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Turmoil in F799; When Leaders Are Accused of Murder
Topic Started: Dec 6 2017, 09:17 PM (128 Views)
F799
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Pharaoh Nimajne
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Quote:
 
BREAKING NEWS: F799’s Holy Leader Pharaoh Nimajne Arrested For Murder!!!
How Will This Affect Elections? What Will The Ninean People Do Now?
Stick With Ninean News At Nine As We Follow This Developing Story!
((Darn daily issues lead to the arrest/charging of my leader...too juicy to pass up!))

From The Texas Regional Message Board

____________________________________________________________________________

NINEAN NEWS AT NINE

A clearly amateur homemade video shaking and wavering and splattered with the occasional rain drop from the above rolling greenish clouded sky begins to roll showing a raging and cursing Pharaoh Nimajne is being forcibly drug away in a pair of medieval looking shackles and leg irons.

For the sake of children that may be viewing this broadcast, the audio has been removed from the video.

After the video plays, the camera returns to a well dressed man in a suit behind a desk; "Earlier today Pharaoh Ben Nimajne was arrested following accusations made by famed foreign investigator, Mr. Marple, who had been brought in to assist the PCPD with a lengthy investigation into the murder of the nation's Chief Economic Adviser, one Shylock Holmes. Sources who refused to be named, spoke on conditions of anonymity, told N.N.N. investigators that Pharoah Nimajne is reported to have stabbed Mr. Holmes to death in the Pharaoh's office late one night after a very heated debate regarding the increase of tariffs before causing his body to be dumped in a remote irradiated swamo several miles south of Pyramid-Citadel-6.
Records show that an obscure Ninean law allows for the use of national tax dollars and other state and/or national funds to provide for the defense of any accused government officer when charges that are punishable by anything greater than life-imprisonment are brought against the governmental agent. Strangely enough, this law was enacted long before the Ninean Judiciary was abolished by Nimajne in favor of his personal rulings on all criminal activity within the nation. Speculation is running rampant throughout Texas as people wonder what F799 will do with this conundrum. For the moment, Nimajne has been reportedly chained in the damp underground prison of Inverted-Pyramid-4.2."


The screen blackened before opening up on several different camera angles from throughout F799 showing a variety of protests from organized marches to sacrificial witch burnings to all-out brawls between robe-clad monks and Ninean Police and Combined Military Forces.

"As you can see," the man's voice continued, "the Ninean people are up in arms over their beloved leader's arrest; although opinions seemed mixed as to if these protests are in outrage at Nimajne's death or if the situation is being used to try and wrangle undeserved rights and funds away from those who rightfully owned or were entitled to them.
At this time, we do not yet know how this latest turn of events will affect the ongoing campaign for F799 to take over as Secretary of Defense for the Region of Texas."


**Any National Resonses Are Welcome Here.
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Narshtaph
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Texas Colonel
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Sitting in his office Austin Heatherforth almost chokes on his vegetarian steak.
Coughing up the remnants of the spiced soy patty he stares incredulously at the screen displaying the news from F799.
Behind the constantly vigilant eyes the thoughts are whirring madly through the windings of grey matter.

Now how could Nimajne get himself into THIS position? First things were quiet for years and now he's back with the really big bang. Verdammich!

His hand hovers over the intercom for a few seconds before he pushed the button.

'Miss Doughdollar, would please be so kind to come into my office for a dictation? Thank you.'

Awaiting the arrival of his trusted assitant Heatherforth mulls a bit more of the recent happenings.
His most trusted ally outside Narshtaph has booked himself a oneway ticket to the gallows.

'CRAP!'

Trying regain composure, Heahterforth closes his eyes and takes a deep breath just before the door is opened and Miss Doughdollar steps in.

'How can I be of assistance, Mister Heatherforth?'

'Note an adress to the acting leadership of F799 and send it out to our Ambassador with the order to hand it out in person immediately.
Please write as follows:


"To the people and acting administration of F799,

with great regrets we took notice of the current predicaments, which have befallen the nation of F799.

