ICNES I: Troubling Future

The AU denies the request on grounds that the Slavic union has no valid cultural ties to the populace in that area

and on grounds that the Slavic Union is to greedy!!

This is coming from a guy that hoards cookies

jk

HEY! HEEEY!! that was a low blow ok, just cause im hooked doesn't mean im an addict! *scratches my neck frantically* IT DOESN'T!

OOC:

Modern nations do not resort to such devilry.

Click to expand...

Wanna bet?

IC:

Israel suggests a compromise: while Thrace and Istanbul remain Turkish, the Slavic Federation will be allowed to set up a military base in the Dardanelles.

From: Caliph Abdurahman

No. The Slavs have already taken enough land, much in Kazakhstan. No more land for the Slavs. The treaty is acceptable the way it is.

"No fortress was ever saved by idle defense... They say that the best defense is an offensive; wrong - that is the only real defense."
- ha-nasi Aleksandr Levitsky.

---

"Funny how I never remember my battles. No, I remember the names of units, battles and lost comrades, remember roughly what happened there and whenever I hear songs about the war, or see movies about it, or witness parades on victory day - or talk with my fellow veterans, who, by the way, do not seem to remember it very often - I could see truth from lie there, and know what happened and what did not, and I am quite proud of my battle-list. Yet I do not remember very clearly what happened, just a general vague emotion. Let me rephrase that - I could recite the facts of the battles, all the dispositions, maneuvers and even the censored and uncensored comments of commanders and common soldiers both before and after, but whenever I try to access my own perception of it during the fight, I could find nothing. When I hear the sounds of battle, whether real or reproduced, I often have a feeling of deja vu, and once, when through a personal request to my uncle I was allowed despite all to come to a Southern Expedition veteran gathering near Luxor, I immediately found the overlooking position near the Temple of Hatshepsut from where I, Yosef Mendel and some others decimated a desperate Ummist infantry charge with sniper fire. I also easily pointed out from where the charge came, and so forth... you get the idea.

As for the war itself... I remember it no more than I remember any other times in my life. I recall some interesting conversations, some episodes, some events, some jokes - both as facts and from the viewpoint of perception. If you pardon the metaphore, these episodes that I remember, they are islands in a sea of time. Whenever I try to think about that war, this metaphore comes up; I imagine myself as a swimmer, who swims through the seas of battles and routine, from island to island that I still remember.

The first island was, ofcourse, the Al Qibabat settlement, abandoned but for a few old people after we reached it. There we set up an outpost, like many other forward positions save for most men in the outpost belonging to the Sayeret[1]. There, under the command of "Castro" - Yariv Tumaleh - we rested and waited, while the troops rested, the reinforcements arrived and the logistical preparations for the next campaign were finished... and while my uncle and his staff observed the reactions of the Ummists and, importantly, of foreign powers.

As the winter - which in Egypt is practically indistinguishable from the summer, for the lack of rain - drew to a close, "Castro" announced that soon, we will move out, in the vanguard as always. Privately he tried to persuade me to stay behind the lines, amongst those who, to their embitterment, had to stay and guard the outpost; I still am unsure about his motives, but myself I rejected this not as much out of paranoia - though it was, ofcourse, a factor - as out of my sincere opinion about how I could carry out my uncle's orders best. And out of war-lust, ofcourse; the outpost was quite dull, and I didn't see any combat since Sinai where I, out of sudden and of the desert, arrived at the unit's headquarters, met an initially-outraged "Castro", explained him that I was ordered to join his unit, along the way saying the password and noticing his one-second lapse of control over his face, and soon joined the unit and getting lots of friends there, which was a bit unsettling because I was basically ordered to suspect them all. Then we struck across the Sinai, helped pocket an entire Ummist division, and rendevouzed with the paratroopers at Suez. From there we went straight to Al Qibabat, utterly unhindered.

I didn't remember the battles in Sinai, but I did remember the excitement and the adrenaline, and the fact that none of my new comrades died only added to the positive impressions I got from those. I must say the truth - I did not see any real combat - as in warfare, not as in street fight, though come to think of that I did not participate in a lot of those neither - until then. Like any normal young man, the worst thing I could admit to imagine in a war was sitting around in a garrison, a not-at-all vital one at that, while all the action was taking place elsewhere.

