Oil production crisis in Saint Andre [IC/MT/Sign-ups]

by **Saint Andre** » Fri Dec 20, 2019 10:48 am

Presidential Palace, Saint Andre

"What do you mean... it's empty? The reserves were supposed to last for the next two decades at least..." Said President Jean-Guy Neri in awe. He couldn't believe these words. Nor could anybody else present during this weekly cabinet session. The entire room full of once ambitious ministers known for their bombastic rhetoric was dead silent.

Only the voice of the Minister of Petroleum and Natural Gas could be heard. But it wasn't a voice of optimism and grandiosity. Instead, it was a feeble voice, voice full of apologies. "Monsieur President... I am terribly sorry! There must have been a miscalculation of some sort... I will make sure to punish the people responsible."

Since the beginning of the Neri's rule in Saint Andre, the oil has fueled the economy. It was President Neri who nationalized the oil platforms on the shores of Saint Andres. The petrol money helped to fund the large government social programs as well as rebuilding the national infrastructure. It was these policies, that after decades of political instability, created the dominant rule of the Neri's Patriotic Front.

The Patriotic Front doctrine could be seen as a mix between the cultural right and economic left. They style themselves as 'people's party', opposing globalism and corporatism, as well as 'moral degeneracy' of the west.

The current economic policy is centred around the export-oriented approach and protectionism. There are high tariffs on agricultural products, oil, natural gas, and other products that can be produced on the island.

Internally, the economy is fully dominated by the government. Two-thirds of workers are employed either directly in various branches of the government, or one of the state-owned corporations. The largest of these corporations being Saint Andre Petroleum. It was not only responsible for the mining but also the processing of the oil. The refinery in the capital employed around the third of city residents.

The oil and gas export accounted for half of the GDP and most of the state revenue. If it truly ran out... it was over.

Special presidential broadcast

"Citizens of the Republic!

Due to the recent mishandling of oil mining operations, our supply of raw petroleum has been temporarily disrupted. Please, do not believe any alarmist hysteria. The mining operations will resume soon. Those who claim otherwise are west-backed trouble makers. The goal of these subversive elements is to introduce globalism and homosexualism in our great country.

Unfortunately, until the mining resumes, I am forced to take emergency measures. Use of petroleum-based fuel will be banned for private purposes. It will be reserved purely for emergency services and public transportation.

The Minister of Petroleum and Natural Gas, monsieur Adrien Boulet has been dismissed. To show how committed I am, until the crisis end, I'll personally take over the control of the ministry. I also dismissed the Director-General of the Saint Andre Petroleum, monsieur Arthur Beaux. Soon I will appoint a successor capable of dealing with this situation.

Please, remain calm."

Streets of Saint Andre

The Republic of Saint Andre could be seen as a very imperfect democracy. Or rather an illiberal democracy. Once the Patriotic Front entrenched itself in the political scene, they were quick to amend the original constitution. The power of the President greatly expanded at the expense of the Premier and National Assembly. The President was now able to issue decrees that had a power of law. And the term limits were completely abolished.

The protection of the freedom of the speech, press and assembly were also greatly relaxed. The press was now under control of the state, both direct (nationalization) and indirect (harassment). The security forces were now capable of suppressing and dissident on the basis 'subverting the social harmony'.

Elections, while held every six years for the president, and every four years for the National Assembly, were definitely not free. Goons employed by the Patriotic Front 'handled' anyone willing to vote against the party. This means that while PF vote-share was staggeringly high, election participation hovered around 30%.

Yet, with this grip on society, the Patriotic Front was not capable of preventing the panic.

Every newspaper, radio and TV channel did everything to downplay the situation, but it was not enough. Workers from the oil platforms knew about everything from the started. They informed their families and friends, who in turn informed their families and friends. Very soon, almost everyone knew. Worried for their economic security, citizens stormed the malls, groceries and petrol stations. Many began to horde food and petrol before anyone could do anything.

The police forces of the Metropolitan Prefecture were soon overextended.

Just a few hours after the announcement, Saint Andre was undergoing full-blown riots.

by **Stoklomolvi** » Fri Dec 20, 2019 11:16 am

REFERENCE:

20 DECEMBER 2019

Security: Public
[OPEN COMMUNIQUÉ]
Subject: Civil Unrest in Saint Andre

The Stoklomolvi Liaoist Federation notes with concern that there is a developing humanitarian crisis in the Republic of Saint Andre. Reports from the country indicate that widespread rioting has taken place due to unemployment, though the cause of the unemployment problem is currently unclear. While historically, the Republic of Saint Andre has not had an outstanding record as far as political freedoms are concerned, at this point in time, the Stoklomolvi Foreign Affairs Commissariat finds that the plight of its people should be placed above any political concerns.

To that end, the Stoklomolvi Commerce Commissariat has approved for delivery of foreign aid in the form of food, water, and portable shelters. In addition, the Stoklomolvi Foreign Affairs Commissariat would like to seek approval for shipping these items to the Republic of Saint Andre in addition to negotiating a possible foreign investment agreement. Details would follow if such a proposal is viewed favourably by the government of Saint Andre.

by **Saint Andre** » Fri Dec 20, 2019 11:21 am

OOC thread: https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=478445

by **Svadyetsk** » Sat Dec 21, 2019 8:45 am

Undisclosed briefing room overlooking Revolutionary Square, Houses of Government, Duovograd

As news of the collapse of Saint Andre's oil production became known, members of the Svadyetskan government mobilised for an emergency meeting. Present were Viktor Yegorev, Minister of Foreign Affairs; Vassili Ivanenko, Minister of Finance; General Yuri Mikhailov, Minister of Defence; Gennady Lasko, Minister of State Security; Timofei Dostrovinsky, Minister for Public Services; and Lev Konorov, Minister of Mines and Extraction. Absent were General Secretary and President Alexei Petrov, who was conducting a regularly scheduled review of the military, and First People's Deputy Andran Antonenko, who was somewhere over the ocean approaching Svadyetskan airspace on his return from a diplomatic summit.

General Mikhailov opened the proceedings with a typically provocative statement.

"We must invade Saint Andre immediately." The General slammed his fist down onto the well-worn oak table that they were all seated around. "These capitalist pigs are holding back the oil supply to drive up the price."

Every other Minister groaned. This wasn't suprising: the Svadyetskan military had recently replaced all of its tanks with a new model and the General, a fervent believer in the accuracy of field testing, simply wanted to see his new toys in action.

"General, isn't that a little... extreme? Saint Andre has done nothing to warrant our deployment of an invasion force. We don't even know if they have deliberately stopped production, it could even be a fault in their systems." Viktor Yegorev, ever the diplomat, attempted to mollify the belligerent General.

Lev Konorov cleared his throat. "We should make sure its not a fault. If it is, we may have to overhaul our own systems and conduct a review. As it stands, we have enough oil in our own reserves to function without imports but if our own pumps fail..." He left it to the others' imaginations. The thought of catastrophic fuel shortages most frightened General Mikhailov, who was left with the image of lines of his beloved main battle tanks sitting idle from lack of petrol.

Gennady Lasko broke the silence. "The main issue is, what do we do? Currently," He looked to Viktor, who was also partially responsible for trade, "We import about half of our total oil consumption in order to preserve our own native reserves. The last time I checked, because I had to send people to make sure the countries we buy from are in good hands, Saint Andre provides rather a lot of our oil. I suspect that we are going to either face shortages or be forced to increase local production or imports. This is not some insignificant little problem that we can ignore. This could escalate if those pumps don't come back quickly."

"Fine. We invade Kazovia," General Mikhailov concluded, referring to the neighbouring country which held the region's largest oil supply. The table erupted into shouting as the other Ministers found themselves opposing or agreeing with the General's proposal.

"No General, we are not invading anyone." Viktor said through gritted teeth. "I can't imagine that Comrade Leader would be willing to suffer the diplomatic fallout of a full-blown military offensive. Besides, Kazovia uses similar pumps to us so if it turns out we have a similar pump system to Saint Andre, we could end up with failures throughout the region, something we can't solve with the application of your shiny new tin cans." He turned to face the others. "I propose that we offer assistance to Saint Andre to put down the riots and offer to help identify the root of the problem. If necessary, we provide them with new pumping equipment to restore supply. Gennady can have his operatives take a quiet look if their government doesn't give us access. If you want to see your tanks in action, General, you can send them to Saint Andre to intimidate the protestors."

"Take it up with Comrade Leader," The General growled, as the sound of engines was heard through the window. "He's back."

* * * *

In the end, Viktor found himself travelling up to the office of the General Secretary and President accompanied by Lasko, Petrov's right-hand man. The two men sat waiting outside the office. Viktor sat staring at the red carpet, the same shade as the flag, while Lasko's gaze bored a hole in the wood panelling on the opposite wall. A secretary worked quietly at her desk only a few feet away while two members of the GUVD Presidential Guard stood to attention on either side of the office door. Approaching footsteps heralded the arrival of General Secretary and President Alexei Petrov who rounded the corridor with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. The two Ministers stood up at his approach.

"Problems, gentlemen?" The most powerful man in the nation took a sip of his coffee and indicated that they should step into his office. The trio entered the large roomy office. A large room, it boasted two desks, one large one for the General Secretary and President and a smaller one for his secretary when he needed meetings to be transcribed. The carpet, the same red as was found in the rest of the building, was decorated with a large version of the Svadyetskan crest. A large drinks cabinet with a well-stocked supply of alcohols stood in one corner of the room next to the tea and coffee facilities. The walls were mostly bare except for the portraits of the office's previous occupants and a small case displaying Petrov's medals from his time in the military. His desk was also similarly unadorned, with neatly ordered stacks of paperwork, in and out trays, a small drinks coaster and a portrait of his wife. There was a single chair, well padded and comfortable, behind the desk as well as two straight-backed chairs in front of it. Petrov moved behind his desk and sat down, motioning for the others to take the remaining chairs. Viktor took a moment to hand Petrov the notes he had taken from the earlier meeting.

The General Secretary and President read through the pages filled with Viktor's handwritten summary as he listened to the proposal that the Minister of Foreign Affairs was outlining. "It seems," Viktor began, "That we must support the current government of Saint Andre in order to safeguard our access to their oil once production resumes. To do so, myself, Gennady and the other Ministers agree that our best course of action is to offer forces, either units of the People's Army or the GUVD Internal Security Troops, to the government of Saint Andre to put down the unrest. Additionally, we should offer technical expertise, machinery and parts to the government of Saint Andre in order to find the cause of the current crisis and get their oil wells flowing again. Finally, we should conduct a review of all of our own oil production facilities and recalculate our oil reserves in order to avert a similar crisis in our own nation."

Petrov nodded thoughtfully. "It is of the utmost importance that we do not suffer a malfunction in our own oil pipelines. Your plan is approved, but send the Revolutionary Guard, not the GUVD. We don't want the people to think we're offering to send our state-sanctioned death squads. I'll leave you to sort out the details." He stood up. "Coffee?"

* * * *
Following the meeting with Petrov, Viktor descended several flights of stairs, past the basement storage level and the dedicated tunnel leading to GUVD headquarters, and caught the next train on the government's private metro line which connected all of the buildings which housed the different Ministries. Getting out at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, he headed for his office, grabbing a plate of food from the canteen on the way. Viktor locked himself into his office, made a few necessary phone calls to other Ministries and departments and began drafting the communique to be sent to the government of Saint Andre, telephone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he did so.

To: The government of Saint Andre
From: Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the United Soviet States

The United Soviet States of Svadyetsk greets the government of Saint Andre.

The government of the United Soviet States is concerned with the current disruption to oil supply and the escalating riots within the Republic of Saint Andre. To contain the current situation, the United Soviet States is willing to send units of the People's Revolutionary Guards Corps to Saint Andre to assist the Saint Andre authorities in suppressing the current riots. In addition, The United Soviet States would be willing to supply equipment to the government of Saint Andre to arm the forces of the Saint Andre authorities.

In order to ensure a return to normal oil production in as short a time possible, the United Soviet States is willing to provide technicians and specialists as well as parts and machinery needed to facilitate this resumption of production. If this is favourable to the government of Saint Andre, we will make further arrangements to begin delivery and transport to Saint Andre.

Viktor Yegorev
Minister of Foreign Affairs
Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the United Soviet States of Svadyetsk

by **Saint Andre** » Sat Dec 21, 2019 11:48 am

STATE OF EMERGENCY ISSUED

"Citizens of the Republic!

Vicious forces conspire against our nation. Mobs paid by the international finance clique are causing chaos in our streets. Despite the wishes of the neoliberal elite, the government will not refrain from protecting its citizens. To ensure our security, I am issuing the State of Emergency. The 1st Mixed Brigade of the Saint Andrean Land Army will assist the National Gendarmerie and the forces of the Metropolitan Prefecture. All trouble makers shall be from now on judged by military tribunals.

A curfew from 20:00 to 6:00 will be in effect. Anybody present outside their homes without a proper license issued by the Ministry of the Interior will be detained.

Please, remain calm."

Meeting of the Emergency Committee, Saint Andre

The so-called Emergency Committee, created specifically to handle the crisis was composed of chosen members of the regular cabinet. The regular cabinet was a hundred-headed beast, that included ministers with responsibilities ranging from Foreign Affairs to Linguistic Affairs. The Emergency Committee was much smaller though. In its current configuration, it included following ministers: Minister of Foreign Affairs, Minister of the Interior, Minister of Economic Affairs and Finance, Minister of Armed Forces, Minister of Agrifood, Agriculture and Fisheries, Minister of Energy and Electrification, and Minister of Transport. Present was also the Premier and of course, the President, who currently also headed the Ministry of Natural Gas and Petrol.

"Monsier President" spoke the Minister of Economic Affairs and Finance. "I'll be honest with you, the things are not looking great. He paused and opened the folder on the table in front of him. "We already have a huge debt, as a result of our rural modernization incentive. We believed we could pay this debt with the oil revenue. Of course, that's now out of the window." He moved to another page of the document "We currently have a huge hole in our budget. If we continue taking debt as fast as we are right now, we will see huge inflation rates already by the end of this month." He paused again. "Of course there are some solutions... First, there will need to be great cuts. We will have to completely scrap our Rural Initiative Programs. I have also compiled lists of clinics and schools, that could be closed without any major disruptions. Of course, we will have to increase the retirement age..."

The President stopped him. "Austerity measures are the last thing we want." He said. "Some people are already rioting in the streets. What do you think will happen when we start closing the schools and hospitals? We need to increase the revenue... not decrease the spendings." The Minister stumbled a bit. "Well, monsieur President... Uh... I actually planed..." He stopped to put things straight in his mind and turned to another page of the document. "While the mining of the crude oil stopped, we still have that refinery in the capital. It can't completely replace the export of crude oil... But if we modernized some of our methods and cut some of the unnecessary spendings... We could refine imported oi-."

"I think we heard enough!" Said the President in a booming voice. "If we start to import oil... It will appear as if our production problems are permanent." He stood up from the desk. And with a stern look, he scanned the faces of all the ministers present. "And I hope that you all understand these problems are NOT permanent." He walked towards one of the windows. "While you were rambling nonsense." He said to the Minister of Economic Affairs and Finance. "I already came up with... a less ridiculous alternative." He turned back, facing the ministers.

"So far we have still some oil reserves to keep the public and emergency services running. They should hold up for three months with current usage. Of course..." He smiled. "We don't need them to be so big. I believe we will find a new oil reserve in a few weeks... at worst by the end of the month." He returned to the table. "This what we will do: We will continue selling our crude oil reserves to have enough revenue to stay afloat. It will also persuade foreign nations that this disruption is partial."

After his grandiose monologue, the President sighed. "Monsieur Allemand, you were with me from the start. You were a great asset to this nation... And that'S why this is so hard for me." He said almost with a fatherly sorrow in his voice. "I am afraid senility clouded your mind. This meeting has shown you are not capable of handling your duties." The minister tried to say something, but the president simply cut him off. "Don't worry, you will retire with full pension and all honours. While I personally take control of your ministry." Silence fell on the room. "Now don't make it so hard for me... Leave so I don't have to call the security."

The now ex-minister hurried to the exit. President Jean-Guy Neri waited before the door closed, and then looked at the Minister of Agrifood, Agriculture, and Fisheries. "I want to hear the status on the food crisis, now!" Fortunately, the Minister knew what to say. "There's no real food crisis, monsieur." He replied without any second thoughts. Nery simply raised an eyebrow. "You see, monsieur President, all the food problems are artificially created." The agriculture minister opened his folder. "Based on the statistics of know reserve and production, we should be able to keep our population feed for practically indefinitely." The minister then turned to another page. "Thing is that the irrational panic, combined with privately-owned groceries gouging the prices, leads to an appearance that we are having a food crisis."

"Of course there is a simple solution." Continued the minster. "If we take over the distribution of food, and distribute it fairly, we can stop this madness." The President seemed satisfied by these words. "So, that would be all?" He asked. "Well mostly... We would also need to institute laws against food hoarding, but that would be it." Neri laid back into his seat. Finally, the things seemed a step closer to normal.

Presidential degree on the food distribution reform

As the current system for a food distribution is deemed incapable, the following reforms are have been issued.

1. Direct distribution of food by private institutions is banned.
2. A new system of food distribution administrated by the Ministry of Agrifood, Agriculture and Fisheries will be instituted all over the nation.
3. The Ministry of Agrifood, Agriculture and Fisheries will decide to how much food products is each individual entitled to.
4. Ban on food hoarding is instituted, any person or household with an overly-abundant supply of food will be detained.

