A Battle Unseen

[Kubrick]

19:21, Amram's Pub, Rishon Le Hofesh, Xsampa's Canton 14, occupied Amudim.

Compartmentation gave him no real clue how many of them were out there. At least five. She had revealed that much, for an operation this size you need at least five. Maybe eight. Perhaps ten. The guessing had been a good part of his free time in this occupied land, rules did not allow him to fraternise too much. Before you get drunk and reveal everything. Instead he had been telling people he was a recovering alcoholic, which usually stopped people bothering him about drinking. Nonetheless, he was in pubs often. They were a good place to meet 'others', people resisting occupation and plotting revolts. He peeled at the label of his non-alcoholic beer as he thought back to his mission briefing all those months ago. A botfarm worth more than any rifle and explosive, that's what the big boss had said after his complaints about the passive nature of this mission. Social media had done most of the prep for him, even with Xsampa's rather soft approach people were angry here. They felt mistreated, like they were cattle to be traded around in some big shot conference. Eighty years ago his home country had invaded this city, you could still see the scars on some buildings. What was it his boss had said again? Make them realise why we left? He was rudely taken from his thoughts by a tap on his arm. "Evron, my man, you ready for tonight?" My name is Pruve, he thought. With a nod and a smile he replied. "This is it, this is where we show them we've had enough." With a last swig he finished his beer. "You ready to go? We got five minutes to meet them." The Yeudi nodded, he seemed both nervous and excited. Together they walked out of the pub and towards the city square, from his backpack they unfurled large banners with several slogans asking the Xsampans, not so politely, to go home.

A short while later at the main square of Rishon Le Hofesh he took one banner, Chaim the other and the other three he brought were handed out amongst other members of their online anti-Xsampan protest group. A hundred online discussions, a dozen pub nights, eight secret meetings, four weeks of spreading hidden invites to keep this all under board. He was praying his counterparts in the other areas were ready too, he expected a few of them to be in Rishon Le Hofesh too. But surely some were in Tel Bidzhan, the only other city of note in Canton 14. After twenty minutes of waiting he was amazed at how many people had shown up. Jelbic online propaganda is really good, or these people are really done with being occupied. He did not question it for now, but instead raised his banner and started chanting: "FROM THE SACRED COAST TO THE MAJATRAN SEA, OUR HOMELAND WILL BE FREE!" The others in his action group followed suit and a few moments later hundreds, if not thousands, were chanting with them. Others resorted to simpler slogans, "Xsampans out" or "No more colonisers" or even "Kill the oppressors". Local police forces struggled to contain the massive protest, Xsampa's reluctance to deploy their own security forces to Canton 14 was starting to show itself. This was good, cornered rats can do some weird jumps. Though, instructions were clear to peacefully protest and keep the local authorities nervous. A little violence however was allowed. He gently pushed the people in front of him, as did his Yeudi friends, the last meeting they had was quite clear: keep moving until they could move no more.

The dominoes always fall, that's what his training had taught him. Loose cobbles on the old square had caused two policemen to trip, one of them had blamed the protestors. Partially true, as they had been moving forward way too fast. In return he had swung a baton, which the crowd did not take kindly. The crowd picked up cobblestones from the square and started to throw them at policemen. Before you knew it a car had been set on fire. The ill-meaning part of the protesting crowd started to throw in windows in nearby buildings. It only took three and a half hours of protesting and the chanting crowd had turned into a looting mob. The frontlines were fighting with police, the centre was setting random stuff on fire, and the rotten part was looting stores. Once escalation had been assured he made sure to leave before the police started their mass arrests, if they even had the capacity to do so. He texted the encrypted group chat urging others to go home too, never waste good assets. Once he had returned to his apartment he checked the local news. His colleagues had been equally successful, Tel Bidzhan's protest was out of control too. In code he reported the success of his mission to his handler, before spending the rest of the night observing the status of the local riots, gleefully he read about how Xsampan authorities were displeased.

[Elena1012]

A Shift in Direction.
December 1st, 5683
Metz-Leonid, Koroboro, Xsampa
-------------------------
Sherab Aurousseau sat down at the table. Besides her at the table were the People's Commissars of every People's Committee, the Directors of the Internal Security Committee and the State Security Committee. A full cabinet meeting. This wasn't rare, per say. It was needed to draft up SERA and ensure it was fully compatible with all sects of society, but today's meeting was different. Canton 14. It was no secret that nearly everyone in the CPX wanted to leave the Canton immediately. Of course, that wasn't possible, they all knew that. It would be a mistake to leave the Canton when it's underdeveloped, lacking proper institutions and the like. But a proper solution was needed. It couldn't be stuck in limbo until 5695.

"Well..." Sherab spoke up first. She had to as Premier. "Let's cut right to the chase. Canton 14 is a... Troublesome Canton. We all remember the riots last year. We don't want a repeat anytime soon. It's clear that the status quo can't last. So I'll be frank. We need to organize proper political entities and live up to the ideals of the revolution. These people, whether they stick with us in '95 or vote for independence are still people at the end of the day, and we have a duty to care for them and represent them. It's good we didn't deploy Public Security last year. We'll keep law enforcement in Canton 14 separate from Public Security." She let the words fill the room for a moment, before grabbing a folder off the table and opening it up.

