A Battle Unseen is a first-person role-play thread where players can post events from a first-person perspective- that might not make the national news...
PRELUDE
The world is becoming ever more interconnected and dangerous. Wars are hardly fought in the open any more but the war in the shadows is growing and growing more violent by the day. Intelligence agencies, official and unofficial paramilitary groups, terrorist cells, transnational gangs, multinational corporations, spies and a host of private and freelance actors. A whole shadow world lurks beyond the pale of the mainstream news, where politicians hide their secrets, real business and diplomatic deals are made and wars are regularly avoided and sometimes started.....
OOC: this is a first person based RP. All are welcome to post but it must be done through a first person basis. You are free to create your own characters as needed, but they should be RP'd cautiously and in a realistic way. Best of luck!!!
IC
Cafe Ontbjit, Wiel, Vanuku; 0752
Salyzar Mrnskyn finished his morning breakfast as usual at the small corner cafe he always ate at. It was run by a lovely Jelbk couple who had moved from Baofluz to seek more opportunity than can be found in Jelbania. It was one of the few un-talked about secrets in the new Jelbk Empire that was being constructed. Jelbania was the sick man of this new union and with the new found "partnership" and more crucially, the reduced economic barriers, those who could leave left and went to a land of better chances. For many, with tensions high with Zardugal (which usually served as a crucial shippoint of the western Majatra black market) blocking that route off, many went to Vanuku and for the few that could afford the flight, a move to Pontesi.
The diner he once frequented had changed dramatically over the last two years. The Van Schoosten's (Mr Van Schoosten had traveled to Jelbania when he was a low level embassy staffer and met his Jelbk wife there; they opened their little dinner some 20 years ago) place was located in a once sleepy, migrant section of Wiel. Now however it was a full of activity. Jelbk and Pntek immigrants had been flooding the city, and indeed the country for close to 2 years now and the streets were alive with action. New, cheap apartment towers were being built for the low income migrants (the Van Schoosten's opportunistically bought the block when their landlord died last year and were making a hefty profit from renting it out to migrant families; several lived in the apartments above the restaurant and many of the younger family worked there; they also collected rent from some shops which opened first level store fronts as well), mobile carts became ubiquitous in the city as ambitious young men, middle aged men looking to provide for their family and old, near retirement aged men looking to muddle through what should be their retirement all fighting to hawk their goods to passers by. They swarmed the city during the day time, reaching from the posh neighborhoods of north Wiel (where the rich and powerful liked to "treat" with them for interesting nooks and such) to the downtown commercial districts and everywhere in between. On this particular morning there was no school (it was a holiday as the Conference going on in the government centre had taken up most of the city's attention) and so as Mr Mrnskyn walked out of the diner, he heard the sound of children playing in the streets and at the nearby park while cars drove up and down the street and the city metro line ran in the centre of it all.
He hopped his usual tram and sat down for the ride to his job at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He opened the newspaper he picked up earlier and returned to an article stressing about combating Zardic Imperialism. He mentally sighed, his grandfather had fought in the Zardic-Vanukuean War some 50 years ago and died. "Didn't the post elite in North Wiel get tired of war?" he thought to himself. As the tram moved through its route more and more people boarded (the city's mass transit system was now almost always full from the new waves of migrants; in fact the Wiel Metro Authority posted its first profit in so many years, people joked no one at the Authority remembered what the word profit meant), and he gave his seat up to an elderly women with a small basket of bread. She was clearly one of the locals and she looked disdainfully at all the new migrants.
It was roughly eight thirty am when he made it to the Ministry. Salyzar Mrnskyn had held the job for 2 years there as a janitor/technician where he made repairs to the various systems. He remembered when he first came to the city many years ago from the Vanukuean border town of Stormkapp. He had Jelbk family on all sides of the borders and he initially was going to stay there and work at the local meat processing plant. He would be general manager there now (he had been working towards a bachelor's degree in business management and his father, a local city councilman was friendly with the plant owners) except things didn't turn out like that. The factory went bankrupt after Health Ministry officials closed it for severe food safety violations. With the city now reeling from the factory loss his father lost his city council seat (fortunately he saved up enough to retire in some level of comfort) and he went to Wiel to look for work. He spent a few years bouncing between technical jobs, mostly working for the Metro or whatever phone companies would hire him. Finally, around 2 years ago he applied for his current job at the Foreign Ministry and got it.