Signed, Jean-Guy Neri, President of the Republic

National Union of the Gas and Petrol Labour HQ, Saint Andre

Contemproray to what some foreign nations may believe, the trade unions and the government-supported each other. The government ensured that workers, especially those who worked either in refineries or oil platforms, enjoyed great benefits. In return, the union bosses kept their more extreme members on the leash. With many of the bosses being members of the Patriotic Front. Though of course, there were some restrictions on the unions. They could not associate with any known communists nor socialists. They also could not hold any openly Marxist views. Despite these limitations, the unions backed the Front since it's inception. Yet, the most extreme times can break the oldest of alliances.

Today, dozens of important members met in the headquarters. It was not everyone of course. Some were detained during the riots, many didn't dare to move through the streets.

The mood boiled, the union boss, Ernest Auger tried to keep things under control. He was a veteran of the union, a staunch party member and supporter. "It has been reported that the platforms are suffering from technical difficulti-."

"All of them? That's bullshit!" Shouted an unknown voice from the assembled crowds. "Auger! You were there you bastard! You could see that oil has run out!" Said another as the hall fell into a frenzy.

Auger slapped the conference table in front of him. "I didn't call this meeting for us to spout neoliberal propaganda!" He said in a decisive tone. "We are workers! We are the basis of this society. We should support the government during the times of need, not undermine it!" He was pretty confident in his words. "I start a motion to show our support for President Neri!"

The hall remained silent. No more than fifteen hands were raised. Suddenly some young voice shouted. "President Neri is lying to us!" The crowd cheered in unison. "I propose the motion of no confidence against Ernest Auger." Exclaimed the same young voice again.

Auger was taken completely by surprise. "Wait, no- that's not how-" He tried to defend himself, but his words were lost in ocean 'ayes'. The old boss Auger was quite literally kicked out onto the street and with him a few of his loyal supporters.

Meeting of the Emergency Committee, Saint Andre

If that's all, I believe we can adjourn this meeting." Said Neri. He was quite comfortable with the situation. Despite the problems with the Minister of Economic Affairs and Finance, by the end of it, he was assured that any problems will be handled in a matter of weeks. He was proud. He helped to build this nation and with its bureaucracy. He felt joy, knowing that even during such crisis as this, they can handle it.

Everyone already left the room. Only the Minister of Foreign Affairs remained. "Something wrong?" President asked. "Not really, monsieur President. The ministry received some communique. I believe you should see them." The minister handed some copies. "Hmm... We don't need any humanitarian help that would only make us look weak." He mumbled for himself. "I will meet you in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and we will write some responses."

Official Communique of the Republic of Saint Andre

To: Stoklomovi Liaosit Federation
Encription: None

We openly welcome the generosity of Stoklomovi Federation. Nevertheless, we have to inform you that you have been given some false information. All the allegation about high unemployment and civil unrest are simply false. While yes, many of the petrol workers have been given vacations with reduced pay, and there have been increased sightings of hooliganism, there is nothing to worry about.

Though, while we assure you that the Republic does not require charity, we are open to other deals. We are searching for investments to expand our oil mining operations. In exchange for funding, we are willing to send some cheap oil your way once the disturbances are over.

Signed, Jean-Guy Neri, President of the Republic
Jean-Pierre Boulle, Minister of Foreign Affairs

Official Communique of the Republic of Saint Andre

To: United Soviet States of Svadyetsk
Encription: None

The President has reviewed your offer and agreed to it. Though there are some objections. First, we do not need any specialists nor guards. We have a necessary number of them. Though we are interested in the equipment you are offering. Both the oil-extraction related as well as the other.

We are open to future deals.

Signed, Jean-Guy Neri, President of the Republic
Jean-Pierre Boulle, Minister of Foreign Affairs

by **Kenmoria** » Sun Dec 22, 2019 9:13 am

Kenmoria, Energia plc. Headquarters

“Ladies and Gentlemen, let us convene to discuss this matter of crucial importance. As some of you may be aware, there has been a recent crisis in the relatively-unexploited nation of Saint Andre. Where some weaker actors may see a disaster, we observe opportunity. Energia is in a unique position to conduct a very profitable enterprise, that I am sure we can agree is highly conducive to this company’s needs.”

The voice emanated from a suited figure, his eyes skipping over a preprepared sheet as he spoke. He was addressing the many shareholders of Energia, the principle oil company in Kenmoria. Although the state of corporate rule had come under a lot of controversy, particularly with the reckless activities of Construction Enterprises overseas, this situation could be handled far more delicately, while still turning a hefty profit.

Though a large company with operations occurring all over the globe, Energia had little influence in Saint Andre, which was probably the reason the oil crisis happened in the first place. A Kenmorian company should rather buy slaves from a third-world than disappoint valuable consumers. Of course, companies in other countries may have ethics rather than money, but that was not a virtue in traditional Kenmorian society.

“Therefore,” the voice continued, “the owners of this prestigious company have decided on a plan of action. We shall sell oil to the nation of Saint Andre at reduced prices, to gain trust, and then sharply raise these prices in a cut-throat manoeuvre. Predatory pricing allows us to quickly squeeze all of their nasty, state-owned corporations out of business. And then, we shall gain a monopoly over all the oil in Saint Andre!” The emphasis on that sentence, though slightly unwarranted, added to the subtle atmosphere of conspiracy that hung over the meeting. The orator didn’t worry about this plot being discovered - for all of the people listening in were bound to silence by a court order, one of the few things the government was useful for.

Following the brief speech, the shareholder vote was announced. From across all of Kenmoria, and a few denizens of other countries, people sent electronic message containing their decision to the head office. Within just a few minutes of voting being opened up online, thousands of responses were delivered, most of them giving affirmation to the plan. It was hardly surprising, as anyone daring to vote against for more than three consecutive decisions would soon find a branded police car outside their doorstep. The final result was over a ninety-three percent victory, unanimous even for an Energia decision. Therefore, within a few hours, a communique would be sent to Saint Andre detailing the offer.

by **New Aeyariss** » Sun Dec 22, 2019 2:23 pm

"And... opinion of our energetics experts is out..." calm voice of Baroness Tokugawa Asuka, minister of external relations, filled the air "Whereas the government proclaims the recent halts in oil production to be only temporary, the scale of their activities, nationalisation of economy makes our experts perceive that something happened to their oil reserves. Either they have been completely depleted, or were in some way damaged or contaminated, and further exploitation is deemed unwise."

Silence filled the room deep beneath the Tosa castle, as marble faces of Maki Kojiro's parliament pondered the situation that had been presented to them. The Island of Saint Andre wasn't an important trading partner for the Empire of Greater Nifon, but at the same time, a portion of Nifonese oil imports came from this specific location. The Empire, having no natural reserves of it's own, was forced to look for them abroad - and build proper... means to secure their existence.

Tokugawa Asuka continued standing, looking at the assembled. Despite the age, her face remained as sleek and beautiful as ever - still the same wavy, long hair, round face and small cheekbones. This beauty proven to be very useful in negotiations.

"With that" she continued "we can safely assume that everyone here had heard the news about increasing rioting. As such, I can conclude that increased communist activity is only a matter of time, and I would like to officially ask those present here" she glanced at heads of the military present in the room "to consider a military solution to this problem."

"ABSOLUTELY NOT! KOJIRO-SAMA I MUST OBJECT TO THIS!" came a shout from the opposite edge of the table, where a weary, older looking man sat. Asuka sighted. She was well aware that the current Inspector General of the Armed Forces, three star General Yamaguchi Kaien was one of Shogun Kojiro's closest friends, having graduated with him and bled with him in the mud and insect covered jungles of An'Nam. It won't be easy for her to counter opinion of a man having such a standing with the Shogun.

"With all due respect, what's so precious on that island that we have to shed blood of our fellow Nifonese soldiers?" the general continued, putting his hand under his chin "Not to mention, the parliament won't give us a green light, Kōgō Heika will most likely be opposed as well, and as far as we are aware, St. Andre isn't a close Nifonese ally... This island is far outside Nifonese sphere of influence to warrant our direct involvement, especially now that it's capability to produce oil had been diminished."

"And yet, perhaps we ought to leave it to the barbarous aka?" came sharp reply from Tokugawa "Do you have an idea how much can loss of international prestige cost us? Trade deals, alliances..."

"And you count prestige to be more valuable than blood of the Rikugun? Nifonese warrior is not afraid of death, but it would be damn well if his death was in battle that actually mattered, not to some backwater island where there is nothing for us!" General Yamaguchi roared back, staring at her with two small, deeply set eyes. It came back to Tokugawa's memory that the current inspector - general was involved in the infamous operation morning wind during the Annaese war. During an airborne failure with the same scale as operation market garden, then colonel Yamaguchi successfully managed to lead his regiment out of encirclement by several soviet trained and equipped annamese formations, that according to Gunpeitai were not supposed to be there. It was this action that earned him recognition - but also seeing the failure by his own eyes made him extremely protective of his soldier's lives, detesting needless sacrifices "We have enough problems to deal with our own region."

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT TOLERATE THE QUARRELS ANY LONGER!" came a voice from the furthest edge of the table, where the Nifonese Shogun sat, his eyes looking downwards, obscured by the peak of snow white hair decorating his head. He slowly moved his eyes upward, and all voices disappeared, with grave like pause descending upon the meeting.

"Both of you have fine points. However, you are also forgetting a very important matter. however, there is something both of you are forgetting something very important. It won't be just local commies that we will have to content with" Maki Kojiro spoke with an aura of authority "I am aware that we are likely to be dealing with foreign communist influence there, which will come like moths swarming to the light when they smell a cheap gain. Thus, I am thinking of resolving this matter indirectly, rather than directly."

"You want to employ Bushido to solve this crisis, Kojiro-sama?" Yamaguchi rose an eyebrow curiously "I suppose leaving this matter to mercenaries could be considered a cheaper option..."

"Yes. This conflict is not something I would spend direct Nifonese attention on. St. Andre is too far and concerns us too little. At the same time, I am afraid that should the riots escalate, the obviously incompetent government will fall - and then it will be only a matter of time before commies will get an operations base in Libre America - and then the matter will start concerning us directly, as some of our major oil providers and SACTO allies are located in that region. Therefore, we will outsource the problem to very... capable hands, while spending minimal resources." concluded the Nifonese Shogun.

He looked at the assembled, once again scanning members of his staff.

"Tokugawa-san, you will instruct our ambassador in St. Andre to instantly pay their president a visit, and ask him for detailed explainations of why we won't be getting the deliveries we have asked for, and what does he indend to do about our agreements. Meanwhile, Koizumi-san, Hachirou-san" Kojiro addressed the Cheif of Gunpeitai and Minister of War "give me a review of our options, as well as every intel we got on the situation. This meeting is adjourned. We will reconvene in four hours and proceed from there."

And thus, everyone went to work.

by **Svadyetsk** » Sun Dec 22, 2019 3:56 pm

Office of the General Secretary and President, Houses of Government, Duovograd

General Secretary and President Alexei Petrov quietly read through the communique from the Saint Andrean government. Viktor Yegorev sat in front of the Leader's desk, acutely aware of the constant pacing of Minister of State Security Gennady Lasko behind him. Lasko had risen through the ranks of the Party for his loyalty and zeal in rooting out suspected counterrevolutionaries. The loyal right hand of the General Secretary and President, Lasko could make Viktor disappear with a click of his fingers. Well, maybe not with a click. The office door was too thick, meaning it would probably be a button of some kind to summon the jackbooted thugs of the GUVD. Fortunately, Petrov wasn't as likely to have someone dragged off as his predecessors had been.

Petrov gently lowered the hard copy of the communique and removed his glasses. "What do you think?" he asked, polishing the lenses with the sleeve of his jacket. Viktor let out a breath that he hadn't realised that he'd been holding.

"They're lying. Something's wrong and they don't want to let us in in case we find out." Lasko stopped pacing and placed his hands on the back of Viktor's chair, looming ominously over the top of the Minister of Foreign Affairs' head. Viktor squirmed uncomfortably until Lasko removed his grip from the wooden back of the seat and resumed pacing. The Minister of State Security continued to speak. "Why else would they refuse the offer of security forces when their country is undergoing massive civil unrest? And they have some sort of problem that's affecting the biggest thing in their economy and they don't want help getting it back in order as fast as they can? They want us to think that everything is fine and that we don't have to worry our pretty little heads." As he spoke, it was clear that Lasko was becoming more and more tense.

Viktor cleared his throat. "It may be that they just don't want us to be seen as interfering in their country. We are after all a... totalitarian state which agitates for worldwide revolution and the overthrow of the lawfully elected democratic governments in order to install puppet regimes and thus increase our won power and influence. At least, that's how one of our enemies put it." Petrov nodded thoughtfully. "I agree that we could be seen as totalitarian, but, really. When was the last time that we overthrew a government?"

The General Secretary and President thought for a moment before turning his attention to Lasko. "If you think they're hiding something, find out. But don't kill anyone or cause a major diplomatic incident. And Viktor? Start making arrangements for shipping the supplies we offered to Saint Andre. And tell them that we would be happy to sell them arms and military supplies. It can't hurt to curry favour with them."

* * * *

GUVD Headquarters, Duovograd

Lieutenant General Valeri Korov put down the scalpel and lifted the record out of the antique gramophone in order to flip it to the B side. Placing the needle in the groove, there was a soft hiss before the gentle melodies of Duovograd's most famous tenor began to echo through the room. In the steel chair bolted to the floor, the prisoner whimpered softly as Korov picked up the scalpel again.

The telephone mounted on the dingy wall of the subterranean interrogation chamber rang, the shrill sound causing the GUVD's most senior commander to turn as well as utterly ruining the sweet melody of the piece currently being played. Swearing softly, Korov picked up the phone and held it to his ear. "Talk," he muttered. On the other end of the line, the officer manning the telephone switchboard swallowed before informing him that there was an urgent call from the Minister of State Security for him. Korov swore under his breath and told the man to put the Minister through.

"General. I trust you are acquainted with the current crisis in Saint Andre?" Lasko's voice was crackly, the result of the various layers of encryption employed to prevent anyone from spying on government officials and especially the GUVD.

"I am." Korov gently moved the needle off of the record. I suppose you need more information on it? The current crisis is caused by the sudden cessation in oil production which precipitated mass panic in the Saint Andrean population which in turn has led to riots against the government who some see as having caused the problem. They don't seem to be averse to grumbling about the current problem in front of foreigners, given that most of my intelligence is gleaned from the local bars by the intelligence officer at our embassy in Saint Andre."

"Look," Lasko hissed. "They're hiding something and I want you to find out what the actual problem is. Now."

"Give me half an hour to finish what I'm currently doing and I'll get right on it," Korov promised. Hanging up the phone, the Lieutenant General picked up the scalpel once again.

* * * *

Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Duovograd

Viktor picked up the telephone from its cradle on his desk and dialled the general manager of Kholovsk Heavy Engineering, the state's primary manufacturer of oil pumps and other industrial-grade machinery, and explained what he needed them to have delivered to the ports for shipping to Saint Andre. This was followed by a longer call to General Yuri Mikhailov over in the Ministry of Defence building in which Viktor tried to persuade the recalcitrant General to agree to release some of the surplus weaponry that the People's Army had in storage so that it could be shipped to Saint Andre. Following the General's refusal, Viktor decided to cut out the middleman and decided to call the arms manufacturer directly. After receiving promises that 100,000 assault rifles, submachine guns and other discontinued products, currently sitting in warehouses following the cancellation of their production, would be packaged and made ready for transport, Viktor began drafting the next communique to be sent to Saint Andre.

To: The government of Saint Andre
From; Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the United Soviet States

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs is pleased to announce that the government of the United Soviet States has agreed to your objections related to the deployment of personnel and has begun making arrangements for the transport of the military supplies and extraction equipment to Saint Andre. Enclosed are details and the planned sailing times of the cargo vessels responsible for the delivery. Please have docking and offloading facilities ready for their arrival.

In addition, the United Soviet States is amenable to the conclusion of a mutual trade deal. If it is agreeable, arrangements can be made to initiate formal trade negotiations.

Viktor Yegorev
Minister of Foreign Affairs of the United Soviet States

by **Kenmoria** » Mon Dec 23, 2019 8:35 am

To: The government of Saint Andre
From: Energia plc.
Subject: Sale of oil
Encryption: Low
Dear whomever this concerns within the government of Saint Andre,

Energia plc., known more commonly as Energia, wishes to send its heartfelt sympathies with the current situation within the government of Saint Andre. It appears, to the limited understanding of this company, that there are some recent tribulations occurring within your nation, on account of a perceived oil crisis. Whether or not such a deficit actually exists is information not available to this company, however we thought it best if we were to offer our assistance.

Though we have had little commerce within Saint Andre, now seems to be the ideal time in which to begin a business program. Therefore, in order to aid with the current situation, we are willing to sell Brent oil at a price of thirty-seven euros and thirty cents (€37.30) per barrel, approximately forty percent below the current market value. Of course, this is not to be taken with any negative implications. We have full confidence that this is merely a temporary problem, and therefore are willing to sell this without the normal publicity or announcements.

If you wish to conduct this arrangement, please send us an affirmative response so that operations may proceed as swiftly as is possible. In this missive, please include the location to which you would like us to deliver. Once again, we offer our sincere condolences for the recent troubles with riots.

Yours sincerely,
Energia plc.

The message was sent from Kenmoria to Saint Andre, ushered on by a crowd of faceless investors and shareholders. Although normally security was of the highest concern, a deliberately low level of encryption was used in order for the missive to double as publicity in case of the defence being breached. In the likely event that the offer was refused, there was a secondary plan agreed in a meeting shortly after the first. People in Saint Andre were desperate, and would surely purchase some fuel if it was offered at a low enough price.

by **McNernia** » Mon Dec 23, 2019 10:18 am

Cathcride, McNernia
PMs Briefing
[hr][hr]
There was a briefing going on as the Prime Minister was always in need of the latest information. And the Saint Andre business was always concerning. The sitituation was discussed by the Foreign Minister and the
“The issue with the Polarians is that they cant garuntee the fracking will continue, what with Cordwain facing pressure….”

