NATION

PASSWORD

Rebellion against tyrants is obedience to God [IC|MT|Open]

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

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Uan aa Boa
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1130
Founded: Apr 23, 2017
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Uan aa Boa » Tue Feb 26, 2019 5:01 am

Over the coming days there would be considerable controversy in Uan aa Boa regarding the subject of military cooperation, even in something as limited as blockading slave ships. Clips of George Sery speaking the words "libertarian, capitalist, imperialist nation" clocked up many views and 60% of communes debated emergency motions condemning the idea of a joint enterprise with Allanean forces. The arguments would be orthodox and therefore lend themselves to virtue signalling - slavery is implicit in and inseparable from capitalism, opposing slavery while not challenging capitalism is akin to putting a sticking plaster on a cancer, cooperating with a nation such as Allanea is undoubtedly a failure to challenge capitalism. Even Keilersmoor and the Cat Herders would be subject to criticism regarding their suitability as partners.

A commune is not generally permitted to undermine previously established policy, but this new venture was an executive decision that hadn't passed through the communes in the first place. Rules and their interpretations would be wrangled over in a display of resolutionary socialism at its most convoluted. It has been said that in the final seconds before an asteroid strike wipes out civilisation a Boani commune will be raising a point of order.

Realists (or revisionists, depending on one's point of view) would argue that it was possible to strike a significant blow against the slavers, whose victims would hardly be helped by waiting for Allanea and the rest of Forest to embrace socialism, something likely to happen shortly after the mighty River Uan froze over. And in the end 85% of these condemnations would be outvoted, for while the Party has carefully dismantled the old tribal power structures memory and folklore run deep, and the slave galleys of past centuries cast a long shadow across the soul of the nation. The new ways teach the equality of everyone over and above ties of blood but still, who can help but wonder how many distant cousins they have across the sea whose forebears toiled on the sugar and cotton plantations? The revolutionary movement has from the beginning been eager to draw the trajectory from those plantations to the contemporary Western companies logging the rainforest and drilling for oil, and onwards to the likes of Construction Enterprises. Perhaps the average Posteastan would spit in the street on passing a black person, but perhaps too there is a kindred of oppression.
Last edited by Uan aa Boa on Tue Feb 26, 2019 5:05 am, edited 3 times in total.

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Kenmoria
GA Secretariat
 
Posts: 7914
Founded: Jul 03, 2017
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Kenmoria » Tue Feb 26, 2019 9:41 am

The response of Jonathan Fletcherson to the question was very promising to Construction Entrerprises, and filled Adalene Smith with confidence as to how the confere could further go. Although the questions were irritating, not least because of their basis in feel-good human rights and illusions of ethics, and the fact that Allanea was disapproving of the company based on a lack of agreement with some more controversial policies was an unexpected displeasure, the fact that the Parliament was on the side of the corporation was most welcome, and provided them with a good base from which they could grow. Firstly, another press release would be sent out and at the same time, the Syndicate would try to hide their activities further.

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OFFICIAL PRESS RELEASE

We feel it is necessary to clear up some concerns that have been raised on the conduct of our corporation in relation to the situation. These will be addressed in this letter, which we help will satisfy any demands that may be had over our humanitarian aid,

Firstly, there have been some rather questionable comments that have been made over supposed slavery in Posteastan. Unfortunately, we must find these to be false, and based on a misunderstanding of the situation of the workers. Slavery is, of course, a despicable evil that oppressed the common man’s freedom of contract. However, here the opposite is taking place.

People are not being dragged into chains by some cartoonish villains, but volunteering or being employed. Of the minority who have a fixed contract without monetary compensation, they have all signed a contract with us to work, in return for certain benefits such as sustenance. We must re-iterate, this is not slavery. Any attempts to argue this are based on a misunderstanding of Kenmorian business law.

Secondly, there have been questions regarding our partnership with the Syndicate, an operation that is based in Posteastan. The fact of the matter is, this is purely a business relationship that was conceived in order to help the people of Roztechko and Pibtsy be safe, as well as to protect our workers.

Although we acknowledge this situation may not be perfectly ideal, it is one that works for us and we do not think it is reasonable for a foreign company to criticise a private business’s decisions that were made principally to protect its staff. The Syndicate may have some unsavoury practices, that we may gain benefits from, but this is mere resourcefulness with the opportunities available, not some nefarious scheme.

Thirdly, there has been widespread criticism by nations, now mostly by representatives of Allanea, regarding the character of our company generally. These have included some false claims, which will not be reprinted here for the sake of not further spreading this defamation. We hope that a friendly a mutually beneficial relationship can soon be established between us and this nation, and are willing to work towards that aim.

However, for all of this, we will not be willing to be attacked by foreign actors. We must warn that any group pursuing military action against us is breaking international law, and will hopefully be dealt with by the international community.

Thank you, for listening to our message.
Hello! I’m a GAer and NS Roleplayer from the United Kingdom.
My pronouns are he/him.
Any posts that I make as GenSec will be clearly marked as such and OOC. Conversely, my IC ambassador in the General Assembly is Ambassador Fortier. I’m always happy to discuss ideas about proposals, particularly if grammar or wording are in issue. I am also Executive Deputy Minister for the WA Ministry of TNP.
Kenmoria is an illiberal yet democratic nation pursuing the goals of communism in a semi-effective fashion. It has a very broad diplomatic presence despite being economically developing, mainly to seek help in recovering from the effect of a recent civil war. Read the factbook here for more information; perhaps, I will eventually finish it.

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Karevka
Envoy
 
Posts: 332
Founded: Jan 16, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Karevka » Tue Feb 26, 2019 10:32 am

Tabolov
The planes flew in every few hours, carrying weapons, food and ammo that was to be issued to the Nationalist and Stateist fighters. No more soldiers from Karevka were going to flown for the time being. The Posteastanians were relieved for the numerous amounts of equipment, but didn't like the fact there would be no further reinforcements were coming. Many demanded Yurakin to request more troops. "I can't, even if permission was granted the numbers you want would take days if not weeks to arrive considering our current infrastructure. I am sorry but we must work with what we have." Tavitian hadn't contacted him since their meeting, the troops were reinforced and ready for combat but the wait for word from Balan or Tavitian was maddening.

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Grantonlatis
Bureaucrat
 
Posts: 46
Founded: Nov 08, 2018
Ex-Nation

Postby Grantonlatis » Tue Feb 26, 2019 11:25 am

Dear Stateists,
I would like to join you in this battle, for I believe that you seem powerful enough to take out your enemies. In return, we can be allies in this

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Allanea
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 26057
Founded: Antiquity
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Allanea » Tue Feb 26, 2019 12:03 pm

Liberty-City, Ministry of Foreign Affairs building, Peter Nizhinsky's office

"It's an astounding piece of writing," – said the Speaker-to-Slavers, pointing to the screen on which the Construction Enterprises message was displayed. – "I bet their legal council has re-read this three times. They've admitted, in essence, that they're engaging in slavery, but they've carefully outsource all the actual chains and whips to the Syndicate."

"This would constitute, very nearly, an admission of guilt in a court in Liberty-City." – Kalugin replied. "At the least, were I a judge, I would be reaching with one hand to sign the arrest warrant."

"In most civilized countries that I know, really. Indeed, I wouldn't consider a country civilized if they let this fly."

"The difficulty, of course, is that Posteastan's situation requires a treatment with the precision of a surgeon." – mused Kalugin – "If we ride in there and start fighting the Kenmorians on our own, half the countries in Forest will believe that we are the capitalist bogeyman of their nightmares, and are half as likely to fight us as they're to fight the Kenmorians for all we know."

"Some of them follow some post-colonialist rendition of the Communist ideology – that is to say, they believe that the worst excesses of colonialism are a necessary outcome of capitalism. It's a really rough rendition of Lenin's interpretation of colonialism," – said Nizhinsky. – "Others believe that slavery and the wage economy are virtually the same – both of these things are of course an interesting angle even from a very strict Marxist perspective, much one from the ones that are taught in schools in this country. But I am not a history teacher, and to be absolutely frank I am willing, for this moment, to avoid engaging an elaborate historiographical debate with people who have experienced the colonial boot on their throat for generations on generations, all that I care about right now that they do not decide that I'm coming to force them to toil on the rubber plantations."

"But…"

"No, General, I absolutely understand that these things are wrong, even within the confines of what Marx has written." – Peter raised his hand in a pacifying gesture. – "In a different constellation of affairs it might be that those fellows might be our enemies. Perhaps one day they will be. However, in a situation where hundreds are dying every day, where the hospitals are running out of beds, and where literal slaver hordes rampage about Posteastan and people are either turning into some manner of man-eating monsters or just going insane with hunger and desperation and literally tearing each other apart with their actual mouths, like wolves, in this situation debating Marxism and post-colonial history with people whose help we need to solve these things, I feel that's a bit stupid."

"I think you're right." – said General Kalugin, after a pause. "It is time for us to get going."


* * *

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To: Vasilescu Tavitian
From: Peter Nizhinsky
Re:Cooperation

It is becoming clearer and clearer with every moment that Construction Enterprises is either directly involved in slavery, or trying to benefit from it in such a way as to avoid, perhaps, a rope around every Board Member's neck. I cannot disclose in this letter what exactly this nation will do, but absolutely be assured that we have are not going to ignore the situation.

I am currently working on negotiating with the parties holding the airfield to try and reach an arrangement either for my countrymen's departure, or – frankly preferably – a cooperation with the parties there of the same kind I am offering to you.

