Babkhan vessel...
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Babkhan vessel...
The gargantuan nuclear powered missile battlecruiser the ARS Eklipse, under the command of Flottillenadmiral Meyer Ekkehardt...somewhere in the South Raynor sea...
"Babkhan vessel. This is the ARS Eklipse of the National Naval Forces of the Republic of Ashkenatza. You are approaching me in a suspicious manner. Please divert your course."
"Babkhan vessel. This is the ARS Eklipse of the National Naval Forces of the Republic of Ashkenatza. You are approaching me in a suspicious manner. Please divert your course."
Re: Babkhan vessel...
The Nordic Union is acting as a neutral observer.
Four new Klasse-A1 U-Boat stationed in international waters on open-water exercise drills quietly listen in on the radio traffic between the Ashkenatzi and Babkhan vessels. The Captain of U-001, Kommandør Mads Østed, sends an encrypted message back to the Union High Command:
It wasn't long after the message was sent - no more than ten minutes - that Østed recieved his response from the Union High Command. The orders were crystal clear as usual, High Command never minced their words and he was told simply to observe and listen. If an engagement was indeed imminent as he and his First Officer though, this stand-off could very well be the sparks that ignite the kindling of a new world war with the nations of Micras severely polarized between the Ashkenatzi and the Babkhans.Kommandør Mads Østed - Commanding U-001,
Babkhan and Ashkenatzi vessel standing off. Radio traffic one-sided with ARS Eklipse warning Babkhan vessel and ordering a full stop. Situation critical - First Officer Kommandørkaptein Olaf Olsen believes naval engagement imminent - I concur. Requesting immediate response.
"Mister Karlsson, periscope depth!" shouted Østed to the rookie dive officer - Gerhard Karlsson, "Mister Ivarson, relay message from High Command to U-002, 003 and 004."
The wolfpack's orders were simple - sit, wait, watch. The Union had no intention of becoming involved in the stand-off nor to even prevent it. But there is no harm in snooping around to see what happens as a neutral observer. Though the tense situation was nearly three nautical miles away, the new digital periscopes made it seem as though they were right off the bows of the two ships.
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Tarjei Einhornsson - Grand Marshal of The Nordic Union
Zand Gozâr - Grand Vizier & Satrap of Kumarastan, Kingdom of Babkha
Tarjei Einhornsson - Grand Marshal of The Nordic Union
Zand Gozâr - Grand Vizier & Satrap of Kumarastan, Kingdom of Babkha
- Lord_Montague
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Re: Babkhan vessel...
Been there and done that so many times Nick. I'd get out quickly. Neutral observers always end up getting dragged in somehow!
In Battle; Unbeatable.
In Victory; Unbearable.
In Victory; Unbearable.
Re: Babkhan vessel...
The 'Eklipse' increased speed - geiger counters in the reactor hall clicking frantically as additional fuel rods were lowered in, raising the turbines to a frantic whine. A red alert bellowed throughout the ship as repeated hailings to the Babkhan vessel did nothing. The banging of boots running down corridors echoed throughout the ship as the combat command centre burst into life.
"Babkhan vessel. This is the ARS Eklipse! You are approaching me in a suspicious manner! Respond to my hails or I will be forced to fire a warning shot!"
"Babkhan vessel. This is the ARS Eklipse! You are approaching me in a suspicious manner! Respond to my hails or I will be forced to fire a warning shot!"
Last edited by Aster on Sun Feb 19, 2012 9:20 pm, edited 3 times in total.
Re: Babkhan vessel...
Oh I know, I just have to see what goes on first. If Ardy doesn't come along and say 'Hello', then the wolfpack will probably return to the dens as this really is quite one-sided.Neutral observers always end up getting dragged in somehow!
Probably my last post but it seems that the other party in this is unavailable."Rig for dive!" Ordered Captain Østed, "Order the pack to do the same - stationary submersion to 150 meters!"
The bridge of the submarine suddenly came alive from the quietness of observing from afar. The dive horns sounded throughout the ship as all seals were opened and the ballasts released their air. The mast instrumentation retracted into the hull and the wolfpack began their decent into the depths of the sea once more. Captain Østed had no intention of being caught in any kind of crossfire. All that remained of the wolfpack's presence on the surface were a quickly vaporizing patch of bubbles - the situation was getting simply too dangerous.
"Send this to High Command," ordered Østed.