“So we have to do something about this damn Saint Andre business.” Said Shapter looking at Blakeford, the director of the SIS had accompanied Calgran, the same Samantha Calgran who was the sister of a woman who was being courted and more by Macnarin who Shapter was wanting to place in charge of the Navy to get the service out of the hands of Ralton who was aristocratic and aloof. Hackers long sought to prove that the 2014 incident was a Cuscatlani backed coup. As the Left had fled, MPs left the country as rebels had been driven back underground. Costing the Soviets much in materiel it was estimated as the insurgency was defeated. What had followed was elections, then a crisis in Cornellia due to the Kings mental state deteriorating meant that a Prince had been sent away and a region had exploded in flames.

“If Cordwain Stays Prime Minister we will not be facing either an increase or a end to the Fracking….” Said the young MP who was pretty, Shapter was not entire unattracted to her. She was capable enough appointed in the hopes that Macnarin would be able to restrain the Military from doing something horrible. The King was in a delicate state back then. And he was now, Marriage counseling was a possibility.

“But if he goes there is the need to secure all available suppliers…..”

“We are on thin ice politically, the Feminists wont like us doing deals with…well them…” Shapter listed off the names. Inyursta, Cuscatlan, Potomiak and Carloso. Machismo, Machismo, probable Takfiri and Catholic piety that was disturbing to the liberally minded youth. Some in the libertarian Party still held to the tenants of Anarchism, Feminism, freedom…this small and vocal faction who had been a key part of canvassing for people for Parliament. Now they were a liability in the face of the conservatives. The Left had been driven underground and so the government was slowly starting to eat itself. Without leftists to rail against the Anarchist forces who favored the destruction of State functions handing them over to corporations.

And of course the lefitist underground.

So with the taps potentially running dry the Prime Minister had been asked to consider his options. And well the little island was of interest, and in a prime location. Cuscatlan and Inyursta, might be good to source even more oil from them. But also would be best to secure the island.

“Write the Ambassador and tell him to make sure he gets a audience with the President, we import oil and we need the truth to ensure that people don’t start dumping I and G, (International and General) Petroleum shares due to the fact they cant acquire the oil they need.”

“Yes sir.”

The Prime Minister would dismiss them and consider the prospect of a military intervention if that was what was really necessary.

by **The Cardwith Islands** » Fri Dec 27, 2019 3:19 pm

Bratislava, Ressia (Aressna)
Home of the International Socialist Congress

She had made the long trip from the Cardwiths to Bratislava. The Cardwithian section there had grown over time, with the Ressians giving them more space as needs had demanded. The PASD (People's Action Strike Directorate) had a whole separate operations center in the Congressional Administration Center, to coordinate with ISVC operations around the globe.

She landed mid-morning, but it was an off day for Congressional sessions, so the General she should be able to see should be able to find some time in his day.
There was an available apartment in the Center waiting for her when her plane landed. She checked in to make use of it, napping for three hours to recharge from the long journey, instead of rushing to see the General right away.

She woke up refreshed and changed for her meeting. Showing up at the administrative center next to the Congressional Building, she checked in at the front desk of his suite on the 3rd floor, hoping that the General had a free moment in his schedule.

The receptionist was a woman from Great Viet. She had short bobbed straight dark hair and wore a modest blouse and skirt.
“Yes, it looks like General Tozimbga can see you in 25 minutes, Ms. Refsunga. Can I inquire as to what this is about?”

“No, I’m sorry. For the General’s ears only. I can tell you that it is a Code 677.”

“I see. Well, you can wait right there in the side lounge.”

“Actually...I will be back at that time.”
She didn’t see the value in sitting around flaffing on her phone in the waiting lounge. First, she would grab a tea from the fair trade vendor down in the lobby, then make her way back to the 5th floor, where the PASD-ISVC department was located to see if there was anything new that had come in over the secure channels.

She was actually one minute early after checking into the PASD suite with tea in hand. They had some disturbing info about the proposed operation’s leader, but it wasn’t a total game changer. The General ended up being 4 minutes late.

General Joffard Tozimbga had been a much decorated Cardwithian General in the Hutanjian War, or struggle for Cardwithian independence. He had been put forth by the Cardwithian People’s Army (and personal recommendation from President Charles Nellis and Chairman Obelanka) as a strong candidate for the first official Commander of Revolutionary Forces (the ISVC’s official title), after the ISC reformation. He had been eagerly snatched up and appointed by Commissar Akession of Frozen Forest, the first Commissar to hold the Revolutionary Action position, due to Joffard's long glowing record. When the Vionna-Frankenlischian, Henry Perkins, took over as Commissar for Revolutionary Action (the ISC’s version of Defense Minister) he saw no reason to rock the boat and was satisfied with Tozimbga’s work record and felt he should continue on in his position as Commander of the ISVC.

Like many Melanesians, Tozimbga had speckles of distinguished grey in otherwise dark, tight curly hair. He was of average height and had a slight paunch that comes with age and lack of fitness. He wore his CPA officer’s uniform and rank, but didn’t wear his many decorations awarded by both the CPA and ISVC as he felt it would come off as ludicrous boasting.

He turned after he hailed his Viet receptionist and received word of a visitor, seeing Sholana approach from the side. It took him a moment to recognize her, as they had only met once in person before during a coordination meeting.
“Follow me to my office, Ms…”

“Refsunga.”

“Yes, familiarity is returning. Excuse me while I put away my case and unwind, Comrade officer.”
They entered his office as he did just that, hanging up his uniform jacket on a rack near the door.

“Not a problem. Thank you for seeing me, Comrade General.”

“Well, you had the correct code, so, I should feel obligated.”
He poured himself a drink from a sidebar and held up the decanter and raised an eyebrow. She shook her head, holding up her disposable, compostable cup of tea by way of explanation.

“Yes. This is true, sir. When I brief you, you will see that it is code worthy.”

He waved to a chair across from his desk, circling around and placing his drink down before settling in to his leather swivel chair.
“So...excuse me but I have a lunch meeting soon so I’d like to cut to the chase...Why are you here and why is it so important that they...” He pointed up at an angle to the ceiling, figuratively to upstairs where the PASD department desk was located, above the Central Commitee members’ offices. “...couldn’t tell me. I know you’re not a staff on the regular desk here, which means you flew all the way in.”

“Yes, Comrade General, let me help you save time and explain…” He motioned her to continue, “...I did fly straight from PASD HQ in Norritts (The Cardwiths' Capital). We have been monitoring things in Saint Andre and we believe we can influence the leftist faction there, mostly consisting of trade unions, to rise up and take the government. They’re weak, but so is the government and shell military. We feel that with pressure on international media, we can make the union rioters that fall to their riot cops and soldiers become martyrs. It could be enough to spark a more populist movement that the leftist faction helms. They take the government, by vote or by force. The ISC gains a new constituent member, and the ISVC gains a new staging base for operations in that region.”

“I see. That's quite the chain of events. And this was urgent enough to not come through regular channels?”

“Time is of the essence. Things are progressing very fast there and a lot of different nation state actors are getting involved.”

“Well, that sounds like it will complicate matters. A lot of potential enemies. Also, the ISVC has a lot of assets already tied up in Jaragupta right now. We don’t need another full invasion of an imperialist nation and bloody fight with its allies. We might get stretched thin.”

“General, it’s already a PASD operation, with my team, PAST number 41 assigned. We need it to be an ISVC operation because we need more assets than PASD alone can provide, and the ISVC, specifically the CAIF program, has the reach and operating budget we need.”

“That doesn’t answer the issue I have with it, Officer Refsunga.”

“Yes, well, to answer the involvement, it should not escalate beyond the needs a CAIF (Corps Advisory Implementation Force) team could serve. If it does, well then we will just have to make do. We would only require evacuation assets if it comes to that.”

“I see. The assumption that your team could even warrant a rescue is bold. How big of a CAIF team are we talking about?”

“70 total personnel tops. More likely around 50. That’s half the initial team to Jaragupta. We already have picked out who we’d like from available ISVC personnel. As an advance team, myself and Marguerite Mallette, an ISVC colleague from Gylias, will be going in first to meet with the union leadership and set things up in advance for the team. We’ll be flying in under deep cover.”

“So it is just about half the number of the Jaraguptan team. That is easier on the budget and available assets. But you couldn’t take this directly to Commissar Perkins?”

“Director Marousha doesn’t want to give the appearance that we, PASD - the Cardwithian black operations agency, are trying to dominate influence over the Central Committee and piss off our allies." There were some noticable tensions between the big power player parties in the ISC. "I think that Chairman Obelanka has also mentioned concerns about that very topic.”

“This is true. So then, I talk to Commissar Perkins, he brings it up to the Central Committee for a vote, then it is brought up before the Congress in closed session...and anyone with half a notion can trace it back to PASD anyway.”

“Comrade General, might I remind you that it was the Pan-Asians that got the ISC involved in Jaragupta. I think they can give us this.”

“Be that as it may, this is still a hard sell to the Congress as there is already major dissent about how operations in Jaragupta are progressing. I will grant you this and talk to Commissar Perkins soonest. Go ahead and get the team together, you have my preliminary approval. I will sign the forms and send the correct forms to Helene Oikonomou (the Finance Commissar) to approve the budget. Be prepared that if this gets squashed in the Committee or Congress, you will need to pull the team out pronto.”

“I understand. Thank you, Comrade General.”

“When do you and Ms. Mallette fly out?”
He took another sip of his drink as he awaited her answer.

“First thing in the morning, sir.”

General Tozimbga almost sputtered out his drink. He smirked, but didn’t look pleasantly surprised.
“So you were going to ram through this operation, whether you had my stamp on it or not? We will have to talk more when you get back, but I can’t miss this lunch appointment.” He stood up.
“Do you have the information I can use to debrief him?”

“If I get back from Saint Andre, Comrade General, I will certainly report directly to you. I don’t intend to come back until the mission is done, however.”
She reached into her satchel and pulled out a thin dossier jacket, she placed it and a flash drive onto his desk. “That is all the information you should need.”

He nodded, reaching and pulling the dossier and flash drive towards his side of the desk. He would review it after lunch, then lock it away in his office safe, then load it into his case later when he was able to meet with Commissar Perkins.
“Well, then I guess I will have to have a discussion with Director Marousha about how we implement future CAIF operations. I don't appreciate being informed as an after fact and having to cover my ass. Bon voyage, Officer Refsunga.”

“Thank you, Comrade General. I hope negotiations go smoothly.”
She didn't rise to the bait to defend PASD. Director Lelah Marousha could do that just fine on her own.

“Yes, so do I.”

She took that as a dismissal and tried not to skip her way out the office door. That had gone much better than she could have hoped.
She would get herself a meal out downtown instead of the commissary and await Marguerite’s arrival so they could confer tonight before the flight out early in the dawn.

by **Stoklomolvi** » Sun Dec 29, 2019 8:35 pm

[OOC: Assume the entire meeting is being conducted in Mandarin Chinese and Russian.]

Vladistov Kremlin, Vladistov, Stoklomolvi
0802 hours, local time, clear weather

The last Commissar in the State Council took his seat, and the special meeting to address the situation developing in Saint Andre began. Commissar Vladimir Stuyonovich sat at the head of the table and stood, prompting everyone else in the room to stand as well. "As it appears we are all present, except for one," he said, glancing at the empty chair belonging to the Hydrocarbon Extraction Commissar. He glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that the meeting did only start two minutes ago, and then glanced at the double doors to the room. Deciding to forgo the wait, Commissar V. Stuyonovich took his seat, and everyone else followed. Using his tablet, he changed the wall screen projection to display the message sent by President Neri in response to the one sent by the Stoklomolvi Foreign Affairs Commissariat.

"While we wait for Commissar Ivanov, I must say," began Commissar V. Stuyonovich, "I am concerned about the people of Saint Andre, but rather the amount of international attention that Saint Andre is receiving is worrisome to say the least. Saint Andre does produce oil, but the amount of oil produced and consumed by those dependent on its oil is staggering. However, before addressing its external threats, we should probably address its internal problems first."

The other Commissars in the room more or less nodded in agreement. The Foreign Affairs Commissar, Sergei Stuyonovich, remarked, "They're definitely hiding something. No self-respecting government would take note to, I quote, 'increased sightings of hooliganism', and call that 'nothing to worry about'. I have little confidence in the abilities of President Neri, since he is placing undue focus on preserving what appears to be the 'face' of Saint Andre. Of course, I don't think we ha-"

The doors burst open and the Hydrocarbon Extraction Commissar Yuri Ivanov ran through. The other Commissars in the room turned to look at him. Commissar V. Stuyonovich shook his head. "Late as always, Commissar Ivanov."

"My apologies, Commissar Vladimir Stuyonovich. I had only gotten back recently fro-"

"It's fine, Commissar Ivanov. Just have a seat, and we will begin the meeting in full," responded Commissar V. Stuyonovich, cutting him off.

Commissar Ivanov strode over to his seat and sat down, swivelling the chair so that he could view the wall.

"Now," continued Commissar V. Stuyonovich, "Commissar Ivanov, we have here the message that President Neri sent in response to our message. We were merely discussing it before you arrived. Commissar Wang is to present what she believes is the current situation, and what should be done for the economy of Saint Andre."

Commissar Ivanov nodded. Commerce Commissar Wang Yongyi began her analysis of the situation. She highlighted the last two sentences of the Saint Andrean response.

"Notice that they are still asking for 'expansions' to their oil mining operations, and that they wish for external investment into their oil mining economy. Despite this wish, I think it is clear to any country with a functioning intelligence agency that they are merely attempting to hide what is actually happening. To that end, I fully agree with Commissar Sergei Stuyonovich here. Our contacts in the labour unions in Saint Andre have already corroborated the initial theory that lack of oil production is causing a sudden cessation in their national revenue stream, and people are already starting to lack food. Food rationing measures have begun, which are not necessary under normal economic conditions in any country. The economy of Saint Andre is also completely lacking in diversification."

Commissar Wang tapped on her tablet, changing the projection to that of a chart of what was known of the Saint Andrean economy. "As you can see, approximately their oil extraction industry makes up around half of their entire economic output. Given our estimations, assuming that they really did run out of raw petroleum resources at around the time that both one, their national economy will likely last at most half a year before collapsing, and that is assuming they pulled out all measures possible to increase diversification and encourage foreign investment into sectors of their economy that is not based on petroleum. However, measuring their oil export rate," said Commissar Wang, changing the projection to a graph of oil exports in the past few weeks, "We can see that they have not done any of those things. They are hiding their economic strife behind a veneer of 'SNAFU'."

"Do we have any economic connections of note, Commissar Wang?" asked Commissar V. Stuyonovich.

"Beyond our contacts in the unions and various friends in the Social Democratic Party, none," responded Commissar Wang. "I don't-"

"Friends?" asked Commissar V. Stuyonovich.

Commissar S. Stuyonovich swivelled his chair towards Commissar V. Stuyonovich. "Our contacts include various members of the National Union of the Gas and Petrol Labour and associates of them, but do not include any leadership members. It appears that there are divides between the common union worker and union leadership; it is as if the unions are social Potemkin villages meant to placate the workers. Naturally, with the façade gone, there are no resources with which the unions are able to placate, and the evaporation of union benefits and, well, food, means that social unrest in Saint Andre is simply going to get worse."

"Couple that," continued Commissar Wang, "with the fact that no efforts are, again, being directed towards improving the economic situation, means that we will likely witness imminent collapse of the Saint Andrean economy."

Hmms and mms came from several other Commissars. Commissar V. Stuyonovich himself leaned back in his chair for a moment. "How long will it take for their economy to collapse?"

"Approximately two to three weeks," replied Commissar Wang. Commissar V. Stuyonovich merely replied with a "Hmm."

Commissar Wang looked over at Commissar Ivanov, who was flipping through some notes in a folder. He looked up, noticed her gaze, and stood. "I have confidence to say that the petroleum reserves of Saint Andre in their current state are simply uneconomical for their economy to extract," said Commissar Ivanov. "Simply put, unless they have already drilled as low as they can drill with their technological capability, there is likely yet more petroleum beneath their offshore platforms that they have not reached yet."

Commissar Wang gestured vaguely into the air. "What if, say, they really did run out of accessible petroleum resources?"

"What, you mean, as in there is no way for them to access those petroleum reserves even if they had the latest technology?" asked Commissar Ivanov.

"Yes."

"Well," said Commissar Ivanov, scratching his chin, "they would be in a difficult position, to say the least. My current understanding of their oil drilling techniques is that they have taken most of the actions they could have taken with their current technology to cheaply extract as much petroleum as possible."

"Have they tried fracking? Or any other technology that could access deeper wells?" asked Commissar V. Stuyonovich.

"I... I'm not sure if they've tried fracking yet," said Commissar Ivanov. "Or any other methods, for that matter. We don't have that information at this time."

"Hmm," replied Commissar V. Stuyonovich. The room fell silent for a moment.

"Is there anything we really need to be doing?" asked Commissar Ivanov.

Commissar S. Stuyonovich sighed. "Well, not really, no. If we decided to do nothing, the economic insignificance of Saint Andre relative to the Stoklomolvi economy would mean that aside from losing the potential strategic position of Saint Andre, which, in itself, is questionable, the Stoklomolvi Liaoist Federation would not suffer much if anything at all. However, I do feel that there is a humanitarian purpose we could leverage to get involved, namely the 'save the poor Saint Andreans from themselves' aspect. We could integrate ourselves into their economy through that approach."