Five days after "Castro"'s initial briefing, we set out to conquer or perish. Do not laugh - that is the feeling that filled my heart that day, and probably the hearts of all others, even that of the man who I had orders to arrest... or kill on spot."

---

I was the last to jump into our helicoper; immediately preceding me was Aaron Barak. My heart was beating fast and I felt an adrenaline rush; this was too early, ofcourse, as the nearest enemy position was 20 miles from Al Qibabat, but I couldn't help it how ever much I tried. Though ofcourse I could not see them, I knew that on this very moment, many more helicopters were flying out, and tanks, and APVs, and rocket artillery vehicles also advanced forward; I was a part of a greater whole. My spirits were high, and I kept them that way by not looking at Aaron Barak or anybody else, for I knew that it will activate my paranoid reflexes and remind me of... something I'd rather forget, for now if not forever.

Realizing that inadvertly I did dampen my own spirits after all by even thinking of it being possible, I immediately shoved off all those thoughts - all the thoughts - from my mind rather rudely. I just wanted to live by the moment, to savour the beginning of a campaign.

But as I couldn't - just couldn't! - get rid of the knowledge that throughout this campaign, I will have to look for traitors in our midst - mine is the single most ungrateful work in the universe - I sighed and stopped my resistance. I didn't look at anybody else; I closed my eyes and recited in my mind the long, long list of suspects that I have accomulated by now. Had I known that I will have to do something like this, yet another involuntary thought came, I wouldn't have given that proposal to join the Mossad a first thought, much less a second one.

To be continued...

---

[1] "Reconaissance Unit" - generally meaning the various commando units, including the aforementioned Sayeret Matkal ofcourse.

Btw, Icmancin, what was the name of the PREVIOUS Caliph?

w00t! Sayeret Matkal! Flotilla 13! Green Island!...and all that jazz.

@ das: That's what a modern nation is supposed to say, anyway.

OOC: Btw, why does SwissEmpire's new king's name sound so similar to something I heard from a drunken tramp in the Moscow metro?

IC:

"They are trying to frighten us; in that they succeeded, but this is going to help us, not them... He who fears, lives."
- ha-nasi Aleksandr Levitsky.

---

The last bombers were still approaching the city, and the citizens, accordingly, were still in hiding, when through my binoculars I saw the white flag rise over the muhafaz's palace. There still was some shooting in the streets, but it too was dying down, and the battle was clearly over. The bombers, as I noticed with a slight relief, no longer dropped any bombs; that meant that this battle was officially declared over, and we aren't the kind of monsters to drop bombs on civilian buildings. We're not monsters at all. Unless provoked, I smirked.

"How was that?" - inquired Menahem Orpaz, also beaming.

"Great. Though... I think its too easy. You sure they should be breaking so easily?" - I asked.

"No, not sure at all..." - he said, calming down as the adrenaline rush we all had since parachuting to the roof of the Asyut University ceased.

"We broke their backbone, that's all there is about it!" - shouted Yosef Mendel - "Their army is weak, though large; come on, would your uncle have started this war had he not known that he would win?"

"He wouldn't have." - I admitted - "He always plans things out..."

I was interrupted by the communicator's beeping.

"Its over!" - shouted Avraham Sharansky's voice through it - "David, report to "Castro"!"

"Alright, will go!" - I replied and turned the communicator off, stood up and said - "Menahem, "Castro" calls..."

"Ofcourse, ofcourse!" - he said.

By then, the fighting completely died down, but as I climbed down the fire lattern we had utilized after the university was secured, I heard some shooting and shouting. I immediately sensed that something was wrong. I turned out to be right as a loud explosion sounded, Earth shook and yells of agony and uproar came from below. I strenghthened my grip on the lattern and closed my eyes...