"Here's what I'm proposing. First things first, immediate organization of political parties in Canton 14. We'll of course, support the socialists willing to cooperate. But because of the... Unique situation in Canton 14, we'll need to formally create a Special Autonomous Canton. That means permitting the formation of... Bourgeois party's. After that, we begin immediate direct investments into the West Bank. Get more jobs rolled out, a proper independent power grid, wins turbines and all, as well as recognize these people's concerns. I want Local Committee's to be established in the West Bank as soon as possible and the creation of a Regional Committee. We'll give them their own Assembly. I doubt they'll want to join us in PAX, so we'll let them have their own unique legislature. Any opposition?" She closed the folder and looked around. 

The People's Commissar of Internal Affairs, Rigsang Pomeroy spoke up first, raising concerns. "Comrade, I understand the goal, and why it needs to be done but I have strong reservations about endorsing a political party in the West Bank, let alone permitting bourgeois party's to operate in the Canton. The constitution is very specific about outlawing right wing and bourgeois party's. I'm sure we can get the SLP to permit it but the public? Even with a Revolutionary Order, it would a hard sell for the public. As for endorsing a political party, let's face it. Call a spade a spade, the Passereau Administration made a neo-imperialist move. We're stuck cleaning up that move. Backing a political party in the West Bank would come off as just trying to exert more influence on the Canton. We'd doom actual socialists."

Sherab thought for a moment. Pomeroy brought up a good point. She offered an alternative. "That is true. However, the Constitution doesn't have any specifics regarding Special Autonomous Cantons. And who's to say we can't take a note from the revisionists? A commitment to socialism has to be made, but cynically, Canton 14 will never be in a spot to embrace socialism, even if they vote to stay with us. Who's to say their socialism is different from ours? As for backing a political party, i can concede there. If we do it foolishly, we doom socialists in the West Bank for a very long term. However, we're not a nation of fools. The Independent Labour Party of the West Bank. We give prominent socialists in the West Bank the funds they need to organize the party, make it smooth for it to form, and make sure that they promote a civic nationalist outlook, as well as Socialism with Yeudi Characteristics. If the Interior can make sure that the People's Electoral Committee can get all party's up and running smoothly, it works better for us. I want this Canton to not be a Canton, but a protostate. We're nation building. We want them to be loyal enough to not revolt and cause chaos, but we want them to want independence. I believe we can achieve that."

Pomeroy stayed silent for a moment. He nodded his head. "That's cynical. But it's the best outcome for us. I'll see to it that the PEC is ready. I presume the ISC will handle finding the socialists in question?" Sherab nodded.

"They'll also find liberals, and other socialists against us. A healthy democracy requires disagreement. We don't want the people to view this as a controlled democracy." The Director of the ISC nodded silently. Sherab continued, "Then I believe we have a plan set. We've got a lot of work to do. Let's hope it works." The meeting came to a close, and as everyone filed out of the room, she remained seated. Truthfully, she wanted to just sign a Revolutionary Order and vacate the West Bank immediately. But she couldn't do that. It would be wrong. To the people and to the bridges Passereau burnt. She stood up from the chair. There was still a lot to do.

[Kubrick]

5:21, the beach near Sholemberg, Hischar Nisrad, Amudim.

The radioman looked tense. No wonder, he had been constantly listening to the communications about the border infiltration from Pontesi land into the Nisrad. He put a hand on the shoulder of corporal Merlkaisrmko. "Do you have a report for us, Corporal?" The man took off his headset and nodded frantically. "Distraction worked, the convoy is moving inland, Nisrad troops in disarray.." For a moment he put the headset back on, asked something in code and then took it off with a smile on his face. "No fatalities on either side, sir." Good lad, he has humanity. "Excellent, Corporal." After checking his watch and making sure the map matches his GPS he gives a clear command. "Everyone up, we move, we got ten clicks to cover." The platoon of Royal Marines started marching without complaints. They looked like a rag-tag militia, no insignia, mixed camouflage, the only thing that gave them away as troops from Wrnuke were their distinctive firearms. Yeudi militias didn't use these, nor anyone else in Northern Majatra.

After an hour of marching the well-trained soldiers arrived at their rendezvous point. A local Yeudi scout was ready to meet them, so far the plan was going swimmingly. "Are your men in position?" He asked the local soldier. The man seemed to think on the words for a moment. "Commander reported everyone okay, all ready to do what asked." Great, he doesn't know proper Jelbic. In fluent Yeudish he checked again whether everyone was in position, the man seemed relieved that he was able to speak their native language. The fact he seemed surprised at that worried him, here's hoping not all of them are amateurs. Through dirt roads, crop fields, and back alleys the whole platoon of fifty Royal Marines was led right into Sholemberg. Their Yeudi scout pointed out the troubled spots on the map. "This is where we fear heavy resistance, Nisrad forces are very entrenched here, here and here." His pointing at the map matched his own intel. The city hall, the harbour administration office, and the local police headquarters. "What about the barracks?" he asked, pointing at the military area of Sholemberg. The man smirked and shook his head. "Mercenaries, your bosses already bribed them." He stared at the map for a moment and could not help but let out a chuckle. Such is the risk of hiring men to fight for you.

Corporal Merlkaisrmko informed him the convoy was approaching Sholemberg, five clicks out. Twenty-five armoured vehicles with heavy machineguns, all painted with local anti-Nisrad slogans. Jelbic vehicles, but their bosses in Wiel were gambling on plausible deniability. While they did the distraction, the local militias and the specialised Royal Marines would seize the heart of Sholemberg. He took a deep breath and threw in a small prayer to Tanhri above. Give me blessings for battle, I shall give you a worthy sacrifice. After his short moment of prayer he stood up again. "Platoon, split up, squad one to objective alpha, squad two to objective bravo, squad three to objective charlie, remaining squads on me for objective delta." The well-oiled machine of anonymous Jelbic Marines split up and moved out. Three squads had moved out, three followed him. Intel had suggested the local armed police would resist heavily. At what point do you stop calling them policemen and start calling them soldiers? The Sholemberg Quick Response Unit, the special police force, had APC's, assault rifles, grenade launchers, and even AT capabilities. This was the strongest foe he had faced so far.

