ornately festooned steel doors and their control machinery were both housed inside a tall marble structure that resembled a small triumphal arch, complete with doubled ionic columns, bas-relief friezes, and a coffered ceiling. The entire guardhouse was constructed from solid granite layered around a ferroconcrete shell and the double set of hydraulically-retractable vehicle barriers inside the outer gate could stop a fully loaded tractor-trailer. In short, the entire entry setup was nothing less than a twenty-first century incarnation of a medieval barbican.

“You’re clear to enter,” the guard smiled, snapping Jovovich out of her momentary trance as he handed back her ID card.

“Thank you.”

“Just turn left when you reach the building and pull up by the curb. An officer will take care of your parking so you can simply go inside.”

Jovovich grinned. SFS valet service? Yes please! She passed through the inner gates and a hundred yards of wooded lawns before reaching the stately neoclassical marble edifice where the Crown was domiciled and turned onto a section of the drive that ran parallel to the building. Pigeons hiding in shrubbery along the other side of the drive darted around to avoid a trio of approaching Special Federal Service officers in plainclothes as they moved along their patrol route, though the rustling they made failed to garner Jovovich’s notice. She handed her keys to one of the SFS officers standing at the curb and ascended a flight of stairs leading into the building. The pair of Royal Guardsmen flanking the doors at the landing was attired in charcoal gray dress uniforms which included a pair of black silk stripes on each trouser leg, high peaked caps from under which their eyes sized up visitors, and richly enameled belt buckles bearing the arms of the royal family. Light from the curbside lamps glinted off the fine gold aiguillettes that hung from their shoulders and the silvery sword bayonets affixed to their bolt-action rifles.

A footman stationed inside the doorway admitted Jovovich into the Residence’s west gallery and directed her to the queen’s antechamber, which was located just a few dozen paces away. She would have paused to admire the artwork in the gallery if she had only had a bit more time on her hands, but her meeting was only seven minutes away and her watch was not ticking any slower than it was earlier. The envoy proceeded to the antechamber and found another footman tending the office’s doors. The servant silently waved Jovovich in the moment she gave him her name and shut the door behind her. Upon entering the room, Jovovich found a quartet of silk-upholstered bergères arranged in front of the queen’s fancifully lacquered Empire-style ebony desk. The chair on the left and the two in the middle were already occupied when she entered, so she walked towards the right to claim the one that was still vacant.

“Miss Jovovich, it’s a pleasure to see you tonight,” Garmash greeted her. The towheaded, six-foot-one-inch Amazon with Nordic features occupied the seat located closest to Jovovich. The forty-two-year-old attorney stood half a head taller than Jovovich and would have towered over her had it not been for the ambassadorial candidate’s three-inch heels, though the difference was much less pronounced when both were seated.

“It is,” she replied tersely as Borozan arose from the seat on Garmash’s left to shake the envoy’s hand. Borozan was a handbreadth shorter and several years older than her, though that still made him a good half-decade younger than Carter, who somehow had yet to develop any gray hair in spite of the strain his job placed upon him. The unusual brightness of the lights did poor justice to Borozan’s chestnut hair and fair complexion by making the former look too dark and the latter appear sallow, but the English-cut midnight blue suit he wore seemed impervious to chromatic corruption.

“How did your work go today?” Garmash asked.

“Fine, I suppose. Nothing special happened most of the day and then I got a call asking me to come here tonight. You don’t happen to know what we’re all doing here, do you?”

“Her Imperial Majesty will fill you in herself,” Golikov answered. “We know what we’re here, but you’re the wild card of the bunch.” The slender, six-foot-tall, 165-pound man in his sixties who occupied the seat on the far left was attired more austerely than his companions since his black onyx cuff links lacked the ostentation of the monogrammed gold ones that Borozan was wearing and his jet black three-piece suit looked vaguely like the uniform of a bank president.

“How so?”

“We have a diplomatic mission in the works and the queen has nominated you to be a part of it,” Garmash explained.

“Don’t spoil the whole thing!” Golikov cut in. Appearances aside, his personality was anything but funereal.

“It doesn’t happen to have anything to do with any of the countries that recently began opening embassy space, does it?”

“No,” Borozan answered. “This matter involves a country with which we’ve had no past relations. It’s all fresh, virgin territory.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Well, I could always use another adventure to liven things up.”

“You’re not getting too old for that yet?” Garmash teased.

“Bah! What silliness is that? Our ancestors didn’t accomplish anything by calling it quits the moment they reached some imaginary sell-by date.”

Garmash shook her head and turned back towards Jovovich. “Just think of it as a vacation.”

“A working vacation with stakes attached,” Borozan corrected.

Golikov poised himself to interject another one of his comments, only to pause at the sound of footmen unbolting the doors to pull them open. The guests rose from their seats and turned around as the doors parted to admit the entry of an impeccably postured lady who stood taller than Borozan but shorter than Golikov. Her fairly-complexioned physique sported robust, lithely-proportioned arms conditioned by decades of playing tennis and her pale brown hair was carefully braided to frame the Slavic features of her oblong face. Despite being roughly Golikov’s age, the queen’s deep green eyes had lost none of the luminous fire they had when she and her husband Charles had been crowned King and Queen Coregent in 1981. Both the lines radiating from her eyes and the traces of gray that crept into her hair over the past several years offered evidence for estimating her age but the serenely welcoming smile she wore with her amethyst necklace and violet dress proved too distracting for anyone to bother.

Borozan reflexively bowed at the waist with a fluidness that came from being accustomed to royal audiences and the rest followed suit. “Good evening, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Likewise, Minister. I trust I have not kept you and the others here waiting for long.”

“No. We had just enough time to welcome Miss Jovovich inside and let her settle in.”

“That’s good,” the sovereign observed, gesturing for the footmen outside to shut the doors. “Now we can get down to business,” she pronounced as she looked straight at the envoy. “Miss Jovovich, I invited you here to present you with a proposition that I want you to consider,” she began. “A faraway country called Monahtan reorganized its government earlier this week and has come under threat as a consequence of choosing to alter its destiny in a way that several other regimes dislike. You are here because we need someone to represent our government over there and you have a lot of qualifications that are germane to this assignment.” She paused to let her statement sink in before continuing. “You understand where I am going with this?”

Jovovich meekly nodded.

“Good.” The queen spent the next fifteen minutes delineating various aspects of the situation in Monahtan before moving on to describe how Jovovich was to negotiate an aid arrangement which would enable the new government there to survive the challenge it faced. Jovovich was to have the aid of several attachés and some runners from the Ministry. The jet carrying them to Finestra would contain both an SFS detail that would serve as their main security escort and squad of Royal Guardsmen who would perform ceremonial honor guard duties at their arrival and departure. Most importantly, Jovovich would be formally promoted and named Monavian Ambassador to Monahtan.

The envoy was exhilarated by the news but she also felt a bit incredulous. “There’s something I don’t understand. You want me to lead the delegation but you’re having Minister Borozan come along as well. Shouldn’t he be leading it since he outranks everyone else?”

“Your instincts are correct, Miss Jovovich. You’ll be receiving an ambassadorial rank but Minister Borozan will be the only official present with plenipotentiary authority to make binding agreements. This setup will serve as an insurance policy should any of our dealings with Minister Federov turn sour since we don’t know who else is negotiating with them and what sort of raw deal they might be forced to give us by other parties.”

“This sounds like a wonderful offer, but I don’t know if I can accept it right now. It’s just a lot to take in.”

“I realize that, but the offer is only on the table while you’re here. You can always step outside and think a bit, if you’d like, but the situation is time-sensitive and Minister Borozan had to spend quite a bit of time just to find somebody who was available and did not have another assignment pending.”

“Thank you. I’ll…think about it a bit and come back inside once I’ve made up my mind.” The envoy respectfully bowed and exited the office to mull over the queen’s offer. After waiting for a solid half-hour, the others heard a doorknob turn behind them and watched as Jovovich slowly walked back inside.

“I take it you reached a decision,” Borozan inquired as Jovovich retook her seat.

“Yes.” She paused to exhale and muster some finesse for her answer so that she could avoid sounding anxious. “Your Imperial Majesty, it deeply pleases me to accept your incredibly generous offer.”

“Congratulations, Madam Ambassador. I have a great measure of confidence that you will prove equal to the task.”

“Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty,” she bowed. “I do have another question though.”

“Yes?”

“When would we be leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning, before lunch. I had Borozan get your superiors to reassign your outstanding workload to your colleagues, so you need only worry about finding time to pack.”

Jovovich was justifiably nervous; after all, the entire scheme was simply coming together too easily to be believable. There simply had to be some sort of hidden pitfall involved. “This…ambassadorship…how long would it last?”

“It would only be temporary as we simply need someone with your skills to occupy the position until a more suitable permanent replacement can be selected. Of course, should you find yourself performing well at this job, we can always make your appointment permanent,” Borozan answered smilingly.

The conversation eventually wound down and Jovovich departed the way she came, albeit feeling excited—and more nervous—than she was when she arrived. Upon reaching home she changed and spent a few minute thinking about how best to pack her luggage before deciding she needed a snack and rummaging through her refrigerator. When she prepared to retire for the night some seventy minutes later, she felt an urge to snack again and pulled the refrigerator door open, only to halt and decide that she really didn’t need anything else in her stomach right before trying to sleep. She cast a final glance inside and shut the door. Looks like I’m having leftovers again—for breakfast.




