Asset Management (ATTR Nocturnalya)

[Sparatar]

Crystmont
The Greater Imperial Federation of Auroya
02:00

---

The special forces troops of the Sparatite Imperium were, some would argue, among the finest soldiers in the world. Trained to kill and maim from the age of ten, the Emperor's Chosen had, by the age of twenty, become little more than dedicated machines of warfare. Revered by the lesser members of Sparatite society, these mighty combatants were often called upon to undertake the missions that nobody else would - supposedly suicidal tasks that seemed to have sprung from the imagination of some vengeful, scheming demon. Unlike most mortal men, however, the Emperor's Chosen anticipated their own deaths with a detached impassivity. Their own deaths, they reasoned, were inconsequential; only the survival of the Imperium truly mattered. Now, tasked with the single most important mission in Sparatite history, these fabled warriors did not waver. They looked into the eye of the storm, and the storm shied away. It was time.

The lock was not difficult to bypass. Echo slid into the room silently, armed with the deft grace and calculating psyche of a trained killer. His comrades, disguised by nondescript civilian clothes and jet-black balaclavas, followed. The house was, by Sparatite standards, abnormally large. Its owner, a skilled Auroyan nuclear technician, enjoyed a large salary. In his arrogance, however, the man had completely neglected to install appropriate security measures. His house contained no pressure-plate alarms, no laser tripwires, no CCTV cameras. The target's reliance upon the police, it seemed, would prove to be his undoing.

Echo reached over his left shoulder, gripping the compact stock of his suppressed Micro Tavor carbine. He drew the weapon, flicking the safety off and moving towards a spiralling staircase in the middle of the spacious living room. One of his compatriots, Delta, fell into step behind him. The remaining four Sparatites opened their bergen rucksacks, withdrawing cans of gasoline. Even as Echo crept up the staircase, they began to douse the technician's lavish furniture with the flammable liquid.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and the muffled sound of snoring emanated from beyond it. Delta and Echo flanked the entryway, with the former struggling to peer through the opening with his night vision goggles. Carefully, slowly, Echo inched open the flimsy wooden portal, wincing at every creak of its poorly-maintained hinges. After a few seconds, the opening was wide enough to accommodate the trim frame of a Sparatite warrior. Echo gave a hand signal, and Delta slid into the bedroom. There was a scream - Echo followed.

The technician and his wife were standing by the bedroom window, clearly terrified of their assailants. They had no children, and so had little to lose. Echo did not doubt that they would try something stupid. Acting quickly, he sprinted across the room, vaulted the double bed, and struck the technician over the back of the head as he attempted to clamber out of the window. His wife genuflected, lowering her head so as to avoid the same punishment her husband had received. Snarling, Echo pushed the technician towards Delta, then hauled the woman to her feet. "Scream, and you die," he murmured to her.

Five minutes later, the six operatives were in their getaway vehicle. Their targets, sedated and gagged, lolled in the cargo hold of the van as it bounced away from their burning house. All that remained was to smuggle the two captives out of the country - no easy undertaking. But they were the Emperor's Chosen, and they did not waver.

---

The Emperor's Sanctum
Sparatar
Two days later

---

Jori Darkwood's day began like any other. The bright Sparatite sun pierced the curtains of his room, awakening him almost immediately. His paramour, Elia, was a heavy sleeper - she did not stir as he rose from their bed. After showering, Jori donned his traditional garments - a set of sweaty old training robes. As the deadliest man in the Sparatite Imperium, the Emperor was a great believer in pragmatism.

Jori's dwelling was humble, in relation to the residences enjoyed by many other world leaders. Little more than a large house, it was possessed of a spartan décor scheme that did little to enhance its unfashionable image. Still, the Emperor loved his home. It had served him for more than twenty years, ever since he was a boy, and he would only relocate under the direst of circumstances.