The firefight lasted over an hour. His radioman had been fatally wounded early on. A grazing bullet had filled the sleeve of his right arm with blood. The replacement radioman informed him all other squads had been successful with minimal losses. His senior sergeant then reported in with five losses. A third of my assault unit. He pulled himself together to ask about the distraction force. It gave him some solace that they had suffered no fatalities, though two vehicles had been disabled and several men had been wounded. "Sergeant, inform HQ that Sholemberg has been secured. And where is Lieutenant Cahn?" The gunnery sergeant pointed him towards the triage area where he found his junior officer bleeding profusely from his head. "Apologies, sir, the bastards nicked my ear. Bleeds a lot but I'm fine." He felt a great relief to find his most reliable officer with minor wounds. "When you are bandaged up, make sure those local commanders get together for a photoshoot to declare their new state." The lieutenant nodded. "Will do, Captain, I'll meet them in fifteen minutes."

After everything settled down he ordered his replacement radioman to signal in the green light to HQ. Sholemberg is free.

[Kubrick]

12:48, audience room, Royal Residence, Banstill, Kingdom of Wrnuke

To the press it did not seem irregular that newly-elected party leader Ibram Bruhsmrko Harif was invited to meet His Majesty, it was common procedure for all elected parties to receive an audience with the King. In a way his role as constitutional monarch had made him a mediator and host to the members and movements of the Grand Council. Those with a deeper knowledge would be horrified by this meeting. These days King Temrkai VII made an imposing sight, he was taller than the average monarch of Wrnuke and had a large greying beard. In some ways he looked like the Emperor Bunjamín himself, though a keen eye would spot that the King wore far better suits. No humble beginnings for him, he had been the sole inheritor of the Banmek-Sntazed fortune and majority shareholder of their mysterious investment fund. In his youth he had been a partying socialite. Now he looked like a dignified leader, calm and well-spoken with expensive tailored suits. Most notably he seemed perfectly content in his role as a Jelbic figurehead instead of direct ruler. This was another reason why this meeting was so irregular to those that knew the truth.

The tech entrepreneur Harif looked like an average Majatran, Jelbic or Yeudi man of mixed ancestry. Not too tall, a simple but tailored suit, and one hefty gold ring on his right hand. Once he entered the room the politician bowed deeply for the monarch, who quickly dismissed that. "Rise, Ibram, rise. We shall skip the formalities, though I would congratulate you on a great entry into parliament. Nobody expected a newcomer." Ibram Harif nodded. "Thank you, Your Majesty, it has been a relief to find another endeavour go well." The King smiled softly and gestured to the leather chairs, as they both sat down the King broke the silence. "It has been forty-one years since we first met, though you weren't born yet. It took some effort to get your pregnant mother to my doorstep, far away from both our true homes. That blood-stained letter from your late father pleading to us out of all people. All those years at each other's throats, and then to ask for mercy in an act of desperation. My ancestors considered mercy a sin, as it would leave the seeds of defiance fester into a defeated foe, or it would reward cowardice to a crushed enemy. Luckily, the Jelbic ways have transformed with time." The King stared at Harif, who retorted. "And your hospitality shall never be forgotten, Your Majesty, I owe you my life. And that of my mother. Your family has been kind, that is why I remained at your side, that is why now my movement is in your honour, Sire." The King could only let out a chuckle and look away. "I may not rule this nation as my ancestors did, but I am the head of the house of Banmek-Sntazed.. and, since the restoration, am considered the rightful owner of all Gems in Wrnuke." Harif's eyes widened, as the King turned back to look at him. "Yes, it's funny how all of you get that look as soon as those shiny stones come up. If you remain loyal, we can both return them home, what do you say?"

[XanderOne]

A really risky ambitious operation
Provincial Road 133, Municipality of Castrocaroli, Province of Neapulia, Region of Fidelia, Istalia
26 May 5684, 3:50 pm


Marina Cantalamessa stood against the light, not at all warm, streaming through the windows overlooking the Melfian coast. Rain clouds were gathering on the horizon, while the pine trees' crowns swayed more and more in the wind. It was certainly not the season to enjoy the Melfian coast, but the Minister Secretary of State enjoyed her weekend retreat, far from the chaos of Romula, even in winter, with a roaring fireplace before which rest under a warm quilt with her husband.

Her blond hair fell neatly to her shoulders, and her smile, as she turned toward the front door, had an ironic angle. She had learned of the meeting at the last minute, and it was clear from the way she folded her arms that she wasn't pleased with the "last minute" moment.

The Director of Imperial Intelligence entered slowly, calm and measured as always. Luciano Pardi, Minister of Foreign Affairs, followed him at a leisurely pace, while General Elvira Baratti, Minister of Defense, had a markedly martial gait. Brigadier General Arturo Magliano Solìa, Viscount of Lamessia Terme, First Adjutant of the Emperor's General Staff, closed the circle with his austere bearing.

«I must admit that when you asked me to meet "unannounced", I didn't imagine such an ambush. Which of the four decided to let me spend Sunday in the trenches?» the tone was light, but no one present smiled.