Kommandør Mads Østed - Commanding U-001
Situation intensifying. Ashkenatzi vessel now on intercept for Babkhan vessel. All hails by Ashkenatzi vessel ignored. Radio traffic indicates intention to fire warning shot to non-compliant vessel. Wolfpack has submerged to 150 meters. Retreating to to ten 10 kilometers north-east of engagement. Will observe when retreated to specified distance. War may be imminent. Confirm.
Again the response was fast, no more than eight minutes this time. Østed was ordered to proceed with caution and retreat to Konungsheim should any shots be fired.
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Tarjei Einhornsson - Grand Marshal of The Nordic Union
Zand Gozâr - Grand Vizier & Satrap of Kumarastan, Kingdom of Babkha
Tarjei Einhornsson - Grand Marshal of The Nordic Union
Zand Gozâr - Grand Vizier & Satrap of Kumarastan, Kingdom of Babkha
- Scott Alexander
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Re: Babkhan vessel...
Taking bets on which of them will end up being a lighthouse."Babkhan vessel. This is the ARS Eklipse of the National Naval Forces of the Republic of Ashkenatza. You are approaching me in a suspicious manner. Please divert your course."
Scott Alexander | Autokrator of Archipelago (What is Archipelago?)
Illustrious Founder of the MCS, and sometime Special Cartographer
Illustrious Founder of the MCS, and sometime Special Cartographer
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Re: Babkhan vessel...
(Ah - knew I was meant to be paying attention to something. I suggested it was a great idea before promptly buggering off for a week)
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Re: Babkhan vessel...
[Squawk]
"Kesafat, beshoor, Yehudi Kuffar... [pause] Is this on? [Pause] Ah."
[Squawk]
"Khange khodah! I only want you to turn it on when I tell you to turn it on. When it is on I am talking to the infidel... as I said, when I want to talk to the son of a hyena I will say 'now'. Wait, is this still on?"
[Inaudible Discussion followed by static]
"No, you ignorant fucked up Mondesian baby-shat of a goat! Not 'now' as in 'now' but when I say 'now'. Zurvan and the rightly guided, I beseech you to look kindly upon your poor servant Hanesh who patiently endures being served by a crew of such caste-shamed category-deficient cretins. TURN IT OFF!"
[More static]
"Ah, hello Eklipse. Salaam and dorood bar shoma, most esteemed effendi, reverend pasha of the Ashkenatzim sahibs, a thousand felicitudes upon your most sublime person. We are most honoured to encounter your most noble and distinguished person upon the vastness of the high seas. And indeed, your vessel is exceedingly... vast... I hope this will not be reflected in any significant deviation from routine inspection fees... not that it would not be an honour to render highest tribute to great munificence, it is only we are not customarily expected to be paying administrative fees of your... scale... but please we have many notes with which to prove our paperwork is in order. It is no problem.
My apologies for late reply, we are having difficulties with translation software. Also, we are experiencing difficulty with catastrophic sanitation failure - Mondesians filthy. This affect navigation systems. We turn now twelve degrees to port, this take us elseaways. We are SS Abdilkadir, I transmit credentials to you. We take agricultural equipment and contractually obligated volunteers to Natopia for common good of all mankind. Our intention peaceable.
Please acknowledge receipt."
+++PANOPTICON LOG ESFAND213900111Z+++
REF 'EKLIPSE' RECORDED EXTERNAL BROADCAST UNIT REF 01DDA. SS ABDILKADIR LOGGED. GRID REF LOGGED. REF 'EKLIPSE' ASSIGNED PRIORITY. PROBABILITY ARS CONTACT HIGH. SAVAK NOTIFIED. INTER-SERVICE COOPERATION AUTHORISED. NEAREST ARTESH TO INVESTIGATE.
Re: Babkhan vessel...
The Babkhan reply finally cut through the bridge through the communications stations. After a few quick barks from the captain, 'Eklipse' reduced speed. The missile battlecruiser quickly drew up alongside the SS Abdilkadir, followed by blinding searchlights lights cutting through the dark ocean spray, scouring the decks of the battered cargo vessel.
Flottillenadmiral Ekkehardt's voice boomed through loudspeakers across to the cargo ship - "SS Abdilkadir: we hear you loud and clear! We wish to inspect your vessel for mechanical faults. It's your lucky day! You obviously need assistance and we are more than happy to inspect your ship for any technical concerns you may have. Doubtless, esteemed sahabis, you are too polite to accept our humble offering, but the South Raynor Sea can be most perilous this time of night. Accept our offer of help - we insist. Our mechanics are gagging to come aboard"
Last edited by Aster on Fri Feb 24, 2012 1:36 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Babkhan vessel...
