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The Fires Of Time


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#1
Inverter

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So, I've started on a fic that actually takes place more in the middle of my timeline. Been slowly writing it and now I've got three chapters, plus a prologue. I'll put in the prologue and first chapter below. First couple of chapters aren't as good, in my own opinion, but I'll let ACS decide that. I promise, chapter three won't suck as badly as these first couple.
 

Prologue

Spangdahlem Atomic Facility
Spangdahlem, Belka
February 11, 1996
1000 hours

 

Commandant Emmerich Biermann surveyed the skeletal remains of his factory floor. The Belkan War was over, and the Allies were closing on his facility. "Soon," he said, turning to a subordinate standing next to him, "our dreams of victory will be smashed."

Biermann stood on the catwalk, looking out over the remains of the machinery that had been assembling V2 rockets. He chuckled impotently. "You know, Klaus, we only made twenty-four of these. Twenty-four. Now they are useless. We cannot defeat these imperialist bastards with only twenty-four missiles."

Klaus had no apparent reaction. Behind him, Commandant Biermann heard the tap of footsteps on the concrete floor. "Emmerich," a voice said, approaching him, "Our time has simply not yet come to pass. The real victory will come with dedication and perseverance. Their work will ensure that true victory."

The voice picked up the intercom mouthpiece and called out at the factory workers below. "This is Colonel Hanke Dreher of the Belkan Army. Commence Operation Black Eagle. Begin packing up the vehicles. They will have a better use for us in the shield."

He patted Emmerich's shoulder reassuringly. "Schenze and I will take care of it, commandant." Looking down at the floor, Emmerich saw the workers scurrying to move all of the key parts out of the vehicles and into crates marked for the scrapyards. Perhaps there was hope after all.
 

****

Somewhere in the Vedian Strait
On board the VNS Abarimon (Vedian Jīnlóng-class)
January 16, 2028
0016 hours

 

The Abarimon had been tracking an Indian carrier for at least two days now. Captain Jibril Lin was hardly concerned. The carrier was within striking range of his cruiser, but Captain Lin had utmost confidence in his anti-air and anti-missile crews. These were trained by the Verusan Navy and already had some marginal combat experience. Captain Lin went back below and began patrolling the radar stations, waiting for the first sign of enemy movement. The cargo below decks was of great importance to his handlers in Panyu.

In the primary radar station, a voice called out. "Captain, aircraft inbound, bearing two-niner-zero to one-one-zero!" Lin stood stock still, trying to collect himself while looking properly dignified. Then he got on the intercom, barking orders to the anti-air crews. "Anti-air, prepare for attacks. Bastard fighters bearing one-one-zero are vectoring to our location. Situation compromise, repeat, situation compromise." Lin glanced at the radar screens and saw the blips. Based on the size, they were probably Aurelian-built Rafales. Dangerous at long range and capable of destroying his ship from such range. At this point, he had to pray that the firing pattern of the Rafales was too poor, or that his blip recognition skills were bad. After all, they had to be from the Indus Air Force, unless some foreign naval force was operating here.

Watching the blips approach, however, it became clear that they did not have friendly aspirations for Captain Lin's ship. He got on the radio with Vedian command.

"This is the Abarimon. We are under attack by Indian jets. This is a distress call. We request any assistance available."

That was the last anyone heard of the Abarimon.
 

Chapter One

Threat Level Critical


CIA Headquarters
Fort Eustis, CD
January 15, 2028
1430 hours

 

Avery was consulting an issue of Osea Defense Monthly when Gabe Losa, his news monitor, burst into the office.

"Avery, there's a big story about to hit the air for the morning news in Indus and Vedia," he said, breathlessly. "Indus sank a fuckin' flagship." Avery sat up straight at the news. "How?" Losa sighed. "We don't know yet. The distress calls didn't include that." Avery shook his head. "That's bad news," he said. "Keep me up to date." Losa nodded and ducked out of the room.

