The Cry of Freedom [IC]

Vazos

Vazos

TNPer
Alba Longa, 17 September 2015

Askata Urdi walked through the streets of the Albanese slums, shivering with every step. Although the locals were quite comfortable in the beginning of the Augustan autumn, he much preferred the sweltering heat of Quraf. He arrived at the predetermined meeting place (a small dive bar of little renown) late in the evening, after sunset.

Urdi entered the bar and noticed an Albanese man wearing a black suit with an orange pocket square—the sign—seated alone at the bar. He seated himself next to the Albanese. "Tru?into, I presume?"

"About time you showed up. Come with me." Tru?into led Urdi into a back room where other Speculatorial Service agents were seated over computers. He cleared his throat to get their attention. "Gentlemen, this is Commander Askata Urdi of the Qurafi Republican Militia. He has come here after corresponding with me for the past few months to propose a collaboration, of sorts."

Urdi stepped forward to address the SS agents in a thick Qurafi accent. "Put simply—I intend to start a war. For two hundred years, my people have been under the heel of Vazosi tyrants. First, we were slaves; now, we are free only in name. We cannot tolerate another year of oppression. I have come to request military assistance against the Kingdom of Vazos in order to re-establish the Republic of Quraf. In return, we have acquired Vazosi military secrets that we will share with the Imperium."
 
The room was dark, and full of terrors.

The glorious Speculatorial Service, the pride and joy of Imperium from the first days of the Latin League to the advent of military aviation. At that point, they were promptly usurped by said aviation as the stereotype of the attractive, fit, and intelligent August servicus.

This was an intelligence tent, a squad of ten. Tru?into was their Decanus Princeps, the squad leader. The rest were all Discenes, trained in foreign politics, language, and military science.

The squad had taken the time to disguise their identity. Not just out of suspicion of Urdi, but also out of fear of the ever-present Lictorial Service. All wore full-face masks, concealed their skin, and said nary a word.

Tru?into pulled a small device up from the desk behind himself and Urdi, clearing his own throat as he read the comments flowing in. Wired directly to the devices around the room - airgapped from the world - they allowed him to further conceal the identity of his tent from Urdi. Still, it was merely a formality.

At this point, it had been well-established that someone would be working with Urdi in the long-term. The question was what rank they would hold, and who they would be working for.

"I suppose we should start with the trading material, and then move on to the expectations. What is the nature of these military secrets?"
 
Urdi nodded soberly. "As you are of course aware, the island north of Quraf, Krespos, is currently uninhabited by civilians. Although it was once home to my people's most sacred temple, the only building thereon now is a weapons research facility administered by the Vazosi military. Our mole has confirmed that the Vazosi are developing chemical and biological weapons in this facility. There are, however, parts of the facility beyond our access—the projects underway there could be anything. The Republic of Quraf will share any and all information gleaned from our planned attack on this facility with the Imperium in exchange for your assistance in regaining our independence."

The Qurafi commander eyed the tent warily. Could he trust these masked men? Tru?into had appeared trustworthy until now.
 
Tru?into looked back at the masks. Some attentive, some not so.

The sound of muffled typing issued throughout the room, quickly dulled even further by soundproofed walls and what, one presumed, was a solid concrete cellar roof. Suddenly, in bright technicolour, a map burst to life behind Tru?into. For a moment, it showed the region as a whole, but quickly zoomed into the Vazosian archipelago.

Bursting forward, with a flashing red outline, "the island is Krespos, the location of the Vazosian WMD research facility." Nearby, as Urdi had said, "Quraf lays just to its south, and would be a major wargoal."

The typing gained in speed and magnitude. A mass of PDFs had been prepared beforehand, regarding the Vazosian military, and the Qurafian independence movement. It was not quite the repository of human knowledge that was so tantalizing close, just above, but it was certainly formidable.

Concealed from Urdi, numbers and words filled screens. Estimates of Vazosian military imports and exports, of research potential, of research capacity, of storage capacity.

Tru?into turned back to Urdi. He smiled warmly, waiting for some indeterminate signal. After an agonizing few minutes, the typing finally tapered away.

"The Vazosian research and development program is, fortunately, of a magnitude that would call for the consideration of a sovereign intelligence agency. Even more fortuitiously, we happen to be such a sovereign intelligence agency.

That being said, we are both well aware of the costs of such a consideration. What do you propose we secure for your handlers?"
 
Urdi bristled slightly—the Albanese custom of beating around the bush did not sit well with him. "We don't lack for manpower. We have many Qurafis willing to fight, as well as a growing number of individuals in the Royal Army whose loyalties have shifted. What we really need is materiel. Our stores of ammunition are running low, and the men aren't adequately supplied with arms. Any assistance in this area, or in training the enlisted men, would be most helpful."