Outside stood the training yard, replete with a boxing ring, swimming pool and sparring mat. After a quick footwork drill, Jori summoned his sparring partner, Adam, by lighting a signal fire. Although most Sparatites were not adverse to more modern forms of communication, the Emperor was a great believer in tradition - he believed that the gods had made him Emperor because of his strict adherence to the customs of his people.

Adam arrived a thirty minutes later. It took his old Land Rover some time to trundle its way up the mountain paths that led to Jori's home, and so the Emperor simply sat down, admiring the most breathtaking scenery that his nation had to offer. All around him stood mountains - not mere foothills, but great, snow-capped peaks that towered above even the clouds. Jori's house stood atop one of the smallest mountains in Sparatar, and provided him with an excellent view of Xenor, the nation's capital. Nestled between two great peaks, the city stretched out before the Emperor, its snowy roofs glimmering in the bright morning sun. It seemed to fit in perfectly with the environment, a natural blemish in an otherwise spotless arctic environment.

The sparring session was hard. Adam was, by all accounts, the second-most skilled combatant in the Imperium - he gave Jori a good fight. Still, after an hour of back-and-forth fighting, the Emperor emerged victorious. A swift roundhouse kick, delivered with startling speed and accuracy, knocked Adam out cold in the sixth minute of the sixth round. It was as he waited for Adam to become coherent again that the Emperor spied the convoy of vehicles approaching from the city. He recognised the armoured hulls of the APCs immediately, dappled as they were with the insignia of the Emperor's Chosen. His operatives had returned. Dragging Adam into a small rest tent, Jori lit a fire. It would not do to have his favourite opponent die of hypothermia or frostbite. The Emperor then waited patiently, still clad in his sparring robes, for his guests to arrive.

The technician himself was in a sorry state. Blood trickled from his broken nose, and his eyes, ringed by deep stress-lines, saw Jori but did not truly perceive him. Two operatives held him up, preventing him from falling to the snowy ground. His wife, on the other hand, was perfectly healthy. Her terrified gaze met Jori's for a fraction of a second, then faltered as he smiled at her. "You have nothing to fear," he said. She did not reply.

"Soon, you will be escorted to a private residence. There, you will live a life of luxury - as long as your husband co-operates with my own scientists." The woman looked at him blankly.
"I... I don't understand," she stuttered. Jori smiled again.
"That's alright. When your husband wakes up, he'll know what to do. Just make sure you tell him that if he doesn't do as we tell him, we'll kill you."
The calmness with which the Emperor delivered his threat clearly shocked the woman. Her eyes widened, and she looked ready to scream. Jori simply nodded to his Chosen, and she was hustled back into the APC that had brought her here. Her husband did not react, and he was quickly bundled into the same vehicle. It was time, Jori knew, for Sparatar's resurgence. With a nuclear arsenal at its disposal, his Imperium would finally be able to assert itself on the world stage.

Destiny awaited.

[Auroya]

---

Outskirts of Crystmont

---

Police automobiles and red tape surrounded the technician's dwelling in the early hours in the morning, before the sun had properly risen over the horizon, instead just managing to cast a red glare over the high clouds and the jet-streams. It was cold this morning- it was evident that the days of summer, which were so pleasantly hot in this part of the world, were slipping away in favor of the autumn.

A man near the main entrance, with a light submachine gun by his hip, leaning against one of the cars, spoke into a walkie-talkie; he was most likely in charge of something or other, as indicated by his black-and-white police uniform. Men moved around inside the building, clad in typical white suits made for forensic work.

There was a faint whoomph-whoomph-whoomph-whoomph-whoomph-whoomph-whoomph-whoomph sound in the distance, barely discernible at first but gradually increasing in volume and becoming more defined and recognizable as the sound of a helicopter's engine and rotor blades. It seemed to be flying extraordinarily low for a civilian helicopter, and there was little reason for the military to fly at such an altitude here either; the lack of explanations left the man with only his speculations.