---

"Though I was just as willing as "Castro", who survived with the minimal injuries, to dismiss this as an act of a derranged young man, or of the desperate enemy, or, at worst, of a terrorist organization, I knew that I had no right to do so. "If in our house it suddenly reeks of sulphur, we have no right to blame the molecular fluctuations - we MUST think that somewhere near us the Devil has appeared, and MUST take according measures, going as far as arranging industrial-scale production of holy water."[1] The quote is probably not very accurate, but you get the general idea; it was the same case for me, though I definitely like this not.

The Devil in question was the traitor in our ranks whom I was ordered to hunt down. And it definitely reeked of him. Problem is... I had no an idea who exactly it was, and until then often doubted his very existance. Things were complicated by the fact that he was definitely one of our unit. Everybody here knew each other well. We were all comrades in arms, united by blood and fire - if you pardon the poetic language. And yet, if all was as it seemed, he threatened the lives of "Castro" and countless other comrades. Including me. I would've thought it was Sharansky - only, Sharansky was the only one who died in the bomb attack. "Castro" was now out (though, alas, not straight out) as well, despite his suspicious behaviour in the past.

Ofcourse, I didn't share my real thoughts on the issue with anyone, even with "Castro". Soon enough, though I from now on made sure to be even more paranoid than usual, I had to forget about the suspects and so forth for the while. Despite the bomb attack and some scattered resistance, we soon enough asserted control over Asyut. The official Mossad agents arrived to investigate the situation; I knew none of them, and they didn't act as if they knew about my presence here neither, though their leader, a middle-aged man by the name of Shlomo, did take my letter when nobody was watching. There was no reply to my previous one, apparently. Not that I requested any specific reply - I merely had certain instructions, and one of them was to report everything of importance.

Before I had time to get back to pondering about the traitor (and shuddering inwardly at everything that seems even slightly suspicious), "Castro" informed us that we had less than a day to rest. Mobility was the key to the warfare here, and we still had much ahead of us; there was no time for hesitation."

To be continued.

---

[1] Strugatsky Brothers. "The Bug in the Anthill." Really nice book that, very inspirational.

Its a traditional Irish Name that means World King, though i see what your saying...

@das: Make it up... I'm not that creative at the moment.

Flashback...

Flying over water is always pretty boring, especially when there's nothing to see. No ships, no storms, no waves, no enemy fighters...it makes the air-to-air missiles hanging on the wings seem rather pointless, and the air-to-surface ones even more so. And the cannon...well, the likelihood of Muslim air cover was slim, even over what was left of their navy. No dogfighting for this particular flight of fighters. We'll never make ace now, thought the lieutenant in number three. And I wanted to splash some easy kills, too.

The flight of four fighters cruised over the calm Mediterranean at about one and a half times the speed of sound, going on full afterburner to keep the element of surprise. A tanker aircraft was over Malta anyway, with another four fighter-bombers on BARCAP. No Arab was getting through those guys. That was Captain Zapatero's element. In any event, they'd have fuel enough on the way back home. At least they'd only be forced to see ocean until they got to the enemy fleet. They would be the first element to attack the enemy navy, since the first two planes were observation pukes, who didn't even come close enough to let the enemy paint them on radar. Wimps.

The radio-silence order was only in effect until after everyone was Winchester: out of weapons. Then, they'd burn back for more fuel and ammo. Until then, though, the lieutenant was going to be pretty bored. He checked all of his ASMs for the tenth time (not counting the preflight back on Sicilia) and kept his eyes on the HUD to make sure he stayed level at three hundred feet. The Arab navy was so bad its radars probably didn't have a look-level capability, he snorted, much less look-down. They were just over the horizon and no radars had locked on yet. Now, if this was the Italic navy...those guys are murder in exercises.

Another fifteen minutes passed before the feed from the AWACS showed that the enemy ships were nearing range. The lieutenant studied the picture carefully. It looked as though the enemy navy was just steaming along, with an aircraft carrier in the center of the miles-across formation, and a myriad of destroyers and cruisers along with them. They've even got a few battleships from a long, long time ago. What the heck are they going to bombard? Further out, a few surfaced submarines floated next to tenders - They're still using diesel-electric subs, too - while more tenders and supply ships clustered near the center.