The Commander then paced for a moment, then added, "It should be made clear that our attack on Krespos must come after Quraf is ours. The Royal Navy has regular patrols through the channel, and without control of one shore we will be unable to cross."

---

Meanwhile in Mahasur, Quraf's former capitol, a trial commenced. The defendant: Baltan Tiramo, separatist and QRM member. Presiding was Gerto Partuk, Governor of Quraf and head of the Vazosi occupation government. Tiramo was dragged in by two Royal Army officers brought before Partuk.

"Baltan Tiramo, you stand accused of high treason, seditious conspiracy, and consorting with enemies of the Crown. Have you any defense for these egregious charges?"

Tiramo remained silent, glaring coldly at Partuk. It was customary among Qurafi separatists not to answer questions given them in either Vazosi dialect.

Partuk's countenance clouded with impatience. "Off to the gallows with you, then. I have no time for your recalcitrance."
 
Tru?into considered the request, rolling it around his tongue. Just to see how it felt.

It was, for the most part, not an unusual request. Admittedly, it was the sort of thing generally handled by the Exploratorial Service, in the past. It was unusual for Imperium to be so late to a game like this one, and hence to require the Speculators in any capacity other than support. In recent days, however, they had been preoccupied with issues somewhat closer to home.

Yes, it was a simple request. With native manpower available, the rest would be easier. A growing number of individuals from the Royal Army meant a growing number of individuals trained in military tactics and strategy, both in a general sense, and in informing counter-strategy against the Vazosi military.

On the other hand, low ammunition and few arms to go around meant that manpower could not be utilized effectively. The eternal plight of the numerous political minority.

Which, of course, was where Imperium came in.

Certainly, Imperium was not by any means a poor partner in the endeavour. A long, long tradition of national service made for a military that, while well-trained in balancing their rigorous discipline with an academic interest in individualism, ultimately fared best with simple, resilient weaponry. Theirs was not the scoped battle rifles of your average special forces operations, but the tried-and-true rifles of a guerilla army. That was, effectively, the Imperium military, albeit with a general staff imposed from above. Ammunition was similarly easy to come by - in fact, it was a major export industry.

Training? Imperium had ample, ample experience in training the untrained. National service will do that to you. Every year, newcomers pass in and out of Imperium's military.

Vazos was a tropical nation, and one significantly more organized and powerful than the Qurafi resistance. The concern, therefore, was arming Qurafi combatants who could operate in an assymetrical manner. To impose Augustan training regimes, using August officers, would put Imperium itself at too much risk politically, and would result in an ultimately flawed understanding of the military doctrines operational in those jungles.

No. The Speculatorial Service was not equipped to provide the officer corps to an assymetrical military, half-way across the world. This was an intelligence agency.

But they had something they could offer.

"On balance, it is simple to acquire the various components that would be required to fulfill one's obligations to their people. The provision of ammunition is easily secured, and supplies to new recruits are much the same. Should one be interested in technical assistance, in regards to civilian transportation being refurbished, that could also be arranged. However, I imagine that your jungles would not be conduicive to such an investment.

Regarding educational initiatives, it seems that you have come to the wrong place, if you want to train combat officers. Surely, one would go to a private military company for such uninteresting fare? Or even the Royal Army itself. If you require assistance in securing the help of Royal Army officers, to train your men and prepare a military that can react appropriately to the Royal Army, well...that is most certainly in line with our personal interests. A few teachers in Quraf to show your existing partners within that institution how to eloquently present their point of view, and we imnagine that you will be able to put together a fairly resilient core to ground your future training regime. Perhaps, we shall even see if we can contract the assistance of some of our own military officers - those in the business of training other officers. I imagine the Vazosi would not be very familiar with assymetrical warfare - compared, at least, to our own nation."
 
Urdi paused. For a brief moment, the commander allowed his hesitancy to show. From hesitance came irritation. "I grow impatient, Tru?into. It is the way of my people to speak candidly. Your reluctance to do so makes me wonder whether you speak truthfully...as well as whether your officers would train my men with honorable intentions. If this is not the case, we will pursue other options." He then paused, looking Tru?into dead in the eye.
 
Tru?into mulled over the comment.

"Perhaps I should explain how things work in Imperium.

Your people speak candidly, because you are an honest people. You work hard, for rulers that are not yours. Men who have never felt sweat on his brow, and certainly not the sweat of a Qurafi soldier. Your people are proud, and speak fiercely, for the Vazosi do not bother to listen to you.