January 10, AD 2016
0800 hours local time


Office of the Queen
First floor, Royal Residence
Chalcedon, Capital District
Imperial Federation of the Monavian Empire
Northwestern Nova


The Crown typically received routine daily security briefings at eight o’clock each morning save on Sundays when the briefings were delivered at high noon. National Security Minister Owen Chambers generally fulfilled the duty of delivering these briefings without anyone else present to offer advice and counsel, but this was not the case on the day that Jovovich and her compatriots were scheduled to leave for Finestra. Instead the queen ordered the Royal State Security Council to meet in her private office at the hour when the briefing was set to take place so that she could solicit its advice and organize a more comprehensive strategy for combating the aggressive behavior that was being directed at the Empire of Monahtan. The six-member council consisted of Chambers, Blake, Professor Emeritus Nathan Scribner (the Crown’s economic security adviser), Colonel Aaron Perez (the Royal Military Adviser), Jennifer Varga (a constitutional lawyer who specialized in the legal formalities of national security actions) and Colonel Austin McKay, the chief of the MNIA’s Foreign Intelligence Analysis Department.

“Will His Imperial Majesty be coming?”

“No, Professor,” she answered. The king has his hands full discussing an armaments funding bill with the Senate’s appropriations committee and will be away conducting some military business which this council will hear about in the future. He asked me to hold off on disclosing anything else until he feels the right time has come, so I will not say anything else about that subject until then.”

“I assume he will still be furnished with a record of our meeting.”

“Of course,” the queen answered dryly. The council spent the next fifteen minutes covering its usual array of general topics and occasionally paused for questions. Once this process was complete, the queen finally broached the most important subject on the agenda. “What sort of intelligence have we gathered on the Bulgar Rouge and Sharko Federation?”

Perez answered first. “I spoke with General White about Your Imperial Majesty’s request this morning. He informed me that neither of the countries we began surveilling have any orbital weapon systems, so we need not worry about losing our eyes and ears in the area to anything floating around. We still don’t know if they have any ASAT missile systems—either in ground-based launchers or deployable via aircraft—but thus far it appears they haven’t begun tracking our satellites or started jamming them.”

“Why would they?” Blake asked rhetorically. “Unlike the emperor’s other foreign supporters, we’ve refrained from making public declarations and issuing counter-ultimatums. As far as the communists are concerned, we may as well not exist.”

“That may be true, Minister, but we cannot guarantee that we’ll be able to sustain our charade of silence indefinitely. We’ll have to come to the emperor’s aid as soon as his enemies start attacking him, so the moment we move to defend him is the moment his enemies start searching for us. Anyway, in answer to Your Imperial Majesty’s original question, it appears that both of the countries in question have relatively weak navies and air forces—not enough to mount an invasion of Monahtan, but certainly powerful enough to harass their commerce and leave their military with a bloody nose and broken teeth. I’m confident we can help them fend off any assault that they are likely to face anytime soon, but then again, we have no way of knowing if the communists have friends who are opposing the emperor as stealthily as we are supporting him.”

“Thank you, Colonel. Minister Blake?”

“I had a pleasant conversation with General White yesterday evening. I described the situation that you and Minister Carter explained to me and gave him orders to move some surveillance satellites over the countries known to be opposing Monahtan. In addition, he also ordered OSC and ODC to keep an eye on Monahtan so they could watch for possible attacks.”

“I appreciate that. Professor Scribner, I assume that you have an idea what all of this will cost?”

“Hardly anything. It’s a standard, low-intensity police action. I might cost a few hundred million thalers to send over a shipload of missiles to replace the amount they’re likely to fire off in the near future and possibly several billion thalers if we decide to dispatch a small flotilla and an air wing or two. Either way, there’s enough slush fund money on hand to cover the expenses.”





0950 hours local time

Government Terminal
Chalcedon International Airport
Chalcedon, Capital District
Imperial Federation of the Monavian Empire
Northwestern Nova


Borozan instructed the other members of the Monavian delegation to meet him in the Ministry’s cafeteria at seven-thirty so that they could all enjoy some breakfast and travel to the airport together. In addition to bringing along Golikov, Jovovich, and Garmash, Borozan enlisted the aid of several attachés which arrived around the same time. “Madam Ambassador,” he began, referencing Jovovich, “Here are your new assistants.”

“Thank you, Minister,” a clearly flattered Jovovich answered. It would be a while before she was completely comfortable with the new honorifics by which the others addressed her.

“The lady standing farthest on your right is Olivia Berg, your scientific attaché,” Borozan began as he gestured towards a narrowly-proportioned sylph in her mid-thirties. The auburn-haired lady invitingly held out her hand and offered Jovovich an unassuming smile. “Our friend in uniform is Major Eric Fleming, your military attaché,” Borozan continued, referring to a middle-aged Royal Guardsman with sea green eyes, silvery-blond hair, and Germanic features. “The man standing next to him is your economic attaché, Brian Schmidt, and the woman on his right is Lisa Zotov, your political attaché.” Despite being a civilian, Schmidt was an immaculately preened coxcomb who matched Fleming’s attention to detail and charmed the women around him with his wisecracks. Zotov was a demure woman in her early thirties who liked to keep her wavy blond hair trimmed above her shoulders.

“Is this everyone?” Golikov inquired.

“Yes, this should be it,” Borozan answered. “Major Fleming, I assume our security detail is ready to pick us up.”

“Yes, Minister. I’ll lead the way out.”

The party immediately left for the airport and proceeded through the Government Terminal’s corridors with their SFS detachment in tow. The plane which they found docked at their gate was a supersonic commercial jet that had been purchased by the Imperial Army back in the mid-2000s and repainted to suit the standards of its new owners. The upper half of the fuselage had been painted white while the lower was a formal hue of crimson, the two halves being separated by a golden stripe. The tail and the upper faces of the craft’s streamlined delta wings bore the army’s roundel and the words IMPERIAL FEDERATION OF THE MONAVIAN EMPIRE were spelled out in sharp black letters on both sides of the cabin’s roof.

An attendant greeted the delegation and showed them aboard at nine-forty, stowed away their baggage, and picked out seats. Soon thereafter, a motorcade of airport security vehicles drove up and stopped nearby so that an entire platoon of officers could form a protective cordon around the area. “What on Earth are they up to?” Schmidt questioned. After waiting a few moments he saw a line of police cars appear with an armored truck bearing the Ministry of the Treasury’s seal. The truck’s drivers stopped and unloaded several heavy aluminum cases from the cargo compartment and carried them into the plane’s cargo hold, which was then sealed up under guard. Once this was accomplished the entire security contingent melted away as quickly as it appeared.

The delegation’s honor guard filed onto the jet ten minutes before takeoff and offered Jovovich their congratulations on her promotion as they settled into their seats. Soon thereafter the pilot ordered the flight crew to seal the cabin doors and pulled away from the onramp. “How long should it take for us to get there?” Jovovich asked.

Zotov smirked. “If it flew as fast as it did the last time I was on board we’ll be cruising to Finestra at more than twice the speed of sound.”

The pilot smoothly steered the craft to the end of the runway and aligned its sharply-pointed nose with a thin white line that he used to aim his takeoff trajectory, paused to glance at his instruments, and pulled the throttle lever back to send a stream of high octane fuel into its engines. It took a moment for the jet’s static inertia to dissipate so it could begin accelerating, but once it did, the speed at which it tore down the runway was high enough to push the passengers firmly back into their seats. The searing wave of exhaust that erupted from the engines generated a tremendous howl as the pale indigo flames producing them grew into long, plume-shaped tongues with yellowish edges. Moments later, the jet’s rear wheels parted company with the runway and its dart-shaped form peeled itself away from the earth in a steady heavenward climb, all the while the laying down a translucent contrail that followed the path of its ascent. The distinctive roar of the jet’s mighty engines gradually faded into the din as it rapidly cleared the airport’s boundaries and soared away into the pale blue void where it joined dozens of other aircraft whose occupants had no idea what their country’s leaders had set into motion.
——✠ ✠——THE IMPERIAL FEDERATION OF THE MONAVIAN EMPIRE——✠ ✠——
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Monahtan
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Ex-Nation

Postby Monahtan » Sun Jan 17, 2016 8:28 pm

Capitol Complex Receiving Center
Finestra


Captain Robert Knezevic stood at the far end of the heliport attached to the Capitol Complex as the two Sikorsky S-76 helicopters came to a rest a ways in front of him. The captain's white uniform coat unmistakably marked him as a member of the Imperial Security Bureau, as did the holstered MP-443 at his side. On either side of the captain, positioned at the entrance to the Receiving Center, were two soldiers standing guard, although their weapons were not raised.

As the helicopters came to a rest, Knezevic began walking toward the helicopter carrying the delegation from Maldovo. As they stepped out onto the helipad, the captain bowed slightly and introduced himself to Prime Minister Adriano Gucci. "Sir, allow me to be the first to welcome you to the Empire. If you don't mind, please step toward the door," he said, motioning toward where the guards were, "and I'll meet you up there in just a moment."

With that, Knezevic made his way toward the delegation from Great Carlistan, which had already exited their helicopter as well. He immediately greeted Chief Negotiator Veerle van Zievan in the same manner as PM Gucci, "Ma'am, welcome to the Empire. If you will please follow me this way, I will take you to the Emperor straight away."

As he was leading the diplomats toward the door, he overheard the conversation behind him. He was asked by the Chief Negotiator how to properly address the Emperor. He paused, turned around and made it a point to address the official with the respect she deserves. "Ma'am, the Emperor is a humble man. He does not require any special ceremony or procedure other than that which would be extended to yourself or any other government official."

Knezevic led the two diplomatic teams through a series of security doors and down several levels before finally coming to one last security checkpoint where a moderately sized team of soldiers were waiting. Knezevic turned around to address both delegations, "Please understand that while we do allow weapons to be carried throughout the Capitol Complex by foreign officials, we cannot allow weapons down in the Command Center. Please check your weapons with the security staff here and they will be returned to you upon returning to the surface."