As long-time allies of the state and friends of the the Great Pharao Nimajne himself we would like to offer any help possible to help clear up the situation as soon and smoothly as possible.
It would be to our great dismay, should the prosperous and well-received alliance between F799 and Narshtaph take damage from this blow.

Please feel free to contact us directly or via Ambassador (please fill in the correct name, Miss Doughdollar) in case of need of assistance.

Furthermore we want to express our wishes of alliance with F799 unrelated to the ruler of state.
It has been most helpful to be personally well aquainted with the Great Pharaoh Nimajne himself in building and developing this partnership.
Nonetheless we are open to work with any form of government F799 shall install, resulting from the current unfoldings.

With great respect and kind regards we remain,
your loyal and steadfast allies,

the People of Narshtaph, represented by
Austin Heatherforth
Narshtaph Supreme Dictator."


Did you get that entirely?'

'Yes, my leader.'

'Very well. Hand me in the typed version for signature as soon as possible. Thank you very much.'

'A pleasure as always, Mister Heatherforth.'


Watching his secretary leave the room, swaying the voluptuous hips generously, Austin Heatherforth throughts run wild once again.

I hope that this will end well. I really do... And just as Regional Elections are coming right up.

With a sigh the Dictator sinks into his chair and closes his eyes.

Nothing is ever easy.
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F799
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Pharaoh Nimajne
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LOCATION: BONKER, THE OMNIOPPRESSIVE NATION OF NARSHTAPH.....just outside the governmental headquarters: offices of one Austin Heatherforth
______________________________________________________________________

A shadowy figure wearing almost stereotypical garb of one who was trying not be noticed or recognized by state operated surveillance equipment, practically materialized out of the shadows of a nearby alley, clad in a ankle length black trench coat complete with a turned up collar, mirrored sunglasses, and a rather wide-brimmed fedora tilted at a forward angle. Somehow, the obviously clandestine agent managed to slip past any would be security and 'accidentally' collide with Mr. Heatherforth just before he reached the door leading into his office building. "Pardon me my good man," the man muttered shoving a sealed envelope into the leader's hand before hurrying down the street, 'round the corner, and out of site. *POOF!* He was gone, vanishing back into the shadows of the alleyway.

Once discovered and opened the letter, on plain paper devoid of any official seal or identifier of the Ninean Nation, would read as follows:

TO: Austin Heatherforth, supreme leaders of The Omnioppressive Nation of Narshtaph
FROM: F799 Intelligence - High Commander Skita
RE: Our Holy Leader Pharaoh Nimajne

Mr. Heatherforth
as one of F799's oldest and most powerful allies, I come to you in this time of great need by the Ninean People. More than anything, we seek to preserve the way of life of and for our people; followed closely by the friendships we have fostered and the strength that is F799.
Your offer of support is most generous, as we have come to expect from our friendship. It is time, that we take you up on your offer of assistance. As you are clearly aware, Pharaoh Nimajne was unceremoniously arrested having been charged with a murder that, in all likelihood, he is guilty of committing. normally, such activity would have been overlooked; however, this event has many other facets that have worked in tandem against our holy leader. Sadly, that is not to be and the people of F799, despite much adoration for their leader, have demanded that something be done. In an effort to restore order to our nation, the F799 Imperial Intelligence Agency and the Combined Militant Forces of F799 have sought and, we are happily to say, found a newfound leader to step into the role of holy leader for the Ninean People. She will soon be announced to the populace at large and after that will surely wish to make your acquaintance as well.
Unfortunately, much of the C.M.F.s are demanding the immediate execution of Pharaoh Nimajne, as is the way of our people. F799 I.I. believes that this is no way to reward our holy leader, if he even can be killed. To this end, we are coming to you to request that you consider housing Nimajne in exile, deep within the confines of Narshtaph to live out his days as a deity-in-exile. I am sure that F799 I.I. could make such an activity well-worth it for you and your nation. After all, we in F799 excel far above you when it comes to Mining, Arms Manufacturing, Furniture Restoration, and Basket Weaving.
Should you wish to discuss this further, Ambassador Jacob Jacobsen is an agent of mine; please contact him to arrange details of transporting Nimajne to your care.

