A Battle Unseen

[BananaZebra]

BLACK HEART OF BADARA: CHAPTER ONE
SULTANS OF THE SANDS
Nashida Harroun, reporter for Sawt-al-e-Badara
Desert near Misul
26 July, 5489

The shifting sands in front of her glimmered in the setting sun as Nashida Harroun, reporter of Sawt-al-e-Badara, turned to face Nadheer Soleimani, member of the magnate family.

"My father once told me sand was dharab - gold." said Nadheer Soleimani, turning to the reporter behind him. "Not the sand itself, mind you. The gold lay beneath - the black blood which pumps through the veins of Badara, supplying every organ and limb with the sustenance it needs."

"Oil, you mean." said Nashida .

Nadheer smiled slyly.

"Yes. For centuries it powered Badara's economy, propping it up against the ravages of an uncaring and ever-changing world." he said. "Until it didn't."

"The de-petrolization. I assume this had a significant effect on your family?"

"Oh indeed. Though we survived, obviously. A good businessman knows how to be flexible, to adjust." Nadheer replied. "Ores, groceries, housing - you name it, we own it."

Nashida cleared her throat.

"And now, with Vamaj?"

Nadheer smiled widely, looking out over a vast field of oil wells before him.

"Now, our nation's heart pumps once more."

Nashida narrowed her eyes, writing quickly in her notebook.

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Nashida arrived at the warehouse shortly after midnight, pulling the car up to the side entrance.

The whirs of the machinery could be heard outside, even through the closed door of the warehouse. The door opened slowly, a head popping out and looking quickly in both directions, freezing once it spotted Nashida.

"Al-Fajr, friend." said Nashida.

A slight nod was the response from the stranger, holding the door open as they stood aside.

Nashida slipped into the warehouse, a massive room full of loading and unloading bays with looming industrial cranes as far as she could see.

"So this is the overland hub?" she asked.

The stranger, who Nashida could now tell was a middle-aged man, nodded.

"Most of the oil comes from way out in the desert, here in Samaria and in Baharia as well. It's got to get to al-Buqiyaa or Ras al-Harem to get shipped. But," the man said, stepping closer to Nashida. "There's something going on. Shipments are
down, but profits are up. Whispers the Soleimanis made some kind of deal with the Tzafrirs, to end the de-petrolisation programme."

"Any source for that claim? Evidence?"

The man shook his head wearily.

"If they are up to something, they're good at hiding it." he said.

Nashida ventured further into the factory.

"Is it empty?" she asked.

The stranger shook his head.

"They're all down at the unloading bay, is all. I should head back before they notice I'm missing." as he left, he handed her a key. "It's a master. If anyone asks, I've never met you and will recommend calling the authorities."

Nashida nodded.

"Thank you."

The man left quickly, and Nashida looked around the room that was visible to her: long walkways of linoleum and metal padding on which the workers' boots pinged and ponged in the distance in a soft chorus of annoyance. Stacks of pallets of oil drums, some empty, some full. On them labels; in Majatran, in Yeudi, and in the many languages of the Vamaj countries.

Nashida rounded a corner between two stacks of pallets, finding herself in front of a wooden door marked "MAIN OFFICE" in gold lettering.

Through the frosted glass, Nashida could tell the lights were off.

She slipped the master key into the lock, turning it open and popping the lock open with a soft click. Pushing the door open, she saw two rows of desks and, behind those, the much larger desk indicative of a boss's seat.

Nashida walked swiftly to the back, turning on her phone's flashlight and rustling through the documents left atop the desk. Picture after picture, Nashida meticulously compiled a collection of documents.

The master key worked in the locks of the desk, and Nashida grabbed more and more documents and folders, ransacking the desk and all of its contents.

The door swung open, and Nashida ducked beneath the desk, her heart pounding in her ears. A heavy set of footprints made their way to the desk, stopping in front of it. From under the desk, just out of the person's line of sight, Nashida held her breath tightly and listened for any more movement.

A sigh.

"Goddamn it, Eli. Clean up your shit for once," the voice said, sifting through papers. "Here," the voice continued, exasperated, and Nashida once more heard the heavy footprints, exiting the room.

She let out a sigh of relief, her chest burning as she took deep breathes to calm her heart.

Quickly, she got up and carefully made her way back to her car, speeding off back to her apartment.