Strategy Center
National Incident Command Center
Underground Finestra


The Emperor, the Imperial Central Command, and several military officials were gathered around a large conference table in the heart of the NICC known as a the Strategy Center. With walls lined with monitors, laptops set up in front of almost every person at the table, and a large screen monitor at the opposite end of the room from the Emperor, it was from this room that most major operations would be commanded.

"Your Majesty," began Minister Federov. "We've received a communication from the Monavian Empire. They will be sending a delegation to join us shortly."

"And what of the delegations from Great Carlistan and Maldovo?" The Emperor asked.

"They've passing through security now, Your Majesty," said an ISB officer in the corner of the room. "They should be down here momentarily."

"What's our status, Alek?" The Emperor asked Minister Osipov.

"Our air, ground, and naval forces are fully deployed. The Thirty-Third Trooper Division is stationed around the Capitol Secure Zone and major points of interest in Finestra. The Third and Fourth Armies are on standby and can be divided and moved anywhere in the Empire within twenty-four hours. The Missile Corps is full operational and all missile silos have been brought online. Our weather, RADAR, infrared, and surveillance satellites are all online and sending data routinely. The Second Fleet is beginning anti-submarine patrols as we speak. The Empire is secure, Your Majesty."

"Excellent," Emperor Mikhail breathed a sigh of relief. "Then, Alik," he said turning back to Federov. "Inform Minister Carter that we will be expecting their delegation."



Image

**ENCRYPTED COMMUNICATION**



To: Honorable Minister F. Carter, Minister of Foreign Affairs - Imperial Federation of the Monavian Empire
Fr: The Imperial Diplomatic Corps, The Empire of Monahtan
Re: Your Delegation



Honorable Minister Carter,

Thank you for the advanced notice of your delegation. We will be expecting their arrival at the Finestra Imperial Air Center where they will be promptly taken to the Emperor.

The Emperor extends his personal thanks to His and Her Imperial Majesties, the King and Queen, to you, and your great nation for your pledge of support of the Empire during this difficult transition. We understand that while our two nations have not built a friendship, we hope that this incident will only serve to be the foundation of it. While the Empire is not officially at war with any opposing nation, we strongly appreciate the support your military may bring to this situation.

It is the Emperor's will that should a foreign power declare war on the Empire, we will respond with the full force of our military to include launching incursions into enemy-controlled territory. Once your delegation arrives, we will brief them on our plans to take any such war to the enemy.

Respectfully,

Alik Federov
Minister of the Imperial Diplomatic Corps
Image



Shattergate Imperial Air Base
Outskirts of Daft
Southeastern Monahtan


"Quiet day today?" an Imperial Air Force staff sergeant asked to the senior airman seated at a RADAR console.

The senior airman was just one of many airmen manning the RADAR center at Shattergate, one of the Empire's hubs for RADAR coverage in the southeastern part of the country. The building the two were in was one of two buildings at the air base tasked with monitoring long-range RADAR systems to alert the Empire of any incoming threats.

"Yeah, once you filter out our guys," the senior airmen replied.

The staff sergeant took a sip from his Styrofoam coffee cup with a loud 'slurp' before speaking again, "One more hour and we can go home."

"Can't wait. It's my Friday and I'm taking my wife to-," the senior airman cut himself off mid sentence when four new blips came into view on the RADAR screen from the outside edge of the airman's sector. The airman could tell by the speed of the objects that they were not conventional aircraft, nor were they scheduled on any roll sheet he had. "Sir!" he shouted at his supervisor, still slurping coffee.

"What the fuck!" the sergeant exclaimed, dropping his coffee cup to the floor, splashing coffee around the tile. The sergeant grabbed the telephone from the airman's station and pressed '3', a direct dial to the RADAR Chief. "Chief, we're tracking four bogeys coming in extremely hot from the southeast. Missiles likely."

The sergeant continued his conversation for only a moment more before an alarm began to wail throughout the air base. The lighting in the room changed from white florescent to a dim red and klaxons above all the doors pulsed a red LED every few seconds.



Capitol Complex Receiving Center
Finestra


"Sir!" General Akardy Aksenov interjected into the Emperor's current conversation. "Shattergate is reporting four contacts incoming from the southeast - probably missiles."

"So it's begun," Osipov said calmly.

The same alarms that rang out at Shattergate pierced the halls and corridors of the NICC. The Strategy Center's lights dimmed, although they did not turn red.
Last edited by Monahtan on Sun Jan 17, 2016 9:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Matthew 5:9 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.

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Quirina
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5960
Founded: Dec 30, 2010
Ex-Nation

Postby Quirina » Sun Jan 17, 2016 11:15 pm

COMARLIV - Livania
Army High Command Quarters, Livanian Staff
The Livanian State
The Great Quirina Republic


ImageAfternoon came and the men in uniform gathered in their seats, with their casual chitchat about their daily life in their duties, sharing laughter and plans for the coming weekend. The room was filled with staff servicemen from the Livanian Army, where there will be a meeting between the state's brass and the central command, the Army High Command. The meeting will be also attended by Chief Friedrich von Elimann, one of the two national leaders of Livania, aside from the mostly mentioned Marquez-Goya. The meeting only began when the Command's General Chief of Staff Blair Wilkinson entered the room in a silent, yet indomitable presence. He's full of valor, one would say, but his medals, ribbons and decorations are just the surface of what he will be. Not only General Blair was there, but also Admiral Olimpio Cozzolino, the General Chief of Staff of the Armada High Command. This was not just a meeting for the Livanian military, but yet all of Quirina's military brains in one table, ready to take this battle ahead as serious as it would be. Remembering the last time they held a meeting of such level was during the Milograd War, where it was tested that the Armed Forces of the Great Republic is capable of wiping out an entire city, testifying to the both horrific and glorious achievement of destroying Gothic peoples, who grew in isolation and borne of hate against the Brave Free World. By looking the similarities of Bulgaria and Gholgoth, one would really see that this is an awaited redemption to come by and never a chance shall be missed in giving a ferocious blow to these two dastardly faces of abomination. The screen projected words and statistics about collected information about the current states of affairs at the other side of the world. Bars and graphs comparing the manpower, technology, and records of victories and defeats of the two competing armies were also measured. As the presentation ends, Blair then stood up to prepare to speak, fixating his suit. "This closed-door meeting only reminded me what it feels like to be back in action once more. I once missed being a Marine, back when the military was on its Western way of warfare. My father was a soldier. Yes, you can hear stories as familiar as mine, but my father never saw another year of service after engaging to help his brothers. He never saw me grew up as a man, a soldier for this nation. Well, too much for drama." The men laughed a bit, just to make sure they are on the same page with their higher commander. "As we see here, the Bulgarians are likely to attack at any moment, using their political influence in Libya. Unfortunately, our friends abroad have reported that there are about ten MiG-29Bs and a Beriev A-50A heading to the east of the Strait of Gibraltar. We are still uncertain of their motives but we know that it is an answer to our Ultimatum we imposed over them. We don't need to compare ourselves to them, for they are lone beggars, hermits of their own misery and toil. Now that their bad mouths will know none but our business, this is not even a war, but a suppression of a worldly dissent." He walked a bit towards the center and continued "As we also see here, we encircled this mouth of the Strait as a potential chokepoint of this dissent, and yeah, we will not cross that trap so obvious, it might take a child learning in military school to get that." Laughter burst at the seats, Blair smiles as he goes on. "Seriously? Okay, now that you now understand the whole scenario of this issue, I would like the top commanders to remain with me here and further discuss the next plans for this Operation." He then stood firmly, and yelled "Atenzione!" All men stood up firmly and quickly. "Dismissed!" "Sir, thank you, sir!" The rest of the staff left the room, leaving only seven men on the room: Olimpio, Blair, Gutierrez, Valera, Malinovsky, Marshal Dragisa, and Trajkovsky. Blair looking at Trajkovsky, he uttered, "So what was your plan again?"

Secretly-In-Character:
ImageAfter several hours of the day's meeting with the top ranks of the Army High Command, one of Trajkovski's staff, Kjosev, went aboard for a quick, secret flight to Monahtan tp make truth to the treaty now signed between Livania and the Imperial government. Aside from his known experience in electronic warfare and ballistics, Kjosev has been awarded with the Ribbon of Valor for a kill streak of seventy-five Soviets* during the Soviet-Stephanian War in Slavia, a continent at the other side of the world. Being a testament of the worldwide power of Quirina and Livania in its endeavor of world peace and a Brave Free World, Kjosev was part of downing a Soviet satellite, where he met Trajkovski and Nepomucek, during their deployment against the Soviets in Moscow, where they downed a satellite, and even pioneered an anti-satellite crusade against the Soviets in Russia. Not only such record does exist, but also the fact that the common enemy of Monahtan and Livania are of Soviet origins, which is the Bulgarian barbarians, who raise themselves like gods under the guise of a 'revolutionary cause' that brings death and abomination to each step of their way. As Kjosev alighted himself in the National Incident Command Center at its surface quarters via helicopter, which can be a surprise to the guards of the said facility. It was a friendly travel and a cozy one, and looking around the Center, it is drifted in tundra and freezing temperature, and such places of condition still makes Kjosev an effective thinker. One Monahtan guard tried to cuff him but slammed him in the ground and disarmed him quickly, then say "Bring me to your commander so I may teach you how to drop me to the ground first next time." A few minutes later, a man in layers of jackets emerged from the Center and introduced himself "I'm Salvatore Renaldo, Livanian diplomat for Monahtan, and these are my guards, local recruits. Please follow me and I'll send you to His Imperial Majesty." "I'm not here for niceties. My superiors told me to advise the Emperor's commanders, and not to impress him. So please, suit yourself and let's get down to business." The diplomat then escorted the Lieutenant General to the Center to meet the Commanders.