Commissar Wang pointed at the projection, which she changed to a general proposal she had created. "If I may direct your attention here, everyone," said Commissar Wang, "I have an idea for what can be done for the Saint Andrean economy that could ensure that it does not fully enter a state of collapse. Recovering a country from complete anarchy is an incredibly difficult task, as the population will have lost all confidence in their institutions and would rather trust non-state actors and basically warlords. We cannot allow Saint Andre to fall that far if we are to hope to reinvigorate its economy."

Commissar V. Stuyonovich nodded. "I do wish to see the people of Saint Andre enjoy life again, even if we do not stand to gain anything directly from such an event. However, humanity would benefit, and personally, I think that would be a good enough reason to act."

"Ever the bleeding heart, aren't you, brother?" Commissar S. Stuyonovich rolled his eyes.

Commmissar V. Stuyonovich couldn't hide the growing smirk on his face. "I just want to do what's good for humanity all the time, you know? I'm obviously a paragon of... er, humanitarianism, or something."

The State Council members shared a small laugh before returning to paying attention to Commissar Wang. "Heh, well, 'saving' the people of Saint Andre aside, we could gain international support by maintaining a politically neutral attitude here," she said. "All we must do is offer Saint Andre some economic benefit, and it would be foolish for them not to accept our assistance. In short, we offer them a foreign investor that is completely uninterested in their internal politics and only interested in their economic output. Surely, these westerners would be willing to communicate in the universal language, known as money, right?

"We could ask them for permissions to set up factories in their country that will be managed directly by us, but employ locals. These factories would produce... whatever, really. Furniture, consumer electronics, clothing, processed foods, the list goes on. We do not, however, want to mention the production of petrochemical products, as we can see from their current façade, since it appears that their national image is very sensitive to mentions of that particular topic. With the money going into their people's pockets and the money coming out of the production of these manufactured products, we would both be industrialising Saint Andre e.g. ensuring their economy does not wholly depend on raw resource production and increasing our economic influence in Saint Andre."

Commissar Ivanov asked, "But what of their... non-existent petroleum industry?"

Commissar Wang changed the projection to the next slide.

"It would be foolish of us to engage in their current fantasy of propping up an industry dependent on a resource that does not exist," said Commissar Wang. "However, it would lose them face."

"Indeed it would," said Commissar V. Stuyonovich. "It is because they are so concerned about face that I would say now, Commissar Ivanov, that I would like to send you and only you to the country of Saint Andre, if you would accept such a task. And if the government of Saint Andre would accept such an overture, which is as yet uncertain."

Commissar Ivanov frowned. "You mean for me to go to that collapsing, unstable third worl-"

"Yes, Commissar Ivanov, I mean for you to go to that collapsing, unstable country," replied Commissar V. Stuyonovich, cutting him off again. "Look, Commissar Ivanov, you are the Hydrocarbon Extraction Commissar, and you are the highest authority the Stoklomolvi Liaoist Federation has to offer on the topic of hydrocarbon extraction. Perhaps foreign countries would also notice your presence there and consider Saint Andre a suitable place to invest in their petroleum industry, which could buy their economy time while we aim to prop it up. If you do not wish to undertake this task, that is fine, as I understand your hesitation.

"I mean, obviously, I don't want to go there, and I don't expect you to want to go there, but someone needs to go there."

Everyone in the room looked at Commissar Ivanov. He knew he could decline, and his position as Hydrocarbon Extraction Commissar would not be threatened by anyone. He could demonstrate his skills and knowledge on petroleum harvesting and petrochemical refining to the Saint Andreans, but it didn't matter; their oil industry basically ceased to exist. Ultimately, it boiled down to whether he believed going to Saint Andre would be more like a holiday jaunt or more like a journalist entering a war zone. He coughed.

"W-well..." he said, "I suppose that if I can at least be assured that my safety wouldn't be at risk..."

Commissar V. Stuyonovich clapped his hands together. "Splendid! Of course your safety won't be at risk, Commissar Ivanov. You know that we would take every measure to ensure your safety. Should we determine that the situation has deteriorated to the point where your health could potentially come to harm, we will extricate you from Saint Andre, with military force if necessary." Commissar V. Stuyonovich nodded to National Defence Commissar Konstantin Bogdanov, who nodded back.

"The military is keeping a close watch on the situation in Saint Andre, Commissar Ivanov," said Commissar Bogdanov. "While I do not believe there are any intentions to intervene militarily at this time, know that Stoklomolvi military assets are always within a few hours notice. If you were to say the word that you required extrication from Saint Andre, our men will have you out within hours."

It was obvious that Commissar Ivanov was still a tad uneasy, but nobody in the room would blame him for that. After all, unstable situations are known to deteriorate rapidly, and Saint Andre was in an unstable situation. "Will I... or at least, my family... be compensated for my trip to Saint Andre?"

"Of course you will be," said Commissar V. Stuyonovich. "We will determine to what degree upon your return, but I can say that you will at least be monetarily compensated for your troubles. Do remember, however, that you will be acting as a plenipotentiary while in Saint Andre, so the national image of Stoklomolvi rests on your shoulders, Commissar Ivanov!" He laughed heartily.

"Sure, of course, what an honour," sarcastically replied Commissar Ivanov.

Absently tapping on the desk with a pen, Commissar Wang stared at the projection.

"Something on your mind, Commissar Wang?" asked Commissar V. Stuyonovich.

"What if they refuse our proposal?"

Almost dismissively waving his hand, Commissar S. Stuyonovich looked over at the projection. "If they refuse your proposal or refuse to accept Commissar Ivanov here, we will simply have to think of something else. After all, it's their economy at stake, not ours."

Commissar Ivanov was not amused. My life is at stake here, Sergei, he thought.

Satisfied, Commissar Wang merely shrugged. "What was next on the docket for today, Commissar Vladimir Stuyonovich?"

"Ah, yes, let us continue..."

REFERENCE:

29 DECEMBER 2019

Security: Classified
To: Jean-Guy Neri
Office of the President of Saint Andre
Republic of Saint Andre
Subject: Foreign Investment in Saint Andre

The Stoklomolvi Foreign Affairs Commissariat, upon conducting further research, is assured that the government of the Republic of Saint Andre has the situation under control. In light of these facts, the Stoklomolvi Liaoist Federation would like to send Commissar Yuri Adrianovich Ivanov of the Hydrocarbon Extraction Subcommissariat under the Land and Resources Commissariat to the Republic of Saint Andre to visit President Jean-Guy Neri, as he is the current acting Minister of Petroleum and Natural Gas. With his expertise and guidance, he will be able to inform the State Council of the Stoklomolvi Liaoist Federation what kind of investments ought to be made into the Saint Andrean oil industry.

In addition, the Commerce Commissariat has expressed interest in investments into manufacturing in Saint Andre, as it was determined that the Republic of Saint Andre would make for an excellent industrial centre due to its strategically important position in the South Atlantic in terms of shipping lanes and proximity to raw resources. The State Council eagerly awaits your response on that matter.

by **Inyourfaceistan** » Sun Dec 29, 2019 10:28 pm

Baitmas Executiv, Castille de Térro; Inyursta

Night had just fallen in the Inyurstan capital city of Castille de Térro, and unlike the more radical latitudes the equatorial sun usually set around 1820/6:20pm, give or take. The streetlights were already glowing in gold as the last remnants of daylight disappeared into the horizon. Sidewalks and public squares which had been earlier dominated by individuals walking single and gaggles of children in school uniforms were now the domain of couples displaying affection and families walking together.

A white limousine pulled up to the gates of the Baitmas Executiv, the office of the highest levels of the executive branch. Most all vehicles had since left, save for a few. After a quick ID check and rolling down of the windows, the armed security at the gate rolled the vehicle on through.

"Jean-Baptiste! You should know better than to summon at this hour of night!" Philanthropist oil-tycoon Sebastian Solano spoke as he walked through the doors of the executive office.
"This is not about fundraising, Sebastian. This is about national security." Président Jean-Baptiste Calderone responded to his political party's largest stakeholder.
"Ahh... Sécurité National... The favorite buzzword of politicians. Why should I be of interest?"
"Two days ago Nuveau Pétrol - your company - decided to reduce out put of crude oil. The move was followed by Black Sands and MesaCo within a two-hour window, followed by GulfCo and Pétrol Generale within a six-hour window. One is a coincidence, maybe bad equipment, an employee strike or a price control decision. But for all five major oil companies to turn down the faucet... Why could that be?"
"Why dont you ask them, Monsenor President?"
"Because you cut it first. Because your organization was first in the loop, first to hear about something... What could that be..?" Calderone asked, already knowing the answer but letting Solano show his colors.
"Because two days ago my sources informed me that the oil deposit beneath Saint Andre went bone-dry. We cannot verify this information, but if it true it would be sudden and unexpected."
"And you didn't take the opportunity to make a quick buck, like you did when the oilfields in Lolloh or Bashriyya went up in flames?"
"No. Because the same damn technology, the same survey techniques that told them their oil would last them a quarter of a century told us that our own reserves could last nearly half. If we are sitting on less petrol than anticipated, that is something my company needs to know."
"That is also something I need to know. If my country's economy is on the verge of collapse and with it every stride our people have made in the last five decades at risk for it, I need to know.
Saint Andre is already in the early stages of falling into turmoil and sure enough the foreign sharks are already smelling blood in the water. The last thing we need is to suddenly start hemoraging ourselves with a feeding-frenzy off-shore. For that reason I need you to do something for me, Sebastian..."
"So what do you need me to do?"
"Make them an offer... An offer they would be foolish to refuse."
"Don't you have special forces teams, mercenary companies and alphabet spooks for this kind of thing?"
"No... Not that kind of message. I want you to put in an offer on one or more of their rigs. Something outrageous. More than its worth."
"What will that do for us?"
"If they refuse, we know he's out of oil."
"And what if they accept?"
"Well he's either got oil or is trying to rip you off into dumping money into a dry well. Either way, we get our direct answer to the question and can move forward from their. The only reason for the Andreans to say "no" is if they are trying to hide their empty reserves."
"What do I get in return?"
"Name your price."
"Romina would like to get into politics. She gets an internship in the Baitmas Executiv."
"Easy."
"And I want a drone..."
"Ha! Can't you buy one yourself?"
"I want a pair of Ku - 415 "Sakura" MALE drones."
"Ouhh... What the fuck do you want those for?"
"Doesn't matter. Help me negotiate with our amis beneath the rising sun and I'll do it."
"I can do it for you. You sure know how to get your hands on what you want..."
"And you my friend, are the most guile puppet president I have ever met..."
"Who said I'm the puppet?" Calderone chuckled as he threw his dark-grey jacket over his shoulder and walked out down the hall, leaving Solano in the executive office with the two security guards.

Plaja Sombeche Naval Base, Costa Arseilles; Inyursta

Thick blankets of clouds painted the sky in various shades of gray, as a light drizzle dusted the forested hillsides and exposed structures. The shallow marine channel which separated the Marindinoan sub-continent from the mainland was itself turned gray as it reflected the gloomy sky above. Such weather was more typical of the interior provinces of Inyursta, and such weather was also a more strategic benefit to submarine operations in the face of a constant, sunny dry spell in the coastal provinces, including Gracio Bay and Porte Ramos as such a cloud layer combined with rougher-than-usual surface water going through a narrow, well-trafficked channel was much more conducive to launching submersible beasts of war undetectable to the eye of spying satellites.

Lieutenant Emilio Levesque, a nominally sleepy, C-rate officer with a unshaven scruff watched from a port control tower as two small tugs moved through a slim channel flanked on either side by concrete slopes and leading back to a large, man-made cave running back into the hillside. The presence of anything larger would have gone completely unnoticed if not for the two masts sticking up above the surface.
"Carlos-2-2-Bravo, watch your port side." He said over the radio as the corresponding tugboat corrected its course, guiding the monstrous nuclear submarine out of the pen and into the harbor which itself lead into the marine channel. The undersea beast, a Type-64 nuclear attack submarine dubbed "Il Fantasmé", would make its way out of the channel alongside two slightly smaller Type-60 SSP's and move out to sea to link up with the "Elapidé" and "Princessa Carména" already off-shore.

To: Saint Andrean Ministry of Petroleum & Natural Gas,
From: Sebastian Solano, Owner & Majority Shareholder of Nuveau Petrol, LLC;
Encryption: Commercial-Grade;

Bon Matin, Esteemed Officials of Saint Andre;

My firm, Nuveau Petrol LLC, a leading player in the New World oil market, is currently looking for opportunities to expand. Due to healthy reserves in your country and relative logistical easy distance to my own nation, I believe that your nation would be an excellent production center.
We would, of course, hire local technicians, management, logistics, etc. and pay competitive wages. Additionally, to ensure you that I am not trying to exploit any recent short-term chaos to come in and vulture a cheap price, I am willing to pay $24.9 billion USD for a single well - exactly three times market value - and seeking to purchase anywhere from 2 - 6 wells.

I thank you for your time and correspondence,

- Don Sebastian Solano,
Nuveau Pétrol,

by **Saint Andre** » Mon Dec 30, 2019 12:37 pm

Meeting of the Emergency Committee, Saint Andre

"Vultures! I tell you, they are vultures. Hyenas!" President Neri sees the attention that foreign nations give to Saint Andre as an inconvenience. He would rather everything confidentially. "Do these self-proclaimed superpowers don't know what they are doing?" He was nervously pacing back and forth. "Their sniffing around, their un-stoppable questioning of MY statements..." The President stopped in at the front of the table, overlooking all the ministers. "They are only supporting the narrative of the protesters. If this is going to continue, the Republic will crumble before we find the next reserve."

He sighed and sat down into his comfy chair. "Why should I meet with the Nifonese and McNernias? I have no time for pleasant discussion with some gooks and anglophone dunces."

Of course, not everybody shared the President's point of view on the matter. "Monsieur President..." Responded Jean-Pierre Boulle, the Minister of Foreign Affairs. "Nofinese and McNearnies are major importers of our oil and they are just inter-"

President just shut him off. "I already publicly announced everything they need to know. They'll get their oil sooner if they stop bothering me."

"Monsieur President, Nifon is helped us greatly in equipping our military. They are our all-" Tried to counter the Minister once again, unsuccessfully.

"If am I not mistaken, Svadyetsk already sent us enough guns to arm our entire armed forces..." Neri said. "And they don't sniff around."

"Monsieur President..." Tobie Dubuisson, the Neri's Premier said in the most lickspittle way. "We all understand that you a lot of work to as such, I and the Minister..." He nodded at the Minister of Foreign Affairs. "...can handle the meetings instead of you."

President went silent, thinking for a moment. "Very well, but I will personally handle the affairs with Svadyetsk and Stoklomolvi. I have plans with them." He then listed through his folder. "Now, let's actually start with the meeting-" Before he could finish, the telephone fixed to the dek rang. The President sighed. "I hope it's important- Kicked out, ho- Right, send the Labor minister in."

Official Communique of the Republic of Saint Andre

To: The Empire of Greater Nifon
Encription: None

The Republic of Saint Andre greatly values of the relationship between the Empire and our Republic. The Premier will deal with directly with your ambassador.

Signed, Jean-Guy Neri, President of the Republic
Jean-Pierre Boulle, Minister of Foreign Affairs

Official Communique of the Republic of Saint Andre

To: The Kingdom of McNernia
Encription: None

The Republic of Saint Andre greatly values of the relationship between the Kingdom and our Republic. The Minister of Foreign Affairs will deal with directly with your ambassador.

Signed, Jean-Guy Neri, President of the Republic
Jean-Pierre Boulle, Minister of Foreign Affairs

Official Communique of the Republic of Saint Andre

To: United Soviet States of Svadyetsk
Encription: Basic

The Republic of Saint Andre is republic with furhter development of the reletionship between two of our nations. We are thankful for the supply of the material in this time of need. We are interested in a bilateral talk regarding oil exports into Svadyetsk, as well as possible investment into oil industry. The President is ready to meet with the representative of the USSS on this matter.

Signed, Jean-Guy Neri, President of the Republic
Jean-Pierre Boulle, Minister of Foreign Affairs

Official Communique of the Republic of Saint Andre

To: Stoklomovi Liaosit Federation
Encription: Basic

We are glad for the ability of your government to forsee the neoliberal lies. We are ready to welcome Commissar Yuri Adrianovich Ivanov with open arms. We hope in a long-term economic co-operation between the two of our nations.

Signed, Jean-Guy Neri, President of the Republic
Jean-Pierre Boulle, Minister of Foreign Affairs

Streets of Saint Andre

While the scent of tear gas could be still felt, the streets of the Metropolitan Prefecture began to grow calmer. Despite all the problems, the combined force of the Land Army, National Gendarmerie, and the local police was able to contain the situation. The rioters have been pushed away from important public spaces and state buildings. The commanders of the security forces have been assured that the oil crisis will end in a few weeks. As such it is believed that they can keep things under control.

Unfortunately for them, the so-far chaotic mob began to organize...

UGPL HQ, Saint Andre

The UGPL HQ was fully seated. Not just by members of the petrol union, but also many of their allies. The railroad unionists, the port workers unionists, retail workers, members of various left-wing student organizations and many others. Participating were also members of the Democratic Union. Once a major left-wing party in the Saint Andrean politics has been reduced to a token opposition. Today they've jumped after a chance to bring an end to the long-time dominance of the Patriotic Front.