Your longtime invisible friend and admirer,
High Commander
Eugene Skita

_____________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, back in Pyramid Citadel-6:

Slowly the police, with copious amounts of assistance and high-powered firepower from the Combined Militant Forces of F799, quelled the riots of the Ninean populace and some semblance of order was restored as the endless skyscape of factory smokestacks churned back to life. With the coming of the dawn the next day, combined leadership of the C.M.F. and I.I. found themselves standing atop a large gray scale balcony attached to an equally gray drab multi-storied structure overlooking what was once a lush park before it was overtaken by the smog of Ninean productivity and concrete.

Amongst the pompous militarily clad mustachioed generals and black-clad slimy looking Imperial Intelligence Officers stood a lone, young, platinum-blonde female with piercing blue eyes. As the crowds of workers below stilled, the young lady was introduced as the heir of Nimajne, ferreted away at a young age to be raised by the best minds the world had to offer, given the best education that money could buy in Texas, 10000 Islands, and beyond, brought back now, under the cover of darkness to take the reigns where her father had left off and to lead the Ninean People into a new and glorious age of prosperity. The heir apparent and new leader of F799 is now, Emily Nim(ajne); goddess of Nimajnism and divine protector of the Ninean People.

Bow before your new holy supreme overlord!
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Narshtaph
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Texas Colonel
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Location: Bonker, The Omnioppressive Nation of Narshtaph, inside of Viola Road 1 (Governmental Headquarters)

Walking down the corridor to his office door, Austin Heatherforth can not stop shaking his head in disbelief.
First of all: Where was his security detail, who usually doesn't fail to shoot down pigeons from the sky in case they don't heed warning to not fly overhead?
And how could it be that this stranger basically materialized and dematerialized out of and into nothingness?
And most of all: This letter, clutched into Heatherforth's left hand, which carried rather light for an official document or letter and had no markings on the outside to help associate it. Not that he didn't have any suspicions as to its sender...

Opening the door his eyes go straight to his secretary.

Miss Doughdollar, please cancel all appointsments for this morning and come into my office in about 15 minutes for a dictation. Thank you!

Not awaiting the reply he walks straight into his office, closes the door and takes a deep breath.

What in all the world is happening in F799? Not that they always were a tad on the strange side but this whole commotion seems to be over the top even for them. But at least they haven't unlearned how to employ agents properly...

Reaching his desk, Austin Heatherforth sits down and opens the envelope entrusted to him on the streets. His eyes grow wider as he advances further in the text, narrowing just a bit during the last part regarding the supposedly industrial advancement.

These capitalistic bastards have no clue how to run a decent economy in a socialistic theocracy. Well, not my problem there!

He leans back, contemplating further course of action. A few minutes later a knock on the door is heard and Miss Doughdollar steps in.

Ah, perfect timing as ever! Please note as follows, letter directed to Ambassador Jacob Jacobsen in the F799 Embassy:


"Mr. Skita,

thank you very much for your conclusive and most enlighting writ.
Of course we are more than happy to cooperate with the glorious Commonwealth of F799. We will be able to find comfortable living arrangements befitting of your deitic Ex-Leader. Should any more needed specifications regarding those arrangements arise we will try to comply within our possibilities.
For the moment we require no immediate refund for the necessary procedures but will be glad to uphold you to the most generous offer should need arise indeed.

We remain with great res..."


As the telephone rings Austin Heatherforth looks up with great dismay.

Who dares to interrupt this important... Ah, my Sectretary for Foreign Relations. This might be important, please excuse me for a second, Miss Doughdollar.

With an annoyed expression he picks up the phone and barks into the receiver.

Yes?

Well, certainly!

You don't say! Why wasn't I informed even earlier?

Well, no matter...

Miss Doughdollar, turn on the TV immediatly and set to F799 news!


Without word or delay the young Lady picks up the remote control and sets the television the requested station.
The pictures on the screen show masses of people crowded outside the governmental residence of F799. At this very moment they are presented a young, platinum blonde woman as their new leader and heir to Pharaoh Ben Nimajne, Emily Nim.