*Unified Soviet Socialist Republics and The United Soviet Socialist Republic are two separate nations, but both Soviets, with the latter called as "Soviet Empire" while the other is based from RL Soviet Union.

OOC: @Monahtan, you may post the next scene with Kjosev meeting your commanders, and in secretly-in-character tag, with a spoiler like this. Sorry for cutting in too much, but I felt the need to do it.


ImageAs planning changes and the game takes on to the next level, it seems that the odds are becoming more in favor of the one who bit the dust. At this point, one could imagine the utter consequences of hostilities of a nation towards another. With this lingering thoughts of a diplomat, Sanfredo Sebastian, the most controversial figure in the revelation of secret agendas of the Ardokian regime in Thuasinisdun through his public expose of its leader, Raghall Sloane, as an Ardokian puppet, then walked to the tiled and delicate flooring of the Ducatorial Chamber, within the premises of the Palace of the Quirinal in Italia Ultramare. Being frequent on foreign missions to many countries, from the harsh and combative Afghan urban areas, to the darker and much corrupted lands of Asignist Bayan, Sebastian seen most of the nations' pure weaknesses and their loopholes. Holding his usual folder and briefcase, his fashion style is not easily predictable. The Ducatorial Chamber is simply an ornamented room with lots of both high-end furniture, Baroque of origin, and the Great Quirinal Eagle, the symbol of power and supremacy of the Quirinese nation, crowned with a real ducal crown back during the Maritime Period of Italy, aside from the heraldic adornments of nations within Quirina. Presenting himself to the successors of Kings, Emperors, and Presidents of Quirina, the Chief of State Victorio del Val, whom he had never seen in person since his enrollment in the University of Monterone, one of the oldest Catholic-funded universities in Quirina, which caters a wide option of learning platforms and resources. Looking at the man responsible for returning the nation to its former glory, and now being chosen by his own people even against his own conviction for another term of office, Victorio looks at the window, as usual routine before delving into more paperwork. Donning his military uniform, not as sign of dictatorship of what most strong leaders are, but as sign of service to the country as their protector and vanguard, he turned to Sebastian and spoke, "I'm surprised that you went this far. Back then, you're still a cadet for the military academy. Now, you reached this far. I'm proud of you, Sebastian." The man in his gentlemanly fashion sense then ups his chin and saluted with a reply, "Thank you sir!" "Don't be too formal. At ease. What have you got for me?" The folder was reached to the desk of del Val as report to him directly. "This matter had been distributed to the proper commanders in both field and office. I am hereby sent by Army High Commander Olimpio Cozzolino to distribute this to you personally, sir." As he browses the folder, del Val then gives a nod, and signs it with a black pen. "Well, it seems our friends in Munster would need to be given a little check. Send them our delightful greetings then we proceed." Sebastian salutes and walked off to return to the Headquarters of the COMARLIV. Bringing the good news, the approved actions of the 2FLT will be known first to the commanders at home, then at field, who are active in the Operation. 8AR commanders will also receive the same notice within a span of a few hours, but not more than a day. Aside from the fact that their presence in Europe is enough, the 2FLT can and will affect the political atmosphere of the EU, being that Quirinese are diversified Eurasians of their own homeland. Their destination is paved, their plan is clear yet flexible, and resources are abundant.

ImageArriving at about the second hour of the morning, the three CF-130Js of the 2FLT stopped by at the Muanda Airport in DR Congo to distribute the first batch of supplies as part of the AID Treaty. The commander of the flight, General Arnold o'Neil, then was welcomed by President Kabila himself to receive the armaments, rations, and the other equipment such as the Claudia main battle tank system, which suits the terrain and environment of the Congo. Informing the Congoloese president that he is the first advisor to arrive, there were only six of them that will arrive in the coming days. Aside from the fact that both the Quirinese and the Congolese share the same burden against communism, both o'Neil and Kabila toured a bit of Africa's both harshest and best urban conditions. Kabila was comfortable with the fact that the Quirinese are honest people, and lying on them is not an easy task, especially when they are great in observing their surround. The CF-130Js carry small arms munitions that are addition to the current arsenal of the DR Congo Army. o'Neil himself confirmed to the President Kabila that they will both end the Tamboko insurgency and instill a participative, democratic political atmosphere. Invited for an executive meal with the Cabinet and General Staff of the Congolese Army at Hotel Mangrove, which faces the Atlantic Ocean and giving a clear blue view of the sea, the African leaders shared their laughs and joys with the Quirinese commanders present, especially with o'Neil. Not only there were supplies present as gifts, but also the first military deployment in a promise to commit with cooperating with the local army through military presence of Quirinese soldiers. Thus, a Marine Company from the 2FLT was part of the flight which o'Neil brought. There are six more flights as first phase of the AID treaty agreed upon by the two nations, and by each, it would mean more suppression against communism in their place, then next would be in all of Africa, and ultimately, in the world.

ImageAround the Tropic of Cancer, the combat air patrols routinely deployed at a relatively far distance ahead of the main fleet. First, it was composed of a carrier-based interceptor, an electronic warfare aircraft, a submarine warfare aircraft, and an early warning aircraft. In total, the first combat air patrol was five aircraft. Due to the seemingly and surprisingly escalated level of conflict Bulgaria demands, the Fleet Commander Admiral Gutierrez heightened the game. From five aeroplanes, the game changes with Gutierrez's order to carrier-role vessel commanders are to deploy the same types of aircraft, but this time, with much more quantity. Five aerocplanes are to be reinforced with fifteen more while the submarine warfare fighters are to return to carriers as their functions are filled by the Subsurface Ship Strike Brigades, which have submarine warfare-dedicated air regiments. This way, a whole of Combined Forces Flotilla will be greatly, and overwhelmingly enough to counter any significant threat, minimize it into a small incursion, and deter it with a swift strike, accuracy, efficiency and precision. This is the naval supremacy of the Quirinese Armada heading to Eurasia, and for long time of learning and knowing how Europe may or may not fare, the whole Fleet can and will destroy any imposing threat, albeit as a powerful devastating force to destroy, burn and salt a nation down to ground. The 20-strong combat air patrols of the fleet carriers are just the start of the show of the incoming pyrotechnics that will be witnessed by all of the world. In part of such maneuver, all battle stations of the Combined Forces Flotilla Northern Section will be on full alert on any aircraft or ballistic elements that will classify them according to origin, thanks to IFF radars and the essential data embedded to assure much relentless defense if ever resistance to the will of the Brave Free World, in form of the Northern Section, dares it. The reinforced combat air patrols are now 300 km up front from their respective fleet carriers and will be on combative stance for any sign of enemy activity in their range. In assuring lesser chance of losing the seas, the Central and Southern Sections also prepared for any sign of hostile action to anticipate any combat that may took place in their end.

ImagePassing the Tropic of Cancer and heading towards the Arctic, the thinkable happened. One of the EF-130Js had detected a radar emission from an unidentified group of aircraft. This was during one of the intervals of the reinforced combat air patrol and possibly this might be the first time the 2FLT will encounter, and this was not the first time they were detected being on range by the early warning system. They were spotted two hours ago around the West Alboran Sea. With this in mind, the plan on the Operation was to assure denial of access in general to any hostile asset. This turn of events are happening at the North Atlantic, 500km west of the Canary Islands. The callsigns were given and confirmed to the specific units and formations in part of the incoming mission, and the unit assigned for this round mission is the CF-211, the "Grey Whips".

"Signor, this is Freija 2, maintaining Angels 27. Over."
"Signor, this is Felicia 1, maintaining Angels 27, Over."
"Signor, this is Eletra 3, maintaining Angels 29, Over."
"Freija, Felicia and Eletra 213, this is Signor. You are now under my control. Steer 180 degress and ascend to Angel 34. Out."

As movement continues, radar signature of now-identified MiG-29Bs and A-50A, that were previously marked as neutral-unknown, were now marked as hostile, thanks to the electronic order of battle that was updated by the ESM data linked to all radars and other ESMs of the 2FLT. The fighter squadrons are well-briefed to turn off their radios and radar emissions, and allow the AWACS to control them while up ahead. This was a maneuver set from an example laid by the previous analysis of Quirinese air commanders about a Caucasian conflict months ago. Minutes later, one of the operators announced at the ESM panels the following microphone protocols at the chamber, which is not transmitted to the units:

"IFF verification complete. Eleven MiG-29Bs and Beriev A-50A from Alboran Willie. Callsign is Fulcrum. No response to our hails. Location, Kilo 3, India 6. Angel at 35. Speed at Fast. Heading North-West. "

After which, the command sent the following transmission to the units up above, getting now a clear idea how to deal with such unknown presence of an aircraft or bogey heading their way. Not hearing a single word from the units, the comptroller at the radar panel transmitted the following message:

""Freija, Felicia and Eletra 213, this is Signor. 12 bogeys are identified and is heading your way. Do not engage until you are cleared to fire. Out."

A few minutes later, the said Combat Air Patrol had reached at 500 km, within range of their early warning radar systems, the Squadrons awaited for the command of their Control, but never did they transmit any radio communication, as ordered to them earlier. The staff in charge of the ESM system that feeds consistent and actual information of the "Skunks" earlier were certain it was of hostile origin, but there are no arguments where they came from. The Admiral, seeing himself more probable to give head on the engagement, is clear that he now owns the skies of his seas. Once the perimeter was being set within range, from 500, it went down to 400, 300, 200 until it gradually reached 170. By this time, the orders were quickly given by the comptroller:

"Freija, Felicia and Eletra 213, this is Signor. 12 Fulcrums are tallied as bandits and now hostile. Range 170. Angels 37. You are clear to engage. Kill bandits. Out."