The Director of Imperial Intelligence, a calm man with measured language, spoke first.

«Madam Minister Secretary, this is not an ambush. It is... a consultation. Informal, if you like. But necessary.»

She looked at them sideways for a few seconds, then gestured for them to follow her and led them into her office. Cantalamessa sat behind the desk, the others spread out between the two sofas and the chairs. Luciano Pardi, on one of the sofa, Minister of Foreign Affairs, removed his glasses and carefully placed them on the coffee table. It wasn't a reassuring gesture, Cantalamessa thought: he always did that before starting a long conversation.

«So? Who wants to start?» Cantalamessa asked after looking at them one by one, as if trying to glean something from the conversation.

The Director of Intelligence was the one, in that calm voice that never raised its tone but which, inevitably, imposed silence:

«It's something we couldn't discuss elsewhere. About... informal conversations... between us and Deltaria.»

The Minister Secretary narrowed his eyes.

«Informal? In what sense?»

«The kind it's best no one hears!" He always answered very laconically, but immediately noticed a certain irritation from the Head of Government, so he continued to explain «Some agents and officials from our two states, in a very informal and unofficial manner, as mentioned, had the opportunity to... discuss and exchange ideas. The topic was the Vanuku Grand Canal.»

«The Grand Canal?»

«An asset for Wiel, but also a tool of diplomatic pressure. And after this "exchange of ideas", the hypothesis that emerged was twofold: to render the canal economically irrelevant and to reduce its geostrategic impact.»

Cantalamessa remained silent, his brow furrowed, a barrage of questions behind his gaze. The Director continued:

«The Grand Canal is a geopolitical and financial weapon in the hands of Vanuku, and the question is simple: how to render it useless? Or at least reduce its importance.»

General Baratti then intervened, saying directly and in a clipped tone:

«The Grand Canal blockade was not only a commercial injustice, but also a slap in the face to our strategic position. Vanuku will never stop trying to subdue those they consider inferior... it's their nature. The Grand Canal is just another weapon with which to blackmail the world. With their arrogance, they push entire regions into conflict. If we don't stop them, contain them, they'll send Majatra adrift.»

The Director of Intelligence had taken advantage of Baratti's intervention to take a candy from his pocket and resumed speaking after putting it in his mouth:

«The crisis with Wiel has left its mark on us, and as you know, Deltaria is increasingly allerted by Vanuku, who has returned to extend his clutches over Jelbe. And both governments know that a "Jelbosphere" is in no way beneficial to anyone. So, to file off their claws, we could hit them on that financial and diplomatic leverage without touching a weapon or moving a soldier.»

Pardi rested a fist on the armrest of the sofa and leaned forward to intervene, with the air of someone who has spent his life rigorously measuring risk:

«If the Canal were to lose its economic value, Wiel would also lose its political value. If shipping companies avoided the Canal, it would lose revenue and its ability to blackmail others.»

«Okay, I get it» replied the Minister Secretary, his face betraying the many doubts and surprise she felt hearing such a proposal «And leaving aside the enormous repercussions this could have, the risks... there's the question about "how" to do it, but not only that: why should shipping companies do it? Why should they accept lost profits? How do we convince them, and with what arguments? In short, beyond the idea, is there a concrete proposal? Because so far you've given me the framework but not the solution.»

It was the Director who provided the answer, filling the air with a certain hateful practicality:

«During these "informal exchanges", it was concluded that the solution would involve compensation, cost reductions and logistical incentives. Essentially, it would involve the creation of a hidden fund to offset the higher costs of alternative routes: additional fuel, longer travel times, mooring costs and logistics in alternative ports. It would be structured on multiple levels and as an extensive network of companies so that no one could trace the origin of the flows. And in addition to compensating for the increased costs, we will have to make the alternative routes more streamlined, more attractive, with improved services and lower costs.»

Silence fell into the office, the sound of the rising sea and the increasingly loud wind seemed to amplify within the office.

«A hidden fund?»

Marina Cantalamessa's face remained a mask of doubt and perplexity, so it was the Minister of Foreign Affairs who broke the silence, the person in the room closest to the Minister Secretary of State and on whom she placed great reliance given his extensive political and diplomatic experience.

«It wouldn't just be a matter of paying. We can also offer operational advantages: cheaper docking, more efficient logistics, easier maintenance. Deltaria and Istalia have strategic ports, and even by working within SOMECO we could make the alternative routes even more convenient.»

The Minister Secretary remained still silent, his interlocutors exchanging questioning glances, except for the Director of Intelligence, who, with his hands folded on his stomach, gazed impassively at Cantalamessa while continuing to suck on his candy. He knew that countless questions were piling up in the woman's head, and he gave her time to try to sort them out.

«So» Cantalamessa continued, carefully enunciating and weighing each word «If I understand correctly, you are proposing that the Istalian and Deltarian governments clandestinely finance the diversion of a significant portion of continental, if not global, maritime traffic?»

Her interlocutors looked at each other quickly, as if trying to figure out who should answer her. As expected was the Director who, with the greatest calm in the world, simply replied with a laconic «yes!»

«Gentlemen...» it seemed that Cantalamessa had hoped until the very end that she had misunderstood, and it was inevitable that her words would now sound uncertain and worried.

«Leaving aside the diplomatic and moral implications... we here... we are... we are talking about hundreds and hundreds of ships! We are talking about dozens of companies, millions of tons of fuel, costs for delays at destination ports, for personnel, maintenance and so on. But do you realize, even if something like this were possible... how much will it cost us?»