This is Imperium. We are proud, and speak fiercely, but we speak with one voice, for our government listens intently to our every word. Caesar takes careful note of every word that passes our lips. The Lictorial Service is not above pulling people in uniform off the streets, and sending them to one of those Paxforsaken rehabilitory institutions somewhere on the inner isles. They thrive on it. We speak in veiled tongue because those who can hide their intentions live. Those who do not will die.

We are not here to train your men with honorable intentions. We are here to train them to win. We do not care if they are proud of their battles - only that they can be proud of their war. Honour is for Caesar.

You're here with people that do not have the luxury to speak candidly. I do not speak candidly because I feel safe - I do it because the last thing you need is to lose your only contact in Imperium. If I die, so do your people, and I expect that you'll make it damned certain I do not fall into the hands of some Lictor-butcher.

You do not defeat a state by playing at billards. Our officers will train you, quite simply, in the art of war. How to use a weapon, and how to maintain it. How to organize themselves tactically, without a central command to dictate orders - if you want central command, you can do that yourself competently enough. At any rate, you'll have to, in order to implement a functional state institution. Our realm is that of squad-level tactics, and unit-level composition. The simple rules of picking your battles, and recognizing the silohuettes of enemy armaments. Do you attack a tank from in front, or behind? A truck from underneath, or above? When does one stike at a superior force, and how does one abuse the Qurafi terrain to run roughshod over a military tied to its central command?

We can show you, most importantly, how to counter the Vazosi's greatest advantage.

Yes, the Qurafi and the Vazosi have a long tradition of foreign espionage - of implanting yourselves into foreign states, and creating havoc and taking knowledge. But what have you learned of domestic intelligence - of counter-intelligence? How will you react to the propagation of propaganda? Of their radio stations, leaflets, ransoms and prizes for desertation? How will you convince your people that the people they cannot trust to rule them cannot be trusted to disarm them?

I do not presume to have anything to teach you because we are reluctant to speak candidly. It is because you cannot recognise why we are reluctant to speak candidly.

For all their failings, the Lictorial Service is a strong reminder that enemies live in every shadow. The candid man would sooner tell those shadows his biography than torch the shadows to the ground. The Speculators are the torch. Our predecessors spent centuries fighting a civil war to hide from Caesar and the Lictorial Service - they are our counterbalance, ensuring forever that we cannot rest on our laurels. That power is a double-edged sword. In return, we detest them as a labourer would detest his employer. We serve not because service is a reward, but because this is our town. This burnt hulk of a factory is our tool to create our world with both hands, whether or not the man I have spent my life in contest with owns it.

There will be time for candidness when the Vazosi are dead."
 
Urdi was visibly taken aback. He was unaccustomed to such a verbal reaming, especially in a foreign tongue. "Many apologies, Tru?into. I lost sight of what is truly important. It is truly a privilege to have the assistance of such capable forces as the Imperium."

He then took a map of the Vazosian archipelago out of his satchel and placed it on a table between him and Tru?into. "As you are of course aware, the Royal Navy is the pride of Vazos. Unfortunately, with the Qurafi borders closed and no safe places to land a plane without attracting notice, the seas are our only recourse. There is, however, under the northwestern cliffs, a cave which we have connected to an old mine. It eventually leads to a safehouse. All we need worry about is escaping the notice of the Royal Navy."
 
Tru?into wet his lips for a moment, casting the tirade to the back of his mind as he looked at Urdi's map. Raising two fingers, he signalled the closest Speculator, who leaned over their screen and drew something onto a concealed touchpad.

In a few seconds, the map of Vazos on the projector was overlaid with a number of markings, as activity in the room picked up. In a few, surprisingly tense minutes, beachheads and sea approaches were quickly marked out, based on publically known information, and a couple of routine reports on Vazosian geography and defenses compiled by the Speculatorial Service over the past few decades. On the overlay, a red marking indicated the safehouse, and the coastal mine entrance.

"Don't worry. The network is airgapped - there is no physical connection between our internet, VPN, and local network access. The local network doesn't have WiFi either - this overlay is entirely invisible to the outside world. Stored on RAM only."

The map zoomed out, with an arc marking out the August coast - the end of Imperium's practical territorial waters facing Vazos. A triangle extended, with one side connecting the two ends of the arc, and the other two connecting each end to the Vazosian mine. An estimated distance, based on stored map scale information, was projected onto the screen.

"Imperium's naval prowess is...unusual, in global terms. Despite being a historic maritime power, we have always done it through innovations in production, and our merchant navy. While proud, well-organized, and well-equipped, our navy lags behind the world in many senses. However, Imperium's strength is taking our weaknesses, and making them excellent.