Avery whipped over to his phone and dialed for Brighthill. "Theresa, I need a briefing with the President at the first possible appointment time." Theresa Hamilton, President Donilon's appointment secretary, was always quick with a time. "How does three sound?" Avery smiled. "Three sounds great. I'll be there early, as usual."
 

Brighthill
Oured, CD
January 15, 2028
1500 hours

 

"Doctor Danielson," the President called from his office. "Come on in. I've heard you've got news for me." Entering the office, Avery nodded. "Yeah. Big news. Mind if I set up the board here?" President Donilon shook his head. "No, not at all, do whatever you need to."

Avery set up his board and pointed to the first sheet, which had the picture of a cruiser on it. "This," he said, "is the VNS Abarimon. About an hour ago, SIGINT of the Vedian military picked up word that it had been sunk by unknown forces, though we all know who they were loyal to." Heads around the room nodded in assent. "The thing is, sinking this ship makes no sense as a purely political move. It's way too dangerous. The Indians must have thought, or had reason to believe that there was something a lot more important about this boat than its standing in its own navy."

Avery turned a page and continued. "Now, overflight VISINT over East Clavis from a few days ago may help us out. The Abarimon, or a ship like it, was seen docking at Verusa's Naval Site Three-Seven-Five. This site is a particularly unusual choice. All of Verusa's naval sites in East Clavis are extraordinarily well-defended. As far as we know, Three-Seven-Five is used almost exclusively for the loading and unloading of special forces units." At this point, Avery was cut off by the Secretary of Defense, Kevin Anderson.

"So you're saying there's a Vedian Jinlong that we can place at this Naval Site Three-Seven-Five, and it was loading something in secret?" SecDef Anderson asked. "Exactly," Avery replied, "we can place a Vedian vessel there. The only thing we don't know is which one. I choose the Abarimon because strategically it makes sense. The cargo would have to pass close to Indian waters because it's heavy, forcing the ship into the deeper parts of the strait. The Vedians would have figured on Indus being run by pussies who don't want to risk a war even though their rivals' biggest ship is in striking distance. What we assume at this time, however, is that Indian intelligence got wind of what this boat was carrying. That would explain the sudden, at-present unknown attack."

President Donilon smiled weakly. "With all due respect, Doctor Danielson, I'd like to hear you kick around some theories here. What are some potential cargoes you might expect to find? Surely it's not just a shipment of Type 56 rifles. There's got to be something of greater value sitting at the bottom of the Vedian Straits." Avery nodded and turned the page on his board. "I've got just the thing for you," he said. "Now, of course, we can't confirm these ideas, but these all have some legs. First up is a tantalizing idea. There may be parts to a new indigenous aircraft design on board. Vedia has been upgrading Verusan types constantly for decades. Perhaps they had components engineered in Verusa and moved to Vedia for final assembly?" Before he could finish his thought, Secretary of State Keith Welsh cut in. "Unlikely," he said, quite authoritatively, "potential for damage is too high." Avery pointed at the secretary. "Good catch," he replied. "That's the reason we've pretty much ditched that theory."

Avery pointed to another image, this one of a collection of weapons. "Now, it may not have been rifles, but it could have been some kind of explosive ordnance." SecDef Anderson cut in again. "How do we know it wasn't Verusan spec ops or something?" Anderson asked. "Good question," Avery replied, "we know it wasn't troops because the infrared VISINT showed us that the cargo is metallic and that a small part of it was of a greater temperature than the background, but not its entirety."

Finally, Avery turned to his last page. "Here's what we really don't hope it was," he said, pointing to the menacing image on the page. "But it could have been a nuke." The President shook his head. "Come on, Danielson," he said, "we need something more than could-haves." Avery shook his head. "Well…here's the thing. The shape of the higher temperature matches that of a nuke. The heat emitted by the object, though, indicates that the nuke is way bigger than it should be, assuming, of course, that it is in fact a nuke. We'd be looking at a decrepit device, or a MIRV. I'm not really sure which is worse."