Jacob Gérin-Lajoie stood behind the assembled masses. He was newly elected leader of the UGPL, quite young for Saint Andrean Standards, he was in his late thirties. He was also a member of the Democratic Union. Actually, most senior trade union officials across the board joined the DU, not just the UGPL members. But unlike the others, Gérin-Lajoie was in the DU long before the crisis.

As many senior members of the UGPL were considered unreliable for their close relationship with the PF, Jacob Gérin-Lajoie and other Democratic Unionists quickly catapulted themselves into the spotlight. They knew that the trade unions were a backbone of the once indomitable President Meri's popularity. Now it was in their hands.

Yet there were still reasons to be concerned. It seems the food rationing brought at least some short-term stability to the current economic storm sweeping the nation. And the security forces already suppressed most sparks of any organized resistance.

"It's time for a change," Began his speech.

"President Neri's tyranny must end. His faked compassion for the working class must be replaced with true solidarity. His lies must be replaced with truth." He paused. "President Neri tells us that any oil production disturbances are temporary. I am afraid that it is not true. I am afraid that the era of oil-exporting has ended." Multiple voices in the crowd gasped. While many workers present knew that this was probably true, they didn't want to admit it. They didn't want to think about it, they didn't we to talk about it and most importantly, they didn't want to be told this. For them, working in the oil industry is what they did their entire life.

"We can either accept this truth or deny it. The President decided for the former." Many in the crowds were still in a visible shock. "I understand the concerns of everyone who fears for their livelihood. But pretending that there's no problem will not solve this!" Said the new union leader decisively. "We need a government capable of adapting to those changes. President Neri's government doesn't seem to be capable. We need a government that can provide social security for those affected by the changes. President Neri's government doesn't seem to care." Gérin-Lajoie paused for the last time.

"As such, I believe that is time for a new government."

Proclamation of the Democratic Union and the Union of the Gas and Petrol Labor

Neither the Democratic Union nor the Union of the Gas and Petrol Labor can longer support the unsustainable economic policies of the current government. Nor can we longer tolerate the suppression of basic civil and political liberties. We believe it's time for peoples' vote. This time without any goons suppressing the will of the people.

We demand that a general election will be called in an immediate future.

If the current administration decides to ignore this call, a general strike will commence.

Meeting of the Emergency Committee, Saint Andre

After the meeting ended, almost everyone but the President and the Minister of Foreign Affairs left the room. President was not so sure about everything as he was a few days ago. "I hope that the Labour Minister's plan works." He said in a wilted tone while re-reading the declaration. "For so long you support, provide for their every desire... And in time of need, they stab you in the back." He sighed and turned at the Minister of Foreign Affairs. "So... What is it? Any pointless communique?"

The Minister just noded. "Yes, monsieur president. I left the for the last... because I already know what is going to be your reaction. They are from two oil corp-"

The President didn't even let him finish. "If you know what's going to be my reaction then don't bother me with it."

Official Communique of the Republic of Saint Andre

To: Energia plc.
Encription: None

The Republic of Saint Andre is one of the largest exporters of oil in the world. The current minor disturbances will not change that. We have no need for your oil.

Signed, Jean-Guy Neri, President of the Republic
Jean-Pierre Boulle, Minister of Foreign Affairs

Official Communique of the Republic of Saint Andre

To: Sebastian Solano, Owner & Majority Shareholder of Nuveau Petrol, LLC;
Encription: None

We believe that the oil and all natural resources of the Republic belong to the people. We are not willing to privatise any of our platforms.

Signed, Jean-Guy Neri, President of the Republic
Jean-Pierre Boulle, Minister of Foreign Affairs

Special presidential broadcast

"Citizens of the Republic!

The current self-proclaimed leadership of the UGPL is simply illegitimate. The legally recognized leadership under the monsieur Ernest Auger does not support this illegal strike. Any illegal assembly will be dealt with accordingly.

We want you to inform you that this general strike is organized by the global neo-liberal vultures. Their goal is to destabilize this great country. They want to see our oil privatised, our trade protections eliminated. If they win, foreign corporations will only profit from our misfortune. At the same time, we will see a rapid increase in poverty and homosexualism.

Please, remain informed."

by **Svadyetsk** » Tue Dec 31, 2019 6:13 pm

Consulate of the United Soviet States, Saint Andre

Lieutenant Petro Olinovsky, the intelligence attache at the Svadyetskan consulate in Saint Andre and the only officially declared member of the GUVD in the country, picked up the phone after the first ring. "Da, Comrade?" he said.

Lieutenant General Korov wasted no time. "Get me an accurate picture of what is going on in that damned country. The Minister of Internal Security is breathing down my neck and the current oil crisis seems to be sending the entire damned cabinet into chaos."

"Yes Sir, at once Sir," Olinovsky said nervously. Have you read my reports? I was able to glean most of my information from locals at the bar and there seems to be a lot of anti-government feeling, especially in the unions, while the government is claiming that everything will be fine."

In Duovograd, Korov ground his teeth. "Get me a detailed report of the next union meeting and tell me what's going on. It feels like the Saint Andrean government is trying to lead us around. Did you know that we just sent them a few hundred tonnes of weapons? We're supposed to get a trade deal, as far as I can tell, but your reports are saying that everyone thinks that the Saint Andrean oil industry is going out the window."

"Of course Sir. I shall get on it right away."

The line went dead. Olinovsky put down the handset and reached for his jacket. Time to go and rub elbows at the bars.

GUVD Headquarters, Duovograd

Korov picked up the phone again and dialled an internal number. Things were looking grim, even if the politicos in the Party couldn't see it. He'd have to make some private investigations before presenting his findings. The big thing was finding out what the hell was going on with the oil supplies. One quick chat with a captain later, Korov got up from his desk and made for the door. In the courtyard of the headquarters building, his car and the captain were waiting for him.

Duovograd University

Semyon Posnikov, the Professor of Geology at Duovograd University exited the glass-fronted doorway of the main campus building into the cold air of University Plaza. The only thing that he could think about was a nice coffee, preferably from that nice place on Revolutionary Square opposite the government buildings which he'd visit on his way to the subway station that would take him to within a short walk of his apartment. Striding down the many steps, Semyon contemplated getting a pastry to go, just to fill his belly until he got home.

As the academic scurried down the steps, two uniformed GUVD officers detached themselves from the shelter of the portico and hustled after him. Still thinking of coffee, Semyon didn't notice their presence until they had each seized one of his forearms before propelling him towards a waiting car. Semyon shouted in dismay but nothing happened; the GUVD often arrested people and intervening could lead to one's own disappearance. With the small crowd of students and lecturers, who had all finished for the day, parting before them like the Red Sea, Semyon was hustled through the door of the car backseat. One of the officers sat next to him and, before Semyon could try to escape out the other door, he was sandwiched by the second officer entering through the opposite door, trapping him. The car set off, smoothly pulling away from the curb. Semyon tried to control his panic.

"Semyon Posnikov," a voice said. Semyon looked towards the figure in the front passenger seat. All he could see were the epaulettes signifying high rank, white-blonde hair cut short and an open file that the officer was clearly reading from. A picture of Semyon, taken from his period in the Army, was affixed to the brown cardboard cover of the file. "Thirty-nine years old. Born in Novozhd. Early indications of high intelligence. Attended agricultural school before being transferred to a state centre for special education. Graduated with top honours, first in the class. Three years in the Army, conscripted. No notable disciplinary offences, no notable awards. Accepted into Duovograd University to study geology. Graduated with a diploma before commencement of further studies. Graduated with a doctorate five years ago." Korov, for it was he, read out the sanitised story of Semyon's life in a dry, bored tone.

"Occasionally consults for the Ministry of Mines and Extraction." Korov shut the file with a dull thump. Semyon tried not to panic. "Apologies for taking you away from your routine, Professor," Korov said. "We need someone of your talents to do a little bit of consulting for us. By which I mean the GUVD, the Ministry of Mines and Extraction and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I take it you are familliar with the current oil crisis in Saint Andre?"

Semyon nodded. "A little. It was a topic for discussion in one of my lectures recently." He tried to make himself more comfortable. "Why, do you want an expert opinion on the crisis?"

Korov shook his head. "In a sense, yes. But we don't want an opinion. We want proof. It seems to me that the Saint Andrean government is stonewalling us and that things are more serious than they'd like to admit." The car pulled up at the kerb, with Semyon realising that they were outside his building. The officer on his left rolled down his window and Semyon watched with confusion as what he recognised as his suitcase was passed through the open window before being dumped in his lap. Korov reached into his overcoat and took out a red and white envelope, the kind used by the state airline for holding tickets. "Your route to Saint Andre, Professor. I'll make sure that you are met on arrival. My man in Saint Andre will give you a further briefing. He will identify himself as your friend in Saint Andre.. I need you to assess the situation yourself. Tell me what is really happening with their oil." The car began to move again. Korov handed another envelope, this time, a buff-coloured one, to Semyon. "These are your instructions, documents and cover story. Memorise it, then give all of your present identification and the contents of this envelope to one of the men who will accompany you to the gate before boarding."

Semyon swallowed. "I don't think they'll let me walk in to their oil facilities."

"I've thought of that." Korov watched the city streets pass by. "I hope you remember what the army taught you about infiltration."

"And if I'm caught?" Semyon asked nervously. Korov reached back and passed him a small white capsule.

"If you're caught, it won't be alive. And remember, the GUVD will take care of your family." Korov turned and smiled. It was not a pleasant smile and Semyon had a bad feeling about exactly how his family would be treated by the GUVD if he was taken alive. Through the windscreen, Oleksy Duov International Airport loomed. The car pulled up to the drop-off zone and the two officers on either side of Semyon got out, one of them holding the door open. "Have a safe trip, Professor." Shaking, Semyon exited the vehicle and watched it drive away before turning to face the dead-eyed stares of the two officers. One of them gestured towards the door to the Departures hall.

Still shaking with nerves, Semyon staggered towards the check-in desks.

In the car, Korov ticked one more box off on the list he had made in his head. Time for another phone call, this time to someone a little less respectable.

Port of Arngorod, Northern Svadyetsk

The black hulls of the cargo ships docked at the loading terminal of Svadyetsk's largest port rose out of the inky water that lapped at the wharves and the concrete pillars sunken into the seabed. The shouts of dockworkers filled the air as crate after crate of weaponry was dragged off the backs of the trucks that had carried them this far before being stacked onto pallets and being hoisted up by the cranes that stood like skeletal birds at the dockside. The massive holds lay open, their steel covers flung aside to give access to the deepest bowels of the gargantuan vessels.Slowly, the level of the crates rose up as the ships were loaded.

Aboard one of the ships, the Novorossiya, Captain Vadim Kleitsin, formerly of the Soviet Navy and the current head of the smuggling operation run by Svadyetsk's biggest organised crime syndicate, pulled his satellite phone from the pocket of his greatcoat and put it to his ear. "Talk," he said.

"It's Korov," the reply came. Vadim swore under his breath. The GUVD turned a blind eye to his activities in exchange for the occasional favour, usually of the not-so-legal kind. He'd dealt with Korov before and it hadn't been pleasant. "What do you want?" Vadim growled, lumbering out of the bridge and onto the gantry that ran around the outside.

"There's something I need you to do when you get to Saint Andre on your current cargo job. Yes, I know about that." Vadim groaned. Nothing was sacred to these people. "I have some people that may need to be extracted from the island if they're compromised and I'd like you and your ship to hang around Saint Andre just in case." There was the sound of what sounded like papers being shuffled. "You'll be paid the usual fee for your services with a bonus if things get hot." There was a click, followed by the dial tone.

Sighing, Vadim headed back inside to brief his crew. The Novorossiya's engines roared into life, her cargo loaded. One by one, the great cargo vessels began to put to sea.

Port of Saint Andre, late night

The man who called himself Henri Dupont turned on his radio. The sound of static filled his tiny one-room apartment overlooking the docks of Saint Andre. Eventually, after enough fiddling, the signal coalesced into the melodies of a Svadyetskan marching song, being broadcast on the nation's overseas radio service. The man who called himself Henri Dupont listened silently, the volume turned down low to avoid disturbing his neighbours, and thought longingly about his home. The song ended, increasing the ache that he felt every time he listened. The next piece was a stirring rendition of a classical piece, another patriotic song commissioned by the government of Svadyetsk. Recognising the tune, the man who called himself Henri Dupont checked his watch and grunted. Plenty of time. He went to the small desk that occupied one corner of his room and opened the bottom drawer, removing the false bottom and extracting a brown leather holster and a pouch of nine-millimetre ammunition. The man who called himself Henri Dupont took his Makarov PB out of the holster, removed the magazine and pulled back the slide, just far enough to check that there was still a round chambered. Gently and precisely, he pressed a cartridge into the magazine, then another, and another, until it was full. The man who called himself Henri Dupont slotted the magazine back into the pistol before taking the silencer out of the holster and screwing it into place. Tucking the pistol into his waistband, the man who called himself Henri Dupont took his jacket from its hook, shrugged it on and stepped out of his apartment.

In the moonlight, the man who called himself Henri Dupont strolled down the quay to his fishing boat, the Belle Marie. Painted red and white, the boat's age showed; rust bloomed in patches and the hull and the windows were cracked and dusty. The man who called himself Henri Dupont climbed the short ladder hanging from the side and found the hatch that led to the hold. In the darkness, he found his way to the freezer bay, a dingy room at sub-zero temperatures loaded with stacks of plastic boxes meant to hold fish, packed like sardines and reaching from floor to ceiling. Shivering in the cold, the man who called himself Henri Dupont shifted a few of the boxes. Before him was a solid wall of plastic crates. He pressed gently on the faded logo of one of the crates that was at chest height. Slowly, the two stacks in the centre of the wall pulled back slightly before pulling aside. The man who called himself Henri Dupont disappeared into the gap, the fake crates sliding back into place behind him.

The man who called himself Henri Dupont sat down in the secret room, a cramped metal box with a secure terminal, a locker filled with various clothes and documents, and a reinforced weapons cage which contained half a dozen rifles, some pistols and several kilos of explosives for sabotage missions. This wasn't always his ship. She was a spy boat, built by the GUVD as a covert patrol vessel to catch smugglers and illegal vessels before being pressed into service in foreign waters. The man who called himself Henri Dupont had been given the boat, which had gone through more names than he had, when he had been assigned to Saint Andre three years ago. The original Belle Marie had gone down with the real Henri Dupont. A quiet man with no family and few friends, he had been chosen by the man who now used his name as the perfect cover identity. After stealing the specifications for the real Belle Marie, the spy ship had been modified to pass as the fishing boat. Everything in place, the real Henri Dupont had had a brief and unpleasant encounter with his doppelganger, who had been called Tobias Hansen at the time, one day when he went out to sea, shortly before the genuine Belle Marie was scuttled in a deep and rarely travelled part of the seas around Saint Andre.

The terminal winked into life and the man who called himself Henri Dupont began to read his instructions, transmitted on a secure channel and encrypted to the highest standard.

To: SPECTRE 29
From: CENTRE
Encryption: ULTRA

CENTRE believes that current situation in SAINT ANDRE has become untenable. Orders are to investigate true status of Saint Andrean oil industry. EXPERT has been dispatched by CENTRE. Details of rendezvous enclosed. Accompany EXPERT on covert reconnaissance of oil industry. EXPERT must carry out analysis of current production, oil reserve levels, equipment status, et cetera.

Observe extreme caution. If you are compromised, CENTRE will disavow all knowledge. Motherland must not be implicated. Measures are in place for extraction. Eliminate EXPERT if no alternative is available.

Further instructions to follow.

Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Duovograd

Viktor Yegorev read through the communique from the Saint Andrean government and picked up his phone.

"The General Secretary and President is in a meeting. One moment please." Viktor rolled his eyes. The strains of the national anthem began to issue from the speaker.

There was a click. General Secretary and President Alexei Petrov picked up. "Yes, Viktor? I trust our friends on the island have made a reply?"

"Yes, Comrade Leader." Viktor took a deep breath. "They want to develop their relationship with us and start bilateral talks about oil exports and investment in their industries. They have indicated that they are ready to meet a delegate from our country in regard to these talks."

There was silence on the other end. Viktor wondered if he had been disconnected or if the General Secretary and President had simply hung up on him. Eventually, Petrov spoke. "I have a memo from Gennady here. It lays out his suspicions regarding the current situation in Saint Andre which are echoed in the latest report submitted by the head of the GUVD."

"Ah." Viktor felt faint, wondering if he was coming across as gullible. "What should I say by way of a reply?"

"Tell them that we are delighted at this opportunity and that you yourself will be travelling as part of a delegation to discuss trade with them." The Ministry of Trade had long ago been amalgamated into the Ministry of Foreign Affairs but nobody had ever gotten around to updating the ministry name or the headed notepaper.

"I see." Viktor looked doubtful, not that Petrov could see it. "If Gennady thinks they're being untruthful, why are we looking like we believe them?" Petrov was known for placing great trust in the wisdom of Gennady Lasko. "I assume our friends in the GUVD will be quite happy to export ideology alongside everything else we send them."

"Correct. However, you're a smart man. I suspect that you would be able to see what they're not being entirely honest about and report back to me on what the higher-ups are saying. Also, we need to cover our bases in case the current problem is only temporary and the Saint Andreans haven't been producing lots of hot air."

"Yes, Comrade Leader." Viktor hung up the phone and began making his travel arrangements. After arranging for his duties to be covered during the expected period of absence, he began to draft the reply to the Saint Andrean government.