As soon as the order was given, all units turned on their radars to scan the enemy inbound, and in sequence, the EF-29s implemented noise jamming around the enemy squadron, including the enemy Beriev A-50A, since it was implemented around its range, while the Fighter Rapax and Tenrai fighters picked their good targets, aiming the AWACS first, while having mostly full on hardpoints with missiles per aircraft and their armaments for the situation to be within range, enough not to close in against the range of their enemies' air-to-air missiles. The 2 K-100s were fired and directed to the Bulgarian A-50A AEW aircraft by a random Tenrai that fired it first, therefore allowing the rest of the Tenrai and Rapax squadrons to fire their weapons against the enemy fighters with 3 AIM-54 Phoenix for each MiG-29B at their radars. As the radar screen shows the release of the missiles, which are actually beyond visual range from the perspective of the pilots and as far as technicality goes, the comptroller transmitted the following message:

""Freija, Felicia and Eletra 213, this is Signor. All units on defensive. Prepare for ACM. Standby for further instructions. Watch your 6 Over."

As the fighter units remained at their altitude and range, they waited for the missiles to hit to their targets and stick to their formation while being able to protect the AWACS aircraft, which was above them of several thousand kilometers. Aside from which, another Air Patrol was being armed and prepared by the carrier servicemen at C 95, if in any case the Grey Whips failed on their mission to assert their air supremacy at such location.

OOB (Order Of Battle): Aerial Interception
CF-211 "Grey Whips"

Airborne Warning and Control Squadron
2 AEF-130J Perseus Airborne Early Warning System Aircraft

Fighter Aviation Squadron
12 F-29 Rapax Multi-Combat Fighter Aviation Craft
12 A10T Tenrai Air Superiority Fighter

Electronic Warfare Squadron
4 EF-29 E-Rapax Electronic Fighter Aviation Craft

Mentioned combat ranges:
AWACS Range (AN/APY-2): ~650 km
A1-T radar range: 450 km
Missile Range (AIM-54): 190 km
Missile Range (K-100): 200-400 km
Attack Range (AIM-54): 170 km
Attack Range (K-100): 200 km
Second Fleet, Livanian Navy
- CF-211/CV 95, 21st Surface Ship Strike Brigade, 2nd Fleet "San Pedro" attacking Identified Hostile Air Element
Last edited by Quirina on Sat Jan 23, 2016 3:41 pm, edited 3 times in total.
एक, सच, अजेय
The Great Federated Noble States

"Strength determines the fates of the world, and the same should be applied over oppressors." - Maharajah Purva Ashvath IV


Call me Quirina.

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Tamboko
Bureaucrat
 
Posts: 53
Founded: Dec 31, 2013
Ex-Nation

Postby Tamboko » Mon Jan 18, 2016 12:58 pm

Mambasa

Unlike its benefactor, Tamboko had implemented very few of the signature revolutionary measures that the Bulgar Rouge aggressively promoted overseas. Upon his first arrival in Mambasa, the chairman of State Security's 5th (Overseas) department Lieutenant-General Minko Tsvetanov's report concluded how this territory was so poor and underdeveloped that capitalism had barely touched it. It was in no need of radical reorganisation, socialist purification of younger generations, nor urban evacuations. Its small, decrepit cities offered very little infrastructure and were inhabited mostly because of the hostility of the equatorial rainforest, where millions of pests and diseases lurked and endangered the already miserable Congolese. Its subsistence farmers were only a step away from true agrarian socialism and, for better or worse, rural development was mostly impossible at this point.

Many among the Bulgar Rouge believed that propping up this small, inefficient regime in the very heart of African darkness was a waste of resources and manpower. But this was not the calculation that the first ten Brothers had made. Its poverty and absence of any adequate infrastructure made it the perfect tabula rasa for the new brand of agrarian revolutionary socialism - all that was required was assistance to build it up. It was also at a comfortable distance from Central Africa's diamond deposits, South Sudan's oil wells, Uganda's richly fertile western areas, and Congo's resource-rich east. Tamboko was viewed merely as a temporary nucleus of a much larger central African state that would expand once circumstances allowed it.

As a consequence, the Bulgar Rouge had poured enormous resources into the new statelet: Bulgarian engineers set up a system of gravel and paved roads across the capital Mambasa, and linked it to other towns of the people's republic. Urban planners were specially trained to rebuild the towns into entities that should not - and would not - be able to generate capital, creating urban farms and food pooling infrastructure. Energy demands rose as clinics, educational establishments and security facilities sprang up across the country, in turn causing a boom in solar and wind power construction. Last but not least, the NPLA trained Tamboko's military, deployed the occasional expeditionary forces and expanded Mambasa Air Base, which now served as a transferring point for military aircraft flying between Democratic Sabha, Revolutionary Somalia and elsewhere.

Chairman Pierre Gbagbo was quietly observing the eerie development brought about by the Revolution, comparing it in his simple rural mind to the misery that Kinshasa subjected his people to years ago. Riding in a LAZ "Partizan" - a Bulgarian near-clone of the GAZ-69A - he did not enjoy any comfort. Just like all other revolutionary leaders in the Union, he was a mere functionary who would be replaced by any perfectly-indoctrinated Party cadre. Of course, the inertia of civil war in Congo was strong. The first Chairman of Tamboko's Revolutionary Council was overthrown and killed by subordinates who perfectly realised the essence of the new system but considered it the beginning of anarchy, just like in old times. Needless to say, State Security cadres quickly made an example of them by necklacing the lot in Mambasa's central square. Gbagbo was the man appointed to replace them and "restore the revolutionary continuity". He did so with an iron fist.

The car stopped in front of a modest, shabby two-story building which did not differ from its surroundings by anything other than the rows of antennas on its roof. Two statue-like black guards in ceremonial uniform and stern helmets saluted by tapping the ground with the butts of their SKS rifles as the men entered the Revolutionary Council. Gbagbo and his officers, who happened to be the Chief of Staff and the Commissar of Warfare, came through the open door of a modest, woodclad briefing room where the Foreign Commissar and his aides were waiting. Protocol - a bourgeoise invention - was unnecessary. A simple salute and seven men were already sitting around the table and discussing.

"To put it simply, a delegation from Dahon will be arriving shortly. The meeting with Bulgarian officers at their embassy was especially fruitful and they explained everything at length. The Bulgar Rouge plan to reap the maximum benefit from the encounter and we will have a key role in prolonging the negotiations."

The Foreign Commissar, essentially a mouthpiece to the Chairman, nodded and began his calculations on how to do this. His green uniform and black beret spoke nothing of an eloquent man; instead, he seemed like someone promoted just to fill this position.

"We will require economic assistance from Dahon and review the options to exit the orbit of the Bulgar Rouge. Their delegation will discuss the prospects for peace regarding Monahtan; however, our delegation must insist on opening separate and secret talks."

Gbagbo pulled a sheet out of his black folder and passed it to Foreign Commissar Nkurunziza. The sheet was titled "Operation Basket", with a top secret stamp of the Bulgarian State Security. Point 1 in a list of tasks on the second page read "Place military on full alert".

"Point 1 is already taken care of", said Gbagbo. "And considering the reports of increased Congolese military activity around our borders, it might be very well-timed."


People's Republic of Tamboko
FROM: PRT Foreign Commissariat
TO: Dahon delegation
ENCR: Highest

Greetings,

The Foreign Commissariat wishes to confirm that peace talks on the issue concerning the coup in Monahtan will take place in Mambasa. Security detail of the Revolutionary Guards will meet your delegation at the air port and provide full and total security. The meeting will be held in the Revolutionary Council HQ. The Bulgarian delegation is already expecting you.

On a side note, we would like to open separate negotiations on a multitude of issues, if your delegation finds this convenient.

Banga Nkurunziza,
Foreign Commissar


Image
Last edited by Tamboko on Mon Jan 18, 2016 1:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Great Carlistan
Envoy
 
Posts: 216
Founded: Aug 25, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Great Carlistan » Wed Jan 20, 2016 11:37 am

Security Desk before the Command Centre
National Incident Command Centre
Underground Finestra


Van Zievan could sense the security detachment behind her stiffen at the Captain's words but, ignoring them, inclined her head towards their guide: “Of course we would be happy to follow your procedures. Captain,” she turned to the Carlistinian senior security officer: “in order to uphold security protocols, I would ask you to keep your two staff behind at this desk. You may accompany us unarmed.”

“Yes, certainly mi-”

Suddenly, a wail pierced through the soldier's response and the light dimmed. The delegations of Monavo and Carlistan flinched visibly at the sudden wailing of the alarm, the Imperial guards moving to cover the diplomats until Frederik motioned them to halt. “Sir!” he had to shout to make himself heard but tried to address the Monahtan captain nonetheless. “What is going on?”

“I cannot say, Sir”, Knezevic looked at the guards at the security checkpoint, who shook their heads, “it seems that somebody set off the alarm and we may be under attack.” At this, a sharp intake of air could be heard from the defence representative, “but I assure you, everything will be fine and I will take you to see the Emperor now.”

“Understood” Frederik nodded, while the head of the Imperial security detail and the defence representative exchanged barely audible words.




Strategy Centre
National Incident Command Centre
Underground Finestra


The NICC was larger than they had expected and as impressive as the strategic floor of the Imperial Defence Headquarters in Redport. On their way down, the Imperial delegation had had the chance to introduce themselves to the Monavo delegation, surprised to find the prime minister among them and were now waiting for them to be dismissed by the Monahtan Emperor.

This short wait was welcomed especially by the younger men, Eric and Frederik, who had never been in an environment such as this. The middle of the room was dominated by a large conference table, almost invisible due to the large amount of computers set up in front of those seated at it, while the walls seemed alive with screens relaying what seemed like live pictures, maps of the world and the Monahtan Empire and a great deal of information neither could quite grasp.