National Security Advisor Meredith Maier had her own questions. "So if this is a MIRV, what are we looking at in terms of national security threat?" All Avery could do was to shake his head. "Meredith," he said, "if this is a MIRV, it's a goddamn V2. If it's a goddamn V2, God help us all."
 

****

Indian Defence Intelligence Agency Office
Classified Location
February 2, 2028
1920 hours

 
Intelligence Colonel Suresh Misra was to complete his report for the Director General. The DG needed to know the exacting contents of the Vedian ship sunk almost three weeks ago that started this damn war. Misra was completing his report on the Rafale strike that destroyed the Abarimon, which the Intelligence Bureau knew had a nuclear weapon on board. According to further intelligence conducted by the Joint Cipher Bureau, it appeared to be a highly-prized Belkan missile, but beyond that, details were unclear.

Misra was done. His conclusion had been prepared. With utmost confidence, he instructed his computer to remotely print the report down in the archives. With his top-level clearance, Colonel Misra could collect his huge report in secret, away from the prying eyes of Intelligence Operatives—or worse, Intelligence Sergeants. Sneaky kamīnē, he thought to himself, always trying to get in on the big boy action.

Misra collected and collated his report. It was late in the day, already dark outside. Misra walked up to the DG's door and knocked. The DG told him to come in. When Misra opened the door, a rifle butt came down on his head, and knocked him out cold.

"Good work, old fiesling. Maybe we'll even let you live for letting us go about our work on our own," the tallest man, probably their leader, said. "Annika," he said, "take our friend Mister Misra down to the vehicle." The female commando complied with his order, tying up Misra before absconding with him through the broken window. The leader then produced the briefcase that had been cuffed to his wrist the whole time. "Now, we're going to send a message," he said, opening the case. Inside was a bomb. "Apaśabda," the DG muttered, "what will become of me?"

The leader must have smiled under his balaclava. He pulled some keys from his pocket and laid them on the table. "If you hurry, there's a car in parking lot B2. It's a black Soldat. These keys will turn it on. Maybe you can get away in time. Maybe not. Who knows? Ich habe keine Zeit, um mit Ihrem genetisch minderwertig Art umzugehen," the last part spoken in a tone of disdain.

The leader waved at his comrades. "Lassen Sie uns zum Teufel hier raus, Gruppe," he shouted. The commandos quickly roped out of the DG's office. DG Isha Chowdhury collected the keys and scurried for the parking lot. He prayed to Brahma that he would make it in time.

****


Edited by Inverter, 01 August 2013 - 01:56 AM.

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#2
KitsuneZero

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This is great, It has a good way to start, good job!


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Inverter

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Chapter Two

Cooked Pistol


244 Gant Drive
Margate, Nassau
February 3, 2028
2100 hours

 

Avery’s phone rang. He slid the lock to accept the call. “Danielson. Speak.” But Avery already knew who it was. “Avery, it’s Diego. I’ve got some information about the Intelligence Bureau, over in Indus. Have you heard from them in the last day or so?” Avery shook his head. “No, we haven’t, we’ve only heard from our contacts they have in the field. Why?”

“Avery, the Intelligence Bureau is gone. Someone planted a bomb. The Indians know that it happened, but they don’t know who did it, or why. The DG was found dead in the parking garage. He was cooked pretty well.”

“Honestly, I don’t get where this is going. Cut to the chase.”

“It wasn’t the Vedians, Avery.”

“Who was it, then?” Avery asked. “Surely it wasn’t—”

“It was Belkans. It had to be. The blast pattern matches Belkan suitcase bomb specs. Not a nuke, doctor, but definitely a Belkan device. Belkan nationalists have used these damned things for years now.”

Avery winced. His mind was swimming with the possibilities. “Uh…so how do I broach this with people back at Fort Eustis?”