To: The government of Saint Andre
From: Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the United Soviet States
Subject: Trade Talks
Encryption: LOW

The United Soviet States of Svadyetsk is pleased at the opportunity to further ties with your august nation. In order to negotiate a satisfactory trade deal, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs would like to send a trade delegation as well as a cultural exchange to the Republic of Saint Andre. Even if trade talks prove unproductive, we would be glad of the opportunity to promote friendship between our two nations.

The delegation that we propose to send will consist of myself, the Minister of Foreign Affairs; representatives of the industries of the United Soviet States; and legal consultants. The proposed cultural exchange will consist of some of the most celebrated artists and musicians in the United Soviet States as well as historians. In addition, units of the GUVD Diplomatic Protection Service will accompany the delegation.

Viktor Yegorev
Minister of Foreign Affairs of the United Soviet States

by **McNernia** » Tue Dec 31, 2019 7:02 pm

Cathcride Mcnernia
PMs Residence (Bethelford Manor)
Cathcride Mcnernia
"About three days ago Nuveau Pétrol decided to reduce output of crude oil. The move was followed by Black Sands and MesaCo within a two-hour window, followed by GulfCo and Pétrol Generale within a six-hour window. As you know Prime Minister oil is a major part of the economy of the Republic of Inyursta and a decent supplier….”

“And what of our banks?”

“There is of course concern from the Finance and Treasury Ministry that there will be a problem. A few delayed payments…though the problem is in Saint Andre itself with the food seizure, that country may have growing troubles. And knock on effects but nothing more than that.”

Shapter nodded looking at the aide and looking to the steaming bowl of soup. He looked at the report the aide had place in front of him. “I and G probably won’t be too happy.” I and G, International and General Petroleum had wanted to get into the market for Inyrustan petroleum but had been rebuffed and had been forced to look elsewhere. Notably the Polarian market which was growing due to Fracking. But was poised to shift. The greens had picked up several seats in Polarias parliament. Conservatives were on the backfoot there. Which meant an allied government would be having problems and the New World nations could turn on older world nations. SACTO was somewhat tenuous at times. Weak was what was the world said about the alliance. Republicans and monarchists and theocrats. Though the latter two would deny it.

“Tell the people to remain calm, keep an eye on this situation….” He looked up from the data, spreadsheets and numbers, charts of the consumption of fuel by the nation. With a Navy like what the Mcnernians had it would be a simple matter to handle fuel. Army, Navy, Marines, Coast Guard, more petroleum and in addition the Air Force.

“Sir the situation is not really known outside of Merchant Marine and I and G when the tanker International Enterprise returned with a load with a high price tag beyond normal.”
“Nuclear powered.” Said Shapter looking at the specifications for the Behemoth sized vessel built to go interregional.

“We will have to have a talk with the Inyurstans as well…why did the Republic of Saint Andre shut off the sale of oil.”

“Id like to know that as well…I would indeed.” Said Shapter looking at the report and handing it back to the aide.

Mcnernian Embassy
Republic of Saint Andre

The security team was small as the little oil supplying country was not deemed to be a adverse environment. Something had happened as they had shut off the sale of oil and that had been a problem. Now there was a report that tankers had been sent back from Inyursta some 36 to forty eight hours ahead of schedule. something was up with the whole situation in this country and the riots had proven it. The sounds of gas and rubber bullets had dissipated a after a while and now the Ambassador looked at the Communique.

He smiled. “At last we can get some damn answers.” A smile split his face; he had served as a reservist during the Incident. A euphemism for a massive insurgency. And had gained scars.

[align=center] OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE OF THE KINGDOM OF MCNERNIA
HM EMBASSY TO THE REPUBLIC OF SAINT ANDRE
[/center]
TO: The Office of the Foreign Minister of the Republic of St Andre
FROM: Ambassador Sir Keith MacHolt
SUB: Conference
SEC: STANDARD

Greetings
My thanks for the reply on a desire for a conference. I wonder if we might have a scheduled time for the meeting and where it would be. Security in this time is of the utmost concern.
Signed

Sir Keith MacHolt

Ambassador of the Kingdom of Mcnernia to the Republic of St Andre

by **Stoklomolvi** » Wed Jan 01, 2020 4:58 pm

Vladistov Kremlin, Vladistov, Stoklomolvi
1021 hours, local time, clear weather

"Next item of discussion is the issue surrounding our good friends in the Republic Saint Andre."

Commissar Vladimir Stuyonovich changed the projection to a picture of the island of Saint Andre. "The Saint Andrean president has believed us when we said that we were assured that they have handled the situation on their island. As a result, they have granted Commissar Yuri Ivanov access to their country and he is currently en route as we speak."

The other Commissars in the room nodded approvingly. Foreign Affairs Commissar Sergei Stuyonovich looked smug as always.

"However, we have another problem. As we can see from the number of responses by the Republic of Saint Andre to foreign entities, particularly ones that seem to be sent in reply to something that we cannot see, there exists an increasing interest in the Saint Andrean petroleum extraction problem."

Commissar V. Stuyonovich proceeded to reveal on the wall a number of unencrypted messages sent by Saint Andre to messages whose contents were unknown. "One of the messages is addressed to 'Energia, plc.', an energy corporation we know is based in the Democratic Kingdom of Kenmoria. The other is addressed to 'Nuveau Petrol, LLC', an Inyurstan company. Now, we know that from their business dealings in the arms industry, namely that they offer discounted rates to members of a so-called 'Santiago Cooperation Pact', which, as we all know, appears to be some early form of the modern 'Santiago Anti-Communist Treaty Organisation'. What this fact means, then, is that since the country of Inyursta is somehow involved in this mess, as is Nifon, that SACTO is involved. Based on our intelligence, SACTO is a direct threat to our existence since they, for some reason, brand us as communists."

Commissar S. Stuyonovich groaned. "They continue to delude themselves into thinking that everyone against them is a communist. However, I don't think they have a grasp on our involvement yet, so I believe we should keep it that way for the time being. It would make handling the Saint Andrean government more complicated if a separate conflict were to arise from our presence."

"Even if it were more complicated, the gears have already been set in motion," said Commissar V. Stuyonovich. "We have sent a man to Saint Andre under the pretence of advising their government on the topic of petroleum extraction. We can't recall him now and jeopardise his safety. Besides, our plans have yet to be compromised, and we have no intentions that can be misconstrued as of yet." He changed the projection to the next image of the Saint Andrean island. Commerce Commissar Wang stood and started pointing at the wall with a laser pointer.

"Commissar Ivanov is likely to arrive sometime within the next day or so," she said, nervously tapping her pen on the table. "However, I have less promising news. Our contacts in Saint Andrea report that the National Union of the Gas and Petrol Labour Union, apparently abbreviated to UGPL, have demanded what is basically a vote of no confidence in President Neri. Should that event unfold as it often does, then we will likely see the country not only economically collapse but also fracture into a civil war. I hope our economic ventures can succeed before the country's institutions collapse, as that would make our job that much more difficult."

Shaking his head, National Defence Commissar Bogdanov changed the projection back to that of the Saint Andrean messages. "Not only difficult, nigh impossible. The destabilisation of Saint Andre will enable members of SACTO to establish their positions Saint Andre that much more easily. I recommend we place units within a few days' travel time of Saint Andre on high alert, just in case force is necessary to either re-stabilise Saint Andre or, more importantly, safely extract Commissar Ivanov from the country."

Commissar V. Stuyonovich nodded. "Yes, the safety of Commissar Ivanov is paramount, as is the safety of all our men involved. Unfortunately, I don't think we can guarantee anything at this time. We will simply have to place our hopes on Commissar Ivanov's skill as a negotiator. With that, if there are no further objections, this meeting is adjourned." He stood up, looking at each of the other Commissars.

The members of the State Council started to stand up and make their way towards the doors.

Saint Andrean airspace
0400 hours, local time, clear weather

"Everything all right, Commissar Ivanov?"

Commissar Ivanov turned to look towards the flight attendant. He sighed. "I am rather nervous about this whole expedition," he said. "It seems the State Council all believe that my safety could potentially be at risk, but have sworn to protect me. I have my doubts, is all."

She sat at the table with him, pushing a cup of tea in his direction. "Well, I have seen many successful expeditions. Hopefully, this expedition will be yet another." She poured a cup of tea for herself as well. "I salute you, Commissar Ivanov, for willingly undertaking your task. It takes bravery to accept a mission despite the fears."

He looked out the window. Endless ocean abounded beneath him. "I hope so, Miss Yang. I really do..." He sipped from his tea. She watched him for a while, and then stood.

"Best of luck to you, Commissar Ivanov," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks."

He went back to staring outside. He never did like flying much, but his job forced him to fly everywhere. And now, he was being flown somewhere he knew had risks.

The pilot of the aircraft radioed for a control tower, asking for permission to land and directions to approach a usable runway.

by **Kenmoria** » Sat Jan 04, 2020 4:09 am

Kenmoria, Energia plc. Headquarters

“They refused us! How could they?” The CEO of Energia, a small man with a rat-like face and distinct lack of hair, thumped the desk with anger. Since the response from Saint Andre had been received, the businessman had spent the vast majority of his time during the nation in a barely-coherent torrent of English and French. It was not so much the actual result, the corporation was refused all the time, more the tone with which it was sent. Not even a “sorry”, just a point-blank failure to take Energia’s hand into the future. “Minor disturbances” the politicians had called it. If that were the case, why was there rioting in the streets?

“Good-for-nothing Communist scum!” Echoed around the large, ornate meeting room, before travelling down the hallway and slightly frightening those walking in the corridor outside. Unsurprisingly, for an ultracapitalist nation, being any sort of socialist or communist was one of the worst crimes that a person could commit. It didn’t necessarily matter how truthful the accusation was, refusing to deal with a corporation was a surefire sign of communist tendencies in some people’s eyes. Nevertheless, the CEO of Energia was willing to overlook even unionisation, if it meant that money could be earned. The UGPL may have been composed of the left-wing, a sworn enemy of Kenmorian businesses, but that wasn’t to say it didn’t hold valuable economic opportunities.

That was the new plan for Energia, a high-publicity move against the tyranny of the President via support for his opposition. Although the UGPL didn’t have much money, it surely had enough to buy at least some petroleum for low prices. However, that would’ve been hasty, and the CEO was in no mood for recklessness. First, the company would offer some security and assistance, nothing more than a few subcontracted goons for the defence of the protesters. To the eyes of the world, they would, of course, be international observers maintaining peace on the streets of Saint Andre. To the eyes of the protesters, they would hopefully be salvation from police brutality and a service they would be willing to pay thousands for.

Once there, the corporation could begin the sale of petroleum to the protesters, starting off at obscene discounts but ending with ridiculous inflation. First, however, was the wait. The company needed to see whether or not the government would succeed in driving the UGPL out of Saint Andre before being willing to back them up with armed assistance.

by **Svadyetsk** » Sat Jan 04, 2020 7:21 pm

Saint Andrean waters, early morning

The man who called himself Henri Dupont whistled softly to himself as the Belle Marie puttered along, the little ship seeming to struggle under the laboured efforts of its seemingly small and underpowered engine. In the distance, the frames of Saint Andre's oil platforms rose above the water, black silhouettes against the dark skies. The man who called himself Henri Dupont released the throttle, bringing the little boat idling to a halt. When the boat's forward motion had ceased, he exited the grotty pilothouse and began to fish, throwing out his rather small net. For about an hour, he worked quietly, bringing in small catches which he placed into a plastic crate. When the crate was full, the man who called himself Henri Dupont picked it up and made his way down to the hold. After depositing the crate, he returned to the deck and stood, briefly scanning the horizon in search of patrol boats.

Seeing nothing immediately obvious, the man who called himself Henri Dupont headed back into the pilothouse and picked up his binoculars. After wiping the windows down to remove the grime, the man who called himself Henri Dupont trained the binoculars on the distant oil derricks, searching for signs of activity as well as the security arrangements protecting the rigs. Given the current state of affairs, people all over would be curious about what was going on. One man looking at the rigs wouldn't be too unusual. And fishermen were known for being out at all hours so his boat wouldn't seem out of place. Still, he kept the net down and checked it frequently. If anyone checked when he got back to port, he'd have a decent haul of fish to show to any officials nosing around. And if anyone got wise to the secret room with its stash of equipment? Well, there was always the Makarov PB tucked into the back of his trousers.

A red light flashed on the main console, seeming to indicate a fault of some kind. The man who called himself Henri Dupont put away his binoculars and headed down into his secret room. The secure terminal was lit. A message, not too urgent. He had the details of the flight that the specialist would be coming in on as well as his name. Not that that mattered to the man who called himself Henri Dupont. The last transmission had included the date: later today. Now he knew when he had to show up at the airport. The man who called himself Henri Dupont grunted in acknowledgement, let himself out of the hidden compartment and returned to his surveillance.

The Atlantic Ocean

Far from shore, the convoy of Svadyetskan ships sailed onwards, bound for Saint Andre. Land had disappeared along with the daylight several hours earlier. In the pitch darkness, it was hard to see where the sky ended and the inky waters of the Atlantic began. The lights of the ships shone faintly. The convoy consisted of a dozen massive cargo vessels, protected by a solitary cruiser. The Soviet Navy wasn't expecting anyone to try and sink the convoy. After all, there wasn't an actual war going on. Yet.

Over a hundred kilometres away, a single passenger jet screamed through the sky, also heading to Saint Andre. Among the handful of returning Saint Andreans, amateur journalists and tourists too stubborn to cancel their travel plans, Semyon Posnikov, now named Semyon Ivanov if you looked at his documents, struggled fitfully to grab a moment's rest, plagued by the uncomfortable seating as much as by the gnawing fear of his situation. This was the third flight he'd been on in under a day. The Lieutenant General hadn't been generous enough to afford decent travel. In fact, he probably thought that Semyon would look more convincing if he, a supposed holidaymaker visiting a friend on Saint Andre, arrived in coach and looking as if he hadn't slept in twenty-four hours. Which he hadn't.

He could have run away. Semyon was sure of that. Neither of the two musclemen who had made sure that he'd boarded the first flight had accompanied him outside Svadyetskan borders. He could have slipped out at his first transfer airport, or the one after that. He wasn't a spy. He wasn't even a patriot. He'd been forced into it and he had no obligation to do as he'd been told. The only thing keeping him on the course that had been dictated to him was fear. If he ran, the GUVD would find him. Not only that, they'd punish his family, his friends, maybe they'd even keep them until the day they caught him just so that he could watch them die. The Lieutenant General would hunt him to the ends of the earth if Semyon fled from him. No. He'd have to keep going. There was no escape now, anyway. The Lieutenant General had told him that someone would meet him and he didn't know who he'd have to avoid or even how to get out of the country once he'd gotten there.

by **McNernia** » Mon Jan 06, 2020 2:15 pm

OOC: Co Written with Saint Andre
St Andre
Ambassador Sir Kieth MacHolt

The Ambassador would be most interested and eager to talk to the Foreign Minister of the Republic. A tanker had returned to the International and General Refinery in the mouth of the Thaldon with the news that Inyursta had raised the price and cut the output. As he was through the streets of the capital. MacHolt looked at the Gendarmes on duty and the signs of protest, debris that was scattered around being picked up by the sanitation workers. The Mcnernian flag flew alongside the Republics on the car and the streets had been cleared and the Gendarmes assured the Embassy security chief that there was no problem. The Ambassadors car approached the Foreign Ministry.

To the surprise of some, the premises of the Ministry weren't guarded by the Gendarmerie troops. Instead, the protection of the building and the minister was provided by the Air Army troops. They were probably detached from one of the security squadrons.

One of the members of this out-of-ordinary security detail approached the car. His insignia marked him as a Chief Sergeant. "McNernians?" He asked. "Please, follow us inside."

The driver rolled down the window and handed the paperwork to the guard. “Yes sargent, transporting the Ambassador, I am told that we are expected.” The Ambassador would accept the opening of the door and there would also be a bodyguard (I don't really know if that would be the case) The Ambassador and his bodyguard would follow the Chief Sergeant inside, betraying no visible concern as the presence of an out of the ordinary force showed that there was potential problems.

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs was a colonial-era neoclassical building. Its rich interior contrasted sharply with the situation outside. The McNernian Ambassador and his companions were led into the Minister’s office. The Minister of Foreign Affairs, Jean-Pierre Boulle, was already waiting for them. He approached the McNernian ambassador and offered a handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir MacHolt. What’s the matter?”

MacHolt shook the Foreign Ministers hand “Its Sir Kieth MacHolt and the concern is the presence of Air Force security is concerning instead of the usual gendarmes but my government is more concerned with the fact that the oil is not being sold. And then the Inyurstans proceed to increase the price and cut rate of extraction by about half within a few hours.” he paused. “We of course want to know what is going on...so we can offer what assistance we can.”

“My greatest apologies.” Responded Boulle. “Your anglo names can be sometimes really confusing.”

“All fine I assure you Foriegn Minister.” Said the Ambassador.

“Anyway.” Continued the Minister. “While it’s true we have some problems with the oil production… we know nothing about the Inyurstas actions.” He paused. “And about your question regarding the Air Force troops… They are here because I personally requested them. Nothing more.”

“Right, I understand that the Unions have been a concern?” MacHolt and his reservists had been tasked primarily with containing the odd communist protest. “My Government is inclined to believe that the oil is to be restored or compensation be offered to corporations promised sales of crude or other products.”

“Of course. Once we get the oil flowing again that is.” The Minister paused and looked around the room. Then he looked at one of the Air Force security members, an officer holding the rank of captain. The officer then nodded back. “I believe there’s a way in which you could assist us in this matter.”

“Name it.” Said MacHolt visibly interested and he looked at the Foreign Minister. “Our objective is the restoration of order.”