In the early 1900s, a prolonged cold war with Alainn led to the Imperium-Alainn Sovereign Cooperation Treaty, which, amongst other things, introduced almost insurmountable restrictions on the development of nuclear military technology. Nuclear power is not technically barred by the treaty, but using it for military purposes would involve so much surveillance as to guarantee technological parity with Alainn. Instead of developing nuclear submarines, which form the pride and joy of what few nations have them, Imperium chose to develop diesel-electric technology, and later experimented with what is known as 'air-independent propulsion'. Like nuclear power, AIP does not require surfacing to operate. It is much, much less powerful than nuclear power, but it is sufficient to operate a submarine for extended periods, as has been amply proven by our current submarine fleet.

When paired with diesel-electric power, our submarines are capable of operating at speed until entering the territorial waters or suspected range of hostile surveillance, disengaging their diesel-electric engines and engaging their AIP auxilliary power to operate in secrecy, and with unparalleled stealth. The hydrogen fuel cells used on our own submarines are so quiet that they make the sound of power generation negligible, leaving crew activity as the prime noise source - a state of affairs that the most advanced nuclear submarines strive to achieve, and which conventional diesel-electric submarines dare not dream of.

Furthermore, their limited size, compared to the immense behemoths required by a self-sustained nuclear reactor, makes them exceptionally capable for coastal approaches - close enough to insert SCUBA teams. In this particular case, we shall waive the cost of the SCUBA gear as a necessary contribution to the cause, although I struggle to think of any use of the equipment which could not be better achieved with conventional intelligence operatives. The submarine will simply depart after the SCUBA team has been deployed, and the team will remain on Vazos as our intelligence attache.

We wish to stress, of course, that given the size of the submarines, the SCUBA teams would be...limited in size. At most, ten persons in total, leaving no space for technical specialists. We have to ensure that the persons selected for the team are fit and capable enough of conducting amphibious operations - from a submarine, no less. The extraordinary specialist knowledge required means that those who also have more technical abilities are valuable even here in Imperium. We will seek to insert a technical team at a later date, once we are confident our intelligence attache can assist in recovery.

The alternative is a HALO jump, into the jungle. High-altitude, low opening. A high-altitude military aircraft would paradrop a team of specialists over Vazosian airspace, outside reconaissance range. The specialists would then skydive to a low altitude, below aerial reconnaissance and out of sight of nearby urban centres, before deploying their parachutes. A HAHO - high opening - jump can remedy the loud sound of a parachute deployment, but where we are landing into jungle, sight is going to be a much more significant problem than noise. Again, they would retain the skydive equipment, and destroy it.

However, given the small size of Vazosian territory, and the high level of security in the potential landing area, it does seem that a submarine insertion is our best option."
 
Urdi nodded. "We can have a team there to receive them. The fishermen and divers of the northern shores have proven quite fruitful in our recruitment efforts. The safehouse is in a nearby village, Ondaroc. Not much there, but the Viceroy is expected to visit it after his installation. We can discuss plans further after the operation."

Urdi put the map back in his satchel and began to make his way out. "If you don't mind, I need to be on my way. Getting back onto the island will be as much of a trick as getting off."
 
Tru?into gave Urdi an amicable smirk. "I would offer you a ride, but I must sincerely apologize - all ten of our seats are accounted for." Tru?into was sure to emphasise the number.



Seclusion Zone - Herakles Eight
03:00

Alainn had been the bane of Imperium military planning and doctrine for centuries. Their naval domination in the War of Confederation had resulted in one of the most comprehensive military defeats Imperium had ever, and has ever faced. To this day, their presence in the immense sea that is Imperium's pride and joy has done everything from stymie Imperium's nuclear ambitions to costing untold millions in necessary counterintelligence, coastal defenses, and law enforcement investment.

The Augustan 'inner coast' was dotted with these seclusion zones - some publically known, some not. Some permanent, some temporary. SEZ are produced by everything from geography, to the temporary screening of military exercises, or urban development, with high-power telecommunications. Herakles 8 was one of the more secret such. A temporary phenomenon, created by a long-term military exercise in one of Imperium's more concealed bays, Herakles 8 had been carefully chosen and cross-checked by a joint taskforce, screening the databases of the various August Services to figure out how many services had identified these valuable assets. Herakles 8 was one of many such temporary assets, too small for most services to give it any interest - but the perfect size for one of the Speculatorial Service's internally-leased submarines.

At the tail-end of the night, there were ten.