But an answer was not unhasty in presenting itself to him. The flying machine eventually appeared, flying rather quickly. It was indeed a civilian model, although painted black all over with only a white identification number on the tail boom. It flew in front of the police commander on a low pass above the rooftops, silhouetted brilliantly against the bright and crisp red and blue sky, and then circled around, seemingly lining up the road like an aircraft does a runway. It decelerated as it headed towards the scene, eventually coming to a halt and setting down immediately in front of the main entrance.

The doors proceeded to slide open, and no fewer than six armed men rushed out. There was another figure, who proceeded to gracefully exit the helicopter. She was dressed in an elaborate white suit and accompanied by another figure- a bald man with round dark spectacles, clad in a brown longcoat. The police commander immediately sprang to his feet, no longer leaning back in that semi-relaxed manner, and saluted in the most formal manner he could. The man in from the helicopter saluted back and the woman proceeded towards him.

"Chief Superintendent Edwin Francis at your service, Madam." The man introduced himself.

"Chief Superintendent." She acknowledged him. "Tell me, what has your investigation uncovered?" She asked, very much to the point.

"Er- it seems nothing has been stolen, Ma'am. There is no trace at all of the technician or of his wife, and though it is possible there are traces of violent struggle, we have not found them yet. The lower floors are badly burnt- why this is the case we are unsure. But it seems that to abduct the scientist and his wife was indeed the perpetrators' intention."

"I believe this confirms my suspicions." The man in the longcoat cut in suddenly, with a noticeable and yet uncategorizable accent. "I believe, Madam, that this was an operation planned and executed by a foreign body."

"Are you suggesting that this was an attack against the Empire?" She asked, her voice partly curious and partly surprised.

"You may call it thus, yes. For nations that are aspiring to become nuclear powers, nuclear technicians - experienced ones, at that - are very valuable. It-"

"That is quite the accusation to make, Mr. Riegel." The woman cut in.

"Yes, Ma'am. But what other possibilities are there? What incentive is there to abduct a nuclear technician and his wife? "

"Very well; you indeed have a point. I suppose the question is now not why, but whom would choose to do so. Please, do carry on." She urged him.

"I believe there are a few nations that are the likely perpetrators; but of course, it will require the deployment of intelligence assets to all of them in order to determine which it is. Though there is of course a prime suspect if what I have said holds true- I believe the Sparataran Emperor recently made a speech about some 'great project' of theirs and about becoming relevant on the international stage- nuclear weaponry would be the ideal method of doing this, would it not?"

"I see. Well, Mr. Riegel, your theory is certainly compelling. You may take up the directing of this operation for now- and do make sure to inform the Empress of this and of your progress."

---

Low Earth Orbit

---

A lone satellite hung above the sky, suspended by the centripetal force generated by screaming at several thousand kilometers per hour across the firmament. It boasted a large telescope, pointed downwards at the planet. One of the engines attached to it fired suddenly, piercing the darkness of the shadow cast by the satellite's body with a bright blue rocket flame. It lasted mere seconds, and then cut out once again. The plane change was complete. The satellite was now in an orbit that would take it over its target - Sparatar - again and again, in the hope that it might find something interesting.

[Sparatar]

Viseyar Plains
North Sparatar

The convoy picked its way carefully over the frozen, undulating terrain of the Sparatite wilderness. A dozen APCs, their hulls painted a stark white, rumbled along the lonely dirt track that ran from Xenor to the remote construction site that was their destination. The lead vehicle, marked by a red star that had been painted onto its left side, carried Echo and the nuclear technician. The vehicle behind that one, which remained unmarked and anonymous, contained the technician's wife, plus a squad of the Emperor's Chosen. The atmosphere inside the lead APC was one of defeated resignation - at least on the technician's part. He slumped forward in his seat, silently lamenting the choices he had made during his life. Echo looked on with mild amusement. The Sparatites had not broken this man - he had broken himself. Soon, he would provide the Imperium with the intelligence needed to craft a truly devastating weapon; one that would push Sparatar to the forefront of Nocturnalya for the first time in centuries.