“You see,” Minister responded rather nervously. “Me… and a few other government officials question the ability of monsieur President Neri to handle the situation. There are some options… That President does not consider to use.” Minister paused again, awaiting ambassadors reaction.

“Go on.” The Ambassador prompted. Steepling his fingers and leaning back in the chair.

“You see,” Repeated the minister. “We believe that while the crude oil extraction is… well, problematic… Shale oil could be more… accessible… We unfortunately lack… the technology… not to mention… President is rather… environmentally-conscious... Maybe too much.“

“I had other things come to mind...but well I suppose I could relay to the government that you need technology but if you are looking for Shale oil the fact of the matter is that you….don’t have any oil.” Everything had been confirmed and the Ambassador smiled sadly. This would be a problem. “Or maybe your just having union trouble or something. My government and the Dominion of Polaria would be receptive to the prospect of a technology sharing agreement.”

Jean-Pierre Boulle gulped nervously. “That’s great, really great… But before that happens. It would be wise to send us an… experts… that could size-up the capabilities of shale oil extraction operations on the island. In the meanwhile… my colleagues will try to persuade the President to make the right choice.”

“That can be arranged, Visas and such I take it you can handle.” Said MacHolt. Not really knowing what Cathcride would do about the situation.

“Of course, I can handle the visas. But their presence should remain unbeknownst to the President. At least for now.”

“Alright then. If your people can see to that, I do believe that we can get onto the next phase of the plan.” MacHolt made to shake hands with the Foreign Minister. “All of our conversation will be going to the PM of course.”

The Ministers nodded. “Of course… In that case, I believe our meeting can be adjourned.”

The Ambassador would take his leave most eager to make his report. Traveling back to the Embassy by a different route. The conversation recorded by his aide. It would be marked Most Secret.

by **Inyourfaceistan** » Tue Jan 07, 2020 2:50 am

Sierra Miraco, Marindino Centrele; Inyursta

The Sierra Miraco were an ancient and well-worn series of ridges that had once split from the great cordillera which ran the length of La America Libre and had split off due to heavy volcanic activity sometime long before man had arrived on the continent. These mountains had once been the domain of powerful Coacuendo war chiefs, only to then be used as a hold-out by early colonist rebels against the foreign crown, and then counter-revolutionary forces revolting against an oppressive marxist traitor regime in the early 60's. Now they were the stronghold and height of Inyursta's power projection, as well as a powerful bastion of SACTO influence in the New World.

Joint Base Montegriz was one such installation, comprised of a massive radar dish facing up into the sky. From below, the installation looked like a giant bowl with an upward-pointing antenna at the center with square specs of stucco buildings dotting the hillsides intermittently. Most of these buildings were, of course, decoys for the real intelligence gathering, disseminating and distributing that went on below the surface.

Despite being a base host to all three-and-two-halves of the Inyurstan Armed Forces, the facility was officially staffed by and under the command of the Aeroforca. So when a new set of coded orders arrived via an encrypted landline, it was an air force Colonel ironically yet fittingly named Sierra Mendes who received the the final translated copy. She summoned her subordinates and quickly shredded and burned the document while she awaited their arrival.
"Castille is giving us 36 hours to provide target profiles of every satellite that has or will pass through the AO of Sea-Section 7, priority to those in geosynchronous orbit over Saint Andre. I want it them ready in 24... Dismissed."

Universite National de Bernardo Lafayette, Juanare; Inyursta

Four students somewhere between what would be considered their sophomore or junior year in college sat out in a small mini-plaza consisting of a building which had once been the student union, but was now just a hang-out spot for clubs and various card gamers, the back entrance to the biblioteque, two food stands and a garden row. All four were wearing light gray vests and white collared shirts, while the men wore khakis and oxfords and the girls wore pleated skirts and ballet flats - a sign of the dress codes Inyurstan publicly-funded universities held.

"Ughhh I got a 64 on that stupid essay!" Javier, with curly brown hair snacking on a thinly-sliced ham croissant said, complaining about the class they had all departed from.
"Why did you even take this class? You don't need Political Science credits, you're a Chemistry major!" Eliza, with straight black hair and a spiced fruit popsicle asked her friend.
"Because you were in it!" Tony, with black, spiked hair leaning to the right joked, causing Javier to roll his eyes while both girls laughed.
"Yeah, speaking of crushes, I cant tell if Professeuro Arrend has a hate-boner or a man-crush on the president..." Ximena-Marie, the last one in the group with a dark brown, wavy ponytail spoke up about their flamboyant professor of political philosophy.
"JO SAIS, VRAIZ?" Eliza responded, agreeing with her sentiment.
"When we started the class he was bitching hard about his social policy, then he went to cooing COSTAL and the Bashryyian Crisis, now he's back to hating Calderone again." Javier added.
"Because he's an Entropisto" Tony casually said as he sipped down his can of guanabana juice.
"He's a what?"
"An Entropisto. Arrend."
"What's that?" Ximena-Marie asked.
"Someone who loves chaos. They believe instability is the natural way."
"So like an anarchist?"
"Not really. Anarchists hate hierarchy but they don't want instability or disorder, Entropistos want dissary and lawless but don't care about hierarchy or equitable outcomes."
"So what does that have to do with the president?" Javier asked.
"It has to do with how Professuro Hipster-Glasses views him. Domestically, Calderone is an agent of stability and order. A reactionary who want's to preserve the latino homestead model but will settle for the Yanqui nuclear family model. But internationally, the man is basically an 8-ball of fire. Calderone and his close circle of enablers seem to make it their goal to upset the international order and break international law for no other reason than to break the law."
"So Calderone is an international Entropisto?"
"I'd argue he's a Realist, just one willing to break the rules he sees as powerless." Eliza gave her input.
"Thats the problem with any leader who breaks rules and employs chaos. Its hard to tell if anything they do is an act towards a specific goal, an unintentional blunder, or just because because they love chaos." Tony continued to explain.
"So what do you think, Mr. Expert man?" Javier challenged.
"I think the professor is a loony putz, but he will give easy grades if you tell him what we wants to hear."
"No! The president!"
"I think the president is the kind of person who likes that no one can tell if he's an agent of chaos or acting towards a specific goal..."

by **McNernia** » Wed Jan 08, 2020 3:22 pm

Don’t Ever Throw Petrol on a Fire.
-Common Wisdom

The Cabinet Room-Bethelford Manor[/center]

PMs Cabinet Meeting Room
Bethelford Manor

“This is the last thing we need.” First it was a Head of State of questionable stability with a powerful foreign interest clawing for influence in the court. Then it was the PM having a nervous breakdown with an old ally and then that old ally going to war due to that Government interfering with another sovereign state. Now a major oil supplier had all but admitted to going offline…. not good, not good at all….

Shapter looked up at the screen with MacHolt, sitting with the Defense Minister and the Lord President of the Council and the Foreign Minister and the Minister of Agriculture and Land who was responsible for the import of oil. And Mcnernias own oil supply. “Jesse how would the oil supply handle a complete cut off if let’s say God Forbid the Reds took over and threatened to nuke Kojiro to get him to let up on the Wenchuani Peoples Republic?”

Jesse Caldean raised an eyebrow and was inclined to believe the PM was dealing in hypotheticals, but the MP and former engineer of agricultural systems elected to humor his employer. “Well to be frank, we would need to ration it to guarantee it, I’d need to crunch numbers, but I will say that rationing is definitely in the cards.

“The Polarians, Ive met with the Royal Commissioner and he is most inclined to cooperate.” Said Samantha Calgran, the Calgrans were donors to the party and the fact that her sister was courting a Flag officer meant that the Military was perhaps going to spill the beans to her sister on any coup attempts against the Parliament….but the oil crisis had to be sorted out, it was dark out and the PM wanted to get to sleep as there was the problem and there was a solution.

“Tell the folks over at I and G that we have the score of a lifetime seeing as the Saint Andreians need their shale oil extracted.”

“Yes sir.” Said Caldean who got up and left. Shapter turned to Calgran.

“Write a letter to the Inyurstans and the Nifonese they may be concerned about this, what impacts one oil country may impact another…I feel it’s only prudent that we share with the other governments in SACTO the fact that the St Andreians have run out of oil.”

“Yes sir.” The Foreign Minister left with Shapter watching her intently. Making sure she would not f--k this up would be key.

The Lord President looked at the PM. The Bishop had been chastised for his failure regarding the prince being handed off to the Cornellians. There was the look of concern on the Bishops face. The man looked at the PM.
“Inform the King of this…or his Brother Frederick or Admiral Macnarin.”

“Of course.”

The Minister of Defense watched the Bishop go.

“I don’t like him Al…those Society of Jesus types always have it out for someone.”

“Be that as it may, I need a military option…. possibly going to have to intervene."

“Of course.”

The PM received a briefing from the Minister of Defense on the issue of the Republic of Saint Andre if there was the worst. A task force could commence the securing of the island with the PMs order and a potential fuel rationing. Though a fuel rationing was less likely if the Polarians were able to keep up the exportation of the proper amount of fuel. And Caldean had informed him that there was the possibility of rationing but that was not going to happen yet.

OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE OF THE KINGDOM OF MCNERNIA

TO:The External Affairs Minister of Nifon the Honorable Tokugawa Asuka, 10th Baroness of Kariwa, The Foreign Minister of the Republic of Inyursta Fransico Ardonnéz
FROM:Samathan Calgran, Foreign Minister of the Kingdom of Mcnernia
CC:
SUB:The Current Situation-Re: Saint Andre Oil Crisis
SEC:SECRET TRANSMISSION MINISTERIAL EYES ONLY

Greetings
Recently the Foreign Minister of the Republic of Saint Andre confessed to our Ambassador to the Republic that there is a need to assess the levels of Shale Oil present in the country. To HM Government this is as good as any admission that the reserves of the Republic are gone. And in need of Immediate replacement. The Foreign Minister requested that experts be dispatched with all due haste to ensure that the Shale Oil can compensate for the loss of Crude.
HM Government wishes to formulate a joint plan of action so that we might come to some agreement about the future of a major oil supplier. We will dispatch experts as requested but wish to consult with our allies about the long-term plan.

Sincerely
S.Calgran, Foreign Minister

The I and G Conference Room- Commonwealth Building, Cathcride

Meeting of I and G Board of Directors
Cathcride, Mcnernia

“So they want their Shale Oil appraised….” Alistair Sciathdeargs son Godfrey leaned back in the chair at the head of the table. I and G enterprises was a vast conglomerate that had a Royal Warrant during the old days to handle Oil in the colonies before the pressures of decolonization had caught up to Mcnernia as it did to all countries. The I and G company now provided financial products to many including to the governments of those former colonies as they were as ever seeking to recover and move up in the world. The members of the board looked at the suited and aloof blonde man expectantly. There had been rumors surrounding his birth and the board members were rather in awe of the man from head office.
“Shall we send a full exploratory group?”
“We need guarantees, If I know Shapter he will want to split it three ways with the Nifonese and the Inyurstans, make overtures, the Cornellian bungling really set us back and caused a lot problems.”

All heads nodded at this, the PM previously had failed to deliver, an aircraft ban from the OAS and the resulting Cornellian war had caused no end of problems. A spike at the pump from the consumers had been the worst problems en masse. But I and G had been hit hard as the Libertarians had offered the conservatives a lot of bills for the regulation of corporations and the Sciathdeargs had business with Amihan Russel. Namely for the death of their English kin but the man also was sitting on a rather large fortune that would go well to the Sciathdearg Resources. But the current situation was the concern. “I will inform my father.” Was all that he would say.

TO:Foreign Minister Jean-Pierre Boulle, Rep of Saint Andre
FROM:Alistair Sciathdearg, Chairman and Owner of I and G Enterprises, Parent Company of I and G petroleum
SUB:Shale Oil
SEC:SECRET
Greetings
Mr. Foreign Minister the Government has informed us of this opportunity you bring to us, the dispatch of experts to assist in assessment of the Shale Oil reserves on your island shall come from us. The Government may have other requirements for the situation to be resolved properly but International and General Petroleum is not that. We would merely like a guarantee of acess to the Shale, rest assured your government will be suitably compensated for our acess. I cannot speak for what the government may ask of you. We also understand that our presence is not authorized by the President and we would like your guarantee that we will not be detected for as long as possible.
Sincerely
-A.Sciathdearg, Chairman and Owner of International and General Petroleum

by **The Cardwith Islands** » Sun Jan 12, 2020 9:05 am

Capital Airport, St. Andre

They had flown in commercially, making several connections from Bratislava, both out of necessity due to distance, and also to throw off any backtracking that might occur after the fact. Two stops in, they had switched up identities and papers before hopping onto the next connection.

There were four of them. The two women, Sholana and Marguerite, flew up in Business Class. Sholana had a Kenegan passport listing her name as Siara Hartger, while Marguerite bore a Shalumite passport that claimed her to be Ute Bergmann. Both bore business cards with the same names that boasted their business - ShipTin, as marketing shipping containers. It was the perfect cover to explain their business with their contact.

The other two in Economy Class also had matching covers, with each other but not the women. Their business, Thrill Tours LLC, was listed as travel agents looking for a new ‘high-adrenaline’ thrill jockey tourist destination for clients. With the troubles that Saint Andre was going through recently, it certainly qualified as such a destination.

One man, who went by ‘Vale’, was a tall Nordic with reddish-blonde hair and a close-cropped matching beard. The other was a darker-skinned man of average height with tight curly hair, much like his countrywoman, Sholana. He was known as ‘Adder’. Both wore casual business attire. In reality, Vale was a Yellowsian RLO officer and Adder was a Cardwithian CID officer dedicated to the world socialist revolution and the ISC/ISVC which would bring that about. They would do some scouting of their own as a secondary mission, but their primary mission was to protect the two women upfront, not that Sholana needed protecting as she could fend off ten hostile men on her own.

What all four had in common was legitimate visas issued by the Saint Andrean government and obtained under false pretenses to solidify their covers. It was enough to allow them to breeze through customs.

Due to the petrol usage bans across the Island, they would need to rely on public transportation. The buses were reportedly on an unreliable schedule, so the train was the next best option. There was one that would head towards Le Moule in one hour after their arrival. Luckily it was still a popular tourist destination, being on a picturesque peninsula.

They made sure to book tickets at the station, the two groups being sure to stay far away from each other. The men were able to get two of the last tickets out, almost waiting until too late. The men and women ended up sitting two cars away from each other on the ride out.

Le Moule, St. Andre

They arrived in the small fishing town down the coast and out at the tip of the peninsula. Adder and Vale left the station first and headed out into the town so that they could set up ahead of the meet, in order to case the building that ‘Siara’ and ‘Ute’ might get trapped in, should things go south.

They took vantage points - Adder from an alley and Vale from a tavern across the street. Sholana and Marguerite had confidence in their covers if they were stopped. They both bore bags that were between a large purse and small satchel. Sholana had a pair of scissors in hers she had swiped off an unmanned lost baggage claim desk at the airport after they cleared customs. Nobody was packing a firearm...yet. They hoped to remedy that soon enough when the CAIF Team would arrive via boat.

Sholana looked to her Gylian companion for the journey here as they were walking towards their meet down the sidewalk. She didn’t whisper, but spoke in low tones that wouldn’t carry.

“I know all this spycraft stuff is a bit new to you, but I think you’re holding up well. How are you feeling?”

“I’m pretty calm,” said Marguerite similarly quietly, “though I won’t deny, c’est un peu nerveuse.” She smiled. “I had to spend the flight getting used to pretending I’m German.”

Marguerite was Gylian, so she’d learned from an early age how to play with images and stereotypes of ethnic groups in a light-hearted and friendly way. Hopefully, it travelled across the linguistic boundary.

There were rules to it — you had to be friends with somebody, to have built up trust, before you could start, and then you had to practice slowly, to learn how to play with ideas in a way that made it clear you were mocking the people who held shallow stereotypes, rather than propagating said stereotypes. In her case, she was going for the incongruity caused from juxtaposing the perceptions of the French and Germans.

Sholana paused, as they were almost there and she didn’t want their discussion overheard at the front door of their contact. She kept to the same low tone, practiced to be far less noticeable to the human ear than a higher pitch:

“I understand. Listen, Ute (she stuck to their cover names)...You have to realize that the chances of you getting approached by someone to test your German, especially in this town, is lower than me getting struck by a shark travelling down a lightning bolt to devour me. However, you being relied upon for your French linguistic skills is almost 100% part of why you’re here. The other is your skills with dealing with labor unions. You got this. Solid. You don’t need to sweat anything. If we get into trouble, me, Vale or Adder are putting a big ol’ bullet through their head and we’re dust clouds. All good. So...Yeah. We got this. Deep breath girl. Here we go.”

Marguerite smiled and nodded. She did make a sharper intake of breath through her nose, and thought We’re solid. It felt a bit like the joke managed to dissipate some of her nerves.

They stepped up to the door of the small three flat and rang the buzzer of their contact, the man who would hopefully take over the leadership of the oil workers union now that Auger had been dumped.

A man in his late twenties answered the bell. He didn’t look like a union boss at all. He rather vulgarly exclaimed. "What do you want?!"

Sholana and Marguerite glanced at each other and smiled uneasily. Sholana took the lead, continuing to smile wider.

“Um...we’re from ShipTin. We had an appointment? We were invited here today in order to work out a deal with the union to maybe influence the company to use our containers.” She leaned in closer to the young man.
“We hoped the weather would hold so that we could talk about certain points”
It was the catchphrase that was the code word for their meet. If he didn’t respond right, they were at the wrong door, he was the wrong man, or he’d been compromised and was waving them off.