The Speculatorial Service had also obtained an amphibious assault vessel - they tended to involve themselves in the leasing of equipment between the services, and often fudged the books, so to speak, giving them ample time to allow themselves routine subleases. The necessary costs of privacy and secrecy, particularly when the auditor was a Lictor. At any rate, with a nation split in half by water, such craft were for all intents and purposes a necessary investment for not an insignificant number of services. The Speculators themselves had a few, although they tried not to use them except for public information operations.

The ten took up their seats in the vessel, as it idled in the water. They were all fairly well-rested, being used to the rigours of night operations - and to the occasional early night. With them, a gentleman named Tru?into, and an officer of the Exploratorial Service. The Exploratorial Service were well-known to be virtually mercenaries, at least, within Imperium's sphere of influence. For a little money, their squads were more than willing to run rough-shod on the world at large, distributing their takings with those of their compatriots possessed of more ethics and less...awareness, if you would give them the benefit of the doubt.

Many would call them a Marine Corps - the Exploratorial Service was, per capita, one of the largest amphibious assault services on Eras. A necessity when one was virtually assured of having to move half, if not all, of their military personnel across the sea. Whilst not, perhaps, the most competent, they in true Imperium fashion did field a small 'core' contingent - a group of elite who stood heads and shoulders above even Imperium's regulars, trained by its extensive military education complex from their childhood years. It was this core contingent that kept itself...active, by deep-black operations like this one.

Cash in hand had nothing on Imperium's underground... 'gift-based economy', if one were to, again, give its participants an undeserved benefit of the doubt. Gifts of favours, property-based bribes. Votes, consideration - maybe, once or twice a year, a rumour of an arranged marriage, although such things were frowned upon unless one was marrying into nobility.

The Taberna had, of course, been allowed collective bargaining, to negotiate their benefits package, in exchange for unmatched secrecy and privacy. Tru?into'd gotten a good deal, though. He was quite happy with it, anyway. He'd put in a bill to a superior, with a bit of jumping over heads, but moving on.

"You will be ascending above the thermocline only once you arrive in Vazosian waters. Once you ascend above the thermocline, a maneuvere abort will necessitate an operation abort. The submarine will not be attempting to hop above and below the thermocline in Vazosian waters. The intention is to deploy you into shallow waters with SCUBA gear, at which point the submarine will have completed the insertion and will be departing for Augustan waters for debriefing. Upon leaving the submarine, you will not be aborting the operation.

We have been informed that the Taberna will be recovered by a paramilitary team. We do not know what size the team will be, and it will likely be underequipped and undertrained. If you are not successfully recovered before making land, you will immediately make for the target safehouse - if such is impossible, you have been given instructions for an alternative safehouse where you will lay low and await a long-term recovery operation, or attempt to face-to-face with the destination contact. Your call.

You've already memorized the pertinent details of the contact. If you have any notes, documentation, or information on the contact, hand them to me now for destruction."

Tru?into leaned back on the side of the vessel as the Explorators patted themselves down. After a few seconds, they each started raising a hand, to shoulder height.

"Very well. If you have any notes, documentation, or information on yourselves, hand them to me now for destruction."

The routine repeated.

"Very well. If you have any notes, documentation, or information regarding Imperium Augustum, hand them to me now for destruction."

The routine repeated.

"Any questions?"

Each raised their hand to shoulder height.

"Good. Ave Caesar, operation is go."



Recovery Zone 1A - Operation Potential Incisor
03:00

The August submarine surfaced above the thermocline, smooth as silk. A dedicated clock circuit onboard kept the submarine in impeccably good time, just as any computer would. And according to that circuit, it had just struck 3 in the morning. The same time they had departed - and a perfect time to make contact with the fishermen expected to collect them. The thermocline had prevented them from any unruly, awkward situations with other undersea traffic.

A thermocline is a layer in a large body of fluid, like open ocean, that shows significant differences in temperature change above and below it. Caused by maritime turbulence and temperature changes caused by, for example, sunlight, the temperature differential produces such significant changes to the speed of sound, the thermocline can cloak submarine traffic above and below it from each other.

Deep in open ocean, with the already low sound output of a hydrogen fuel cell, and the extensive experience of this hand-picked crew, the submarine was almost invisible even on its own layer, let alone through the thermocline.

As the Taberna exited the vessel, into the shallow waters, their troupe leader - Captain Paul 'Breakdown' Sykes, a code-name - pulled a small depth-rated lantern from his kit, ready to blink out a message from the depths to a potential recovery. Almost instantly, the submarine returned to the depths. The Taberna were on their own now. They slowed their kicking, beating with the rhythm of the sea, lapping against the beach, listening and watching for the familiar sound or sight of a Vazosian fishing boat, memorized from countless hours of training documentation provided by Tru?into.
 
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