The construction site was a bleak and seemingly abandoned place. A large, perfectly circular indentation in the ground was concealed by an expanse of tangled scaffolding, and there were no workers in sight. Echo stepped out of his APC, then dragged the technician after him. The man tripped as he exited the vehicle, falling face-first into the icy snow that blanketed the ground. Echo simply hauled him to his feet and proceeded - the other operatives, plus the technician's wife, fell into step behind him. A short walk took the party to the centre of the circular indentation, where a somewhat rusty elevator control panel awaited. After summoning the elevator, Echo ambled over to his comrades. "How's the woman been?" he asked.

"Not too bad. I think she knows that she's target number one if he -" replied Delta, pointing to the technician. "- doesn't comply."

"Good. As long as she understands that, we'll all get along fine. Keep a close eye on her, Delta," Echo responded.

"Sir, yes sir!" said Delta enthusiastically.

A few moments later, the elevator arrived. It was a wide, sturdy contraption designed for heavy lifting, and some ingenious positioning allowed Echo to fit his entire group onto the platform at once. A Sparatite scientist was waiting for them at the bottom. Instead of hailing his countrymen, however, the lab rat simply strolled over to the technician, shaking his hand. Echo was indignant. "Alright," he said. "Let's get this moving. Where are his quarters?" The lab rat looked at Echo with an expression akin to disdain, and there was a long pause. Echo considered striking the man more than once.

"It's right this way," the lab rat said at last. "Follow me."

The party followed the man's swishing white coat through a maze of computer banks, brightly-lit hallways, glass observation windows, and intercom stations. The entire underground structure was built around a central chamber - that chamber, Echo surmised, would hold a nuclear missile in the future. The technician, it seemed, was in awe. Most foreigners considered the Sparatites little more than hardened savages, and they were correct in doing so, to an extent. The Imperium was, after all, ruled by a man elected by fate, chosen by the gods of war. Not all Sparatites were dedicated warriors, though. A relatively large caste of scientists, scholars and analysts existed, and it formed Sparatar's academic backbone. Despite its unremarkable economy, the nation had demonstrated an uncanny ability to construct technological marvels. A few weeks previously, for example, Sparatite experts in Alexiandra had helped put ten weaponised satellites into space. Echo was incredibly proud of his nation. He did not overestimate its strength, or imagine that it was a regional power, but he saw the potential that so many foreigners missed. He saw a future for his people.

The technician's quarters comprised of little more than a bed, a toilet, and a sink. Sparatar's bare-bones approach to decoration had, Echo realised, been replicated perfectly down here. Just as the lab rat was about to speak, Echo interrupted him, turning to face the technician. "You can keep your wife for now. But know this - if you fail to co-operate, we'll be back for her." The technician merely gulped.

As the Emperor's Chosen left the construction site, Echo gazed up into the snow-flecked sky. Foreign satellites would, undoubtedly, be scanning the nation for any signs of nuclear activity. He just hoped that Auroya didn't discover this facility before the fun could begin. After all, destiny awaited.

[Bemberna]

There was only one thing that could be proven to travel faster than the speed of light, and that was Chinese whispers.

Whether from foreign journalists leaking reports onto global news networks, or Central Intelligence Committee agents posing as tourists in nearby countries to monitor potential threats to the People of Bemberna (who don't exist, so it couldn't be them), it was unclear, but rumours of foul play in Auroya had reached Bemberna.

Some foreign agents had been abducting the citizens of another country, for some unclear nefarious motivation, so they said. Depending on which rumours you listened to, the citizens who had been snatched from their homes had either been decadent bankers who deserved their fate for stealing the hard-earned labours of the People of Auroya, or they were scientists involved in the production of some kind of Earth-shattering superweapon, and the foreign agents involved had done everybody a huge favour.

Government-sanctioned news feeds continued to dismiss the rumours, of course, reassuring the People that they were unlikely to be spirited away by greedy foreigners any time soon thanks to the watchful gaze of the Central Intelligence Committee.