Speechless silence fills the office of Austin Heatherforth following this report. Several minutes later he looks back to his secretary, who devotedly stares at her Leader, awaiting further instructions.

Delete this last sentence and continue as follows:

"Please give our regards to Goddess Emily and let her know that we cannot wait to meet her in person. We shall be honored to pay her a visit and discuss further cooperations between F799 and Narshtaph with her in detail.


We remain with great respect,
as always your loyal allies and friends,

the People of Narshtaph, represented by
Austin Heatherforth
Narshtaph Supreme Dictator."


I trust you got that entirely?


His secretary answers with a curt nod.

Of course Mister Heatherforth. Shall I bring it into typing immediately?

Darn she is good... and beautiful! What would I ever do without her?

Please do so. And feel free to send in off to the Ambassador as soon as possible. Thank you!

As Miss Doughdollar leaves the office he cannot help but marvel at this perfectly proportioned young woman, making his life of administrating this nation so much easier.

Well, this story definitely will a sequel. And the one regarding F799 probably, too...
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F799
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Pharaoh Nimajne
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Within the day, Heatherforth's letter was in Ambassador Skita's well manicured hands, safely within the Ninean Embassy to Narshtaph. Nodding at the note in his hands, he spun about in his plushy swivel chair, imported from F799 on his order, and dropped it in the nearby shredder; turning the letter into zillions of indecipherable pieces. Turning back to his desk, he reached underneath and flipped a switch hidden beneath the wide central desk drawer. It never paid to be too careful, even in allied Narshtaph one never knew when the locals might be listening. The flip of the switch switched the phone lines to the building off of the standard telecommunications grid and sent a signal using Ninean military grade satellites to communicate directly with F799 I.I. back home. "The deal is done. Send him over." he growled before placing the aged handset back in its cradle and flipping the switch back over to the local phone lines and dialing another number for Ninean Combined Militant Forces Central Command. "Yes, This is Ambassador to Narshtaph, Allen Skita, yes yes Lieutenant it has been too long. I am glad your wife appreciated the Narshtaphian perfumes I sent. Hopefully it kept you outta the dog house? Say, Bill, as much as I'd love to chat, I do need you to send that convoy of supplies for the Ninean Embassy. Ya, that Heatherforth dude cleared it all. I know! Right? About time we get to upgrade this crap-hole. Ya. it is just as bad as it was before you left. No, no more swinging good times though. No, still can't get that secretary of his to call me back. Hmmm? Oh, right, ya, tell the General I said hi. Later bud." and with that, Skita hung up his phone and smiled. Within the week, Ben Nimajne should be safely settled somewhere known only to the highest levels of Narshtaphian Intelligence and F799 I. I. and perhaps he would get that extra pay bump he so righteously deserved.

Back in F799 a flurry of off the books, black ops shenanigans began to take place, all cleverly orchestrated by the F799 Imperial Intelligence. By means of the Ninean Combined Militant Forces and a variety of private companies a slew of materials to upgrade the Ninean Embassy in Narshtaph, with a handfull of carefully selected suspiciously military-special-forces-trained 'private contractors' accompanying the supplies for the refit. Within 2 days the convoy was on the move and a memo was handed to Lady-Demigoddess Emily Nim notifying her of the activity. With a curt nod and a warm smile that did not reach her icy cold blue she nodded to the black trenchcoated man, "All is going as we have forseen. Notify me of any changes. As for the ambassador and his bumbling henchman at Central Command; see to it that they do not speak of this to anyone."