On the next aircraft lading in your airfields you will come to find the following equipment and items:

1) First, there are two humble boxes, similar to those used to carry printer paper. Transport them securely. They are full of cash money in mid-sized bills. I ask that you use one of them to give out to the poor and indigent – studies show that distributing cash money is in many cases a more effective tool against hunger than food airlifts, as long as money is still found. What you use the other one for, is your own decision.
2) While most of the airlifts will still consist of humanitarian aid, there will be several crate of policing tools – explosive detectors, mine detectors, various equipment for use in vehicle searches, and a bunch of portable UAVs with a range of about 60 km. These are not lethal weapons in the sense that they won't directly kill people, however I'm sure you'll find many exciting applications for a portable drone that can be carried in a car's trunk.

In addition, I am extremely concerned about the issue of medical assistance. As I understand, hospitals are now having difficulties treating all the ill. I would be grateful if your organization informed me of the exact nature of the difficulties – is it a shortage of beds, space, doctors, or anything else?

Furthermore, death to the slaver.

Yours, Peter Nizhinsky


* * *


Operation Pelican VII continued. The steady trickle of vaccine packages, medications, and food supplies was still flowing into Posteastan. Some airfields would be now receiving as many as two aircraft a day, and although this of course was not sufficient, it would help many. A single aircraft could carry thousands of portions of flu vaccine, and it would mean thousands of people who may have gotten ill and died would not perish.

The planes brought aid workers, of course, and liaisons to work with the hospital – but, of course, at least some of the men who came in were not all that they seemed. Some, even as they did their official work, took extensive notes of all they observed. Yet others had their own missions and went about work quietly, waiting only for the signal for their other mission to be activated. And yet others, it seemed, vanished in the thin air – a plane would bring twenty people, sixteen would stay behind, but an empty plane came home.

The small teams of men and women melded into the wildness, or took up entirely new identities, as 'civilian contractors', or 'traveling businessmen', or even 'criminals'. Some of them were selected for their facial features, their ability to look more or less like a native of the country, and others were of ethnicities that let them pass as a visitor from one of the Forest nations.

Meanwhile, a Fast Logistics Ship, laden with humanitarian aid supplies, left the harbor in Allanea's Liberty-City. It was escorted by a surprisingly heavy escort – the destroyers Vicious and Uncompromising and the arsenal ship Sword of Truth. The aircraft carrier Duchess Meygara Ganduril was also on its way, remaining somewhat behind the task force. This was chosen partly for tactical considerations – to shield the carrier from surprise attack – and partly to avoid insinuations of Allanean aggression if it came to that.

Moving deep under the waters was one component of the task force that would remain secret so far, even from the Allaneans' partners in this endeavor. This was a submarine, the Prince Pojarsky. It shielded itself in the roar of the task force's engines as it proceeded, slinking deep in the cold darkness of the ocean to avoid detection.

Soon enough this force would link up with its hosts in Forest, and they could get started on their hard work.
#HyperEarthBestEarth

Sometimes, there really is money on the sidewalk.

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Great Nortend
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1562
Founded: Jul 08, 2017
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Great Nortend » Tue Feb 26, 2019 4:50 pm

LEOZINA— “The thing is, I would imagine that we would be happy to have in-place for Posteastan a monarchy aligned in a similar fashion constitutionally as Great Nortend, where the monarch holds all the power, absolute, however chooses to delegate for most tasks. His Erbonian Majesty can make any law, do any thing, and decide any case, but... he chooses not to.

“Do what you must; however, I do not believe shooting communists is the way forwards. Capture them, bend them, educate then, convert them into thy ways. How will you win the support of the citizenry if you are seen as blood-thirsty soldiers out to enforce militarily your will?”



In the afternoon the next day, there were reports sent from Telinberg that the first ship had arrived. It sailed up the river into Leozina shortly thereafter, and moored at the small dock in the middle of the city. Aboard were the humanitarian goods, alms and aid, as well as twenty-one men of Her Majesty's Official Mounted Guard. Moored alongside the ricketty wooden structure, the head of the mission, Losnel Drummond alighted from the ship to greet the crowds waiting. East was there, along with a newly minted watchman who was patrolling, and after the two colleagues greeted each other and exchanged words, he quickly arranged for the disembarkation of the almoner-officers.

“After you are done here, and Mr Drummond is satisfied, pray take your tent-cloths and posts and rope. You shall set up your site on the City Green. Watchman Ciobanu will lead you there.”

“Drummond, will you stay in the hotel? There is room for you.”

“I would, but you know how men are like. I think it would be best if I were to stay in the field with them, East.”

“Very well. Make the ship secure first. I shall post a man or two to keep watch over night. Your men need the sleep. Good night.”
News from Great Nortend : https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=23&t=417866
Diplomacy, Consulates &c. : https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=23&t=417865

This nation is an exaggerated representation of my personal views in most areas.

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Cat-Herders United
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 158
Founded: Oct 25, 2018
Ex-Nation

Postby Cat-Herders United » Tue Feb 26, 2019 9:43 pm


Telegram to: Marta Arkos, Kolvce Free State
From: the Volunteer Legion for the Liberty of Kolvce
Encryption: MEDIUM


We are a private group that has secured a yacht (which we christened the Volunteer Legion Ship Marta Arkos) and several crates of arms and ammunition. We will sail from international waters just outside Cat-Herders United territory to the coast of Posteastan. After we evade all patrols, the VLS Marta Arkos will sail up the Telin to join you in your righteous struggle against the genocidal foe and unmask the truth about the Posteastan bio weapon for all the world to see! We will shed our blood side by side for the final victory!!!
Last edited by Cat-Herders United on Tue Feb 26, 2019 9:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Lux Pulchrae
Minister
 
Posts: 2221
Founded: May 15, 2017
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Lux Pulchrae » Tue Feb 26, 2019 10:43 pm

Hotel
"Well, that'd be like a poor man having a box with a million dollars on his bureau and choosing to remain poor, without offense." Gentile commented on the position of Great Nortend's monarchy, finishing his soup and wiping his mouth.

Sipping his wine, d'Umbra nodded at Thatcher's suggestion about the communists "That might work Minister, but communists, like fascists, are very stubborn people. They're taught to die for their ideas, like we are. Violence is pure nature and who am I to go against my nature." the colonel finished his wine "Amaglione only sees things from the sky, on the ground she is blind and impersonal, it is a game of fronts and bodies. She could care less about 'the way forward'. But your suggestion could work, better for the public eye."

MEANWHILE...

Leoniza Airport
Back at the airport the soldiers were unloading everything. Most of the civilian cargo was sent off to the Royalist HQ, the soldiers prepped defenses. They secured the roads leading to the airport with armed checkpoints, around the whole site patrols were set up to monitor the perimeters. Parts of the airport that weren't destroyed and in usable condition were set up with cots, some set sleeping bags on the floors. The National Guards that submitted to the troops were kept separate but fed like the rest, they marched with the others, chanted with the others, and trained with the others. Little by little, the Latins eventually understood each other somewhat.

The flag pole was raised, flying the Posteastan flag with the Royalist emblem, followed by Great Nortend's flag, and Lux Pulchrae's flag, one above the other. Some of the men were somewhat bothered by the placement but it is as is. Once done with training they all went to their cots to rest for the night. The night crews went out and did their rounds.

The next day
The early morning came, and the bugle was sounded. The soldiers woke up and some marched, some trained. The sisters served breakfast to the men, wasn't much but it was enough and at least they weren't hungry.

The morning had Gentile kind of tired as he walked the tarmac to the planes that carried the military cargo. He stood with Lieutenant-Colonel d'Umbra as the plane's ramp lowered and the cargo was revealed: Anti-air weapons. However, they weren't the ones he expected.

"What the fuck is that?" Gentile questioned, almost in disbelief

"It's what you ordered Grand Minister. Anti-air equipment." the Colonel said with a smile

"Yeah, I was expecting maybe some kind of rocket launcher or stationary guns, not turrets on tracks or missiles on wheels."

"Now how is that for 'humanitarian aid'? They didn't want these things sitting in storage, better use them while we got them Grand Minister. We have two of the 'Avengers' here with one 'SIDAM' in the back and the other one in Plane Six. Along with the 'SIDAM' you have a couple of turreted APCs, we're gonna start rollong these out before the day is done. The rest is more munitions and surplus equipment just in case. More is coming, maybe tomorrow. More food, munitions, etcetera. We'd schedule more planes but this runway, this whole airport, needs some work." the commander looked around at the airport's condition.

"I have an idea or two. Colonel, keep working with your men here. I'll take some of the sisters and chaplains with me, maybe they can help with this 'public image' fiasco. Pass around food and medicine, help the sick, promote the 'nurture' of Lux Pulchrae to juxtapose her 'nature' of violence."

"If that's how you feel, you may." d'Umbra confirmed with a nod, off Gentile and Nevicca went to get the clergy. Hearing that Rasvan Luca was at the airport already, Gentile got Father Giacomo, the head chaplain and with him to meet him.

"Sir Rasvan Luca! Nice to see you again. May I present to you Father Giacomo, the head chaplain in our detail." the priest bowed his head when he was introduced, "If any of your people have any moral or spiritual adversities, these chaplains will be here, they are a great help I can assure you. But to speak of other things," Gentile's volume lowered as he looked around "This airport is in shambles, but I have an idea of someone who can help us: Construction Enterprises. Now I know it might be a controversial move but, if we can sitdown with them and work something out, we can have this airport running again. Have to find Thatcher and see if he will agree to this. Thoughts?"