It was also around that time, later that Eliayhumus that during a family reunion he met with his Zardic Jelbk cousins (Zardugal having an extremely small Jelbk community of its own), who had to submit to extra security screenings before crossing the border, but his father retained enough political clout locally to make their journey north a bit less harsh than for others. One of his cousins, Menchal Mrnskyn (an Yeudish Jelbk) took him aside and congratulated him on his new job at the foreign ministry. He was stunned. How did he know that? he wondered. Soon they retreated to the basement with his father and some other family members to discuss politics, a touchy subject as the SSA were always around and local party authorities had a knack for finding even the most closely guarded secrets out. They talked off the increasing repression against dissent, of how the economic elite benefited while they suffered and how the new Jelbk Empire would only mean more war. Menchal soon wrote on a piece of paper "I work for the FIA. Join us cousin." Salyzar was stunned, he heard rumors of the intelligence agencies battling for influence in expatriate and divided communities like his family was apart of, but he never knew it would touch him one day. His father was already recruited he had seen, indeed he was bitter at the local party authorities for leaving him to dry when the plant went belly up and Salyzar had his own grudges too.
He walked into the office and checked his emails. He sorted through his inbox and it was mostly the usual crap. An invoice needed in triplicate to be sent to this office, an eval sent to that office. All the usual stuff. Then he noticed a request for help. One of the Communications desk circuits had tripped and he had to reset the system. As the ministry began to fill with people that day he took his new co-worker, Hans and went downstairs into the third underground floor to check the breakers. Ah yes, here is the problem, he thought to himself. He told his new co-worker to go and fill out form T-189, a request for some new fiber optic cables and power lines. As he went back upstairs, Salyzar looked into the hatch below the breakers themselves and lightly singed the fiber cables (which ran right next to the power lines) and implanted two small bugs onto the cables themselves, enabling the IDA and the FIA remote access to start intercepting the cables.
His assistant returned and what luck! The supply office had a couple of spare cables from when they renovated the high security room on the second floor (he was not allowed up there because he had no clearance that high) and he quickly replaced them. The deed was done and he filled out his log as usual. By 11 when lunchtime came, the Zards had remote access to begin infiltrating the interior network of the Ministry.
ZARDIC PATROL BOAT 78, 35 EAST OF LIMENOSTOMO; 1325
Lt James Devarius was running his usual patrol in Lake Majatra. The Maritime Security Agency was working overtime these days trying to interdict the illegal, black market trade through the area. Federal authorities in Belgae were tired of letting Jelbania and Deltaria have such an "easy" out as they called it and the Lake Majatra area black trade routes were some of the most profitable in the world, given how 3 of the biggest economies weren't even talking to each other, much less willing to regulate each others trade. Coastal and customs officials were an easy bribe in Jelbania and Deltaria, were most of the trade commenced. Drugs, weapons, people, and every other sort of material was traded through this axis. Trafficking lords in Deltaria were the most aggressive and made the most profit but the Jelbk traders had stronger links to the Jakanians thus proving invaluable to the Deltarian gangs and their own as well. Indeed, it was not unheard of to have the same Jelbk traders and navigators working for multiple Deltarian gangs and Jelbk trafficking rings.
Lt Devarius hated it all. Born of elite stock in Kostandian Bay, he went to the Naval Academy and became an officer in the reserve which allowed him to get a real leadership position in the MSA. He spent one tour doing coastal security work in Gatineo and when he made Lt, he was put in charge of this patrol boat off the coast of Limenostomo. Out of all the Zardic cities to be hit by the waves of immigrants and refugees, Limenostomo was the worst hit. Belgae and Kostandian Bay were the traditional assimilation centres and handled the increases to their population quite well. Limenostomo did not. The Ahmadi and Majatrans assimilated alright, having some historical link to the city and their conservative attitudes made them more politically attractive for the ZPP to recruit. The various Jelbk and Deltarian peoples, not so much. The Deltarians were disdained because they were associated with the rise in gang violence and crime in the city. Every other day it was a new crime on the local news, murder here, gang revenge shooting here. Drug bust in lower east side.
Now the Lt was at the front, fighting to keep these gangs out of his country. He surveyed the calm waters with his binoculars, and as he swept around he caught something sticking out of the water. He looked intently at it and then went over the PA: "General quarters. Prepare to intercept and board." The crew of 11 quickly sprung to action and readied their weapons while the boatswains mate took the helm and steered the boat right to the partially submerged vessel. The 50 calibers mounted on the boat were quickly loaded and trained at their target.
The ramskacle submarine now began to surface as best it could and a man popped from the hatch and fired his assault rifle right at the boat. The 50 cals quickly tore him to shreds and the patrol boat pulled up beside the mini-sub. Two MSA agents armed with assault rifles of their own quickly boarded and went into the sub. After several tense minutes the all clear was given and another accomplice was pulled from the sub. Inside were a couple of kilos of Baltusian cocaine, an assortment of assault rifles and ammo and worst of all, slaves. Several clearly underage girls (the Lt estimated between 12-16) were brought up and quickly given some light medical attention. By 1400, two more patrol boats had arrived and the vessel was being towed back to port while the one remaining Deltarian national was quickly arraigned on charges of human trafficking, drug trafficking, illegal arms sales and illegal immigration. He was probably going to do 20-life in a federal prison since there was little chance of him being deported.