As they were asked to step forward, the delegation took up a loose, though leaving no doubt concerning its military origin, diamond formation with Lead Negotiator van Zievan at the front. They clicked their heels and bowed sharply before van Zievan introduced the delegation: “Gracious Imperial Majesty, as representative of the people and the Emperor, his Imperial Majesty Laurens I. of the Empire of Great Carlistan of the Carlistinian Isles, Orvendale, the territories of Wadije I Skuyplanine and the Imperial protectorate of Jonistavia, I, Veerle van Zievan of the Corps Diplomatique of our own Keizerlijke Betrekkingen Office, greet you as the recognised sovereign of Imperial Monahtan. I wish to present the Imperial Carlistinian delegation to his Imperial Majesty.”

Emperor Mikhail smiled at this. He had not yet been addressed in such a manner of utmost courtesy, having been “Premiere Volkov” only little time before. Graciously, he inclined his head towards the woman in front of him, who bowed once more.

“His Imperial Majesty is very kind,” van Zievan carried on and introduced the members of the Imperial delegation, who bowed in turn. “With the Imperial delegation is Frederik van de Levinstor, my diplomatic aide, Eric Hevelan, likewise from the Corpse Diplomatique and Mathies Bolkhove, of the Rijksministerie van Defensie, our Ministry of Defense. Our chief of security is Captain Florens Berenschot. We come to support his Imperial Majesty and his people in this great time of crisis and aid you in your very fight for existence.
To this end, the Imperial Carrier Strike Group of the Carrier “Eiland” has already started its journey for the Tobley Ocean, to take up defensive positions where you may need them.
I fear, however, that I must be so bold as to beg of you to show your acceptance of our aid in concrete measures.”

As Emperor Mikhail did not interrupt, Mathies Bolkhove took one step forward and bowed: “Imperial Majesty. An island state we were before the fateful day which bound all territories together under the great and glorious Emperor Karol I. And to this day we have retained a most highly trained armed navy, ready to strike against enemies of the Empire and, with your permission, your own. Unfortunately, your territories find themselves a great distance from our own and we humbly beg your forgiveness for bringing this to your attention, which is no doubt wanted by many others at this moment, but must ask the Imperial blessing to have our ships resupply and possibly rearm using dockyards of Monahtan. If you would be so gracious as to grant our request, not only would we be better equipped to protect your people, but I am certain Carlistinian and Monahtan relations would get a great start even in this time of peril.”

Emperor Mikhail inclined his head thoughtfully, eyes trained on the man in front of him, who bowed and stepped back into line with the three other male diplomats.

“Of course, we would not dare to rush his Imperial Majesty. We will be here, should his Majesty have made a decision.” Van Zievan bowed once again.
Imperator defendit Imperator vivat!

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"My touchy subjects are a bit... touchy" - the most important thing to know really.

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Bulgar Rouge
Minister
 
Posts: 2397
Founded: Dec 08, 2013
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Bulgar Rouge » Sat Jan 23, 2016 7:37 am

Lyulin Mountain Command core

The repairs were assigned to someone else. In line with the strict population control policy, the technical crew that was supposed to repair the heating system of commune 109 was transferred to another commune and replaced with a team which fixed the issue in a matter of minutes. Of course, that was the official version from the Party logs of the commune. The three men who left 109 did not move to another commune, but instead gathered with other brothers from across the country in the vicinity of the former city of Sofia. Number one and two State Security associates from the Departments of Political Control and Military Supplies, respectively, made their way to to the Lyulin mountain military complex; they were joined by Number 6, Number 4, Number 7 and Number 13, along with a group of 20-something officers from various departments of the security establishment.

Nearly a kilometre underground, a dozen men in official graphite Mao suits were being still and quiet around the round table as Number 1 was reading files from a thick brown paper folder. The old man, now in his late 60s, had the face of a modest workhorse who excelled at his job without talking much. The kind of paternal figure who, in the pre-revolutionary days of free movement and association, would make good drinking company after an exhausting day or would take care of his grandchildren while their parents were away. Needless to say, the surface lied. Number 1 was an unscrupulous political officer whose maneuvering intuition came from decades of legal practice both at home and abroad. He knew how to bend and twist every letter of the law, and later converted this knowledge into a leadership literacy that would make the likes of Machiavelli seem like naive pioneers.

The silence was broken by the flapping sound of the folder being closed, followed by a brief hiss when Number One pushed the folder away on the table. There was no pause, as his dry voice immediately filled the space around the table.

"Seems like the right time to begin the second phase."

"The developments in the Congo are somewhat disconcerting though. We transferred the Expeditionaries to Somalia but the Congolese seem to be up to something. Our SIGINT station in Tamboko registered a 300% increase in cables between Kinshasa and Quirina. Activity around military installations has also increased. They won't be able to hold out long against a full-blown Congolese offensive."

"Then maybe you should consider reinforcing them, Number 4 ?"

"By all means. The 5th and 6th Revolutionary Shock Brigades are all packed up and ready to be flown."

"Not enough. Call Zeitun and ask him to send in one of his Volunteer Battalions too. How many BRDM-2RKhs do we have in storage ?"

"Seven, but only two can be repaired."

"Airlift five to Tamboko and two to the Somalis. Our motor pools there will put them back in order."

"I would assume we should ship them OPs ?"

"Twenty tonnes for each. Add in some of the sad stuff too. Speaking of which, have the shafts been sealed ?"

"The two charges are in place, just waiting the signal."

"Do it. Vent the shafts after the test, let them know we're raising the stakes. Send those reinforcements to Tamboko and get in touch with Zeitun. Number 6, send in a wing to reinforce Tamboko. Thirteen, get some people in Kinshasa and make sure we know what they're up to. Don't send the strike order to Khan Asparukh before the tests are there. Let them anticipate."


Madan Testing Range, southern Bulgaria

Image
Testing chamber before setup
The lead-zinc deposit near the small town of Madan had long been depleted, even before the Revolution. The mine was abandoned with all equipment withdrawn, but the shafts were never filled up nor properly sealed. Townsfolk used to frequent it as something of an attraction, as it was easily accessible in the pre-Revolutionary times. After the evacuations and the depopulation of Madan, the shafts remained quiet. Only the chilly mountain winds interrupted this silence, and the drops of melting snow in spring illuminated the black, quiet caverns.

It was four years after the Revolution when NPLA engineers secured the perimeter of the site, installed new lighting and began drilling deeper into the mountain. While the ore was long-gone, the rock was still lined with lead, making it a perfect site for non-conventional weapons tests - unlike its unfortunate Lisi Vrah testing range. A prototype device was tested in Strandzha mountain in 2020, yielding a modest 12 kilotons. But a more powerful class of weaponised units - some 15 in total, composed the nation's entire nuclear arsenal and needed to be tested. Two of those charges were now placed at the bottom of separate 1,700-metre shafts deep into the dark heart of the mountain.

Up on the surface, a control station housed in the former mining campus began a countdown. Digits were spoken loudly in reverse order through the speakers of the campus, sending the guard and all personnel to their respective locations. Once everyone settled in their nests, the buzz was gone and only the metallic numbers reverberated throughout the complex. A stern-faced lieutenant and several other officers were observing the timer on the wall, as its thick black hand was sliding over a silver word, "Radiosynchron", edging closer to 0.

Once "zero" echoed over the complex, a profound roar shook the mountain and the entire area. Bright fire illuminated the rock from its depths, exposing the entire underground infrastructure as if the millions of tonnes of earth were made of glass. But this only lasted for a second. The seismograph jumped up to 5.7 Richter, so did all the arrows of temperature, pressure, ionisation and other measurement gauges. A minute later, the lieutenant sent an encrypted message to command core: PATRIARH-1 SUCCESS. 83 KT. PATRIARH-2 ARMED.


Vrazhdebna Air Base, Bulgar Rouge

Elements of the 5th and 6th Revolutionary Shock Brigades already loaded on the Il-76 and Spartan transport planes included a handful of armoured vehicles, military personnel and an initial cache of weapons. The aircraft were lining up to take off and begin their critical delivery mission to the People's Republic of Tamboko.

A smaller airstrip just south of Vrazhdebna, in turn, was loading a small fleet of cargo version VS-2 Vrabets turboprop transports with special equipment. This included cannisters and shells of special issue. Each of the six VS-2 could carry up to 1,500 kilograms of cargo, meaning that the payload would be transferred in 3 or 4 flights. The entire air convoy would pass over the Greek Demilitarised Zone and head straight to Tripoli for refuelling or transfer to Libyan Il-76 aircraft.


Unknown location, southeast of Monahtan

S-60 Khan Asparukh, the jointly-operated Mason-class submarine, was still at launch depth with its communications in full readiness to accept the order. Now slightly deeper at 60 metres, the Sabha-flagged submarine was something like 1,800 kilometres off Monahtan's eastern coast; 156 Tomahawk missiles with conventional warheads were armed and awaiting to be launched.

A few hundred kilometres away from the sub and its smaller escort, a group of four bombers had descended again to a low altitude and were flying in this direction.


Skies over Western Alboran Sea

Image
The small air group had finished its scouting duty over the crucial door to the Mediterranean, discovering nothing of concern. In the last stage of the patrol, two MiG-35 jets from Democratic Sabha's 30-strong fleet of this type joined the patrol. The MiG-35, known also as Fulcrum-F, was a massive upgrade over the conventional MiG-29B. While its older brothers relied on simple Zhuk-type radars and and SPO-15/Sirena-3M radar warning receivers, the Fs always knew what the deal was, utilising frequency-hopping AESA radars to avoid jamming and an optical locator system (OLS) capable of catching infrared emissions even if radars were down. The MiG-35 was a fully autonomous multirole, capable enough to serve as a mini-AWACS to the other aircraft in the flight while being indiscernible from the normal MiG-29 on enemy radar. Also unlike its older brothers, it carried two Kh-31P "AWACS killer" missiles, two advanced K-77M long-range missiles, and four all-aspect K-74M missiles. The 29s would only settle for two R-27EA missiles, four R-73M missiles and a fuel tank on the central pilon.