The Director of Intelligence didn't hesitate in responding, he had clearly already prepared his responses to the objections:

«The resources can be found. It won't all come from a single source. As far as we're concerned, we're talking about the Treasury, ministries, state-owned companies, our Sovereign Wealth Fund: each source will contribute marginal and... peripheral shares. Even existing government programs and allocations can be redefined, with small percentages reallocated so as not to compromise public objectives. The network of shell companies, located in opaque jurisdictions, will make everything untraceable, with a flow ramification that will not attract attention.»

He paused, as if testing whether he had begun to chip away at the Minister Secretary's armor of mistrust, then continued:

«We're talking about compartmentalization measures, intermediary companies, complex accounting operations. The structure, as mentioned, will be international and fragmented, far from Majatra's waters and the most suspicious eyes. Some companies and intermediaries will be focused on funds transfert, other will act and provide services to shipping companies without knowing the final plan. Local employees will think they are carrying out normal commercial or intermediary activities, at the least they will believe to manage the money of some fat cat or dirty money. The level of secrecy will be extremely high.»

After him, the others quickly chimed in, starting with Pardi, who, as a close advisor and political ally, tried to reassure Cantalamessa:

«It wouldn't just be a question of money, but also of supply: more efficient ports, reduced docking costs, supplies and maintenance at competitive prices. With Deltaria, we can coordinate services and infrastructure. Within SOMECO, we could propose investments in infrastructures, land connections, whether rail or road, that will convey goods to alternative ports. Imagine rail or road connections between Deltaria and Kalopia, and their ports, or agreements with Zardugal for ferries on Majatran Lake. This isn't a geographical fantasy: these are logistical solutions that could reduce real time and costs, making alternative routes attractive.»

Then General Baratti spoke:

«Part of the funds needed for the operation can also be hidden among Defense appropriations. The Armed Forces are awaiting funding for new STOVLs for the Navy, to finalize the development of our hypersonic missile, for the new tankers for the Air Force and the naval nuclear program requires substantial sums. If we plan carefully, additional funds can be drawn from these expenditure headings.»

« Okay, okay... even assuming the funding issue is resolved, but... do you understand the implications? Ethical, legal and in terms of image! If it ever comes to light... I don't want to think about the consequences! Istalia risks losing far more than it would gain.»

«Minister Secretary» the Defense Minister resumed «We're not talking about war or tactical operations here, but strategic pressure. The Armed Forces expect the Government to defend the country's interests and if we can strike Vanuku without firing a shot, then this proposal could be a legitimate tool. Also because, let's face it, Vanuku will never stop trying to bend those they consider inferior. It's their nature. The Grand Canal is, in every way, a weapon with which to blackmail those who don't fall into line.»

Pardi, who until that point had been the most measured, intervened more firmly this time:

«Marina, listen. It's now clear that Vanuku isn't negotiating with half measures. He has only one strategy: expand his Jelbic hegemony and reclaim northwest Majatra, including Amudim. Analysts are certain that Vanuku is behind all this chaos and the Director has already authorized several missions to gather evidence. We are really meant to believe the "anti-imperialism paladin's story"? Oh, come on...»

The Minister Secretary felt a shiver of surprise run down his face:

«Luciano... I didn't expect you to support such an option so much.»

He smiled, somber.

«I don't support it with joy. But sometimes international politics requires uncomfortable choices. I'm not saying it's nice, I'm saying it makes strategic sense. Especially when faced with those who have no scruples and don't know how to compromise.»

Baratti spoke again:

«Those people think they're so superior that they feel entitled to strangle world trade and strike at their neighbors without having to foot the bill. With their arrogance, they're pushing entire regions into conflict. If we don't stop them, they'll send the continent adrift!»

Cantalamessa took a deep breath, then stood up and turned to look out the window at the sea, trying to sort out the thoughts swirling in her head. She remained like that for almost a minute before turning away and asking, still unconvinced:

«So let's leave aside the feasibility, how to raise the funds and the ethical implications, which apparently have already gone out of the window: we should involve ministries, departments, offices... and how do we deal with this in Congress with the Defense and Treasury Committees? Each step adds more people informed of the affair and exponentially increases the risk of information leaks. And I remind you, not least, that almost half of the Commissions and Congress are occupied by the opposition: how long would it take for them to let something slip? We'd end up, well... actualy, I'd end up on the front pages, and the position and credibility of the Government and the Nation would be totally compromised. It would be the end!»

Once again, it was the Director of Intelligence who responded, still unruffled, and in fact, he did so while nonchalantly searching for another candy in his grey coat pocket.

«If the Supreme Council of National Defense approves and decides to classify the plan, it has the tools to secure the proceedings for even prolonged periods. This doesn't eliminate the risk, there will inevitably be questions, but it limits institutional exposure. As far as politics are concerned, it's your job to ensure the discipline of the majority members in the Commissions.»

«And what about the opposition?» she pressed him angrily, partly because she didn't like anyone telling her how to do her job.

«For the opposition, there are institutional and unofficial channels to reduce their ability to undermine the plan. The opposition's Armed Forces representatives will obviously respect orders from the top and apply the necessary pressure on their parties. Furthermore, I can personally approach some influential members of the PNL and some of the UOD. I won't reveal anything of substancial, just enough to make them understand how important those resource allocations are. I'm sure they'll be willing to collaborate. When it comes to foreign policy, they can be convincing, even with D&L, and lately the Liberal Democrats seem particularly interested in reconnecting with the rest of the right.»