Lt Devarius was thinking as he pulled back into port: "We struck one for the homeland. That's fewer sex slaves on the streets, fewer young girls being abused and raped. Fewer drugs destroying communities and families." But when do we strike at the heart of the beast he wondered?
Zardic Communications Agency, National Information Operations Centre, 35 miles southwest of Belgae; 1423
Major Gregori Masvili (the grandson of refugees from Doron Akigo, he has a noted dislike of Deltarians and considers Jelbk's to be assistants to genocide) of the Zardic Air Force got back to his seat after lunch. Nothing fancy today, just simple meal from the cafeteria in the compound. Opened two years ago, the NIOC was one of the central intelligence hubs from communications and cyber in Zardugal. Other hubs were built across the nation and a few were rumored to be mobile and located outside the Federation. Bah. He didn't care. No, all he cared about was making sure the Doron Akigan rebels got the best intelligence they could. He was responsible for leading the effort to break the codes of the security forces and armed forces of Deltaria and give vital intelligence to the rebels and leaders of the resistance. It has only been for long developed links and massive Zardic support that the Akigan rebels have lasted as long as they have. Sometimes they grow into major fighting units, other times they are a vast guerrilla network. They were a network right now, one of the most advanced transnational networks at that. They have spent decades building weapons trade routes and for somehow getting contact to the outside world.
He chuckled as the room got busy again with his analysts. The Deltarians had horrible intelligence security and were even worse at encrypting their systems, even after years of Vanukuean support. Their tanks didn't work, they used two generations old equipment and they weren't even well trained. The fact that Zardugal could run low level recon missions without worrying about Deltarian fighters spoke for itself. Drones regularly flew over the Deltarian westernlands, but neither government admitted it. Zardugal didn't because there was no need and Deltaria didn't because these repeated violations of their airspace would only humiliate the government and might prompt more powerful nationalists to come into power which the ruling elite did not want.
As the afternoon wore on, Major Masvili reviewed the days successes. They intercepted a transmission revealing an attempted Deltarian raid on a weapons smuggling route in northern Doron Akigo, supplies were being moved now. They had finished targeting a local prison holding several leaders of the resistance, now a paramilitary squad from the FIA, with local assistance was going to execute a raid tomorrow. All in all, another day at the office.
Zardic Merchant Vessel Jolombra, 300 nautical miles east of Migadon, Telemon; 2236
Lt Commander Issac Tsvargi was an unlikely choice to be a naval officer. He was born to Mallan parents in 3740, and was able to have a much better life than his father for sure. His father had been a local organizer for the Mallan Liberation Front while his mother was a left wing political activist, who to this day was still organizing food drives and clinical visits for their poor mining community north of Kitrinoro. Gangs, violence and drugs were common here along with regular police brutality. At least that how it was until the day of Peace, which happened two days after he was born. Government negotiators and Mallan rebels reached a landmark accord which focused more resources on the state along with political enfranchisement, something his parents fought for. He developed well in school and because of his changed world, he saw less and less of the bad of government, and more avenues for advancement. His parents were strict with him (and his siblings) and demanded only the best from school. That he was in the top five of his graduating high school class was no mistake. Taking that, and the new found funds for educational advancement he went to school at Zardic National University to study international relations with a focus in conflict resolution. What's more he went on a naval scholarship which meant that between government grants and military funding, he had education set. His mother was more shocked than his father, when he told them he was going to become an officer, but nonetheless they supported him and were so proud at his pinning ceremony.
But that was years ago, now was a different time. After showing himself to be an exemplary leader he went to do highly classified work with the FIA. He regularly was imbedded in civilian cargo vessels to ensure sensitive deliveries were made on time and without difficulty. As he watched over the side of the ship, with it churning through the water, he was reminded of the last time he was through these waters. In 3765, back when he was just a LtJG and first recruited for his job at the FIA, he was put in charge of delivering weapons to the Hosian Liberation Front in Lodamun. One day, his last delivery, during a particularly nasty storm, he was nearly seasick with the Kalistani fishing trawler he was on rocking violently from one side to the other. Not less than 30 minutes after the storm subdued, the HLF appeared in a speed boat, hardly half the size of the trawler. Water was all over the boat and a faint smell of vomit convinced the LTJG that they too were caught in the storm. Nonetheless they put on a brave face and took the crates of guns and rocket launchers. Soon it was all over and they parted ways. Not 3 days after the delivery the mission was called off and he packed up his things at the Baltusian naval base and went home.
Now he was on the medium sized Jolombra and with an entirely professional crew supplied by joint effort of the FIA and Kostandian Bay Maritime Corporation. It was full of vital cargo heading to Dankuk. Weapons, munitions, intelligence collection equipment. All of it highly illegal (under Zardic and international law) and dangerous should the ship be captured. No wonder then the regular crew was heavily augmented by a special security staff. He was just a first mate in training too, better to conceal his own identity as leader of the mission. Ships captain Mark Ellsco ran the operation and he was barely briefed on the matter. Perfect plausible deniability.