Just as they were beginning maneuvers to head back to Tripoli, the radars of the Beriev caught something far out in the distance. The crew commander immediately linked up with the squadron commander (call sign Suqr Alfa) and the ground control in Tripoli.

"Alhazen to comm, we just detected an air formation 294 ks west-southwest of our position, no identifier on the spots, do you have info on that ?"

"Alhazen, this is command. Negative, no formation flights on schedule, neither ours nor neighbouring countries. Report details."

"Composition 30, corresponding 28, cooperating 2. Identified corridor 101, heading 0. Speed constant. Please advise."

Pilots of the Suqur squadron knew what that meant. "Corresponding" referred to combat aircraft, whereas "cooperating" usually referred to larger planes - such as AWACS, transports or gunship platforms - which were easier targets. The sequence of actions to follow immediately booted into the minds of the pilots, automated after years of meticulous training; all that was necessary was the command's orders to act. Corridor 101 was the code name for the Straight of Gibraltar, the strategic objective of the scan patrol. The chances of an air group of that size flying over the Straight and being friendly or neutral were practically zero.

"Command to Alhazen and Suqur squadron, group is red, repeat, group is red. Alhazen is advised to withdraw following protocol. Your radars will still be in range during engagement so coverage will be on. Suqr Alfa, Suqr Beta and Suqr 1 to 10, proceed to engage and eliminate. Cooperating is priority. You are free to engage at will. Out."

The group immediately executed orders - Alhazen detached and took a course back to Tripoli, while the 12 fighters increased speed, gradually reducing the distance between them and the enemy formation. Shortly, the squadron leaders got back in touch with command.

"Alhazen to comm and Suqur squadron, we're getting interference. Coverage is becoming increasingly patchy, confirms assertions of ECM component."

"This is command, cooperates remain priority. Threat level on buzzers increased to secondary, identify and eliminate, over."


"Suqr Alfa here, objective green. We're 180 ks from flight. Frequency switched to lower bands to evade jamming, potential ECMs identified. Firing against jamming targets in range, over." Seconds later, four K-77M missiles - all with a range exceeding 200 kilometres - blasted away from the aircraft and began their pursuit. Themselves highly maneuverable and equipped with small AESA guidance capable of evading ECM interference, they rushed to their targets like silver arrows. But only moments later,

"This is Suqr Alfa to squadron, 37 heat sigs 35ks ahead coming in straight, rads off, LRM evasive maneuvers !"

The 12 aircraft switched their radars off, split and began a rapid descent designed to change the trajectory of enemy missiles as much as possible, making them lose speed and fuel as they turned and encountered denser air. Upon losing about 3,000 metres in altitude, the missiles' infrared signatures were detected only a few kilometres away and their trails were already visible in the distance. As they were now coming on a parabolic trajectory from above, the MiG-35s released chaff and flare and activated their own electronic radar countermeasures while simultaneously performing a canopy roll followed by a steep ascent, each avoiding the three missiles destined for them. The MiG-29s, without thrust vectoring engines and integrated jammers, would have a much tougher time. They formed five pairs simultaneously releasing chaff and flare, then performing a split S quickly followed by a sharp roll and turn. Despite the maneuvers and all the chaff and flare released, five MiG-29 aircraft were hit; three exploded instantly, killing their pilots, two were heavily damaged but allowing the pilots to later catapult to an unknown fate kilometres away from the coast. After unsuccessfully trying to contact Alhazen, the flight leader realised the AWACS had failed to avoid the last missile destined for it.

"This is Suqr Alfa to squadron. Alhazen, Suqr 1, 4, 6, 7 and 8 are out. Comm is out of range and fuel tanks are below the line, so it's very likely that we won't make it back to Tripoli even if we get out of the engagement. Standing order is to teach these fucks how to fly." Cheers of high morale from all the aircraft sounded on the radio, as the R-27 and Kh-31P missiles were only minutes away from being in range of their targets...
Last edited by Bulgar Rouge on Mon Jan 25, 2016 5:11 am, edited 2 times in total.

This nation does not reflect my RL views.
Singaporean Transhumans wrote:I'm only saying that, well, even commies have reached the level of selling counterfeit and drugs in their storefronts, we can't be any less.

The Holy Therns wrote:Politicians make statements. It's their substitute for achievement.

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Ralkovian Grand Island
Minister
 
Posts: 2123
Founded: Dec 16, 2008
Ex-Nation

Postby Ralkovian Grand Island » Sat Jan 23, 2016 2:48 pm

Quirina wrote:(Image)As planning changes and the game takes on to the next level, it seems that the odds are becoming more in favor of the one who bit the dust. At this point, one could imagine the utter consequences of hostilities of a nation towards another. With this lingering thoughts of a diplomat, Sanfredo Sebastian, the most controversial figure in the revelation of secret agendas of the Ardokian regime in Thuasinisdun through his public expose of its leader, Raghall Sloane, as an Ardokian puppet, then walked to the tiled and delicate flooring of the Ducatorial Chamber, within the premises of the Palace of the Quirinal in Italia Ultramare. Being frequent on foreign missions to many countries, from the harsh and combative Afghan urban areas, to the darker and much corrupted lands of slave-driven Ralkovia, Sebastian seen most of the nations' pure weaknesses and their loopholes.


Hey Quirina, you've never landed in Ralkovia or ever been on Ralkovian soil. If you're going to make a claim like that, please TG me first. I have no problem with people asking me if they can add to my IC history, however, your claim would fundamentally alter my IC History.

Thanks. And sorry to the rest of you for this OOC interruption.
Lyras:You know, you're a sick fuck, yes?
Ralk: I have stacks on stacks and racks on racks of slaves.
BlueHorizons: It sounds like you're doing a commercial for the most morbid children's board game ever, Ralk.

Estainia: The countless genocides...So many countless genocides.


Old Tyrannia wrote:You've never met Ralk before, have you? Ralk doesn't have friends.
He only respects the strong, and preys on the weak.
He might act polite and smile all the time, but always remember...
The day will come when you'll wake up to find him looming over your bed,
knife in hand, and he'll still be smiling.

Constaniana wrote:Ralk is evil incarnate, shouldn't you know this by now?

Seriong wrote:Ralk isn't a troll, he's just despicable.

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Quirina
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5960
Founded: Dec 30, 2010
Ex-Nation

Postby Quirina » Sat Jan 23, 2016 3:37 pm

Ralkovian Grand Island wrote:
Quirina wrote:(Image)As planning changes and the game takes on to the next level, it seems that the odds are becoming more in favor of the one who bit the dust. At this point, one could imagine the utter consequences of hostilities of a nation towards another. With this lingering thoughts of a diplomat, Sanfredo Sebastian, the most controversial figure in the revelation of secret agendas of the Ardokian regime in Thuasinisdun through his public expose of its leader, Raghall Sloane, as an Ardokian puppet, then walked to the tiled and delicate flooring of the Ducatorial Chamber, within the premises of the Palace of the Quirinal in Italia Ultramare. Being frequent on foreign missions to many countries, from the harsh and combative Afghan urban areas, to the darker and much corrupted lands of slave-driven Ralkovia, Sebastian seen most of the nations' pure weaknesses and their loopholes.


Hey Quirina, you've never landed in Ralkovia or ever been on Ralkovian soil. If you're going to make a claim like that, please TG me first. I have no problem with people asking me if they can add to my IC history, however, your claim would fundamentally alter my IC History.

Thanks. And sorry to the rest of you for this OOC interruption.

OOC: TG sent. Let's bring it there.
एक, सच, अजेय
The Great Federated Noble States

"Strength determines the fates of the world, and the same should be applied over oppressors." - Maharajah Purva Ashvath IV


Call me Quirina.

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Monahtan
Diplomat
 
Posts: 730
Founded: Mar 26, 2009
Ex-Nation

Postby Monahtan » Sun Jan 24, 2016 3:30 pm

((OOC: I'm going to do a little bit of overlapping))

Strategy Center
National Incident Command Center
Underground Finestra


The Strategy Center was alive with officers talking into phone receivers, radios, and typing furiously on computer keyboards. The main screen on the far wall from the Emperor and the delegation from Great Carlistan. In the bottom left corner was a RADAR screen overlaid on top of a live black and white satellite feed zoomed in on the phased array station at Shattergate Air Base in the southeast of the Empire. The four blips without transponder information were moving toward the air base at incredible speed, leading to the conclusion they could only be projectiles of some kind.

The red LED above the heavy steel door into the Strategy Center blinked to green as Captain Knezevic pushed it open and entered, the delegation from Great Carlistan following behind him. The door slowly closed behind them all with a click of the magnetic lock and the LED changing back to red; Captain Knezevic exchanged a few brief words with another ISB officer, then led the delegation over to the Emperor at the head of the large conference table. The tension in the room was thick as everyone stared at the large display where four contacts were approaching the center of the PPI.

"Missile defense active, Sir," reported General Akardy Aksenov. "Firing."

More contacts appeared on the RADAR overlay, this time from the center of the circular display. The S-400 systems deployed at Shattergate launched its own missiles, eight 48N6 missiles from four TELs, to intercept the incoming projectiles. The friendly missiles, controlled by the Command Vehicle of the S-400 company, ascended and accelerated toward the hostile missiles. The personnel manning the RADAR center attached to the phased array antenna at Shattergate, as well as everyone in the Strategy Center, held their breath for a few moments while the twelve RADAR blips flew towards each other.