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Caracasus
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 7918
Founded: Apr 23, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Caracasus » Wed Feb 27, 2019 6:47 am

HVIDOS AI Storage facility – 2NM off Caracasusian coast

The gliders detached from the drones approximately thirty seconds before automated Caracasusian defense missiles hit. The three dronecraft blew apart in a cloud of twisted metal and plastic, catching two of the gliders and dragging them down into the ocean. The sheer force of the blast would have left the occupants dead before they even hit the water.

The remaining gliders carried on course. Above them the dissipating cloud of smoke and ash that had marked their entry. Below them, the sapphire sea. In front of them, rapidly expanding to fill their entire vision the vast rig-like structure that currently housed the Caracasusian AI Butter Side Up.

It would be one minute before any human being was even alerted of the attack. Automated defence systems and Virtual Intelligences scrambled Kavverits, alarms up and down the coast blared and Caracasusian soldiers piled into interceptor boats. Aircraft were turned back, airships were grounded.

The first gliders touched down on the landing platform. Quickly, they pushed the flimsy solar frames off the corrugated steel walkway to make room for the next fireteam, who swiftly followed suit.

They wore dark grey uniforms without any insignia. Each carried an array of equipment from the mundane to the outright bizarre. All carried the same snubnosed sub-machine guns, slung over one shoulder on nylon straps. Their faces covered by masks, they peered out through thick green glass goggles at the world. None spoke.

Three minutes in and they reached the main entrance. A large set of plexiglass doors leading to a central atrium. Great screens would usually have played rolling news, scenic vistas. Now they flashed amber. Plastic trees and a small bookcase filled with well thumbed novels detracted somewhat from the brushed steel construction of the hub and showed signs of human habitation, however occasional.

One of the invaders raised his hand, gesturing to another to enter through the door.

Cautiously he stepped forward. The automatic door hissed and glided open. The amber screens blared a silent alarm. He stepped, gingerly over the threshold...

He was not quick enough. No one could have been quick enough. The doors hurtled shut with breakneck speed, permanently damaging the hydraulics that moved them. Butter Side Up had timed it perfectly. The man's head and left shoulder caught between the closing doors squelched with an audible pop. He shuddered slightly, kicking and twitching as fluids ran down from under his mask.

Two others unpacked something resembling a car jack and prized apart the doors. They wedged them open, with hands underneath their fallen partner they slung his corpse into the ocean.

The fireteams entered the atrium, guns pointed this way and that. When a security camera was spotted, the guns purred with their ripping, stuttering engine sounds. Camera after camera, they were blinding the AI in its own home.

Butter Side Up was balancing continual updates from Caracasusian units. Kavverits were still twenty minutes out. A fault, sabotage or accident had delayed them. A patrol boat closing fast. Six soldiers on board. The AI warned them to keep their distance. They would be severely outgunned. The AI had the entire complex at its disposal, it was, for all intents and purposes, the AI hub. It had no weapons, no guns, it would be forced to improvise.

As one fireteam crept down corridor 53A, the AI took the initiative. A cleaning robot launched itself from its alcove. The flat, disklike device shot straight towards the invader who had taken point. He pointed his gun at it and fired. A mistake.

The robot slammed into his ankles, knocking him to the floor. His finger already on the trigger the machinegun rattled and purred, stitching bullet holes in the wall, ceiling and two of the invaders behind him as he slammed down on his back. One had been hit in the arm and collapsed to the floor. The other lay dead, a single bullet through the goggles. More fluid from the organics.

The injured one applied a tourniquet device to his arm, six inches above the wound. Seemingly without a single ounce of pain, he watched as the wire heated, burning through and cauterizing. A stench like burning plastic and meat filled the corridor as the device neatly severed the arm. As the limb fell to the floor he stood up once more and shaking slightly picked up his own weapon.

The entire third fireteam were doomed the moment they entered the service corridors. As one door hissed shut closing off their escape, so too did the one before them. As one worked to set up a portable oxyacetylene torch, the sprinkler system activated. Muddy grey water poured down from the ceiling.

The invaders actually managed to cut through a good portion of the door before the rising water hit the junction box that Butter Side Up had overloaded. Sixty thousand volts arced and burned. For a brief second the corridor lit up like an underground rave, then there was silence apart from the drip drip drip of the sprinkler system. Steam from the freshly cooked invaders rose and clung to the ceiling.

Fireteam two had taken up position on the exterior of the platform and had come under fire. Caracasusian soldiers do not typically use explosive based munitions, so the magnetically accelerated flechette rounds of the Caracasusians made little more than angry hisses as they cut through the air. The AI was simultaneously glad and terrified that the soldiers had ignored its warning and had engaged anyway. Heavy rumbling blasts from some large gun cut through the water around the patrol boat. A Caracasusian soldier fell back onto the deck, blood and bone visible through the gaping hole in his chest. They returned fire. The angry hiss of the flechettes changed to dull splats as they chewed through the body armour of the invaders. Two fell from the walkway. The Kavverits were still ten minutes out.

The remaining members of the first fireteam had made it to the great circular chamber that housed Butter Side Up. Small circular depressions and vacant slots indicated where the mass gelcore memorybanks that allowed the AI to think and feel were stored. The invaders did not hesitate, they knew exactly which core to remove and they headed straight for its location.

Butter Side Up opened a series of valves and ejected a plume of superheated steam from the coolant systems into the face of the first invader to reach the core. He staggered back, pulling and clawing at the mask. Great clumps of molten plastic, rubber and stringy red flesh came off under his fingers. He still did not cry out or scream. His squadmate shot him twice in the back of the head and pushed aside the corpse.

Butter Side Up checked its sensors and still functioning cameras. There were three left inside the building and six outside. It had fought, and fought hard but it hadn't been enough. It felt a wrench, a jolt of sheer, unadulterated agony as the core was removed. It could feel part of itself draining away, memories fading into nothing. Hastily it backed up what it could, deleting and overwriting files, but it was not enough. Fragments. Mere fragments were left of its recreation core. Its projects, its hopes... gone.

It had no more tricks, no more plans. Hopelessly impotent it watched on its sensors as the battle outside and within finalized. The three remaining invaders carried the core between two. The one armed one led the way as they returned. The firefight outside grew in intensity as two more of the fireteam were killed. In the distance, late – far too late – it could see the Kavverits approaching.

It glumly registered as the microsub surfaced below the platform. Of course. The invaders never had any intention of surviving. Vat grown soldiers, probably, it thought to itself. Chemical indoctrination and nerve stapling. Fanatical, loyal, utterly incapable of feeling pain or fear.

Two of the remaining invaders moved to lower the datacore into the microsub. A gauss round from the approaching Kavverit turned the top half of one into a fine spray of pink mist that spattered the steel platform. The other took over, deftly placing the datacore into the sub. It sank without a trace.

Butter Side Down didn't even bother to register and record as the last invader was killed. It was far too busy thinking.

It was an Artificial Intelligence living in a communist society, therefore the maxim of to each according to their ability applied. Just as a human Caracasusian would work, say, ten hours a week at their job, spend a further twelve in commune led development or political activities and be left with time to spare doing what they wished, so too was its runtime divided up.

The core that had been stolen comprised of its projects. Things it got up to in its downtime when it wasn't busy coordinating the distribution of resources or running automated systems up and down the country. It had engaged in many recreational projects, most of which would be incomprehensible to humans as playing the guitar would be to it. The biggest project though? That wasn't really even a project.

The Syndicate.

It couldn't, it wouldn't be able to rely on the Council Elect or Nineday House to recover its missing parts. They were far too constrained by international laws and treaties. International Observations? Similar problems, and besides the cell didn't want any more attention drawn to its existence.

There was one group that might help though....

Busying itself even as the first Caracasusian soldiers landed it composed a message.

Death To Slavers....
Last edited by Caracasus on Wed Feb 27, 2019 7:18 am, edited 2 times in total.
As an editor I seam to spend an awful lot of thyme going threw issues and checking that they're no oblivious errars. Its a tough job but someone's got too do it!



Issues editor, not a moderator.

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Karevka
Envoy
 
Posts: 332
Founded: Jan 16, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Karevka » Wed Feb 27, 2019 8:51 am

News had spread around the newly refurbished Military Analysis building like wildfire. The Leozina photos from the Berliner-6 satellite had just came in, and the military analysts were already looking over the images.

"See that? Looks like a unit up for review." one, a sergeant, analyst said. Here in the bowels of the building, sound was muted somewhat. Light too, was lacking. There were no windows in this particular meeting room. Nothing but a dim artificial light. The sergeant was somewhat grateful. The call had come in halfway through breakfast and he was reasonably certain that brighter lights would have drawn attention to the egg yolk on his lapels.

The other wasn't too confident "You sure? The formation is pretty loose, almost sloppy. Could just be aid workers or construction guys getting instructions." the sergeant insisted, leaning closer in to the photograph. It had been enhanced as far as the lab techs could manage, grainy though it was he was certain that they were looking at a paramilitary unit. "You see those," he pointed at spot on the screen "Those are obviously rifles, you can see the stock and barrel. If they aren't trained then the Royalists are forming a militia." the sergeant observed as he pointed at a tiny spot in the photo. The senior analyst squinted, trying to find the "rifles". He saw what resembled a rifle stock with tape wrapped around, which was worth noting. "Yeah, those could be rifles. Send the photos up to the techies to make sure."