Without a single gesture or word to indicate he understood, the suspiciously suspicious looking man turned and departed. Before the convoy even reached Narshtaphian land, Ambassador Skita had been admitted to one of Narshtaph's countless emergency wards along with a slew of other Sabbath Eve sales-goers for what was classified as 'stampede injuries.' Unfortunately, he did not make it. All that was said at home was a few lines on page four of the local papers, indicating the appointment of a new chief diplomat to Narshtaph, Justin Featherhorth, following the tragic death of the current ambassador who was killed while engaging in local customs.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant Bill Jones suffered from what has come to be known in military circles as a training accident while participating in his bimonthly required rural combat preparedness firearms training. There was, it would seem, no video of the incident and not much of Lt. Jones had been recover. The good news, however, was that he was posthumously being promoted to captain and his wife and young twins, a boy and a girl, would receive the benefits befitting that rank as well as the traditional folded Ninean flag.
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Trecdom
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Cabinet
1 Roddenberry Drive, Jalanda City, Trecdom

Prime Minister Philippa Georgiou was settling in for a relaxing evening with her family, when a knock on the door interrupted those plans. Opening the door, she was a bit surprised to see both her Chief of Staff and Secretary of State on the other side. Her staff were under orders not to disturb her unless there was an imminent crisis. When she left the office two hours previously, there had been no indication of anything new cropping up. The absence of her Sec Def gave Philippa some comfort.

“Mr Saru, Miss Detmer, what brings you here?”

Saru looked at Detmer who apparently knew the details. She brushed a stray hair from her face before responding.

“Sorry to interrupt Madam Prime Minister. There’s been a sudden change in the leadership of one of our allies. We feel it requires your immediate attention.”

Phillipa redirected her attention to her husband and children.
“As they say, heavy is the head. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Familiar with the drill, they didn’t complain as she left the room. As the trio walked towards the situation room, Detmer filled in the details.
“As of 19:20 local time we received news that Pharaoh Nimajne is no longer the leader of F799. Apparently they have been accused of murdering the nation’s chief economic advisor. The news was originally kept quiet, but NINEAN NEWS AT NINE somehow came into position of the information along with video footage. Considering we have an embassy with the Nation of F799, I thought you’d want to know as soon as possible. We’re gathering the Cabinet and Joint Chiefs now.”

As Phillipa digested the news, she responded to the impromptu briefing.
“Thank you. That is disturbing news. When any world leader is arrested it has the potential of trouble, but a murder charge just adds fuel to the fire.”

Having reached the situation room, she fell quiet knowing more detailed information would soon be forthcoming.
“Please be seated.” She told her gathered staff upon entering.”

While the incident didn’t directly involve many of the departments, she still wanted their input. A few members who were out of town were virtually attending via secure video chat. Those with more knowledge of the situation gave their input, as well as an accounting as to how this event had come as a surprise to the Intel and Military community of Trecdom. Phillipa wasn’t worried about placing blame this early in the game, but at the same time didn’t like being surprised.

The bulk of the briefing consisted on what information was available about the murder of Shylock Holmes, the history of Pharaoh Nimajne, the Ninean legal system, and a list of possible successors. At the top of the list was Emily Nim, who had so far stayed out the political scene and whose potential policies were hard to predict.

Looking at a live feed from Ninean news sources, Phillipa grew concerned over the reaction of the local populace.
“Are we able to get in touch with Ambassador Sarek? I want to make sure our embassy staff knows we haven’t ignored them.”

There was some scrambling among the staff as they moved to comply with the request, and soon the Ambassador’s voice came over the phone’s speaker.
“Madame Prime Minister. Nice of you to call. Everyone’s safe so far. As soon as word came out of the arrest, we recalled all our staff back to the compound. While there’s no present threat against us, Major Burnham has us at Threatcon Charlie.”

General Hammond nodded approvingly.
“That’s a wise move. Just be careful about use of force. You are still in a foreign country and not a war zone.”

Burnham cut into the conversation, as she had been listening in on an extension.
“Understood sir. I’ll make sure to review the rules of engagement with the guards.”

After a few administrative items, Phillipa ended with some words of encouragement. She then focused on Admiral Cornwell.
“Admiral, I understand the piracy issue around the Xindi Straits has flared up. I think it’s time for the Valkyrie carrier group to spend a few days making their presence known.”