«It's a big bet plain and simple... perhaps we're relying a little too much on hypotheses and assumptions that we can't take for granted. Such as, for example, that Deltaria's intelligence apparatus is capable, first and foremost, of guaranteeing the impermeability of information.»

«Their intelligence are far more on alert than ours currently due to fears for the northwestern border. Furthermore, our assessment of them is not critical.»

«And Vanuku's Intelligence?»

«Vanuku, came back from their golden isolation after Deltaria, few years ago. They are still reorganizing their operational capabilities and, if what we suppose about the turmoils in Amudim, their resources are focused there. In any case, we will work closely with Deltaria to increase discretion and improve organization and operation capabilities.»

«Hopes! For now, we are clinging to mere hopes, Mr. Director. Are you aware of that?»

«Hopes?" the Director retorted as he unwrapped the candy he had taken from his pocket moments earlier «A careful, serious and well-researched organization will handle the situation. But above all, fewer scruples will be needed.»

«Are you criticizing me for having scruples, Mr. Director of Intelligence? I remind you that as Minister Imperial Secretary of State, O cammpt ignore scruples!»

«Then, let's end it! Because, if you haven't figured it out yet, we need to forget our scruples and show some boldness! And to do what we want to do, and I'll tell you this straight away to avoid further surprise, we can't even rule out using organized crime!»

«The Ndragatìa? We need to use the Ndragatìa? Do I understand correctly?»

«It won't be a primary option. it's a path full of unpredictable counterparts, I know, but if necessary, we can't rule out hybrid approaches that combine legal and "informal" channels. Not to mention how convenient such a channel would be, based in Solentia, a state with a weak government, no oversight, with entire areas under the control of foreign interests or local tribes and warlords, just a stone's throw away from us.»

«No, no, no!» Cantalamessa snapped, this time with a fiercely annoyed look «I don't want anyone to suggest, not even by mistake, relying on criminal organizations. It's a boundary I won't cross!»

She said it frankly, not at all theatricality, but with a clear line that wanted to close that door. The room's attention focused on her: it wasn't an emotional refusal, but a political principle. Yet, in her mind, the "shadow" solution had already sparked an unwise curiosity. And someone seemed to have noticed.

«Madam Minister Secretary» spoke the First Attendant of the Emperor's General Staff «As you can imagine, Your Majesty too has expressed fears and concerns, not unlike yours, but... it is my duty to tell you that the Emperor agrees that we must do something to contain Vanuku, certainly before his "Jelbosphere" crushes half the continent.»

When she heard the name of the Crown mentioned, Cantalamessa felt the balance of the room shift, because the Crown's participation immediately raised the stakes: reputation, ancient prestige, moral risk. Yet she couldn't help but blurt out as she reflected on another thought that had immediately occurred to her:

«But I'd be the one to put my face on the line! The political risks would all fall on my shoulders!»

«The Crown could also financially support the initiative, also through subsidiaries or affiliates abroad. Small sums here, other small sums there, well dispersed, perhaps in Dovani countries, in economies with little oversight. Scattered investments, payments for services, all in complete opacity.»

Cantalamessa raised an eyebrow.

«Are you telling me the Crown itself would be willing to get its hands dirty?»

[to be continued in the next post]

[XanderOne]

[continuation of the previous post]

Magliano Solìa's face remained unruffled.

«The Crown is aware of the risks and for this very reason the Imperial House, just like you, will demand the utmost care and discretion to avoid exposing you to scandal. However, His Majesty has reiterated that we cannot stand by idly as Wiel's strategic blackmail continues. The interests, not only of Istalians but of the entire continent, and its stability, are constantly undermined by Vanuku. This sword of Damocles cannot continue to hang over the governments of all Majatra.»

Cantalamessa sat back behind her desk, slowly, with a look of regret.
«Mr. Secretary» continued the First Attendant «Today we are the most influential nation on the continent, our interests extend even beyond. We have worked decade after decade to get where we are today, and if we want to defend our position, we must make decisions that are sometimes very uncomfortable and controversial. Regardless of political affiliation, we have all sworn, first and foremost, to defend the Homeland, its citizens and its interests.» 

Cantalamessa took a deep breath. All eyes were on her, waiting for an answer. But a furious battle raged inside her. Fears and doubts clashed with opportunities and benefits, and it was difficult to weigh and reflect on the risks, responsibilities and choices that power places on your path. But there, everyone was waiting only for her answer.

Finally, after a seemingly endless wait, as the first drops of rain began to wet the windowpane, beyond which the sea was now roaring, Cantalamessa spoke, her face almost hidden behind clasped hands, her elbows firmly planted on the desk:

«Prepare a detailed plan. I want figures, timescales, structures, names and risk assessments, either diplomatic, geostrategic, military... everything!»

She paused, and as if talking to herself, as if trying to convince herself and ease her conscience, she said, almost sighing:

«Vanuku certainly won't be knocked out by a boycott, but even a twenty or thirty percent loss of traffic would be a significant blow. Perhaps... enough to make them rethink their attitude...»

Then she began to mentally note the main issues: costs, sources of funding, risk of infos leaking, political approval, the Deltaria's discretion. 

«So, have I been clear? I want to know where we're getting the money, how much we have to spend, what infrastructure is needed, which ports and which companies to contact. And I want the same details from Deltaria too. Have I been clear? I repeat: timescales, risks, measures and countermeasures in the secrecy procedures.»