As the searchlights of the Eklipse scoured the decks of the SS Abdilkadir the captain, who technically held the Imperial Army rank of Sarvan in the Babkhan Navy (how that worked wasn't particularly clear to the recipient of the rank either), assembled his deck officers in the gaudy brothel-like décor of his ready room. The light shining periodically on the drawn curtains cast a crimson hue around the room. Babkhans like to travel abroad with all the comforts of home, although these particular comforts had been taken out to the lifeboats which had been prepared for lowering on the aft side and hidden under tarpaulins.
Those who I am contractually obligated to refer to as 'noxious agents of the Kuffar' insist on boarding this vessel. Evidently the appearance of a beaten up old Gotzborg era tramp-steamer is a little too convincing. We are Yūnān, who our friends opposite would call Jonah, looking into the mouth of a very big fucking whale. You all know what to say in this eventuality?
The assembled officers barked out in unison.
"Mercy please! O Sahibs of the Maroon take pity, we were only obeying orders. We had no choice, even though we knew it was wrong, we were bound to obedience. We are bound by our oaths. We have tasted the Shah's salt and our families are known to the authorities."
Very good show. Proper pukka sahibs the lot of you. Now, have you rehearsed your lines?
Jalal?
"Tell me, do they lie when they say the Shah of the Yehudi is chosen by counting slips of paper that have been touched by even the lowest caste?"
Good appeal to democratic prejudices. Malek?
"Is it true that only the cloven hooved gain admitance to the hareem of the Emir of Vey?"
Humour, excellent. Haroun?
"Is it true, as the radio says, that in the Occupied Terr... sorry... in Luthoria a man may keep his salary, irrespective of caste and without arrears being deducted first?"
Profit motive. Interesting question to ask a Tudeh kuffar. Fareed?
"When I was fifteen the Yemin Zoka came to my house to see my father. Our family couldn't afford the taxes levied by the Satrap. We couldn't pay. My father wept and offered his life instead. They refused and took my sister for the soldiers comfort house. She was only thirteen. Her name was Rabina. We lived in Norasht Ostans. Perhaps she has escaped. We have had no news for twelve years. My mother's heart is broken and my father cannot leave the house for the shame. If you know anything, if there is anyway you could find out. Please tell me. Please, please, help."
Hmm, Fareed - that's... very... moving. I could cry. But, perhaps we should try for something that doesn't sound as though it would make us genuinely ashamed of our government and way of life. Possibly make it hammier, or shorter?
"Ah - then how about this. Is it true the Emir of Raspur wears an iron girdle in order to avoid exciting the Shah's violent horror of all things round?"
Good improv. It'll do.
"I heard that on Radio Free Eura"
Oh, then it must be true. [beat] Also report to the brig for immediate execution.
"Bale, Sahib."
Fareed, come back. I was joking. Now in all seriousness chaps, one last thing. No pissing around - you know what's at stake if we genuinely fuck up. Now return to the bridge my dear agha sahibs and look suitably anxious.
With that the four deck officers were dismissed and the captain finally felt sufficiently at ease to recline onto the divan. With a weary sigh he slumped forward and, with his elbows resting on his knees, began to tentatively massage his forehead where the first pangs of a tension headache were making themselves known. He closed his tired eyes and screwed up his eyelids tightly. The last few days had been a nightmare. Shadowed and finally brought to bay by nothing less than a monster, a technological leviathan, in the dark depths of the night and the middle of the ocean, far from any friendly shore and presumably beyond the reach of the fatherland's own navy, his own navy, whose orders in relation to this matter were 'interesting' to say the least.
The preparations had been made, and an appropriate quantity of sewage and bilge had been diverted into the pens holding the Mondesians.
Having taken these few precious moments to compose himself the captain stood up once more, quite unsteadily compared to when he had sat down, and with tentative steps which improved as the circulation returned to his sea-legs he walked with a gambolling gait towards the sliding door. Coaxed and cajoled the door slid back and the captain stepped out into the narrow and dimly lit gangway. Taking his bearings, which after six years in vessels of this type, ought to have been second nature to him, he turned to the left and proceeded down the corridor, glancing disapprovingly at a pipe running along its length where the beige paint had begun to crack and peel off in sizeable flakes. Still on the bright-side the distressed condition of the paintwork did lend a certain verisimilitude.