“I don’t know, Avery,” Diego replied. “Maybe it’s best if you took a vacation, yes? You have free time coming up. Perhaps we could meet in Panyu.” The tone was professionally suggestive. Avery knew it wasn't really a question. It was as much of an order as a private contractor could give to someone at the CIA.

“Sure,” Avery replied, “that would be great.”

CIA Headquarters
Fort Eustis, CD
February 4, 2028
1300 hours

 

“Alright,” DCI Beckett said. “You can have your vacation. But promise me you’ll have at least one briefing with President Donilon, will you?”

Avery nodded. “Sure,” he said, “anything for the boss.” Beckett smiled. “Good. Don’t get yourself into anything nasty out there, now. You’re not a fighter jock anymore.”

Beckett was a CIA veteran now, having been with the Agency since 1997. Getting shot down by a laser-equipped fighter jet in the skies over Belka wasn’t his idea of a good day, but in exchange for keeping some embarrassing details about his past under wraps, Beckett felt that he had gotten a pretty good deal. He had successfully negotiated the OFS Andromeda away from Belkan elements in the Agency back in 2010, preventing what could have been a catastrophe. Now, he was Director, a position he had taken a bit of a liking to ever since President Donilon had appointed him in 2026.

But he had his concerns about the situation Avery was heading into. This stunk of Belkan involvement. The whole thing just sounded too massive, too overarching, and too…fictional to be anything else. Beckett dismissed these thoughts, however, as he had more business to conduct. Admiral Andersen was retiring from his position as Chief of Maritime Staff today, and his long career was something to celebrate.

 

****

Hotel Gloria
Panyu, Verusa
February 6, 2028
1700 hours

 

Avery’s Verusan cell phone rang. “Danielson,” he answered. “Hey Avery, it’s Beckett. The President wants to brief with you on the Indus War at around twenty-hundred your time. You up to that?” Avery looked over at Taylor, getting dressed for dinner. “Taylor, baby, eight o’clock okay for my little work thing? It’ll take about half an hour,” he said. Taylor nodded in response. “Yeah,” Avery said, turning back to his phone. “Twenty-hundred will work.”

After getting ready, Avery and Taylor got in a cab downstairs. They left Sierra with Taylor’s brother, Charles, who was staying in the Gloria on business with his wife. Sierra rarely got to see her extended family, so it seemed like a win-win. Avery had heard plenty of good things about a cozy little continental place in town. More importantly to him, they offered newspapers and TV always turned to the news. It was a popular place with businessmen.

The couple sat down at a table, Avery more focused on enjoying some time alone than anything else. Not long after the food arrived, a rather pleasant conversation was interrupted by Avery’s phone ringing. “Goddammit,” he muttered, to the apparent distaste of Taylor. “Shit, I have to take this,” he said, bowing his head like a guilty puppy as he said so. Avery walked toward the restrooms. “Fuck’s sake,” he hissed, “what do you want, Beckett?” Patrick maintained his trademark calm demeanor. “Avery, go find a TV, and park your angry ass in front of it. My reason for calling you will make sense in a few seconds.”

Avery walked out to the bar, hearing a chorus of cell phones as he did. Glancing at the TV, he saw that OBN World was announcing a breaking news alert. Huh, looks like Thompson really rose in the ranks, Avery noted to himself, as Brett Thompson announced that there was a shocking breaking story coming through the pipes. “This just in,” he said, shakily. “The first…the first known nuclear attack in history has been conducted by Vedia, against targets in Indus. More on thi…this story as it develops.”

Avery turned back to his phone. “Jesus,” he said. Beckett sighed on the other end. “I guess I couldn’t soften that fall, huh?” Avery was still processing it all. “Fuck, this is not what I was going for. I could have sworn this wouldn’t have happened. Where did I get this wro—” Beckett cut him off. “Avery, not every calculation is spot-on in this business. You and I both know that all too well. Look, get your ass back to the hotel. The President wants a briefing a little sooner than expected.”