He gave everyone a meaningful look before continuing:

«I want to see if something like this is feasible. I also want a legal assessment and a political simulation: if the Defense Committee or the Treasury Committee, the press, whoever, were to put us under the microscope, what arguments and what numbers will we use? I won't accept improvisation. I will examine it with my closest collaborators, I will discuss it with the Emperor and, of course, with Prime Minister Horvat. If Deltaria is unable to maintain the necessary discretion, we will not lift a finger.
We cannot afford a joint operation that shows flaws right from the start.»

The Director nodded, calm as ever, although a hint of a smile was slipping from his face.

«I will have a detailed plan ready for you in three days. Estimated numbers, impact scenarios, lists of ports and companies with which to initiate preliminary contacts. We will also include proposals for infrastructure and cooperative interventions to be presented to SOMECO and our other continental partners. You will have everything you asked for.»

The guests exchanged a final glance, then slowly, one by one, stood and waited for Cantalamessa, who looked at them all over a last time, to rise and escort them to the door.

As he greeted them at the door, through which the rain and wind were insinuating themselves relentlessly, he indulged in the usual chatter and automatic formalities: “What a rain”, “Bundle up”, “Drive slowly” to those who had come by their personal car. But inside her, the battle had become conflict, and then war, between the sense of responsibility, duty, opportunity, risks, doubts, political fears, personal anxieties, and her own ethical and moral convictions.

Left alone in the house, other thoughts and reflections on the operation began to add to that internal conflict, and she considered the implications: the enormous logistical effort, the international network of companies, the need to compartmentalize information, the possible accounting cover-ups. At the same time, her mind returned to the words she had uttered earlier: even a partial reduction in traffic would reduce Wiel's power of blackmail other nations.

And then she was surprised to feel, alongside her fear, a strange excitement, not for the risk itself, but for the power to manipulate the levers of geopolitics. It was a sensation that put her at odds with her principles, yet it drew her like a riddle to be solved.

"I'm not authorizing anything today" she told herself with inner determination "But I want to see the plan. And I want to know how far we're willing to go".

She realized her heart was beating faster. Not only because of the gravity of what she had just heard, but also because of the excitement of being faced with a game as dangerous as it was ingenious.

"What's happening to me?" she thought.

The idea of striking Vanuku, not with a fleet or an official embargo, but with an invisible weapon, made of money and silence, fascinated her. And that very realization made her shiver.

[MrFacts]

Date: January 5684
Place: Octagone, K'hary


Tavit Tavitian (TT), head of the secret services receives Jusuv Farnflksrmko (JF), employee at the Wrnuke embassy and RGB officer, is received in a secret passage in the octagone where there are no camera's.

TT: welcome Jusuf, we have had the call of the 3PF, our governement is obligated to head the call, but we know that there are fellow Pontesians endangered and we know what the Jelbic empire has done for us, reaches out with an enveloppe, we are also obligated to you to aid you in youre endeavor. In the enveloppe you'll find the information needed to avoid or save as many of you're own and pontesians, also where the delivery of our goods will come and what time.

JF: Thank you, we will do what we can.

[Kubrick]

8:24, July 5684, undisclosed radio post, Free City of Sholemberg, liberated Amudim

They had responded like rabid dogs to the liberation with shooting missiles at civilian targets. Or perhaps they thought that was where they were hiding. Several of the militia groups had left the city shortly after they had captured Sholemberg to set up positions in the nearby region. The others had been in hiding, far away from the industrial sites and central positions where they had taken the propaganda videos. He was expecting his own mission to be over here soon, Triad mercenaries were on their way and apparently the big men in Wiel wanted to avoid an open war. While his thoughts meandered a radio message came in prompting his operator to shout for him. "Kob! They said kob!" The man shouted as he turned back to jotting down the messages being transmitted to him. The hairs in his neck raised. Cobalt. The code word only used in the most dangerous circumstances, either they were about to be encircled or someone was dropping a nuke on Sholemberg. Fuck. He clicked open his own radio. "Status?" After a few seconds an exasperated voice answered. "Almost, Captain, we rigged at least five of the big ones and ten of the smaller ones, but we can get a few more in an hour." That would do. "No time, report back, HQ has issued a Cobalt order." The junior officer acknowledged hastily before buzzing off. Meanwhile he used his best Yeudi to inform the remaining local cell commanders that a quick departure was recommended by their local travel agency.

Two hours later they were marching in the desert heat, though they did not get the direct sun on them. Behind them a large wall of thick black smoke filled the horizon. Sholemberg had been struck with missiles, again, the heaviest barrage so far. Though, they had also rigged several oil depots with heavy explosives. Explain this to the world, colonising fucks. As the mercenaries approached, the rebels and their anonymous Jelbic allies disappeared into the endless desert.

[Kubrick]

11:48, military convoy, south-west of Sholemberg, liberated Amudim.

The fighting had been intense lately, as these mercenaries were unwilling to retreat peacefully. They were taking their time, looting as they went. It was a smart tactic, damage the land as much as possible to make it more difficult for the rebels to set up any semblance of a structured society. Bannerhafen would love to use that in their news broadcasts. The Jelbic undercover troops had been helping the rebels mop up several mercenary outposts so far, just yesterday they had taken out a dozen of them that were packing up televisions and washing machines from a looted electronics store. Recent radio contact had made it clear the fighting had to quiet down before they would be cycled out. She had been here almost a year now. She thought of home and her dog. Better not have chewed on the new couch again. As she looked out at the sandy and rocky land around them she saw something flash by..