A few more steps and then down a precipitous, near vertical, flight of stairs, and the captain found himself in the comms room. Sitting at a deceptively antique looking wireless set, with headphones on and shoulders haunched as a decidedly nervous looking young Kumaranchi of twenty-four years.
Best joys of the night to you Hanesh. Said the captain with an amiability that the radio operator by now knew to be thoroughly deceptive. Time for you to do your thing again.
Hanesh nodded impassively and picked up the microphone. A moment passed and then he began to speak in a halting Yiddish tinged by a Babkhan inflection and also the hint of a plaintive wail barely constrained.
Those who I am contractually obligated to refer to as 'noxious agents of the Kuffar' insist on boarding this vessel. Evidently the appearance of a beaten up old Gotzborg era tramp-steamer is a little too convincing. We are Yūnān, who our friends opposite would call Jonah, looking into the mouth of a very big fucking whale. You all know what to say in this eventuality?
The assembled officers barked out in unison.
"Mercy please! O Sahibs of the Maroon take pity, we were only obeying orders. We had no choice, even though we knew it was wrong, we were bound to obedience. We are bound by our oaths. We have tasted the Shah's salt and our families are known to the authorities."
Very good show. Proper pukka sahibs the lot of you. Now, have you rehearsed your lines?
Jalal?
"Tell me, do they lie when they say the Shah of the Yehudi is chosen by counting slips of paper that have been touched by even the lowest caste?"
Good appeal to democratic prejudices. Malek?
"Is it true that only the cloven hooved gain admitance to the hareem of the Emir of Vey?"
Humour, excellent. Haroun?
"Is it true, as the radio says, that in the Occupied Terr... sorry... in Luthoria a man may keep his salary, irrespective of caste and without arrears being deducted first?"
Profit motive. Interesting question to ask a Tudeh kuffar. Fareed?
"When I was fifteen the Yemin Zoka came to my house to see my father. Our family couldn't afford the taxes levied by the Satrap. We couldn't pay. My father wept and offered his life instead. They refused and took my sister for the soldiers comfort house. She was only thirteen. Her name was Rabina. We lived in Norasht Ostans. Perhaps she has escaped. We have had no news for twelve years. My mother's heart is broken and my father cannot leave the house for the shame. If you know anything, if there is anyway you could find out. Please tell me. Please, please, help."
Hmm, Fareed - that's... very... moving. I could cry. But, perhaps we should try for something that doesn't sound as though it would make us genuinely ashamed of our government and way of life. Possibly make it hammier, or shorter?
"Ah - then how about this. Is it true the Emir of Raspur wears an iron girdle in order to avoid exciting the Shah's violent horror of all things round?"
Good improv. It'll do.
"I heard that on Radio Free Eura"
Oh, then it must be true. [beat] Also report to the brig for immediate execution.
"Bale, Sahib."
Fareed, come back. I was joking. Now in all seriousness chaps, one last thing. No pissing around - you know what's at stake if we genuinely fuck up. Now return to the bridge my dear agha sahibs and look suitably anxious.
With that the four deck officers were dismissed and the captain finally felt sufficiently at ease to recline onto the divan. With a weary sigh he slumped forward and, with his elbows resting on his knees, began to tentatively massage his forehead where the first pangs of a tension headache were making themselves known. He closed his tired eyes and screwed up his eyelids tightly. The last few days had been a nightmare. Shadowed and finally brought to bay by nothing less than a monster, a technological leviathan, in the dark depths of the night and the middle of the ocean, far from any friendly shore and presumably beyond the reach of the fatherland's own navy, his own navy, whose orders in relation to this matter were 'interesting' to say the least.
The preparations had been made, and an appropriate quantity of sewage and bilge had been diverted into the pens holding the Mondesians.
Having taken these few precious moments to compose himself the captain stood up once more, quite unsteadily compared to when he had sat down, and with tentative steps which improved as the circulation returned to his sea-legs he walked with a gambolling gait towards the sliding door. Coaxed and cajoled the door slid back and the captain stepped out into the narrow and dimly lit gangway. Taking his bearings, which after six years in vessels of this type, ought to have been second nature to him, he turned to the left and proceeded down the corridor, glancing disapprovingly at a pipe running along its length where the beige paint had begun to crack and peel off in sizeable flakes. Still on the bright-side the distressed condition of the paintwork did lend a certain verisimilitude.
A few more steps and then down a precipitous, near vertical, flight of stairs, and the captain found himself in the comms room. Sitting at a deceptively antique looking wireless set, with headphones on and shoulders haunched as a decidedly nervous looking young Kumaranchi of twenty-four years.