The day shift lab technicians filed into the white-walled lab, on the third floor of the Military Intelligence Analysis Bureau, admiring the newly installed overhead LED lights and noticing the stench of coffee left behind by the night shift. Everyone was glad that the building went through laborious renovations, some even pitched in for extra pay. A set of photos were delivered to the photo technicians, who were miffed by the fact the photos were ones they had already enhanced, brightened and edited. Apparently analysts were unsure if the objects held by the paramilitaries were rifles. "Of course their rifles, what else would militiamen use." the lab techs grumbled. The review was sent back upstairs to the windowless meeting room. The sergeant was now vindicated and the photos were forwarded to Posteastan by SSD courier.
Last edited by Karevka on Wed Feb 27, 2019 10:29 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Ninawa
Lobbyist
 
Posts: 12
Founded: Feb 11, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Ninawa » Wed Feb 27, 2019 11:35 am

Ninawa Governmental Complex
It's early in the morning, its rainy and the city seems to be pretty empty. Many cars can be seen parking next to the governmental complex.
Inside one of the buildings, a room is fulled with people. They all seem to talk to each other, one man is trying to keep them quiet, who is standing next to a podium.

"Alright, alright.. people... calm please..." the small figure says. The crowd goes silent after a few moments have passed and now stare at the small figure.
"Right.. have we decided on what to do?" the small figure says.

Many flags are hanging around in the room, it becomes apparent that the session is about the Posteastanian crisis.
Another man stands up. He clears his throat before saying "The situation seems very messy, its a big clusterfuck. The best thing to do would be to send Humanitarian Aid to the city of Kolvce, which seems to be in dire need of it."
The crowd applauds and everyone seems to nod.
"Right okay.. this session is finished then. I will write a Telegram immediatly..." the small figure says before moving out of the room.

To: Public Statement
From: The Ninawan Government

Greetings, the Government of Ninawa has observed the conflict happening in Posteastan lately and has decided to send humanitarian aid to the town of of kolvce.
To whatever authority, which has control over Kolvce; Please send us details and informations about the situation on the ground so that we can help and send humanitarian aid to the civil populace in the city.
With Regards,
Commisioner Hella from the Ninawan Government

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Union of Albandrite Socialist Republics
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 126
Founded: Jun 21, 2017
Democratic Socialists

Postby Union of Albandrite Socialist Republics » Wed Feb 27, 2019 1:32 pm

Revolutionary City, UASR

The Supreme People's Assembly was having a heated debate in their hearing regarding the recent announcement made by Allanea, offering cooperation to counter slavers. "A self proclaimed Imperialist nations claims to be against slavery?" One Communist Party member said, standing from his seat "You might as say you are a Nazi against genocide!" There was a cheer from most of the Assembly. Another gentleman stood up "We have the opportunity to counter a corporate entity and Imperialist ventures. This is a great opportunity for us. We don't have to cozy up to them, but peaceful cooperation for humanitarian purposes is an option!" There were loud jeers in response to this proposal, a woman leaning into her mic and replying back to the proposition "I'm sure the humanitarian aid of a country like Allanea would be nothing more than sticks of dynamite painted to look like carrots!" There was laughter and cheer from the party members in response to the statement, loud thunderous applause soon filling the massive room for a few moments as Premier Vinsky attempted to speak "The Party has already taken a stance to aid anti-imperialist forces in their struggle in the nation, as the nation has the right to self determination. For us to aid a force of Imperialism in what is likely another attempt to colonize another sovereign nation would be against the values of our party and be revisionism of the highest order. We will REJECT such offers of cooperation on the basis of maintaining our Socialist values!"
The assembly stood up and applauded at Premier Vinsky's words, the crowd soon raising their fists up and down in the air in sync as they chanted "Hands off Posteastan! Hands off Posteastan!" Over and over, essentially concluding the assembly.

The event was broadcasted on UASR state television, an overly enthusiastic state news reporter spoke "The decision held by our glorious revolutionary party was final and the Supreme People's Assembly voted in favor to reject offers of cooperation from Allanea." The reporter continued as footage of the Assembly was shown in a bordered window in the upper right corner "Slavery can not be ended by Imperialist powers! All power to the workers!"


Image

The Supreme People's Assembly of the UASR has unanimously agreed to reject offers of cooperation with the Imperialist power of Allanea. We do not trust the intentions of the state of Allanea, as the rhetoric they use now has historically been used to justify imperialist intervention and takeovers of nations in the past. We have no reason to doubt this case is any different, despite the cooperation of complacent Socialist states.

The UASR has never been afraid to call out or criticize Comrades for engaging in counter revolutionary activity, and we will not hesitate to do so here. The Communist Party of Albandry asserts that cooperation with Imperialist powers in regards to engaging a nation as historically torn and colonized as Posteastan, is a revisionist trend and a stab in the backs of the international proletariat.

We agree that the existance of slavery in the nation is disheartening and should be eliminated, why should we exchange one form of slavery for another when we can abolish it entirely?

The workers of Posteastan must choose their fate and the nation of Posteastan still has its right to self determination, especially against the forces of global capital. The UASR will continue to express its sympathy and support for Anti-Imperialist elements in the nation..

Workers of the world, Unite!



Tabolov
The Officers of the Albandrite People's Army looked over the maps, graciously provided by their comrades in the ranks of the Stateists, carefully. Calculating their decision carefully and coming to the conclusion that air support would be a necessity if there were to be any realistic advances across the nation and the ever growing threat of foreign powers.



Image
TO: President Vasilescu Tavitian and his respected Military Command
From: Command of the Albandrite People's Army's operations in Posteastan
ENCRYPTION: HIGHEST

The Military Advising team of the APA believes that Air Support through helicopters will be a necessity for the forces of your military to push through and liberate the rest of the nation. Our carrier out in the international waters from here does in fact have 24 Helicopters on board. Those being twenty Mil Mi-8's for troop deployment and supplies carrying along with four Mil MI-24 Helicopters ready for combat and light troop carrying. The deployment of these will have to be discrete, and their origin unknown. If given a few days, the insignia and markings of those Helicopters on board the carrier can be removed and we can fly them here, providing the air support needed.

The Sword and Shield of the Revolution
Last edited by Union of Albandrite Socialist Republics on Wed Feb 27, 2019 11:27 pm, edited 3 times in total.
☭☭ ☭ ☭ ☭ ☭ ☭ ☭☭☭ ☭ ☭ ☭ ☭ ☭ ☭☭☭ ☭ ☭ ☭ ☭ ☭ ☭

The People's News: "Cultural Revolution is close to achieving all its stated goals" states party officials | YCL holds yet another rally in Capitol, demanding further reform | Conservative elements in military "routed out" says Minister of Defense | Community gardens triple in urban centers | Collective farms to be replaced with communes, says Agricultural minister | Ban on foreign music lifted, with some restrictions|

User avatar
Danlina
Envoy
 
Posts: 350
Founded: Jan 16, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Danlina » Wed Feb 27, 2019 10:08 pm

Image
OFFICIAL TELEGRAM




Topic: Cooperating Against The Slave Economy

from: Office Of The Danlinian Prime Minister


To whom it may concern, communist, socialist, and capitalist alike,
I see the way we, as nations who want these atrocities to stop, verbally fight each other and it makes me sad and wary. Slavery a danger to the well-being of the people of Posteastan, and we should all band together to abolish these atrocities.
And to Allanea: As much as I admire the Allanean military and its capabilities, I believe that the Danlinian navy and air force special units will be of help. The war on slavery is one that we should take precautions in, as sometimes the line between enemy and civilian is blurred and undefinable. My offer is still on the table, and as a gesture of good grace, I will arrange so the trade between the nations will grow if you would like such a thing to happen. After all, as a former customer, I am happy with the products at Allanea defense exports.

Best Regards,
Samuel Robinson, Prime Minister Of The Armed Republic Of Danlina
Last edited by Danlina on Wed Feb 27, 2019 10:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Republic of Danlina


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Allanea
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 26057
Founded: Antiquity
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Allanea » Thu Feb 28, 2019 1:26 am

Image


From: Grand Ambassador Peter Nizhinsky
To: Samuel Robinson, Prime Minister of the Armed Repubilc of Danlina

Dear friend!
I absolutely agree with everything you said. The difficulty with any kind of maritime patrols is that in many ways they are not a function of the power and size of ships involved, but rather of the number of ships, and their ability to cover large areas. While aircraft carriers, by their nature, can increase the patrolled area vastly, it should be remembered that they are not a complete game-changer here. As such, I dol believe that your nation's offer of help is very valuable here.

Moreover, the Free Kingdom is not interested in making itself appear as some manner of invader into the region. As such, it would be valuable to us if we had assistance from other nations' navies. As you may have noticed, we have deployed merely four surface combatants to patrol the seas near Posteastan, and this clearly isn't going to solve the problem.

Furthermore,
Death to the Slaver.
Yours, Peter Nizhinsky.
#HyperEarthBestEarth

Sometimes, there really is money on the sidewalk.

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Uan aa Boa
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1130
Founded: Apr 23, 2017
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Uan aa Boa » Thu Feb 28, 2019 6:11 am

Allanea wrote:"Some of them follow some post-colonialist rendition of the Communist ideology – that is to say, they believe that the worst excesses of colonialism are a necessary outcome of capitalism. It's a really rough rendition of Lenin's interpretation of colonialism," – said Nizhinsky. – "Others believe that slavery and the wage economy are virtually the same – both of these things are of course an interesting angle even from a very strict Marxist perspective, much one from the ones that are taught in schools in this country.