For Marya Harloni, who now stood in one of the many converted conference rooms of the People's Palace listening intently to the report she was being given, only one source could be trusted - those all-seeing eyes of the CIC.

"Based on what we could glean, they are believed to be involved in Auroyan government programmes," Defence Commissioner, Elyzabeth Morran, said with a note of finality. "Possibly, programmes of a nuclear technology nature."

Harloni turned and gave her trusted friend a concerned glare, before resigning her slender body to a chair on the opposite side of the round table. This room, like so many others in the People's Palace, was in the process of being renovated. The wooden panelling and scenic wallpaper that had once adorned this room, relics of the opulence and greed of their previous ruler, was being torn down and replaced with simple plasterboard, whilst extravagant chandeliers had been removed leaving bare bulbs dangling precariously in their stead, awaiting more simplistic, replacement fittings. The stench of wet paint and sawn wood lingered in the air oppressively, and the tools of the workers had been laid down all over the place as the Commissioners ordered them out of the room.

The High Commissioner - more affectionately known as the 'Matriarch' by the People, who considered her a compassionate hero - spluttered slightly as she drew an unpleasant breath of that noxious combination of smells. "Auroya is not far from here," she stated in a matter-of-fact manner. True enough, it was one of the closer nations in Nocturnalya; a sprawling collection of islands whose closest shores were mere hundreds of miles from Bemberna.

"Indeed, the security concerns are high," Morran nodded. "Not only because of the possible nature of the Auroyan citizens who have gone missing, but also because of the seemingly hostile nature of those who abducted them. And with our armed forces currently undergoing such a massive restructuring, we are ill-prepared to meet them."

"Have they identified a culprit?" Harloni enquired.

"Not to my knowledge," Morran shook her head, with a sigh. "The CIC is tracing some leads themselves, but we obviously don't have access to Auroyan intelligence channels. And they have all of the evidence. We mostly just have hearsay."

"We don't have access yet, anyway," Harloni corrected the Defence Commissioner cryptically. "Given our proximity to Auroyan shores, I think it's high time we offered our support. It's only neighbourly."

---

Official Statement

Priority: High Security: High

Recipients

The Greater Imperial Federation of Auroya

Dear peer, The Central Executive Committee has been led to believe that an 'incident' has transpired within the Greater Imperial Federation. An incident that could have severe repercussions for the security of this region. Can you confirm the validity of these rumours? If this information is accurate, then the People's Republic is obviously extremely concerned, as well as deeply saddened that some of your People have been attacked in such a heinous manner. Given the potentially global consequences of this, we thought it would be neighbourly to offer you our condolences in this time of crisis, both to your People and to the families of anybody affected, and to inform you that we would be greatly pleased to lend our assistance to the People of the Greater Imperial Federation. It is in all of our interests to bring about a speedy and secure resolution to this incident. Know that all of the People of Bemberna stand ready to assist you. Regards, Jennyfer Connly, Foreign Policy Commissioner People's Republic of Bemberna

---

My apologies for the unsolicited post. I shall remove it if you wished this RP to be a tag-team between the two of you.

[Auroya]

To Foreign Policy Commissioner Jennyfer Connly of the People's Republic of Bemberna From HIH Empress Julia Alexandria II of the Greater Auroyan Imperial Federation My sincere greetings and my congratulations on your liberation, Commissioner. As a prequisite to the nexus of this letter let me say that I hope warm relations shall emerge between our two governments; much warmer than the relations with Borcon's administration. I regret to confirm that these rumours are indeed entirely validand that the incident involved a senior nuclear technician involved with a pioneering project along with his wife. Your condolances are certainly appreciated, as is your offer of assistance. The latter is thoroughly welcomed and it is my wish, as well as the wish of the General Staff and the Chiefs of Intelligence to organize a cooperative effort between the Central Intelligence Committee and the Imperial Intelligence Service; therefore, we hereby invite any staff you may feel are appropriate to the capital city of Crystmont to finalize a coordinated intelligence effort. Should you feel it is appropriate, diplomatic aid and cooperation efforts may be discussed separately also. HIH Empress Julia Alexandria II.