Best joys of the night to you Hanesh. Said the captain with an amiability that the radio operator by now knew to be thoroughly deceptive. Time for you to do your thing again.
Hanesh nodded impassively and picked up the microphone. A moment passed and then he began to speak in a halting Yiddish tinged by a Babkhan inflection and also the hint of a plaintive wail barely constrained.
"Hello ARS Eklipse. This is SS Abdilkadir. We have sought approval from our government and we have been assured that there will be no caste shame for ourselves or our families derived from contact. We accept your offer of assistance and extend cordial hospitality as well as customary dues and fees. We must however respect needs of security and national honour. Please send only five persons maximum to assist. Please only side-arms - pistoyln - necessary for self-defence and maintenance of honour. Please respect cultural norms of most shah-loyal and orthodox Babkhan vessel. Please also accept fine bottle of Norashti Shiraz for consideration of most excellent commander of the Eklipse.
Once more, acknowledge receipt please."
Re: Babkhan vessel...
Flottillenadmiral Ekkehardt was an intensely patriotic man. His love of the republican cult knew no bounds, as evidenced by the maroonist slogans painted across the weaponry in bold Yiddish. Upon hearing the requests from the Babkhan ship that he should 'respect' their orthodoxy, hot foam and bile rose in his throat and sputtered with a shout -
"A servant of the ruinous powers dares to command us, citizen-sailors? I want thirty men on that ship and a warning burst in reproach, NOW!"
Within seconds profanity was being bellowed through the speakers towards the Babkhan ship whilst troops on the upper decks fired a few rounds as a warning. A squad of marines, laden with night vision, heavy armour, sub machineguns, grenades, flash bangs and kalashnikovs ran towards one of the waiting helicopters, ready to rappel down to the deck of the cargo vessel.
Ekkehardt's patriotism and tactical acumen was often counteracted by his legendary vanity and penchant for flattery. His crew were acutely aware of this, and, in the hustle and bustle of a busy CIC, were exchanging furtive glances, concerned that, however unlikely it would be, that the ship they were about to board could really be a civilian vessel. At the back of the CIC, Broshzelner Irion Aurai cradled his head in his hands in embarassment, convinced the esteemed Flottillenadmiral had finally let his vigour get the better of him - he had wanted to bag a SAVAK intelligence vessel for so long, and he may have convinced himself that this battered old Gotzborger tub was stuffed to the brim with intelligence equipment. Leaning over to the neighbouring radar operators, the Elw said what they were all thinking -
"I think the Flottillenadmiral has finally lost it...now of all places, on a nuclear powered guided missile battleship..."
"A servant of the ruinous powers dares to command us, citizen-sailors? I want thirty men on that ship and a warning burst in reproach, NOW!"
Within seconds profanity was being bellowed through the speakers towards the Babkhan ship whilst troops on the upper decks fired a few rounds as a warning. A squad of marines, laden with night vision, heavy armour, sub machineguns, grenades, flash bangs and kalashnikovs ran towards one of the waiting helicopters, ready to rappel down to the deck of the cargo vessel.
Ekkehardt's patriotism and tactical acumen was often counteracted by his legendary vanity and penchant for flattery. His crew were acutely aware of this, and, in the hustle and bustle of a busy CIC, were exchanging furtive glances, concerned that, however unlikely it would be, that the ship they were about to board could really be a civilian vessel. At the back of the CIC, Broshzelner Irion Aurai cradled his head in his hands in embarassment, convinced the esteemed Flottillenadmiral had finally let his vigour get the better of him - he had wanted to bag a SAVAK intelligence vessel for so long, and he may have convinced himself that this battered old Gotzborger tub was stuffed to the brim with intelligence equipment. Leaning over to the neighbouring radar operators, the Elw said what they were all thinking -
"I think the Flottillenadmiral has finally lost it...now of all places, on a nuclear powered guided missile battleship..."
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Re: Babkhan vessel...
(Just so you know - I meant to reply at the weekend but ended up downloading those Game of Thrones / Song of Ice and Fire books instead...)
Re: Babkhan vessel...
Ekkehardt exploded in a fit of maroonist mania and ordered the main guns trained on the waterline of the Babkhan rustbucket, ready to fire should the boarding party report Babkhan military or intelligence materials in their debrief. The two triple 16 inch turrets ominously creeped along their mountings to face the SS Abdilkadir. The bridge crew stared towards Ekkehardt, who was by now frothing at the mouth whilst screaming ballotist slogans and shaking his fist...