Avery walked toward the table, yelling for the check as he went.

 

****

Hotel Gloria
Panyu, Verusa
February 6, 2028
1900 hours

 

Avery opened up his portable briefing suite. He had Vedian and Indian nuke specs lined up. He was prepared to apologize profusely for not being accurate with his projections. But all expectations were out the window. He knew that as well as anyone. His first goal had to be prevention of Osean involvement. There was too much that wasn’t known here.

President Donilon opened the briefing. “Danielson, what the fuck is going on?”

Avery sagged his shoulders and sighed. “Look, sir, this is still developing. We can’t go off on this half-cocked. This entire situation went way beyond all expected parameters. This is just one of those things—” he was cut off by Donilon. “You’re goddamned right it went beyond parameters! Now we need to fix this shit!”

Avery pulled himself up. “No, sir, this is not the time for crazy ideals. This is a time to take a step back, and try to piece together what the fuck just happened. There’s too much shit swirling around. We need to take a long, critical look at what’s gone on here, and figure out who’s even in the wrong. For all we know, this was the work of some goons.”

Everyone in the briefing looked around for a moment. Finally, Avery broke the ice. “Here, let’s talk action plans. The Yukes will pretty much do anything for us. They can send a GRU team in to Vedia and collect samples. Meanwhile, we send, say, Bartholomew and his people over to Indus and we can collect samples there. We get an SR-91 overflight routine going, we look at the blast radii. All of this gets us closer to piecing together what happened. Meanwhile, let’s get Foreign Service on the case, let’s get a cease-fire going. Nobody wants to see kids getting fried on the six o’clock news, right?”

Everyone started nodding. “Yeah, okay, let’s get on it. I can even administer some of this from here in Verusa for the next couple of days. I can be on call. Does that sound good?” President Donilon nodded in affirmation. “That sounds good, Danielson. Let’s go, people. Let’s get on this.”

More discussions of action plans continued. After the briefing was concluded, Avery went to Charles’ room to pick up Sierra. “Hey, Chuck,” Avery said, as the door opened, “I need to talk to you.”

Charles motioned for Avery to come in. “What is it, man?” Charles asked. “Look, it’s hittin’ the fan over in Indus. I know you’re here on business with Nina, but I don’t know how safe Verusa’s going to be in the near future. This just looks like a lot of trouble. I’m already negotiating with my company to allow me to come home early, but, you know, labor regs.” Charles nodded. “Sure, I’ll think about it,” he replied.

 

****


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Inverter

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Was going to release this chapter last night, but I got busy and then didn't want to have to go back through and format. Oh well.

 

Chapter Three

A New Challenger


CIA Headquarters
Fort Eustis, CD
February 9, 2028
1200 hours

 

“Thanks, Doctor Danielson, for working with us on such short notice. I’m sorry you had to drop your vacation so quickly,” DCI Beckett said. “But hey, back on the job. I know you love it.”

PJ was right, but it didn’t make the sting of being away from family any lighter.

“Alright,” Avery said, “let’s get started. Recon has come back, and we’ve gotten some info back from our friends in the GRU. The Yukes have been pretty forthcoming in helping us gather information, and they’ve been happy to share info with us, as we have with them. Here’s what we know: we’ve got a soil sample from the suspect blast site in our possession, and Robby Mason and his crew are figuring out where that came from. We also know based on these images fresh outta Central Recon—” he clicked through to the images of the blast site near Saidpur—“that we’re not dealing with a regular Verusan or Vedian nuke. This is something different.”

He clicked through a handful of other images. “These blast patterns, as you can see, don’t match,” he continued. “It’s almost as if there were multiple blasts, the degradation of the shape is so extreme.” Avery clicked through some more slides. “What analysts in the basement are saying right now is that this is likely a MIRV. The warheads were separated, but all coordinated to the same location. The misshapen explosion would be the result of margin of error in the coordination of the warheads.”