---

---

The man with round black spectacles sat behind a large desk, a thick folder at one side and its contents - photographs - in front of him. Some were annotated, some were not. They were the results of the satellite surveillence now being conducted, and some of them were more interesting than others. The man took a sip from a cup of steaming hot blackness and resumed his task of analysing the photographs. His task was to brief the Empress in one hour's time and it would not do for him to have nothing.

It seemed that one of the satellites had spotted something rather peculiar in the Viseyar Plains- a large circular structure, half-completed but seemingly abandoned every time it was photographed. How intriguing, he thought. How very peculiar that the apparent appearance of this structure on the surface should coincide with the Emperor's proclamation and with the technician's disappearance.

Agents had returned snippets of information from Sparatar, but individually they were for the most part not very interesting, and they had not yet returned enough to build up the larger picture. He was beginning to feel that for his report this would need to suffice. He had been told of the forthcoming cooperating effort with Bemberna and had also been instructed to meet their agents when they arrived; with this, things should begin to shape up, he reasoned.

Closer photographs of the site that had been identified were evidently needed. Quickly, with scribbly but somewhat legible handwriting, he signed a slip of paper detailing an order for a reconaissannce aircraft to overfly the site. Most likely it would be one of the current fleet of high altitude stealth aircraft; there was little chance a Specter would be assigned to this mission. It was although of course true that this investigation was thought immensely important; the Empress herself, who had become involved with it, felt that way.

[Bemberna]

Official Statement

Priority: High Security: High

Recipients

The Greater Imperial Federation of Auroya

Dear Empress Julia Alexandria II, As we feared, this is a dire situation that needs immediate attention. We are glad that you are willing to work together on this issue, for although this tragedy has befallen your own People, if not quickly resolved this has the potential to be a tragedy of a much grander scale that could affect all of the People of Nocturnalya, and beyond. As per your request, a leading member of the Central Intelligence Committee has been dispatched to your capital to discuss possible operations we could undertake. Please expect his arrival within the day; he shall fly in an unmarked aircraft - the only such craft currently scheduled to fly to your country in this time period. The People of Bemberna would enjoy forging closer relations with the People of Auroya once this crisis has abated. Given our proximity, it only stands to reason that we work closely for the mutual benefit of both our Peoples. Regards, Jennyfer Connly, Foreign Policy Commissioner People's Republic of Bemberna

---

Landing as directed by Auroyan air traffic control, the Bembernan aircraft chosen to deliver the Senior People's Intelligence Commissioner was an unassuming vehicle. Driven by turbo-prop engines and painted with a Bembernan blue star on the tail fin and similarly-coloured fox motifs on the wings, the standard design of any civilian aircraft, it was a medium-sized passenger liner that offered little in the way of creature comforts or sophisticated technology. Doubtlessly this was deliberate on the part of the CIC, designed entirely to obfuscate the true nature of the plane's mission and keep prying eyes from paying too much attention.

Indeed, even on approach it had identified itself as a simple passenger courier, neglecting to inform them of the true nature of its human cargo - the Bembernans assuming that the Auroyans would be expecting them and respond accordingly.

Disembarking was a similarly-unassuming man, wearing a simple blue jumpsuit and sporting a scruffy, but short, brown hair style. He didn't wear dark glasses or a black tie, and could easily have been mistaken as a plane technician, if not for his demeanour. He strode confidently out of the vehicle, his back rigid and his arms swaying back and forth in an almost robotic fashion. He carried a simple black rucksack in one hand, while his other hand carried a holstered side-arm, which he held above him to demonstrate that he possessed it as he approached the greeting party.

"I am Peiter Smyth," he said in a taciturn manner to whomever waited to greet him, his gruff voice belying a smoking habit he had once had before such unproductive habits were banned. It was difficult to ascertain his age, for his hair was too lightly coloured, and his face too fixed to highlight any wrinkles that may mark it. "Of the People's Republic of Bemberna. I am expected."