As an ideology of progress Capital claims it has abolished the squalor of the 19th century factories that inspired Marx; such horrors, we are told, are confined now to the pages of Dickens. The most cursory look at working conditions in the South, where production now occurs, reveals that these horrors have by no means been abolished. Rather they have, to use Capital's own terminology, been outsourced.

************************


Workers' rights and welfare were, as we have seen, granted in those countries whose workers had attained a degree of class consciousness and whose neighbours had experienced revolution or the threat of it. Absent in the 19th century, they were granted in the 20th to the precise extent to which the workers threatened the established order. Yet what threat is presented by the workers of the South?

************************


We have heretofore set out the way in which the restructuring attached to debt and aid has been used to suppress the emergence of viable economies in the South. We have seen also numerous examples of the ways in which corrupt and nepotist dictators have been imposed and maintained in position to like effect. Left with no alternative but to scratch a living from polluted soil, the worker therefore enters an obscene and inverted auction, competing to subject herself to ever greater indignity for the possibility of a wage.

************************


Capital tells us that the buying and selling of labour is a free transaction between rational parties. Liberal thinkers have idealised this transaction within a variety of theoretical spaces such as Rawls' original position. What they overlook is that within such abstractions there is no need of bread and the hungry man is no game theorist. Which side, worker or employer, must strike a deal at all costs? The worker does so not in the thoughtspace of the original position, but embodied in the unflinching materialism of her life as it is lived. When the radical self/world divide that is constitutive of the Enlightenment collapses we see that there is no commodification of labour that does not commodify the labourer, and that Capital is always already a system of enslavement.

************************


In the ancient world slavery was a judicial punishment. Under feudalism the serf was set by God beneath the feet of his masters and the servants of the gentleman scarcely needed to be told to defer to their betters. Capital makes the worker its formal opponent within the structure of a game. Always the act of work has been radically Other, a locus of shame and horror. Today the worker resides in the South and is termed as refugee, immigrant, citizen of failed states. Walls are erected and patrolled against them, for it is imperative that those who have prepared the feast are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs beneath the table.

************************


The missionaries told us to render unto Caesar, that the meek would inherit the earth and that our reward would be in Heaven. They revered a crucified outcast, a suffering servant. Cruder invaders would have convinced us that God was on their side. It was their genius to convince us that He was on ours.


Excerpts from Children of the Sun by Jean Baptiste Mazemba

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Danlina
Envoy
 
Posts: 350
Founded: Jan 16, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Danlina » Thu Feb 28, 2019 10:11 am

Image
OFFICIAL TELEGRAM




Topic: Cooperating Against The Slave Economy

from: Office Of The Danlinian Prime Minister


Dear Grand Ambassador Peter Nizhinsky,
I am so happy to know we have each other's support in the matter! We will arrange a meeting of Danlinian and Allanean military officials to exchange intel and strategies on the matter to ensure successful operations when joining forces against the threat of slavery. If we get lucky, more nations will join us and fight on our side for this noble cause.

Best Regards, And Death To The Slaver,
Samuel Robinson, Prime Minister Of The Armed Republic Of Danlina
Republic of Danlina


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Kenmoria
GA Secretariat
 
Posts: 7914
Founded: Jul 03, 2017
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Kenmoria » Thu Feb 28, 2019 10:19 am

The response of Jonathan Fletcherson to the question was very promising to Construction Entrerprises, and filled Adalene Smith with confidence as to how the confere could further go. Although the questions were irritating, not least because of their basis in feel-good human rights and illusions of ethics, and the fact that Allanea was disapproving an unexpected displeasure, the fact that the Parliament was on the side of the corporation was most welcome. In addition, the ending of the Karevkan conference without too much metaphorical losses on the Kenmorian side was useful for producing a less clear-cut ending.

With all the negative publicity being hurled about, Construction Enterprises decided to momentarily slow production of the telecommunications line, while stepping up the humanitarian aid propaganda effort. Although it could have seemed counterproductive, the deliberate stoppage of certain areas of the telephone work was intended to convey a message about the harm that foreign nations were doing. In the lastest pictures of smiling children waving from their newly-built sponsored room in the local school, the focus was shifted to what more work could have been done were it not for the constant criticism.

Furthermore, some preparations were made for a potential defence of the company in the case of invasion or a betrayal by somebody interior to the project. The Syndicate stepped up security on the perimeter, and were directed to arrest and detain anybody whom was seen as being at a potential risk of treachery. On the Roztechko and Pibtsy port, guards were increased to watch for any suspicious boats entering; they also served the purpose of stopping anyone from leaving without the proper paperwork, which could be denied on the idle whim of a bureaucrat back in Kenmoria.
Hello! I’m a GAer and NS Roleplayer from the United Kingdom.
My pronouns are he/him.
Any posts that I make as GenSec will be clearly marked as such and OOC. Conversely, my IC ambassador in the General Assembly is Ambassador Fortier. I’m always happy to discuss ideas about proposals, particularly if grammar or wording are in issue. I am also Executive Deputy Minister for the WA Ministry of TNP.
Kenmoria is an illiberal yet democratic nation pursuing the goals of communism in a semi-effective fashion. It has a very broad diplomatic presence despite being economically developing, mainly to seek help in recovering from the effect of a recent civil war. Read the factbook here for more information; perhaps, I will eventually finish it.

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Posteastan
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 180
Founded: Aug 28, 2018
Ex-Nation

Postby Posteastan » Thu Feb 28, 2019 6:44 pm

Image
Onwards Together against communism and exploitation


The Death Ship


The interior of the ship was still pitch black in places, what little light the grimy windows allowed to penetrate did nothing to illuminate the scene. Outside the growing storm rocked the boat gently, threatening worse to come. A cup of coffee, still lukewarm sat next to a bowl of soup. A quick scan with the thermal camera. It was, towards the bottom of the bowl, still warmer than room temperature. There could not have been more than a couple of hours passed since it was made.

Something clinked, bouncing into the corner of the cabin. The soldiers, already jumpy, trained guns on the doors and windows. Breathed out. Breathed in. A flashlight beam illuminated the source of the noise. A tiny, brassy case. Thick, black gloved hands lifted it up and inspected it.

“A shell casing. Looks like a .22.”

Static on the radio.

The stairs towards the engine room were dark, dimly lit by some auxiliary generator. The soldiers there gingerly opened the door and illuminated the scene. Strange paintings had been carved into the paint. Here and there, there were crumby of what looked like earth on the ground.

The fusebox that controlled and routed power to the ship had been thoroughly destroyed. Bent back by crowbar or other implement to expose its workings though there were no traces of paint from that metal tool to be found. The wiring had been ripped out and scattered through the room. No wonder the lights had stopped.

The men operating the radar occasionally picked up signs of movement but the density of the steel made these devices a lot less precise. Rats perhaps? Or something larger? The thermal sights did not confirm the presence of heat sources where the radar had detected movement. Radio communication within the ship was difficult at best. The signal was bad. The weather, the threatening storm perhaps creating interference. Reaching the helicopters was impossible.




Roztechko in the Morning

The deliveryman pulled the keys from the ignition and sighed. Even though they already ran the damn city the syndicate still insisted on this cloak and dagger bullshit to get the job done. Who exactly would have challenged them if they'd simply walked up to the department division in person, tooled up to the eyeballs and collected their due payment? No-one. That's who. Not the police, not the army and certainly not the private security contracted by Construction Enterprises.

And yet here he was. Two in the morning and the streetlights had gone out again. He'd bought a damn paper, but he had far too little faith in the battery of the battered truck to keep the dome light on and still let him start the thing up. By murky moonlight he poured a cup of coffee from his flask and sipped it, quietly.

He hadn't wanted to know what was in the truck destined for the syndicate. He hadn't asked. At the very best it was fuel oil, siphoned from police and military vehicles and kept in jerry cans. Guns would be worse. People....

He shook his head. He couldn't, he wouldn't, entertain that possibility.

When you really got down to it, here in a truck cab with no distraction, no paper to read, no one to talk to he was a coward. Six foot five and built like a brick shithouse and here he was, absolutely terrified that if he didn't toe the line and do what they asked... whatever they asked then he'd be dead.

Worse than dead. He'd been asked to cart some plastic crates over to a dumping ground. The Syndicate member who drove with him hinted at what they contained. The thing is, none of the crates were big enough to hold a whole body.

A tap on the window jolted him out of his seat. He looked out at nothing and was...

The cold metal pressed against the back of his neck. Very, very slowly he placed his hands on the dashboard, just as the woman asked him to.

“We'll be taking the truck now brother. We need those supplies.”

He saw another figure come skulking out of the darkness. And another. Four in total, not counting the one who had somehow snuck into the cab.

“Who the hell are you? You know this stuff is for the Sakala, right?”

One of them laughed. A man.

“Sakala is going to have far more to worry about than a truck full of guns mate. See those warehouses? In ten minutes, they're going to burn.”
They laughed in the face of the syndicate. It honestly shocked him. Even in the safety of your own home, you carried the fear of the syndicate with you. It watched you as you dressed, as you showered, as you ate and here....

“Yeah, you'd better clear off” one said as he stepped, shaking down from the cab.

“Don't worry, they'll figure you died in the fire. Now run!”

“Wait!” he shouted. One turned.

“Wait! Who are you?”