Avery cleared his throat before continuing. “Right now, I would say we would be well-advised to be on alert. This is a rapidly-evolving situation, and we need to address it as such. Any questions?”

No hands went up. “Great,” Avery said. “Dismissed.”

 

Federal Nuclear Output Research Center
Deerfield, Redmill
February 10, 2028
1422 hours

 

“Okay,” Dr. Mason Rhodes said. “We’ve got our sample, so let’s play.”

Analyzing the sample would take a few minutes. After the computers completed their assessment of the small container of soil, a printout slowly materialized from the printer connected to Mason’s setup. “Hmm,” he said, pensively tapping his chin. “This sample is unusual. Patricia, get me the book.” Patricia Gorman, a doctoral candidate at Whittier for nuclear physics, went to fetch what was essentially a field manual for this kind of work—the Compendium of Nuclear Test Samples. Her small frame struggled with the size of the book, which contained every single nuclear test sample ever recorded.

Mason began scanning through the book, shaking his head as he ran his fingers over entries of Vedian and Verusan tests. The Vedian and Verusan samples had almost nothing in common with the sheet he had next to the book. This just caused him to further retreat into his own mind.

He picked up a phone, glanced at a business card some CIA spook had handed him, and dialed Dr. Avery Danielson’s office at the CIA. Maybe this guy would have a clue.

 

****

 

Avery’s desk phone rang. The call ID indicated a Deerfield number. “That’s odd,” Avery said, picking up the phone. “Danielson.”

“Hi, Doctor Danielson, the operator let me get through to you. I’ve got something to tell you about that sample you gave us?” Avery now realized who was calling. “Ah, you must be Doctor Rhodes! Good to hear from you. Okay. What’s the problem you’re running into? I’m, uh, not really a nuclear expert but maybe you can toss something at me that’ll stick.”

Mason nodded instinctively. “Yep, I’ve got a real greasy one here. I’ve combed through my Compendium with a fine-toothed comb and I’ve got absolutely nothing here. This isn’t even close to anything the Verusans or Vedians have previously tested. Do you all have any weapons that may have come from outside?”

Avery froze. Was Mason cleared for the information about the Abarimon? He would have to gamble. “Well,” Avery said, stammering as he spoke, “uh, there, well, there’s this one thing, uh…”

Mason nodded. “So there is another possibility, huh?” Avery rapped his knuckles on the desk before continuing. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. We do have Indian intelligence indicating that a Vedian boat had a missile of Belkan origin on it. We don’t know exactly what type, but I guess a Belkan nuke isn’t out of the question, since we are talking about a MIRV here. But you never heard that from me, or anyone else. Understand?”

“Yeah,” Mason replied. “I hear you.” Avery smiled. “Good,” he said. “See what you can dig up.”

 

****

Brighthill
Oured, CD
February 11, 2028
1430 hours

 

DCI Beckett swiped a card to access an elevator. “Welcome to the circle of power, Danielson,” he said. Avery was fidgeting with his shirt collar. “I guess I…didn’t really expect to be here,” he said, nervously. Meeting the President, Avery had done that before, but not under these circumstances. Hell, he thought to himself, I’ve already met this President in the past two weeks.

Armed with a thick manila folder detailing the worst fears of modern society, Avery felt a lot of pressure. What will Donilon say? Will he just flip out? Will he respond like I hope he will? Beckett must have seen the confusion and pensiveness on Avery’s face. “Is…something wrong, Doctor Danielson?”

Avery shook himself off. “No,” he said, “not much, anyway.”

Beckett shrugged as the pair entered the elevator. Avery had been on it before. A simple, stainless steel-and-aluminum elevator, it would look right in a building from fifty years ago just as well as today.

Arriving at the first floor of Brighthill Manor, Avery and Beckett turned toward the Presidential Office Suite. The Suite was the focus of all of the world’s superpower’s might. President Donilon had Marines everywhere, Avery noticed. Guess it can’t hurt to be too careful, not least if he knows what we’ve gotten wind of happening in Indus, Avery thought to himself. Besides, the Marines he’d worked with had been pretty upstanding guys.