"ShipTin? I never heard of such a comp-" Before he could finish his answer a much older voice came from behind him. "Hold it, son, this is for me." An older Caucasian man appears in the doorway. "It's good that you have arrived. I saw storm clouds on the horizon." He said and then looked at the younger man. "Dominique, I need this meeting to be discreet." The young man startled a bit, but then nodded a wandered off towards the town.

The man, who seemed to be in his fifties, then glanced at the group of ISC members. "Please come in."

Sholana waved Marguerite in before her, then followed. She continued to speak for the both of them, noting Margie’s anxious silence. Internally she winced at not noting the age difference of the young man who answered the door and their profiled contact.
“Yes. We would like to be inside before the storm hits. We forgot our umbrellas.”

Once they were inside in the parlor, she spoke again.
“Thank you for meeting with us. I’m Siara, and this is Ute…”
She put a hand towards Marguerite, who added a brief wave of the hand.

She pulled a catalog out from her satchel. It was quite the marvel printed out by the ISVC Publications Bureau for Dept. 42. An exact replica of a real shipping container company’s catalog complete with several references to the cover company, ShipTin, with listed contact numbers that would be routed through proxies in 5 countries before being connected to dedicated lines answered by briefed-in ISVC intel officers at the Bratislava Operations Center acting as corporate receptionists.

At any given time, the ISVC had at least a dozen such shell companies being used for covers across the globe. The numbers all routed to a couple rooms where the intel officers would pick up any of the labeled lines that rang, answering with a script and referencing a set of cover info, depending on the phone line/company. If one line was in use, that meant the other intel officer would pick up an additional line in the other sound proofed room. Should a third simultaneous line ring, it would go to a fully set up voicemail account to be answered later. This rarely happened, though.

While they waited on calls, they tended to maintaining the listed cover websites. The ISVC couldn’t afford to just have intel assets in a room only staring at phones to ring, after all. The listed websites were routed through untraceable VPNs and proxies shielded by firewalls. The tech/faux receptionists belonged to the ISVC intel department that was known simply as Department 42. Department 42 was in charge of all ISVC intelligence field operations support.

Sholana would play her Dept. 42 provided cover to the hilt until Dominique made himself scarce and she was sure that the three of them were alone.
“I brought our newest catalog so we could talk product.”

"Ah yes, the products. Please sit down."

"Unfortunately I am afraid that they may be some complications on our side." Said the man, his voice felt uncertain. "Anyway, my name is Gabriel Pretre. I am a… long-time fighter for the right of workers. And I believe I will be much more useful than… some Gérin-Lajoie." The man then paused before he asked: "Coffee?"

Sholana aka Siara would have preferred water, but she had learned through experience that accepting any beverage first offered by a host was the most gracious thing for a guest to do. For at least one part of the guest party, anyway.

“Certainly. Coffee would be lovely.”

The man nodded and for a few seconds vanished into the kitchen. Soon enough he came back with three cups of coffee. “Right, where were we?”

Siara quickly glanced down on the tray and grabbed one of the cups. She took some of the fixings on the tray to sweeten her coffee.

Marguerite didn’t show it, but she was evaluating her hosts mentally. The person who answered first was surprisingly rude. Gabriel seemed better to talk to, at least. Never heard a name like that before, she thought. She heard it like it was Gylic — Gabyriel — and the byri part amused her slightly.

He seemed like a good bloke. She did make a mental note that it might be worth prodding him for more of his opinion on Gérin-Lajoie.

Siara was covering just fine so far, so there was no need for Ute yet.
Siara spoke after a sip of her coffee,
“Gabriel, remind us again, what do you do within the Union? What is your position in the organization?”

“I…” Gabriel pondered about his answers. “...was running for the position of the First Secretary of the UGPL. This was when I contacted you. I wanted to push the union towards a strong left-wing position. Though it’s true I told you I already won.” He paused for a moment and looked down. “This seems to be a mistake in hindsight. As I… actually lost by a small margin.”

He again paused and looked at the ISC agents. “This, of course, doesn’t mean I am useless. I still have some influence among… the circles of your interest.”

“I see.” If Gabriel wasn’t concerned about eavesdroppers, then Siara had to take the leap of faith, as well. They had to trust their contact at some point or another, and if they weren’t able to talk freely in his own abode, where else was safe on this island? If they were about to be entrapped, might as well get it over now.
“I should hope no one inferred that you were useless. Pity that you lost, and I’m sorry that it was that close that you were certain of victory. How much influence do you think you hold now...perhaps in a percentage of the Union?”

“In percentage… well, I believe around one-third are fully behind me. Though there might be trouble in contacting most of them. A large chunk of them decided to stay in the Capital Prefecture… fools…” Responded Gabriel.

“Hmmm. A third. The distance of the others could be an issue, but not insurmountable. Do you have any allies within the other groups in the Union, some sort of leadership contacts who would at least be willing to listen to you and...um, certain advisers…” She swept her hand to indicate herself and Ute.

Gabriel looked directly at Siara. "I have some loyal members here in this town. We, together with many other metropolitans, left prefecture to escape the mayhem."

“Gabriel, I’m sorry if I have miscommunicated or misunderstood. What I mean is, how many members that are not in the third you mentioned were loyal to you, but would listen if we were to influence the leaders that they trust to speak on our behalf…excuse me, your behalf?”

"Well…" Gabriel pondered in his mind. "There aren't many. I know of a single guy at best. Though I must tell you. I think that the capital chapter of the union... is doomed."

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, from what I heard that they are planning some big rally. They believe they can fix the problem within the frame of the system.” Gabriel sighed. “They will be like ducks at the shooting range… I have seen strikers washed in the blood even before the PF took power. God knows what these fascists are capable of.”

“I see. When is this rally? Is there any way you can influence them to delay it? If you did, we might be able to bring in help.”

“The rally is… well I am not sure, actually.” Replied Gabriel. “It will be in a matter of days… And… I don’t have many allies in the top positions of the UGPL currently. Well, there might be one person. But I am not sure if they could actually do anything.”

“Hmmm. It would be at least a week before our larger party could arrive. We’re not at liberty to discuss the means of how they’d arrive and exact time table right now, but they could definitely sway things a bit. As for your friend in a top spot in the UGPL, we’d like to speak with them if you could arrange it?”

The old man sighed. “Very well… Her name is Zoé Crozier. She is still in the Met. I can get you a meeting… but...” He paused. “But I can’t be sure you can get there in time.”

Sholana looked at Marguerite. She was holding up well. Sholana took a big gulp of the coffee. It would keep her up tonight through all this jetlag, but that would be good since she needed to stay fresh to write up her reports about this encounter.
“Zoé. Zoé Crozier....Gabriel, thank you. I think we just won’t count on making it in time to this rally. We’re going to have to make these connections regardless of our timing factor and make our own time and our own rallies. We need to work together. We have strategies to help you connect with the rest of the Union if you’re willing to work with us. It’s going to be uncomfortable at first, but I promise you...it will be rewarding. I want you to trust us. Over the next couple days, I want you to ask anything you will about us. I may need to leave here and there, but Ute will be here to answer...”
She tossed her coffee cup down so it spun on the tray, but didn’t tip over. It was entirely intentional for effect.
“...We’re going to win the union for you, Gabriel. The union will in turn win the industry...the industry will win over the people. The people will win over the nation. Do you believe me, Gabriel?”

Gabriel just nodded. “I believe you are the best chance we have.”

“I’m glad you agree, Gabriel. Do you have a room we can stay in for the night?”
She walked to the front room window facing to the street as she asked.

“There should be something upstairs.” He said while gesturing towards the stairs.

Sierra (Sholana) looked over her shoulder at him.
“Excellent. That would be lovely. We just have these light bags we brought.”

They would do some shopping tomorrow if they needed more clothes. She brushed aside the curtain of the window and held up a hand with two fingers to the outside. It was the agreed upon signal to the two men lurking in hiding outside, Vale and Adder, that they would not take the train back tonight to the capital. Vale and Adder would rent a room in town to set up base operations here. A hotel room for the night and something more permanent tomorrow. They would make contact at an agreed upon spot in the morning. Had she held up one finger, it would have meant they were unsuccessful and needed to all get hotel rooms and take the train back in the morning. Three and four would have meant ‘Stay close. There’s trouble’, and ‘Immediate danger!’ respectively.

“Ute, shall we head up?”
They both grabbed their bags and she followed her colleague up the stairs.

[CO-RP'd with Gylias and Saint Andre]

by **Svadyetsk** » Sun Jan 12, 2020 1:09 pm

Saint Andre territorial waters, near main oilfield

The man who called himself Henri Dupont took one last look at the oil rigs in the distance before putting away the binoculars. Cranking the engine into life, he began to steer the Belle Marie towards Saint Andre's port. The derricks had been swarming with commandos of some description, most likely the 9th Special Service Regiment. It looked like sneaking in the specialist from Duovograd would be hard, if not impossible. Speaking of which, he had to pick the poor sap up. The man who called himself Henri Dupont brought the little boat to a halt again, this time out of sight from the rigs. Making his way down to the hidden room, he sat down at his secure terminal and began to draft a message for his handlers.

To: CENTRE
From: SPECTRE 29
Encryption: ULTRA
URGENT

Preliminary assessment suggests proposed operation unlikely to succeed. SPETSNAZ present on target site. Infiltration difficult. Recommend reevaluation of course. Will rendezvous with EXPERT, no action to be taken. Awaiting orders from CENTRE before proceeding.

The formalities out of the way, the man who called himself Henri Dupont transmitted the message and stood up. Making his way to the saferoom's locker, he opened the drawer containing his various documents. After browsing through the folders, he took out two, placing his current identification and papers into the one labeled DUPONT, H. Thus, Henri Dupont ceased to exist, at least for the time being. Taking out the new identity, after all, he didn't want to blow his main cover identity, he compared the picture in his passport to his own appearance in the mirror on the inside of the locker door. Grabbing a duffel bag, the man who called himself Pierre Mouchard, for that was who his papers were named for, put a selection of clothes and some other useful accoutrements as well as a second, different bag into the duffel. Heading back to the pilothouse, he dumped the bag on the floor and started the engine, heading for the home port once more. Gradually, the wharves and docks of Saint Andre's capital port came into view. The man who called himself Pierre Mouchard brought Henri Dupont's boat back into its customary spot and disembarked. He made his way to a public toilet, locking himself into a stall.

The man who called himself Pierre Mouchard paused, listening. Satisfied nobody was in the toilet block, he divested himself of Henri Dupont's clothing, putting it into the duffel which he crammed into the second bag. He pulled on the new set of clothes, adjusting his hair and carefully pasting the false moustache onto his upper lip. Rubbing some cream from a tube into the comb he'd brought for this purpose, the man who called himself Pierre Mouchard ran it through his hair, transforming it from its original solid black to the salt-and-pepper appearance that Pierre had had in all of his photographs. The cheek pads were next, fattening his face just a little but enough to alter his appearance, followed by the coloured contact lenses and the wire spectacles with the clear glass lenses. Transformation complete, the man who called himself Pierre Mouchard tucked the Makarov PB into the back of his belt, slung his backpack, with Henri Dupont's personal effects, over one shoulder and made his way to his car, which had been parked for over six months in the same grotty garage nearly two kilometres away on foot.

The engine coughed miserably before springing into life. The man who called himself Pierre Mouchard drove the aging car onto the road before getting out in order to close the rusting garage door. Once he was under way, he ran through the details that had been burned into his memory. Pierre Mouchard was an older man who made his money off of the returns from an investment made in a small motor scooter dealership, an action that required no physical appearance at the dealership on his part. This was essential as he couldn't be in two places at once when he was calling himself Henri Dupont. Pierre spoke with a posh accent compared to Henri Dupont and was vain about his appearance. In addition, and this was the important part, he had been abroad and had friends overseas. The airport came into view and he drove calmly to the parking lot. The man who called himself Pierre Mouchard got out of his car and made his way to the arrivals hall. Along the way, he stopped at the airport's convenience shop and helped himself to a cardboard box which he tore in order to equip himself with a large flat piece. Taking out the expensive fountain pen that was part of his cover, he began to write in large sloping letters, more elegant and refined than Henri Dupont's messy scrawl, before holding the sign in front of him with both hands.

The airport, inside

Semyon picked up his bag from the carousel, feeling relief sweep over him. The men at passport control hadn't looked too hard at his documents. Anyway, the GUVD could probably afford to make good quality forgeries. As far as they were concerned, Semyon Ivanov was off to visit, Peter? Perry? He hadn't been asked by the passport official who had been satisfied with 'a friend'. Pierre. That was it. Pierre Mouchard. Semyon wondered idly how they came up with these names. He made his way out of the passenger part of the airport.

There was a man waiting for him. Semyon ran his eyes over him. Cheap suit, bushy moustache, greyish hair. Looked like someone who would try to sell you junk that you didn't need. He had a ratty cardboard sign with Semyon's name, well, his cover name, written on it. Presumably this was the so-called Pierre. Semyon went over to him, unsure of how to react.

'Bonjour, mon ami.' The man smiled at him reassuringly. 'C'est moi, ton copain, Pierre. We met at the car show in Strasbourg?' He spoke with a heavy French accent with the greasy polish that could be found on every smarmy businessman. Semyon hated him instantly.

'Hello, Pierre.' Semyon tried not to scowl. Nice to see you too, asshole. Semyon followed as Pierre began to amble away, moving as if he hadn't a care in the world. Semyon, on the other hand, kept expecting to be surrounded by booted policemen demanding to know his business before dragging him away to God-knows-where. They made their way to Pierre's car, an old junk pile on wheels that looked like it had been new when Semyon was born. 'C'est classique,' Pierre explained, seeing Semyon's look. Semyon began to hate him even more.

As old as the car looked, it ran quietly on the roads. Semyon was still trying to figure out if he'd met the wrong guy, someone who was waiting for another Semyon Ivanov, when Pierre began to speak again, this time in Semyon's native tongue. The accent was gone, the Svadyetskan pronunciation and intonation seemed harsh after the French accent.

'Greetings, tovarish.' The man who called himself Pierre Mouchard spoke slowly, as if testing his words. Not surprising, given that he hadn't spoken his native language in years, only listened to it on the radio while he waited for the one particular song that told him to check for his orders in the secret room. 'We have a problem. I was ordered to help you get access to this country's oil sites to find out what the problem is. The government here has put special forces on the rigs so we can't get in.'

Semyon swallowed. 'What do we do?'

The man who called himself Pierre Mouchard opened his mouth to reply but closed it again when they were waved down by a cop, demanding to know why he was driving a car during the petrol ban. In French, the man who called himself Pierre Mouchard apologised profusely, explained that it was a special occasion as his friend had finally come to visit and begged the gendarme for forgiveness, all while tucking several folded bills into the man's pocket. This repeated itself a few times but they eventually made it back to the garage at the expense of several hundred francs. Besides, Pierre Mouchard looked like the arrogant sort who wouldn't think of not using his 'classic' car, even during a ban on private motoring. Together they walked to a cheap hotel where Semyon was booked, talking in Svadyetskan and drifting off into silence whenever someone passed by.

The situation, as Pierre had told him, was that Semyon was going to have to hole up at the hotel for a day or more while Pierre waited for instructions from Duovograd. The Saint Andreans were in lockdown and they couldn't get to the rigs which made Semyon a liability until they could. In the meantime, they'd just keep up the pretense of being old friends who had reunited after a long time. Not as hard as he'd expected, given that Lieutenant General Korov had thrown him into the deep end on this.

They parted ways once Semyon had his key. He went up to his room, entering the small but homely space and tossing his bag onto the bed. He sighed. Hopefully, and his chances were looking up, he'd make it out of this mess alive.

Outside, the man who called himself Pierre Mouchard waited a moment in the darkening street, checking the surroundings for a tail while making it seem as if he was sneering at everyone else. Then, he made his way back to the public toilet and disappeared as Henri Dupont returned from the dead. Once he had Henri Dupont's identification, he made his way back to his little apartment. He turned on the radio. V Put was playing. Not the instrumental version, meaning he didn't have orders. The man who called himself Henri Dupont took out the Makarov and laid it on the bedside table before putting his head back on the pillow. He slept, lightly.

by **Svadyetsk** » Sat Jan 18, 2020 11:06 am

Oleksy Duov International Airport, Duovograd, United Soviet States of Svadyetsk

Nobody was quite sure of what to make of it when the motorcade pulled up in the drop-off zone.

Out of the assorted vehicles came Viktor Yegorev, the Minister of Foreign Affairs; his private secretary; a representative of Kholovsk Heavy Engineering, the state-owned company that produced equipment used in oil pumps; a representative of the Sovol Group, the state's oil company; a representative, this time representing the Spekov Armament Industries; and representatives of the Ministry of Defence, People's Army and People's Revolutionary Guards Corps who were to collaborate with the Saint Andrean Armed Forces. Accompanying all of the important people were several assistants, secretaries and security officials, as well as a larger than usual contingent of GUVD officers. Not only did the delegation have more members of the GUVD Diplomatic Protection Corps than was normal for a group of this size, there was also an additional force of various members from different sections of the GUVD. Viktor had a sneaking suspicion that some of them weren't just there to keep an eye on things, judging from their muscular physiques, visibly straining against the fabric of their uniforms, as well as the large number of hard cases with diplomatic seals on them.

The large delegation was swiftly waved through the normal customs checks: only their passports were examined. Clearly, someone was making sure that they got through as fast as possible. Barely an hour after arriving at the airport, Viktor Yegorev and his companions were taxiing down the runway in one of the national airline's special jets reserved for diplomats.

Oil production crisis in Saint Andre [IC/MT/Sign-ups]

Oil production crisis in Saint Andre [IC/MT/Sign-ups]

Civil Unrest in Saint Andre

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