[BananaZebra]

BLACK HEART OF BADARA: CHAPTER TWO
A FAMILY AFFAIR
Ismail Tzafrir, former Ambassador to Beitenyu and former Secretary-General of the MSCO, Bier Qassem
14 August, 5489

The air in the meeting was thick, like that of a humid summer's morning. Ismail rubbed his neck, wiping the sweat from it and turning to his wife.

"The Treaty will pass. It may take time, it may take compromise - "

"I don't have time! This is my legacy." she replied.

Ismail bristled.

"Our legacy. Darling." he said.

Ameera tensed.

Karl Thaller cleared his throat.

"The project is moving smoothly on our end, and we are confident we will reach our quota by the deadline."

"Finally, some good fucking news." Ameera hissed. "But the economy is still slouching, from that damned war. And Yishelem has the nerve to flop around on the Community, instead of jumping at the chance to fix their damage to Majatra!"

"Darling, anger does nothing here. Don't push away one of our only allies." Ismail said.

"You're quite the broken record, aren't you?" she replied. "I'm well aware that we must tread carefully here, beloved."

Ismail stood up straight.

"The Tzafrirs are known world-wide for our contributions to the defence industry. But other industries, those need different stewards. This is not a failing of Yishelem, but a failing on our part."

"And what do you suggest?" Ameera asked, her lips curling and her brow scrunched.

"Diversification. We need to expand our influence into other regions. Seleya, for starters, has a great deal of untapped potential for trade on our behalf. Trade with our neighbours in Majatra is an excellent start - now let's translate that to a wider network."

Ameera nodded, turning to Nadheer, Abdul, and Karim Soleimani.

"Don't make me regret giving you a monopoly, boys."

Nadheer smiled.

"You won't, Madame President. The Treaty of Altatepec does give us a unique opportunity," he said. "With Beiteynu and Lourenne adopting a more hands off approach to Seleya, at least on paper, this could give us a chance to expand our network beyond-"

Tzafrir turned his head.

"In Yishelem, yes. As you are so fond of saying." he said.

"It's true." Ameera said. "They've admitted themselves they are no longer capable of sustained defense, and their economy is nothing but an international web. Surely a few more friends couldn't hurt?"

Karl Thaller cleared his throat.

"Aldegar would be an excellent place to start. Building off Gaduridos and Baltusia, Aldegar would also give us a critical hub in the canal."

"Aldegar..." the President said. "If it is the price we must pay for glory, Aldegar it shall be."

[Luis1p]

IRSA Headquarters, Eroncourt, 8:56 AM

"Get those scans ready for me. We've got our weekly scans and our Soteria programming today, get moving."

The room smelled like trapped air, paper, and burnt espresso. 32 people filled the room, each at their own work station on large round tables, set up in front of three large screens and several smaller monitors.

"All right everybody, High Chancellor's orders: you are to complete our usual scans with the Voxis Program. Remember to check for abnormalities, or any major security threats. Those working on the Soteria program, you have new software to install. Make sure your station have the available files and upload them into the system. Go."

Everyone in the room began checking their screens, walking across the room, and talking to each other. The three screens up front began to show satellite images of several countries, and several continents.

"Uh sir, I have an anomaly on my screen. Sector 7. Voxis is yelling at me."

"Let me see."

He scans the screens intensely and compares scans from last week. He starts sweating and runs to his desk. He pick's up a red phone and dials a number.

"Get me the Royal Minister of Defense and the RIA. We have a security concern in Sector 7.......Where?.....Sector 7! That's Majatra..... I know but---it's Badara!"

[BananaZebra]

Office of the President, Bier Qassem

"What do they know?" the President asked, her back to the group.

"They know there are sites, in the desert." her husband, the ambassador, said.

"And?"

"They are aware of the rocket programme." replied the Prime Minister.

"And of the rest?" she asked.

"They have no idea."

"We must proceed carefully, then." the President said.

"The IRSA will continue to investigate, and Lourenne's Foreign Minister is already asking questions." said her husband.

"The world mustn't know until all of it is ready. Then, they will see."

The eighty-one year old woman stood, slowly, and walked to the window overlooking Bier Qassem.

"And in the meantime?" asked the Prime Minister.

"We wait." she said, pausing. "If they push, we come clean about the rockets."

The President smiled.

"And just the rockets."