Avery walked into office, only to find the President pacing back and forth wildly. Donilon froze as Avery and Beckett entered. “Good,” he muttered, “let’s get to this.”

Avery presented what was known up to this point. He then added that ECHELON teams had collected soil samples from Indus that were being analyzed by Dr. Mason Rhodes and his team at the Federal Nuclear Output Research Center. “Have they come up with anything?” Donilon asked. Avery hung his head. “Not yet. In a day or two, thanks to some plants inside the Center, I think they’ll hit on something. But at this point, we’re working off the assumption—” Donilon cut him off abruptly with a curt reply—“assumption, Doctor Danielson? We don’t have much time for that, so cut the crap. You’re saying you don’t know.”

Avery felt pinned. It wasn’t a good sensation.

“Technically, we don’t know, but logically speaking this is the only real conclusion at this point, Mister President. Unless you happen to know something the Agency doesn’t.” Beckett surreptitiously placed a hand on Avery’s lap, in an effort to keep him from doing something he might regret.

Avery realized that at this point he was halfway standing in front of his seat at the large meeting table. This is awkward, he thought to himself, trying to make his re-seating move seem more natural than it was.

“Anyway,” he continued, “We’ve got a pretty good bead on this, we’re more or less in the process of waiting for final confirmation from Doctor Rhodes and his people. What I’m here to discuss is response. I’m here with DCI Beckett to be a sounding board. We have to work off an assumption here. We have to assume that this is a V2. What are you going to do in response?”

Donilon tented his fingers on the table. Avery was now taking some time in his own mind to try to piece some things together about this man. Here he was, talking to a President with no military experience, who insisted on running military operations without input from his Chiefs of Staff. What kind of nut is running this country? Avery wondered. The silence was soon broken by the clearing of a throat.

“Doctor Danielson, how about this. We mobilize a number of Foreign Service Officers and try to work out a diplomatic solution. We’ve got ambassadors and well-trained staffs at each embassy in the countries involved, and we try to goad the Verusans into this because they want to be ‘responsible world citizens’ anyway. I don’t think they can really do it, but here’s their chance to prove me wrong.”

Avery sighed. “Uh, sure, I guess we can, uh, do that. I’m not sure you’re going to be able to get a couple of countries who’ve thrown goddamned nukes at each other to negotiate, but it’s…worth a shot, I guess.” Avery twirled a pen around in between his fingers, hoping that what Donilon said didn’t mean what he thought.

 

****

CIA Headquarters
Fort Eustis, CD
February 11, 2028
1800 hours

 

The day was coming to an end. Avery was feeling like leaving the office at about 1830 hours. A little later than usual, but there was a lot to deal with, considering this bullshit in the Atlantic Ocean. Even so, tomorrow, he was flying out nearby. He still had an arrangement with Diego that he’d skipped in the wild events of the bombs going off.

Lost in thought, the phone rang. It was Rhodes’ number. “Danielson,” Avery said, picking up the phone. “Hi there, Doctor Danielson,” Rhodes said, almost cheerily. Sensing the awkwardness, Rhodes picked up very quickly. “Ah, I was calling you about those test samples. The lead you gave me was solid. Never would have thought to check this out. I’m getting a positive ID on this last missile with the Spangdahlem centrifuge, probably from back when it was operated by the South Belkan Munitions Factory substation there. It’s been reactivated for testing purposes but its samples don’t gravitate so strongly to uranium output. Looks like a hit for a V2, unfortunately. Hope that helps!”

Rhodes was pretty cheery for a guy who basically just admitted the entire human race was now officially at stake. “Uh, thanks for clearing that for me, Doctor Rhodes,” Avery replied. The two exchanged formalities and hung up. Avery still had one more call to make, though.