The car before them had exploded with a great force. Their driver had swerved off just in time. "CONTACT FRONT!" Her sergeant had shouted before being shot seconds later. The firefight was intense, the mercenaries had them on at least two sides with intense machinegun fire. We're sitting ducks here. She tapped the senior sergeant next to her. "We're moving up, on me." She got up and started to lay down covering fire. So did the rest of the squad. She got two, then she sprinted across behind the burning pick up truck. She peeked left and saw one man firing an RPG. Oh. Then it all went dark.

[Doc]

Cliff House, Kaliburg
Friday Evening, 6:15pm

Fredrick sat alone in the living room. "Jenn, are we ready to head out soon? The Opera starts in 45 minutes."

Jennifer called from her dressing room. "Almost. I can't seem to get this dress closed. Can you help me in here a moment?"

Fredrick stood up and smoothed out his tuxedo. He walked into the dressing room and saw his beautiful wife of 17 years, still fully undressed. She turned and smiled at him, and he smiled back with slight humoring, but also a hint of annoyance. "Jennifer, we need to go. We are expected there before the show starts..."

"Freddie. Why don't we just stay in tonight, skip the opera. Just you and me, we should stay here."

"We can't tonight. We are hosting the Chancellor and My Mother and Sister."

Jennifer adopted a pout to her face, resigned by disappointed. "Alright, give me a couple minutes to get ready then... I thought I still had skills."

Fredrick smiled, "You do my dear. But you gotta give a guy a break every now and again. We'll be home by 10:30 and then you can have your way..."

She smiled, satisfied with the negotiation. "Deal." Fredrick stepped out as Jennifer's lady stepped in. Fredrick returned to the living room to wait once more, as his wife put her clothes on with the help of the lady in waiting. After about 7 minutes, Jennifer's dresser left the room and headed for the coat closet, while Jennifer called him back in. "Now, for the Diamond."

Fredrick stopped in the door. "Jennifer, why do you have to wear it?"

She looked at him, "Because I like it, its beautiful. Don't you think it adds brilliance to my outfit?"

Fredrick smiled and said "You could make a whole dress out of diamonds and they wouldn't shine as brightly as your beautiful face does." He paused and said "But this one... This one... is..." he stopped short.

Jennifer smiled and gently comforted her husband. "Fred, its not cursed. That's ridiculous. We are in the 57th century--we can be fairly certain that things can't be cursed. That's just not even realistic." She picked up the large diamond which is the size of her palm and held it out for him to look at. It was heavy, especially with the setting and the additional diamonds, and the large gold and ruby chain swung low below her hand. He looked at it, then looked at her, and then back at the diamond.

It did have a... sort of... almost... internal luminescence... it shined even in low light, almost like it created more light than it took in... it was cut in such a way as to maximize the refraction of even the lowest lights so it always looked brilliant...

"Don't you want to adorn your pretty wife?" asked Jennifer, offering him the gem.

"I... I don't... um...." he stammered, almost entranced. It was like his mind was fighting with his desire to reach out and just put the diamond into his hand. But all he had ever heard, all he had believed about the Diamond was that if a man ever touched that diamond, his demise would be certain... And yet, here was his wife, offering it to him to place around her neck. And he was in the moment of two minds. "Jenn, we need to go. I think you should leave that home and not worry about it." A bead of sweat formed on his forehead.

"But I would like you to help me put this on," said Jennifer. "I can't have my Lady do it, and I can't see the clasp behind my head. Will you help me?"

He stepped closer, almost drawn closer. He felt the tension increase as he neared the diamond... "We should... do what Mr. Maxwell asked and... return this to Eveari..." he said. He was clearly internally battling. "It's... its too valuable... I... I can't even really stand to look at it Jenn... I..." When just at that moment, the Lady in Waiting returned to the room with Jennifer's coat and said "Your coat madame..."

Innocuously enough, but her sudden appearance surprised Jennifer, who started, accidentally tossing the diamond pendant into the air as she tripped over her dress and stumbled backward toward the bed. Fredrick, who saw the diamond fly into the air, watched his wife land safely on the bed, as he reached out and caught the diamond pendant with cat like reflexes, preventing the priceless gem and its attached necklace from falling all the way to the floor. He closed his hand around it for a second, and it felt cool, just barely warmed by his wife's hand. He noted the weight of the pendant, the edges of the facets of the diamond, its setting in a ring of solid white polished gold, and the solidness of the gold and ruby rope as it swung down. This was the first time he had ever touched the diamond.

He looked at his wife, and then back at his hand with this large white stone in it. In a moment, his wife smiled, relieved she landed safely on their bed, and said "You know, Fred. Maybe you're right, maybe we should just leave it here. I could have had a massive accident there and then the whole night would be ruined."

Fredrick took the necklace to the vanity, and placed it on the bust figure where it had rested before his wife went to put it on. He ensured the clasp was latched, and then closed the glass lid over the top of it. "Yes, that's a good idea, Jenn. I think we should take this thing back to Eveari tomorrow first thing, and put it back in the museum where it belongs."

Jennifer nodded. "I'm sorry about that, Fred. I was just trying to be cute for you."

Fredrick took Jennifer's hand and stood her up. "You don't need a stupid rock to be cute," he said and then embraced her. "You were born that way."

She smiled and hugged him back. "I am so glad we have been together all this time. You really get me."

He laughed, kissed her, and said "You can walk the run way in 6 inch stilettos, but you're also still just a klutzy nerd sometimes."

She laughed, rolled her eyes and said "And you're stuck with me, forever... Now, lets go see this opera." With that Fredrick presented his arm, she placed her gloved hand upon it, and they walked out of Cliff House together to their waiting limousine waiting to take them to the National Theater downtown.