[Auroya]

---

Crystmont International Airport, outside Crystmont

---

A similarly inconspicous man was there to meet him, dressed only in a plain civilian suit, with slightly whitened hair and a neatly-trimmed moustache. He spoke briefly into a radio before turning to the man.

"I've got him. Over." He then turned his attention to the man and greeted him. "Welcome, welcome, Mr. Smyth; you are indeed expected. Please, do follow me."

The man, however, merely walked him to a black limousine which sat some distance away. Inside the car, a man with dark round spectacles clad in a dark brown overcoat sat opposite the Bembernan agent. He said nothing until the driver pressed down the accelerator gently and the limousine began to move silently.

"Welcome to the Auroyan Empire, Mr. Smyth. Enjoy your stay. I am Mr. Riegel, the head of this operation for the IIS. Would you care for a cigarette?" He asked him, before taking a folder that sat on the seat beside him and continuing. "Our investigations, you will be displeased to hear, have not yet brought a definite conclusion, although a few intriguing leads have appeared. Our investigations began with conducting increased satellite reconnaissance of the many nations which could theoretically have carried out the abduction, but this bore little fruit for a few days at least. However, we had realized something. This is just a hypothetical, mind, and it isn't much in the way of evidence- but I think you will recall the Emperor of Sparatar making that speech around a week before the incident of how Sparatar was about to achieve something huge, something that 'would make it very relevant on the international stage'. Now, Sparatar is also known for their special forces, so it most likely within their ability to have carried it out. And a few days ago, the satellite reconnaissance came back with this." He handed the man a number of photographs he had taken from the folder, which all showed the mysterious facility, the date and time the photographs were taken, and its location. Modern technology, of course, allowed the resolution to be very good indeed. "This appeared, rather suddenly, in the Viseyar Plains of North Sparatar. Its purpose is unknown, though we have begun moving in intelligence assets who may be able to build up a better picture. Now, I'm not saying for certain that they have done it, though I think you wil agree that it is a compelling theory and they are the prime suspect. We simply do not have enough evidence as if yet, but I am certain your assistance can help us to gather what we require faster."

---

Over the Viseyar Plains, North Sparatar

---

A black aircraft cruised high above the clouds; so high that the curvature of the earth was dramatic and the blue veil burning orange around the planet seemed to be below it. It was a reconaissannce aircraft, of course, a SR-3C Sparrowspy- a strategic reconaissannce aircraft introduced in the early 1990s, shaped like a sharply swept dart or diamond. It was in essence a lifting body design, the entire fuselage serving as a thick wing which all the equipment was built into. It utilized stealth technology and flew at somewhere around 22,000 meters at an airspeed of around Mach 3, being a full 40 meters in length. The existence of the project was of course secret for a long time, but had now been known about since the 2000s. It was still a fine aircraft and was still in use, although it was being phased out in favour of much more advanced designs.

And unfortunately, this particular mission was to be this particular aircraft's last. Inside the cockpit, red warning lights flashed frantically and illuminated the petrified face of the pilot and his surroundings, indicating that lady luck was tired of this plane and that something had gone terribly wrong. And indeed, the aircraft was dropping and decelerating, trailing an immense trail of fire and fuel and smoke behind itself from one of its two engines, one of the two exhaust slits on its rear torn open. The pilot could not risk deactivating the engine at this airspeed, and therefore had no choice except for attempting to bring the aircraft down in these very early hours of the morning. Streaking across the darkened sky, a ground observer could most likely make it out as it descended.

It wasn't flying anywhere near as quickly now, but it hit the frozen ground hard. The black diamond was shattered and the unfortunate pilot killed as the fuel in the rear of the aircraft ignited and shot a superheated jet through the hull towards him. If one was to identify the aircraft it would be by the two small Auroyan roundels painted on the top of the aircraft, if they succeeded in fishing those specific panels out of the wreckage in any case.