 

****


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#5
Georgia Ace

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Oh I've seen this on FF.Net, is this that a certain pilot becomes a member of the CIA thing you mentioned? 

 

I feel like those guys are focusing a little too much on the Belkans. The bias against them kinda makes since all things considered, but it sounds like a diversion from the real threat, whatever it may be. 


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#6
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Oh I've seen this on FF.Net, is this that a certain pilot becomes a member of the CIA thing you mentioned? 
 
I feel like those guys are focusing a little too much on the Belkans. The bias against them kinda makes since all things considered, but it sounds like a diversion from the real threat, whatever it may be.

Well, this is a part of a wider series. I don't really want to give away too many details, but the Belkans are slightly more complicated villains in the grand scheme of things, though this fic will dig into what that entails a little bit. They're not the only villains, though. One of the main things about the timeline I've crafted (which I consider it something of an alternate timeline due to…well…you'll see) is that the Belkans aren't the only Big Bad through the course of the series. You'll be meeting, in a couple of chapters, another Big Bad.
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#7
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Beckett surreptitiously placed a hand on Avery’s lap, in an effort to keep him from doing something he might regret.


Avery realized that at this point he was halfway standing in front of his seat at the large meeting table. This is awkward, he thought to himself, trying to make his re-seating move seem more natural than it was.

 

Just what kind of story are you telling here, hm?  eyebrow.gif


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#8
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Well, this is a part of a wider series. I don't really want to give away too many details, but the Belkans are slightly more complicated villains in the grand scheme of things, though this fic will dig into what that entails a little bit. They're not the only villains, though. One of the main things about the timeline I've crafted (which I consider it something of an alternate timeline due to…well…you'll see) is that the Belkans aren't the only Big Bad through the course of the series. You'll be meeting, in a couple of chapters, another Big Bad.

 

Fair enough. Mustache twirling villains don't work all that well outside of cartoons and comedy, so it's nice you're going about it this way.

 

Let's see where this goes. 

 

 

Just what kind of story are you telling here, hm?  eyebrow.gif

 

Oh I'm sure it was just a innocent mistake?


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#9
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Twas kidding, my good fellow...    :lol:


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#10
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Twas kidding, my good fellow...    :lol:

 

My internet humor/sarcasm detector is kinda glitchy these days. Sorry 'bout that.  :lol:


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#11
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Indians?
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Indians?

“Indusians” didn't roll off the tongue that well.
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#13
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It's from SoU canon.  Whatever, Strangereal magically has swiss cheese and the Dutch and a few Russian oblasts anyway.


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^ That too. I've drawn on some of Mike's material to fill in some blanks because I would prefer to take from people who are more talented than me.
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<3


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“Indusians” didn't roll off the tongue that well.

  

Makes sense

It's from SoU canon.  Whatever, Strangereal magically has swiss cheese and the Dutch and a few Russian oblasts anyway.


You mean the SoU canon that will NEVER BE FINISHED YOU FUCKING bunch of sticks? That canon?
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#17
Georgia Ace

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Makes sense


You mean the SoU canon that will NEVER BE FINISHED YOU FUCKING bunch of sticks? That canon?

 

Well at least we know he's actually working on it, kinda. That's more than we can say for the last two years or so. 


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#18
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After six attempts to post chapter four, and all have failed, I figure I may as well post the link to the story.

Click me!

I may be adding some side documents to the story, full texts of which should fit within the reasonable load time constraints of ACS.
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#19
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^ That too. I've drawn on some of Mike's material to fill in some blanks because I would prefer to take from people who are more talented than me.

 

Isn't that called plagarism?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kidding again.   :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

BTW, I'd be glad to clean up this for you.  Let me know.


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#20
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Isn't that called plagarism?
Kidding again.   :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

Heh, if he hadn't already guessed I was going to be doing something with it, I'd say his perception skills are pretty shot if our facebook conversations are much to go by :P
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