As time stood still, the Emperor turned to address the foreign delegation now standing in the heart of the Empire. He took a step toward Mathies Bolkhove who had just presented a proposal to allow use of the Empire's naval stations. Mikhail placed one hand on the shoulder of Bolkhove and made sure to make eye contact with everyone else in the delegation, especially Veerle van Zievan, and spoke.

"Of course," he began, glancing toward the screen, then back toward van Zievan. "This is a difficult time for the Empire. Your help and friendship would be greatly appreciated. We would be honored to host your powerful navy."

"Thirty seconds," said General Aksenov, snapping the Emperor's attention back to matter at hand.

Matthew 5:9 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.

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The State of Monavia
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1555
Founded: Jun 27, 2006
Right-wing Utopia

Postby The State of Monavia » Sat Jan 30, 2016 1:30 am

Indeterminate local time

Seven hours’ flight from Finestra


The sheer distance that the Monavians had to cover on their way to Monahtan meant that they did not arrive until several other delegations had already reached Emperor Mikhail’s command center and received word about the attack against the Empire’s radar installations. The first leg of the journey was uneventful, as was the next, but the final one came with an unanticipated twist. The delegation had been airborne for barely an hour after taking off for the third time and had somehow conversed enough in that time to reach the point where they had gone from discussing work to swapping family stories and repeating jokes they overheard in the distant past. Zotov was in the process of describing one of her grandmother’s mousse recipes when Borozan heard a fax machine start up and eject a sheet of paper. The deputy minister excused himself and arose to retrieve the document before rejoining the others. He needed only a moment to skim the heading and determine its importance. “I just received a communiqué from the Royal Residence,” Borozan spoke up with enough force to interrupt the discussion. “All of you had better hear this.”

Image

OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUÉ

Image

11 January 2016


To: Rt. Hon. Augustus Borozan, Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs
From: RR Crown Offices
Subject: Security risks facing the delegation


I regret to inform you that the security situation surrounding the Empire of Monahtan has continued deteriorating and that it is unlikely to improve anytime soon. Orbital Surveillance Command began monitoring the airspace surrounding Monahtan at 0700 hours yesterday and has been watching for indications of hostile activity in that area ever since. General White also contacted me this morning to report that OSC spotted a bomber formation approaching Monahtan’s airspace shortly before 0600 hours. Soon thereafter, OSC observed the bombers launching a volley of four missiles at 0636 hours and spotted number of Monahtan’s SAM sites launching a counterattack. This information clearly indicates that the Empire of Monahtan is presently engaged in hostilities against at least one other country and might possibly enter into hostilities toward others if the situation is not ameliorated quickly.

While it is unlikely that Ambassador Jovovich and her delegation will encounter any serious danger in the immediate future, she can best serve herself in this instance by ordering the delegation’s security details to assume a high alert posture until conditions indicate they no longer need to do so. The delegation should be safe upon arriving at the Finestra Imperial Air Center since the facilities there are regularly patrolled by both Monahtan’s armed forces and a substantial number of local security personnel.


“Well, that’s just pleasant,” Jovovich sarcastically muttered. “We’re flying straight into a warzone.”

“Not quite,” Borozan responded. “The attack that Her Imperial Majesty referred to was probably not directed anywhere near our landing site, and besides, the emperor has probably ordered his government to make arrangements for receiving us.”

“Pessimism won’t get us anywhere,” Zotov pointed out. “Not that wishful thinking will accomplish much either. We cannot really control the amount of protection we’ll receive when we arrive, but at least the Crown has been kind enough to provide us with both an SFS escort detail and an honor guard. My foremost concern lies with the nature of the new government, since apparently the restructuring is what started this uproar in the first place.”

“I agree,” Golikov added. “I think our wisest course of action begins with working to gain the emperor’s trust. If he doesn’t trust us, we can’t expect him to be fully candid about his position in negotiations.”

“What’s really there to negotiate?” Garmash asked rhetorically. “The emperor is asking for foreign assistance in combatting a threat. It’s a simple case of ‘give us help and we’ll help you later’ or ‘give us help and we’ll pay you later.’ Either way, we already have a general idea of what he needs.”

“In the abstract,” Jovovich clarified, “not in specifics. What happens if he requests troops—or money—or missiles—or bullets? Until we start wringing specifics out of the discussion we won’t be in much of a position to promise the aid they might be hoping to receive.”

“Fortunately for us we do have the ability to promise some things immediately,” Borozan commented. “For one, we have the ability to share intelligence. Even if the enemy successfully wiped out Monahtan’s surveillance capabilities, we could still feed them information by proxy as long as we do it quietly enough to avoid being detected. Also, we have money at our disposal that we can share with them in case things turn sour.”

“What sort of money? I don’t recall Parliament voting to appropriate any funds for us to pass out as monetary aid.”

“No, Madam Ambassador, Parliament didn’t have to vote on anything recently. The aluminum cases that got loaded into the cargo hold contain thousands of cut diamonds that came from the Ministry of the Treasury’s discretionary slush fund. If all else fails—say Parliament decides not to declare war or anything like that, or the sheer distance between us and Monahtan’s enemies make it hard for us to project enough force to defeat them right away—the people we give the diamonds to can always liquidate them and use the money to buy more weapons and supplies.”

“We’re carrying diamonds?” Schmidt blurted.

“Fifty million thalers’ worth,” Borozan pronounced proudly. “Just enough to start up a guerilla insurgency in case Monahtan gets invaded and falls to the enemy.”

“Let’s pray that doesn’t happen,” Jovovich cut in coolly.

“Let’s pray,” Borozan answered, “but let’s admit that we need to be ready for any eventuality, not just the ones we want to confront.”




Indeterminate local time

Finestra Imperial Air Center
Finestra
Empire of Monahtan


Soon after Borozan read the Crown’s latest communiqué aloud to the others, the delegation chose to spend its remaining time in the air reviewing paperwork and discussing the sort of entrance they wanted to make upon arriving at the FIAC. Borozan and Jovovich agreed that the seven-man SFS unit would exit the jet first and meet with the ground crew to inform them that the delegation had brought along an honor guard and a three-car motorcade that they planned to use unless the native government preferred to handle transporting the delegates using its own vehicles. Once this was done the honor guard would disembark, display their colors, and salute any local officials that might be standing around as Jovovich, Borozan, Garmash, Golikov, and the four attachés exited with a handful of aides in tow. If the Monavians ended up using their motorcade, the delegates would pile into a limousine that comfortably held a driver and eleven others. The SFS officers would drive off with the delegates while the honor guard remained with the jet to keep watch over it and its cargo.

Once the Monavians finished hashing out these details—they later found out that some of them were not needed after all—they snacked and rested so they could still feel a bit fresh when they landed. Several hours later, the city of Finestra came into view as flight drew to a close and the copilot began soliciting his final landing instructions. “We’re clear to land,” he noted.

“Good,” the pilot laconically responded as he reached for the intercom switch. “Attention all passengers: we are making our final approach to our destination. Landing will begin in five minutes.”

“Wonderful,” Schmidt mumbled dispassionately. “It’s about high time we finally got back to solid ground.”

“Don’t party yet,” Major Fleming cautioned, “It’s going to take at least a few minutes to unload our motorcade once we’ve landed. Besides, who knows how long local security will take to clear the vehicles if they decide to make an inspection.”

“That’s a good point,” Jovovich admitted, “but I’m sure nobody will mind the delay too much. We all need some time to stretch our legs a bit.”

The craft subtly vibrated as it descended to within a thousand feet of the ground and reminded the passengers that they would soon be grabbing their bags and walking onto foreign soil. “Our fighter escort should be peeling off shortly,” the honor guard commander explained. “We’re getting very close to the landing strip and they’ll probably go back to performing their regular patrols around the airbase or escort someone else in.”

“How many other countries do you think will be represented here?” Berg quizzed Zotov.

“I have no idea. Probably at least a few, though, and maybe many. Given how far we had to come, I highly doubt we’re the first ones here—in fact, we’re probably a bit late to the party.”

Fleming suppressed an awkward smile. “I’m sure our hosts will understand that without too much of a fuss. Remember, they’re asking us to come here.”

“That’s true. Just don’t be a poor sport and remind them of that fact when you don’t need to,” Jovovich instructed, directing her words toward the delegation in general.

The jet completed its descent as the conversation wound down to its dénouement, though the cabin was hardly silent since the pilot sent the jet’s flaps and elevators whirring into position. Soon thereafter, the craft’s rear wheels squeaked against the concrete below and emitted plumes of brake smoke while the engines powered down for taxiing. The fiery exhaust that the engines ejected during flight were now gone, but the rear cowlings still glowed brightly from residual heat that rippled through the air behind them as it dissipated. After spending hours and hours flying high above the earth, the sights on the ground were just distracting enough to keep the delegation from noticing that it was still moving, at least until the pilot braked again at the gate and jarred everybody back to reality. The flight was over.
——✠ ✠——THE IMPERIAL FEDERATION OF THE MONAVIAN EMPIRE——✠ ✠——
FACTBOOKS AND LOREROLEPLAY CANONDIPLOMATIC EXCHANGE

MY GUIDES ON ROLEPLAYING DIPLOMACY, ROLEPLAY ETIQUETTE, ROLEPLAYING EVIL (COMING SOON)
Fifteen Year Veteran of NationStates ∙ Retired N&I Roleplay Mentor
Member of the NS Writing Project and the Roleplayers Union
I am a classical monarchist Orthodox Christian from Arizona.


✠ᴥ✠ᴥ✠

/‾‾ʽʼ‾‾\

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