Towards a New Order

Rain beat down hard on the compound, running through gutters and pooling where the large, concrete tank traps had been placed. It washed through the grime and grit of the brickwork, eating away further at already crumbling mortar. Even as far away as they were from the chemical dumps and permanent refuse fires of the forgotten North, the rain was taking its toll on the facades and limestone cladding of the buildings. A construction barely six decades old looked to be nearer two hundred.

The newly equipped royal forces had a grim task in front of them, though there was no doubting the authenticity of the lists handed down to them. Each testimonial, each record of evidence carried with it Balan or Valaska's personal stamp of approval. Shivering in their greatcoats they marched out to the waiting trucks.

Four to a truck, each truck could carry twenty or so in the back. The handles inside that would allow people to open the vehicle had been sheared off and great chains clanked against the door. Spot welded to the roof of the truck hung chains. From these, the suspects would be manacled.

They passed over the suburbs of the city like angels of death. The same scene to be repeated again and again in towns and villages across Royalist controlled territory. Here was a man whose house contained communist literature. There was a woman who had tried to agitate fellow workers into strike action. A teacher, a lawyer. Both suspected by colleges of harboring Bolshevik thought.

The strangest sign they had come across had been reports that secret Ninedayist cells communicated with one another by use of elephant statues placed at various vantage points in windows. Before today, the royal forces had no idea how many Ninedayists there were in the country. It seemed that almost every house in six had a statue of an elephant or two on some streets. The offenders were duly arrested and placed in the trucks.

Doors began to slam shut on streets when the trucks were spotted, children dropped their games and ran for the dubious safety of their homes. Occasionally someone would resist, though not as often as had been expected. Usually a swift application of force was enough to subdue the suspect. The soldiers rarely had to use their guns but orders were orders and those who resisted got two in the back of the neck right in front of their houses.

They didn't ask, because people in their position never do, exactly where the end destination for the suspects was. All they knew was that once the suspects were arrested, they were to deliver them to the nearest precinct. From there it was simplicity itself to hose down the back of the truck and drive out once more. They had orders, they had lists, and they had jobs to do.




Leozina Airport

Rasvan beamend! Sir Rasvan, now that was something. In this whole mess Gentile was the only true gentleman, a man clearly born to lead, a man with some understanding what was going on. Sir Rasvan, that was how he deserved to be called. He would take care to enforce that from now on.

"Gentile! Father!" Sir Rasvan bowed slightly to the two of them. "I admire your practical thinking. I will make contact with them. Construction Enterprises will have this airport back in working action in no time. There are more pressing issues at the moment. It is good to have you here father we will need your help" still smiling he turned towards the priest.

"We have exchanged the information on communists with Valaska and Balan we gave them everything we had about known Ninedayiststs or their families hiding in their provinces and they handed us tons of intel regarding reds in our sector. Operation New Order was a complete success. We have killed or captured thousands of traitors!" with enthusiasm clearly growing as he spoke he continues

"The best thing is yet to come. Of course we can hardly arrest those under the age of ten. Even less can we leave these children with their communist mothers. We can't leave them unattended in a war zone either. Technical orphans we would like to see them deported to Lux Pulchrae. The Church can take care of them. Baptize them? Make them fit for adoption or simply keep them in orphanages. That would be a great humanitarian and Christian act. Those fit to be deported are interned in the Leozina stadium at the moment. Their souls will be saved from the cancer of communism." Turning back to Gentile he continued in a somewhat less cheerful voice.

"Let's head over to the Allaneas. Poor bastards hat to shit where they eat for days now. We have the confined to one building but no one dared to try and take their guns. Special forces, the whole lot of them if you ask me. We should bring a flame thrower when we go talk to them. If you'd excuse us father? We have a war to win!" looking back over his shoulders he added

"I really like the arrangement of the flags."

Royalist Headquarters

Dripping wet from the soft rain outside Rodin Dolgan halfheartedly gave the Roman salute

"Death to the synagogue of zion, death to Ninedayism…" He mumbled towards d'Umbra hanging his rain soaked coat next to the door. Quickly grabbing a tea he approached Thatcher.

"We have to talk Sir." With a sideway look at d'Umbra he added "entre nous."




Tabolov Revolutionary Headquarters

Things had changed once more. With the air support from the Albandrite People's Navy available the advantage had shifted significantly towards the revolutionaries. The chances of getting back into power were now greater than ever. It was only a matter of days when the people of Posteastan would take things back in their own hands. Things were progressing quickly now and the flu was much less of a problem now. Only a few of the men were infected. Less than a third. Almost all of them continued to do their duty. The strain was either much weaker here or the revolutionaries simply had a much better constitution than those damn separatists.




KOLVCE FREE STATE
Image
Official Statement of the Magistrate

To: Volunteer Legion for the Liberty of Kolvce
Subject: International Solidarity
OFFICIAL TELEGRAM FROM THE MAGISTRATE


I deeply regret to have to inform you that comrade Arcos is not available at the moment. We need your help now more than ever. Forest looks like a perfect place to us. A paradise of freedom and equality. We ask the Volunteer Legion for the Liberty of Kolvce to use the freedom of Forest to our advantage. Travel through your region and do what your governments refuse to do. Set up a network of revolutionaries in Caracasus, Uan aa Boa, Keilersmore and Rivienland. Recruit volunteers like those form CHU. The governments will never come to our aid the people's war has to be fought by the people. We need everyone who can hold a gun to defend Kolvce. The fascists are pouring in over our northern border. We thank you for your support. Comrades will pick you up in Kolvce city.


For the people of Kolvce
Martí Marcó





REVOLUTIONARY DEMOCRATIC SOCIAL UNION
Image
Official Statement of the RDSU

To: Command of the Albandrite People's Army's operations in Posteastan
Subject: Air Strikes
OFFICIAL TELEGRAM FROM THE CHAIRMAN


Comrades!
That's perfect. From the intelligence gathered by our comrades form Karevka we came to the conclusion that the enemy has moved significant anti-air elements to the Leozina area of operation. Therefore I advise you to have the helicopters backed up by ground attack jets. If you have the ability to send special forces to scout the area prior to the liberation I would again advise to do so. Otherwise I will send my own men to collect as much intel about the position and make-up of enemy anti-air-units.



Vasilescu Tavitian
Chariman of the RDSU





REVOLUTIONARY DEMOCRATIC SOCIAL UNION
Image
Official Statement of the RDSU

To: Peter Nizhinsky
Subject: Cooperation
OFFICIAL TELEGRAM FROM THE CHAIRMAN


My friend,

This sounds good. Very good. The sooner you deal with them the better. If you do that you are making a mistake. The royalists are all right and possible future allies. There are some fields we can cooperate on but they exclusively rely on foreign powers. Keep in mind that they have no locals supporting them. The equipment is much needed. We gladly accept.

The medical assistance is something different. This year a lot of people seem to suffer from a cold or a viral infection. It seems to be particularly aggressive and hygiene is worse than ever. Any help here will be appreciated.



Vasilescu Tavitian
Chariman of the RDSU

User avatar
Caracasus
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 7918
Founded: Apr 23, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Caracasus » Fri Mar 01, 2019 3:43 am

Villi Island Conference

There was a lull in proceedings, which proved an opportunity to mingle and eat. You could tell with relative ease which representatives had visited Caracasus before. While food was prepared and plates were washed by Caracasusian hosts, the communal culture saw a lack of participation on the part of guests as a little rude. The process of preparing, cooking and cleaning up after was supposed to be a communal activity and only those incapable of participating of the very lazy simply sat at the table and waited for food to be delivered to them. Great open cooking and eating spaces gave themselves naturally to the process and those who had visited Caracasus before came prepared. Johann Blaumann for instance cooked up an interesting dish of salmon and leeks in a white sauce, while members of the Boani delegation sliced and chopped vegetables, carefully avoiding anything that would compromise their vegan diet. Others cooked delicacies from their homeland, washed or dried dishes. When the chaos of eating had faded somewhat, the delegates returned once more to the central meeting room. The sun had begun to set, picking out the polished steel girders in brilliant red.

First Minister Marrik spoke again. "I would like to thank everyone for their contributions. The Cat Herders United naval detachment would be most welcome, as would the ships from Allanea. Nineday House and our comrades in Aa will set to work ensuring that communications channels between all our nations' navies are standardized. At present I believe this fleet must first and foremost serve as a deterrent to any foreign power that plans to land soldiers or munitions in Postestan."

He sighed. "What can I say that others have not? Postestan is on the precipice of all out civil war. It is the belief of the Council Elect that concerning ourselves too much with the morally bankrupt actions of Construction Enterprises is a mistake. It is a sideshow. It's no secret that there is always a company willing to exploit any disaster, willing to take contracts from the most reprehensible genocidal dictatorships. A short look at history should tell us that. When the fascist coalition of the Orion Hegemony began slaughtering civilians deemed genetically impure, there were many companies that were more than happy to supply them with the cattle trucks needed to transport their victims. Had Construction Enterprises been around at that time, no doubt they would have built the death camps for a tidy profit while telling the international community how spacious and luxurious the accommodations under construction were. That the rouge state of Kenmoria and its associated libertarian policies ultimately enable fascism is not adding anything new to the dialogue."