The aircraft carrier was not an essential target (What planes do they have, anyway?), nor were the cruisers. Destroyers had surface-to-air missiles on them, copies of the ancient American Standard-2 Block III. Those battleships looked like they could do some damage to the Fleet when it came in in a few days. Submarines could wreak havoc on the supply corridor the Navy was opening up to the landing troops that were coming in a few days. All of those were targets. The most important were the destroyers. He targeted two antiradar missiles each on two of the destroyers, and keyed them to lock onto the band of radar that the Muslim ships would use for their SAMs. Heavier missiles, vastly improved versions of the old American Harpoon, were targeted just below the ships' waterlines. Enough explosive to imitate lighting a match around Four's room at the barracks.

The flight of fighters began to slow down as they neared the enemy fleet, and then began to go lower as they got into range of the radars of the outermost pickets, the destroyers. For a few tense minutes each of the pilots sweated as radar waves passed over them, not getting a lock-on, but coming pretty close...It was nerve-wracking, watching the warning light, praying for it to be spoofed by the incoming planes. Then, something unexpected happened.

Message from the AWACS, breaking radio silence: "Confirmed takeoff of four fighters from carrier."

What? Scanning the radar scope, the pilot saw four blips, marked with "Unknown Type" tags. Apparently they haven't turned on their radar. Oh, well. In the same motion, he armed two heat-seeking air-to-air missiles and searched for one of the Arab aircraft. He found it about a second later, taking the one at the rear of the pack, about six miles away, and squeezed the trigger, calling out, "Fox-two, Fox-two, two on the rear one." Two missiles dropped from the wings on either side of the plane and then ignited, racing off towards the aircraft. The orderly radio silence was now ruined with incoming fire messages from the other fighter-bombers in his element.

"Fox-one, Fox-one, two slammers on the leader."

"Fox-two, Fox-two-"

"Aw, nuts! They're lighting me up!"

"Dump chaff and scramble!"

A monotonous note from the AWACS over Malta: "Three bogies down, one left, destroyers firing SAM."

Two of the Italic fighters launched their ASMs at the targeted destroyers, which didn't have enough time to target the missiles instead of the planes. In the Combat Information Center on the destroyer Djebel ibn-Allah, the captain, grimacing, ordered the SAMs fired at the aircraft in the desperate hope that the missiles would go "dumb" when their controlling aircraft were blown out of the sky. Three managed to evade the SM-2s that rocketed out at him by going into an Immelmann and dumping chaff like crazy. The other fighter, that of Four, corkscrewed and managed to evade one of the four missiles streaking at him, then fired off some flares in an attempt to spoof the enemy. Another of the SAMs went blind, but the others bored in on the heat signature from the still-lit afterburners and went up the tailpipe. The fighter disintegrated over the Djebel ibn-Allah, which was hit almost immediately by the fire-and-forget ASMs he had launched. The two destroyers that had been targeted sank rapidly after being hit. All four ASMs fired hit, which was pretty impressive, and all exploded, which was even better.

One and Two were engaged in a dogfight with the remaining Arab fighter from the carrier, who was proving to be very good, possibly having been the enemy element leader. The enemy's low-tech fighter served him well, because he was slower and therefore more maneuverable. Cannonfire from the enemy's 20-mm cannon was the only real threat. As the destroyers exploded and sank below, the dogfight began to drift higher and higher in attempts to gain altitude and therefore speed.

"Fox-Three, Fox-Three on the...dang, it got spoofed!"

"Cut it, Two."

"Yessir-Holy ****, that guy almost hit me! Fox-Four!"

"Fox-Two, Fox-Two on the bogey."

"He's too close to me!"

AWACS: "You missed, One."

The AAM streaked past the Arab and spooked Two, who went into a dive to try to get away...right into the enemy's gunsights. A couple of taps on the trigger and 20-mm shells lanced out from the old American plane, turning the aft half of Two's aircraft into scrap metal. That was followed up with a missile straight into Two's engines, or what was left of them. One, running low on fuel and ammunition, dumped his missiles off at whatever was the first naval target in sight and then opened the throttle wide. The afterburner blazed back on and the plane leapt away at 1000 kph, increasing speed all the way and heading towards Malta.

