31 JULY, 2017 // 1300Z // SAMARIAN WESTERN COAST
There came a knock at the door, which caused Andrej to look up from the book he was reading.
"Enter," he said, a bit cheery.
The door slid slightly open and a graying man stepped into the stateroom, removing his combination cover. "Mister President," Captain Lucijan Bogdanovi? began, tucking his cover beneath an arm and standing straight, "We will be arriving in Samaria in 40 minutes and moored within an hour."
"Splendid, Captain, thank you," Andrej said, dog-earing the page in his book and stowing in within a drawer, "May I join you on the bridge?"
"Of course, Mister President," the Captain said, a little surprised at the notion that Mouxordia's leader would want anything to do with the bridge of a warship.
"Don't be so surprised, Captain," Andrej chuckled as he shrugged on his suit jacket, "I used to be a Navy-man, myself. Just call it nostalgia, eh?" He clapped the man on the shoulder, before gesturing for the Captain to lead the way.
Bogdanovi? chuckled, donning his cover as he opened the door to the President's Stateroom and proceeded down the passageway. It was a short distance from his stateroom to the bridge, but Andrej took in the atmosphere of the modern cruiser nonetheless. The second of her class, RoMS Uporište ("Stronghold") bore incredible capability, not only in firepower, but also technology. The very industry that drove Mouxordia helped to shape the very fundamentals of seamanship for the small coastal nation. Significantly more automated than her predecessors, the Tvr?ava-class Guided-Missile Cruiser (Fortress-class) was efficiency, power, and elegance all wrapped in one seaborne package. The smell of barely-used lubricant and oil still permeated the passageways of the ship. It invigorated Andrej, and he couldn't help the smile that it brought to his face. He was a man born to the sea, the metal deckplates and hum of machinery feeling more at home to him than land ever did or will.
Unfortunately, such technology and expertise required a lot of time to integrate and build, so there were only two Tvr?ava-class cruisers. The Tvr?ava herself - lead of the class, and currently in-transit to Necerirria with a task force of 20 other ships - and the Uporište, on which Andrej currently transited.
"Captain on the bridge," the Officer of the Deck (OOD) chimed calmly as their skipper - Captain Bogdanovi? - stepped through the doorway. Andrej followed, only three or so steps behind. The OOD gaped for a half-second before resorting to his training once more. "President on the bridge!" the Lieutenant declared, much more authoritatively. A couple of watchstanders tensed at their stations, surprised or intimidated by Andrej's presence, he didn't know, but continued on with their duties. He so desperately wanted to chat amicably with the sailors; to talk of things they both knew plenty about: how awful the galley's food was, how amazing the ports were, and how incredibly dumb some of their shipmates could be. Andrej knew that the aspect of his life he so desired to let loose had to be pushed aside. It would be a massive disruption of good order and discipline, borderline heresy in naval tradition. He was their Commander-in-Chief now, not some Able Seaman or Junior Officer of days long since passed. So he kept his mouth shut, and allowed the bridge team to work in hushed efficiency.
The President instead diverted his attention out the bridge's windows. Land was clearly visible, which was obviously Samaria, but other vessels of the small presidential entourage were in the foreground arranged in a formation around the Uporište. He stepped out onto the starboard bridge wing, immediately buffeted by the warm wind. The watch on wing was too engrossed in his binocular observations to notice his presence.
"Anything to report, Petty Officer?" Andrej called, loud enough to be heard above the wind.
The young man pulled the binos away from his face to look at the source of the unfamiliar voice. His eyes widened a fraction, but a grin from Andrej caused a grin to sprint across the young man's own face.
"Nothing to report, sir - all conditions normal," the watchstander called back.
"Excellent," Andrej chuckled, then pointed at the BLUFOR vessels in accompaniment to their own, "Who's who?"
The Petty Officer grinned, sidling alongside the President to better explain and more accurately point. "Leading is the Štit - she's got the best subsurface sensors," he explained, "Second is the Ugarak, then the Ikonoklast, Istrijebiti, and Premjeravanje trailing abaft."
Andrej nodded as he spoke, waiting for the watchstander to finish. "Excellent work, Petty Officer," he said with a grin, "Keep an eye on those personal watercraft - don't let them get too close."
The Petty Officer laughed, "Aye aye, Mister President."
Andrej left the man to his duties and stepped back into the bridge, where he was met with another OOD 'president on the bridge', but Andrej paid no mind as he joined the Navigator and Captain Bogdanovi? at the charts, which were displaying a detailed topographical map of the Samarian port city of Scarborough - where the task force would be mooring.
The Captain pointed at the pier they would soon be moored to, "We'll be tied at this pier, Mister President."
"Very well, Captain," Andrej said with a smile, "Make sure she's dressed nice - wearing her Sunday best."
Captain Bogdanovi? merely chuckled, "Aye aye, sir."
01 AUGUST, 2017 // 0615Z // DINSMARK, SAMARIA
Andrej rolled his neck as he sat at the edge of his bed. The Samarians were nice enough to allow him to stay in a secured hotel, due to the lack of a Mouxordian embassy. Idly, he reminded himself to parlay with the Samarian government and establish one here. Despite the luxurious furnishing, it wasn't his bed, so the crick that found itself in his neck the following morning was not surprising. He'd have to get it together, though, for the ceremony. With one last stretch of his legs, the President stood and headed toward the bathroom.