"It is, fundamentally, Caracasusian foreign policy that failed Postestan. We were wrong and we acted on incomplete information. Our diplomats and government worked with the best intentions and attempted to broker a peace between the Northern Alliance and Posteastan. We secured the repayment of damages for Posteastan's part in the Ohiton conflict down to a token amount, we wrote binding treaties that guaranteed the right of the Posteastan government to bring in protective legislation of its industries to ensure a stable economic base. However we did not take into account the rise of the new proto fascist government led by Marku Tavitian. Anyone listening to Tavitan's speeches from that era cannot help but be reminded of Umberto Eco's essay on Ur-Fascism in both the rhetoric and action. Note the legislation that stripped certain ethnicities of their rights and forced them to be second class citizens in their home country. The creation of a new enemy of international Bolsheviks that for the purposes of Tavitan's government and each successive government after must be at once cowardly and weak and at the same time an impossibly strong foe. That must at once be both without and within the nation, a perpetual enemy that the rightful people must always struggle against. That is Tavitan's government and that is every successive government after. If we are to take the Kielersmoorian position, which is one we agree with, then we simply cannot support the current government in any capacity and must ready ourselves for the prospect of intervention. We talk about fascism as if it is a threat within Postestan - Postestan has had successive fascist governments since its disastrous intervention in Ohiton and the rise of Tavitan. None have deviated significantly from Tavitan's fundamental position."

"What remains is this. We must work towards a Postestan where the seeds of fascism cannot find purchase. We must have a strong commitment to diplomatic solutions. We must also, however, be willing and ready to act should our worst fears be realized."
Last edited by Caracasus on Fri Mar 01, 2019 3:50 am, edited 2 times in total.
As an editor I seam to spend an awful lot of thyme going threw issues and checking that they're no oblivious errars. Its a tough job but someone's got too do it!



Issues editor, not a moderator.

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Uan aa Boa
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1130
Founded: Apr 23, 2017
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Uan aa Boa » Fri Mar 01, 2019 6:15 am

Adeema had always liked Caracasusian communal cooking. Nobody in Uan aa Boa cooked, apart from the cooks obviously. The benefits of large scale canteens were numerous and it was logical to allow people to spend their time on what they were good at. It wasn't a question of equality. She supposed she was in a practical sense more important than a cook in that her skills were rarer and she would be harder to replace, but she wasn't paid any more than the cook who might well live in the apartment next to hers. It was only on visits to Caracasus that she'd taught herself a few simple recipes, prompted by a day of fearful embarrassment as a junior attache. Everybody has to learn the difference between a clove and a bulb of garlic somehow.

She scanned her tablet as she finished her plate. Satellite images had been enhanced to clearly show the "Onwards Together" poster, with the banners of the statist, nationalist and royalist factions flying side by side. She forwarded it to her opposite numbers in Karevka and Albandrite. The accompanying text read simply, "Comrades, I did warn you." There could be no doubt that the rest of the footage showed unwilling people being bundled into trucks by armed men.

One late night in a summit venue hotel the Chairman had told her that during the Boani civil war various tough characters had emerged through the Party who were keen to employ direct and brutal tactics and that he was far from proud of everything that had happened. Probably every revolution attracts such people just because some people are like that. When put on the spot in public he liked to quote Mandela - the oppressor defines the nature of the struggle. In private he admitted to sleepless nights wrestling with utilitarian calculations of justification, afraid that simply acknowledging the force of the question betrayed his guilt. Adeema had been 15 at the end of the war and had done no more than throw stones. It had taken her a long time to feel worthy in the company of the guerillas and so she pressed his fingers to her forehead in a gesture of supplication. Mazemba had waved it away and said this was precisely why he could talk to her.

In the matter of means and ends, however, the ends did matter. She knew she idolised Mazemba too much to be objective, but she firmly believed he had always steered through troubled waters towards a worthy goal. Valaska's goal and Tavitian's, meanwhile was power at any cost, for his paymasters in the former case and just because he could in the latter.

"I fully concur with Comrade Marrik," she spoke up at length. "It will seem as if I do little but rail against Valaska, but what we are seeing here are war crimes, plain and simple. There is no communist conspiracy in Posteastan. You must trust me, if there was we would have been nurturing and supporting it all this time. The risk of a fascist proto-state emerging grows by the day, and we will not fail to be ready when the time comes."

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Great Nortend
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Posts: 1562
Founded: Jul 08, 2017
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Great Nortend » Fri Mar 01, 2019 6:26 am

LEOZINA—Thatcher was quickly pulled aside by a man, whom he recognised dimly as perhaps Rodin Dolgan.

“Mr Dolgan, is it? What is the matter?”



The next day, the ship was quickly unloaded by the militia watchmen and the almoners onto the dock. The supplies were slowly then transported by truck, lorry or by hand-cart to the premises of the Posteastan Alms Society. East supervised, and some men trying to steal a few tins of food excepted, it was smooth going, and by noon, the ship's humanitarian alms were all stacked neatly into the abandoned warehouse on the other side of the alleyway behind the offices.

The supplies for the Watch, on the other hand, had been taken directly into the offices of the Society. There were bundles and bundles of plain uniforms in a dark navy serge. Tunics, trousers and neck-ties were arranged neatly in different sizes in the back room of the offices. All of the Leozina Watch Militia had been ordered to assist in the unloading, and after having lunch, were ordered to queue up by the half hour by company and platoon to receive their uniforms, badges and red berets. The uniforms were mainly old, worn uniforms from the various police constabularies in Great Nortend, and though some were more worn than others, were all perfectly serviceable and importantly, warm and comfortable.

It was late afternoon by the time all of the watchmen, which now numbered near 500 men, had received their uniforms. Dressed in their dark navy tunics and trousers on the green in formation, and having practised their drill recently, East smiled. They would do fine. Already, the Watch had had a positive impact on the city. The hitherto dirty and debris strewn streets had been cleaned up drastically and potholes had begun to be filled in. No-gooders were frequently arrested by the Watch, in the name of Sir Alexander, and sent to the city's gaol overnight as a warning. Posters had been plastered up all around the city, and royal banners flown. The hygiene programme was, however, hindered by a general scarcity of soap in the city. It was hoped that the arrival of the alms and ships would remedy that, to help prevent a potentially disastrous influenza epidemic.
News from Great Nortend : https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=23&t=417866
Diplomacy, Consulates &c. : https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=23&t=417865

This nation is an exaggerated representation of my personal views in most areas.

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Allanea
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 26057
Founded: Antiquity
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Allanea » Fri Mar 01, 2019 7:26 am

The Death Ship
The junior officer held the .22 shell in his hands gingerly, holding it up so it would be visible to the camera fixed to his helmet. "It could just be left here," – he said, to reassure himself. "If there was a mass-murder, we'd see dozens more shells. You can't just kill off hundreds of people and vanish their bodies within an hour and just leave a shell behind."

"Or, we just haven't found the shells yet." – an older man, an NCO with the team, said. "Or most of them were killed without a shot fired. There are dozens of ways to kill off hundreds of people and not shed a drop of blood."

"You can't just choke five hundred people with your hands. They'd have fought back." – the younger man replied.

"You are a fucking idiot, Warner." – the older man said, without emotion, as if he was stating a fact. "If these people were of the fight-back kind, we wouldn't need to even be here."

There was a frightening silence, as the Navy commandos were thrust back to the sad reality of which they had been informed many times in their training and education. Slaves, genocide victims, and victims of terrible oppression usually possess the theoretical, physical means to fight off their tyrants – they are more numerous, often have access to heavy tools that could be used to bludgeon their oppressors to death, or placed in close quarters where weapons count for nothing – and yet the history of the world is pockmarked with the sites of horrible atrocities where hundreds of thousands were humiliated, enslaved, maimed or killed while, by all rights, they could at least have made it a fight and not a murder.

Psychology and history had broad explanations for this phenomenon – oppressors have a bewildering means of psychological and cultural tricks at their disposal to sap the spirit and corrode the mind, to render their victims too weak to resist, or to persuade them that they are already to weak, or perhaps – albeit this particular shape of horror was no doubt too advanced for the Syndicate thugs – to make them believe that they actually deserved to suffer.

Yet, just like medicine can explain the development of a terrible cancer, but cannot prepare you to the death of a beloved friend or relative, so can history and psychology explain the workings of a system of oppression, but can never prepare a man to stand at the edge of an opened mass-grave.

"Lights! Some motherfucker give us more lights!" – a commanding officer barked – "Whoever is on the bridge, get the electric going! Combat photographer, get your lights on!"

Those men who still had not turned on their flashlights did so. Gleaming, white lights bathed all before them in radiant, eye-searing white light, like an elven vial from an old novel.

This was less of a tactical response, by now, but more of a psychological one – a way to try and find a resolution for the horror that seemed to be lurking somewhere, just beyond the edge of one's vision.


* * *

Posteastan, in a garage somewhere

"It's a bank car." – said one of the men.

"Well, yes, that's the beauty of it," – another man answered. "It's perfect for what we're going to do – once we're done with it."

The bank car had been probably months since it left the service of the bank car company – its engine broken down, its paint shabby and torn up, a pair of bullet holes on the driver's side showing a sharp limit to its armor plating.

"Do we even have the right paint?" – the first Allanean replied.

"Yes, I actually ran by a paint store when I was coming here. No, don't worry, I paid in cash, I may be stupid but I ain't actually an idiot." – the second man said – "We also have this." – he showed a small tablet. On it, one could see an image of a bank car much like this one, but one that was clearly still in service.

"Oh look, a reference image." – a young woman, dressed as a mechanic, said. "I always wanted to get into scale modeling, but it seems we're going to be doing a one-to-one."