Three was the only one left, and the Arab turned towards him. Fortunately, the Italic pilot still had two missiles left. "Fox-One, Fox-One, Slammer on the bogey."

AWACS: "Nope, it's a miss, Three. Be advised, looks like a few of the Arab's Ticonderoga platforms that the US auctioned off twenty years ago are inbound with their radars blasting, over."

The pilot ignored him as the enemy came around for a head-to-head pass. Keeping his last missile in reserve, his fingers tightened on the trigger for his cannon. Playing a deadly game of chicken, the enemy came in closer...initial 20-mm shots going wide at the range at which they were. Three jiggled the stick to keep the other from getting an easy target. One mile off...

The Arab came in faster now, spraying ammunition all over the place. They were getting closer...Fire! The Italic pilot squeezed his cannon trigger, hoping to see a flash of fire gouting from the Arab plane. No such luck: the enemy buzzed by him without getting hit. Son of a... He slowed and turned the plane around, looking at the picture of the enemy on radar. He's got a smaller turning radius than I do. Oh well. Looks like I'll have to school you tonight. The two fighters turned tighter and tighter, losing speed and altitude dangerously. Suddenly, a line of tracers streamed past Three's cockpit. Nuts! Okay, you're good, I'll give you that, but that's not everything. School ain't over yet.

Three's fighter twisted away from the circle and lit afterburner, dangerously close to "bingo" fuel: only enough to get back to the tanker. The Arab, still in his turn, continued once more. Three continued to rocket away, then pulled a wide-radius turn 180 degrees back towards the enemy fighter, then loosed his last missile, opening fire with his guns as he did so. The Arab moved away from the cannon fire, straight into the path of the missile, which detonated as it was right next to the enemy cockpit. The Italic pilot's plane rocketed past the exploding enemy jet, the exultant pilot yelling, "Happy graduation day, sucker!"

"Suspect at once the most suspicious and the utterly unsuspectable, and especially - everyone in between."
- ha-nasi Aleksandr Levitsky.

---

Ha-nasi Aleksandr Levitsky used to live in Tel Aviv, but when he was elected ha-nasi, he quickly moved to Jerusalem. There he worked even when on a stormy day one could clearly see the border outposts. When, quite rarely, he was allowed - or, rather, allowed himself - to vacation for more than three days, he unvariably went to Caesaria. On weekends, however, he retired to his villa just to the west from Jerusalem and there, in loneliness (but for his huge Persian cat Behemoth, and the bodyguards secretly assigned to him by the Mossad) and solitude, he pretended to rest... and in truth, planned and schemed for the coming week, and for the month, and for the rest of his presidency. He also read his letters here.

Ha-nasi was not at all opposed to the use of modern technology. When in Jerusalem, he used cellphones, e-mail and other such means of communication. But in the villa, and only in the villa, he read his paper correspondence of such import that it could not be trusted to the eyes of more than two, at most - four, people. Much less to the various networks; it was possible to intercept everything and crack any cipher. Oh, sure, the same could be done with a letter - but it is harder to find, and besides, who will even think of looking for a mere letter in those days?

Having sat down in an old chair in his library (the bugs wherein he previously turned off; so what if Matvey Brudenstein, director of the Mossad, would complain? If assassins or somesuch actually reach the villa, it wouldn't exactly matter if they are recorded in library as well or not...), ha-nasi took out the first envelope from its hiding place. Carefully he opened it and retrieved the letter itself. In complete silence - Behemoth was asleep at the moment - ha-nasi read letter after letter with his usual speed, and each that he has read he threw into the fireplace opposite his chair. An old man, ha-nasi had a good aim; he never failed to exterminate unneeded information.

Finally, ha-nasi reached my letter, shook his head at my long-winded phrases, and rapidly consumed it with his eyes. To those who did not known my uncle, it seemed as if he only pretends to read, briefly skimming everything; actually, it seemed that way to those who knew him as well. Yet he always learned all that there was to learn from a piece of text.

"...I suspect that this bomb attack might as well be the work of the traitor, or of him and his associates...

...my suspicions about Sharansky have been unjustified, and even if they were and his death was an accident, I will no longer have to worry about him. Perhaps its blasphemous to feel relief at the death of a fellow Jew, but...

..."Castro" was slightly injured and frightened, and it seemed quite natural; he doesn't really strike me as particularily suspicious, though I do remember your saying. Indeed, perhaps it really was all a part of his cunning plan, a set-up to gain our trust...

...Then there is Menachem Orpaz. You still have not confirmed whether he was with you during the coup or not; your silence probably means yes, as usual. But it also means that Orpaz is not fully trustworthy. Lately I have become ever more suspicious of him at times, and in others, he seems 100% reliable to me. I haven't any real evidence of his guilt or his innocence yet. By the way, I would appreciate it if you say your own opinion based on your impression of him in Jerusalem, if you, ofcourse, remember him and if he was there at all that Purim...

...Mendel... ...Barak... ...younger Barak... ...Yaalon... ...Wilder...

...somewhat suspicious.... ...no proof..."

It figured. "Castro" or Orpaz, then... Orpaz? Yes, in Jerusalem he was, that much was true. And in Caesaria, ofcourse... though he probably didn't mention that.

Having disposed of all of his correspondence, ha-nasi wrote the replies - precise, strict and simple. To me, for instance, he ordered to cut the flowery phrases and to concentrate on "Castro" for the moment. Orpaz, he wrote, spoke the truth. Yes, he still is a suspect, but not as much of a one as Castro. Oh, and pay more attention to Yaalon. And also... until told otherwise, do not act hastily, unless that is absolutely the only way to deal with the traitor.

After having written them, he hid his replies in the usual hiding place, and went to pet Behemoth. The phlegmatic cat stared at him thoughtfully, and yet again it occured to ha-nasi that not only could Behemoth read his mind, that the huge Persian probably found it a real bore. Or insanity? Hard to tell - both with this situation, and with this cat...

Then Sarah Kolbe, the only Mossad agent apart from me allowed to visit him without a special permission at his villa by the value of being, no matter how distant, a relative, came in, and, after an exchange of pleasantries and a brief conversation, took the letters and went away, soon to set out towards the military airport at Zova, and from there, by helicopter, to Aswan...

---

"After Qina and Luxor, the enemy was definitely broken, at least in the Nilotic part of Egypt. But that only made it an imperative for us to hurry faster and faster; we needed to take Aswan before the enemy could destroy the dam. Thankfully, the enemy was disorganized and panicked enough to hesitate before destroying it, and so we managed to come just in time and save the bloody dam, if at a large price. Our unit itself lost Wilder and Aaron Barak. Mendel was badly wounded, amongst others...

There still was no sign of the traitor. Aside from the deaths of Aaron Barak and Avraham Sharansky, no "progress" was made by me. Still, we had several weeks to spend in Aswan, to rest, regroup, heal our wounds and fix our communication and supply lines; by the way, as the latter were clearly overstretched, we often enough got supplies by helicopter. It was also by helicopter that Sarah arrived to hand over to me a letter and leave. Thankfully this time I did not fare as bad as the last time, in part because she left quite quickly.

Anyway, in anticipation of the campaign's continuation, our unit stayed in Aswan. That was a welcome break, in truth; modern warfare can often be very exhausting. Though idleness, especially in combination with paranoia bolstered by mystirious happenings and a hostile local populace, proved to be even worse in that regard as well as others..."

To be continued.

No update this week. I literally have no free time this weekend. So no update this week but one next week.

Good, I still have to get my story up, and I haven't sent any orders or diplos!! And with Wubba gone who the heck do I talk too... Inspiration!!! But I'll wait until I figure out what to say before I ask him

when are orders due?

Orders due next Friday.

Ah well, more time to work on orders...

What are you doing, invading the Umma again? What requires such time?

Uh-oh.

KrimzonStriker said:

Good, I still have to get my story up, and I haven't sent any orders or diplos!! And with Wubba gone who the heck do I talk too... Inspiration!!! But I'll wait until I figure out what to say before I ask him

Click to expand...

I am here. So what do you want?