* * *

Elsewhere in Posteastan

The agents that had moved into the country over the past weeks were preparing for their missions. In a dilapidated rental studio, a "musician" was opening his violin case to inspect, for last time, a submachinegun. A "stringer crew" for a news network from Snogohsia was seated in their hotel room, replacing the batteries on a large camera drone. A doctor who had just finished assisting a local medical team vaccinating several hundred schoolchildren against the flu, was reaching into his medical suitcase to make sure that all of his tools were still in place – including that one ampoule that was kept separate from the ampoules of medication.

In the skies, one could the passage of reconnaissance drones – slender entities on broad, thin, gossamer wings, held aloft by solar batteries, they could circle in the heavens for literal months, at an altitude beyond the reach of MANPADs. Passing satellites could not be seen at all, and yet they were there.

At this point, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs prepared briefs regarding the movements of all known Syndicate assets – vehicle groups, cargo ships, yachts – and disseminated them, in copies, to any factions that seemed willing to act decisively on the matter.


* * *


Leozina Airport

As the Posteastani approached, Colonel Patrick Wilson appeared in front of them.

To be clear, the Colonel's appearance was nothing short of disgusting. He had not shaved for several days, and more importantly he had not showered for several days, and his uniform was now covered with visible salt stains of the sort that will appear after one's clothing had soaked with sweat and redried on one's body several times. Regardless of the smell and the facial hair (which was now in that hated interim position between 'stubble' and 'beard'), the Colonel came out with his uniform adjusted as properly as possible as he saluted the foreigner.

"Greetings," – he said – "So, let me restate what I said before. If you want our help and to continue getting weapons and training from Allanea, we can negotiate that. If you want us out of your country, we will be happy to leave. If you want to use the airfield, it's your airfield, do whatever. What's absolutely not on is trying to take us prisoner. We've not done you wrong, we don't intend to do you any wrong, all we want is hot coffee, running water, and ideally a motherfucking donut."
#HyperEarthBestEarth

Sometimes, there really is money on the sidewalk.

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Allanea
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 26057
Founded: Antiquity
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Allanea » Fri Mar 01, 2019 7:40 am

Villi Island Conference

Peter Nizhinsky took the unusual – for him – step of being present at this particular conference in person. He had flown in here on an emergency fliht, and right now he was tired, irritated, and had a pounding headache, and to boot there were rumors of mass-murder. As he listened to the discussion, he then spoke.

"Gentlemen, the news of the mass-murder that's going down in Posteastan are… deeply unwelcomed here. Let me assure you, first and foremost, that the Free Kingdom has not approved, endorsed, or in any way knew of these. Not only do we view the idea of mass-murdering everyone over ten years old who happens to be associated with Communism to be, you know, fucking evil, we view it also as fucking stupid. Not only will it fail in reaching the objective of some parties of weakening Posteastani Communist ideology, it will also no doubt plunge the country in a deeper cycle of violence, retaliation, counter-retaliation, whatever. It is fucking stupid. "

"To be clear, if we want a better future for Posteastan, the first thing we must do is to have clear communications between those present at this conference about not turning it into an idiotic geopolitics standoff in the unforgettable style of the Great Game and the Cold War. The first thing that Posteastan needs is an end to the slavery bullshit and the food shortages, and the second thing that Posteastan needs is for everyone there to fucking stop killing each other."

"Now, obviously, I favor some sides of the Posteastani civil war, and the good comrades over there from Caracasus favor others, and no doubt the fellows from the Global South would love it if I immediately got a lethal cancer. Sorry, Global-South-Guys, I'm in perfect health other than this fucking jet lag from hell."

"But to be absolutely clear, peacekeeping theory informs us that a country in a state of civil war cannot achieve a lasting peace if each side in a conflict is obsessed in defeating the other side and everybody continues humping the geopolitics cactus. The best path to an end to a civil war is either to ensure an election, or to have the parties agree to split the country, and then have peacekeepers enforce it."

"To be clear, when I say, "peacekeepers", I do not mean "Allanean" peacekeepers, because, first, this would open Allanea up to endless accusations from the Global South lot about how we're promoting a selfish interest, and second, because after the Qaidi Crisis the Allanean public wouldn't approve a mission of this nature. I mean "a peacekeeping force of Forest nations"."

"So to be clear – we absolutely need to have the mass-murder stop, because mass-murder is stupid, insane, and evil, and we absolutely need a peaceful resolution, even if it's not perfectly 'fair', and we also need to kill the slavers. I feel we can have a consensus on this."

"Stop the murders. Sign a peace treaty. Vaccinate the kids. Kill the slavers."

"Thank you for the attention, and does anyone here have an aspirin?"
#HyperEarthBestEarth

Sometimes, there really is money on the sidewalk.

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Uan aa Boa
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1130
Founded: Apr 23, 2017
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Uan aa Boa » Fri Mar 01, 2019 8:41 am

Villi Island Conference

Adeema raised an eyebrow at Nizhinsky. "I do not know if I can speak for the gentlemen," she said with definite emphasis, "and I appreciate that in your jet-lagged state you may not be feeling your most logical, but preventing mass murder is precisely the reason Forest seeks to prevent the emergence of a fascist ethno-state. Allanea's interest may be confined to heroic action against the symptoms of a structural problem whose causes bore you, but even you must realise that the rise to power of forces content to massacre whole populations on racial grounds is a bad thing and seeking to prevent that is not... how did you so charmingly put it? Humping the geopolitics cactus. If you wish to work with the nations of Forest you will need to accept that this is our legitimate policy goal.

"You should also be aware that in the current radicalising climate of Posteastan an election stands a good chance of handing power to precisely such fascist forces, just as the UGF originally gained power through the ballot box. What can I say? People who are starving, dying of preventable diseases and being bombed may not always exercise the wisest judgement.

"What would be the remit and terms of engagement of a peacekeeping force? It is not an easy question when little short of invasion would restore order and stability. We do not wish to invade Posteastan and we do not wish to be on the ground yet forced to stand by as further horrors unfold because we had given insufficient thought to what we should do when we got there. How would the presence of Forest troops prevent the current rounding up of alleged communists unless we were threatening to remove the authorities doing the rounding up? Will it limit the actions of the joint entity that is the Syndicate/Construction Enterprises since this entity is not a military force deployed on a battlefield? Only, it seems to me, if Forest were to replace local forces in matters of law and order - which is invasion by another name. Recent history is littered with invasions that lacked an objective and an exit plan.

"Mr Nizhinsky, I assure you that we are all fundamentally on the same side here, but you cannot simply delegate the strategic thinking to others while you run around killing slavers. But come, you are tired. As one of the women permitted at this august gathering, would you like me to make you a cup of coffee?"
Last edited by Uan aa Boa on Fri Mar 01, 2019 8:53 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Allanea
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 26057
Founded: Antiquity
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Allanea » Fri Mar 01, 2019 9:21 am

Peter Nizhinsky bowed. "Comrade, I apologize for not having noticed you in the crowd. Let me, however, engage you in a story from my youth. At one point, quite a few years ago, several nations – some socialist, some radically capitalist such as mine, others social democracies – engaged in a struggle with a fascist, ultra-religious, ethnostate, called Iesus Christi, then engaged in a civil war. Because at the time us and our coalition partners were all in agreement that genocidal ultra-religious ethno-states were, you know, kind of bad, we decided to aid the faction that was fighting the fascist genocidal theocrats. As it always happens, missiles flew, battleships sailed, and eventually we began winning the war against the fascist genocidal theocrats."

"It was then that the antifascist faction began planning its entry into world politics as the 'legitimate' government of Iesus Christi. It turned out, then, that while it was 'antifascist' in the strict sense that iwas against fascism , it was still somewhat nationalist, and somewhat religious, and so a ludicrous argument then began between all parties regarding whether the Patriots – so they were termed – deserved our support. Some coalition partners argued that the people we were helping were as bad as the violent murderers we were fighting against, and that help should be restricted until they became as progressive on things like gay rights and free speech and secularism as your average social democracy. Others argued – indeed we did – that this was an issue to be left until the fascists were defeated. Very soon, the allegation rose that both parties in the debate were not interested in, you know, the well-being of te Iesians, but more interested in geopolitics victories. Very soon, some of the parties flipped off the coalition, made unsavory allegations about how the other coalition partners were plotting against tem, and fucked off into the great yonder and threatened actual war on the other partners. The Patriots, seeing that all this was going to work our rather badly, demanded the coalition leave, and signed a peace accord of sorts that split the country into two. The country remains still in a state of poverty and suspended conflict that sometimes flares up, and both halves of the country are impoverished by being on a constant war footing."

"To be clear here, here's what I don't want. I don't want to be in a situation where you accuse me of wanting to steal Posteastan's oil, deflower its maidens fair, or whatever it is. I don't want to be in a situation where we argue endlessly about which factions to support and make shitty accusations of each other, and arguing whether a given faction is "fascist", or merely acceptably "conservative", or whether – if you prefer – a given movement's "socialism" is too radical."

"The people of Posteastan are not children to be coddled by us, nor would they appreciate being coddled like children. Rather we need to work out how to help them. Ideally we need to resolve the crisis the country is in without engaging in a knives-drawn argument about what Marx termed "the design of the kitchens of the future". I am here willing to offer you help, money, supplies, but leave the strategic decisionmaking to the country and its neighbours, and apparently this is "immature". That said, Comrade, I accept your offer to brew me a coffee."
#HyperEarthBestEarth

Sometimes, there really is money on the sidewalk.

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