The Admiral was confused for a minute, before she caught on to the Prime Minister’s logic. The Straits had been a source of trouble for many nations due to the highly unstable Xindi government. It was also relatively close to the Ninean coast. Should a rescue mission be required, the carrier group could be in range to use their Osprey's in a matter of hours, should they travel at flank speed.
“Aye Ma’am. Once we’re finished here, I’ll contact Commodore Sisko.”

Upon making a few other arrangements, Phillipa addressed her entire staff.
“Good job everyone. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a family night to finish. In the morning, we’ll have to address a formal statement to the Ninean government if a successor hasn’t been chosen yet.”


That next afternoon, a message was delivered to the Ninean embassy to Trecdom in the neighboring city of Tong Vey. The decision had been made by a previous administration to move the embassies from Jalanda City to Tong Vey, and their successors had all continued with that policy.

To: Ninean Government
From: Trecdom Federation.
Subject: Change of Power


The people and government of Trecdom are shocked at the charges leveled against Pharaoh Nimajne. While we condemn murder in the strongest possible sense, we hope that due process will be followed in proceedings against Mr Nimajne. The nation of Trecdom has been in good diplomatic standing with F799 for over a decade, and we hope that will continue with the introduction of a new government.
The Trekie people know from our own history the difficulties involved in a sudden shift of power. Should you require any assistance during this period of transition, feel free to reach out to us. You may do so through Ambassador Sarek at our embassy in Pyramid Citadel-6, or your own embassy in Tong Vey.
Best wishes during this troublesome time.

Sincerely,
Phillipa Georgiou, Prime Minister of The Trecdom Federation

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Narshtaph
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Texas Colonel
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Location: Bonker, The Omnioppressive Nation of Narshtaph, inside of Violet Avenue 29 (Narshtaph Intelligence and Security Agency)

'Sir! Sir! You should see that immediately!'

Bursting through the office door of Craig Ventoosla, head of the Narshtaph Intelligence and Security Agency - NISA - , came a young intel officer, his long hair flying wildly about his head and his glasses a bit askew. He stood panting in the doorway while Ventoosla was still trying to understand what had just happened.

'Er, excuse me, who are you and what in Violets Name are you doing unannounced in my office after regular hours?'

Not that these remotely existed within this agency but that wasn't of the question here.

'Anton Kroeger, Sir, at your service, Sir! And I came here to tell you that you had to see for yourself intel on the latest Ninean move!'

Well, at least the guy had the guts to speak openly and the brains to do so in a fashion one could understand.

'And you couldn't have told me on the internal lines?'

'We are not sure about the security sir. Not after the Maxtopia-Desaster. And I felt that this intel should be at least a bit classified for now.'


Smart guy, indeed. Yes the Maxtopia-Desaster had cost Narshtaph Intelligence a few sleepless nights and the predecessor of Ventoosla his job (and head). And still there were left to pick up. Although Craig Ventoosla was sure that the NISA internal lines were as secure as they come he didn't feel that Kroeger had taken false actions here.

'Very well, Mr. Kroeger, please give me a second and wait outside while I get myself ready. I'll be with you in a moment and indeed eager to find out what aroused your excitement in such a fashion.'

'Thank you, Sir! You shall not regret it.'

'Well, I hope very much so for the sake of yours...'


The hint towards the Zero-Tolerance-Policy of Ventoosla regarding failure within his agency took its effect as the young officer withdrew from the office with just a tad less enthusiasm and a shred of doubt crossing his face. Ventoosla had no doubt that the intel would be worthwhile indeed - his policy and only the best trained personal ought to make sure of that - but a bit of fear here and there could never hurt.

Half a minute after his officer the NISA boss left his office, nodding to Kroeger, who stood a bit off to the side, inspecting the surrealistic painting of the great civil war from 1692, depicting the losing facting of atheistic intellectuals as donkey headed buffoons with groucho glasses while the - rightly so - winning faction of religiously fanatic violetists wore long flowing robes of deepest violet over their shining armor. The stream, dividing the battlefield and two factions alike, was filled with fast flowing lava which melted the wrong shore and its occupants right into a streak beyond time and space. Well, perhaps Matadore D'Ali had been just a tad too enthusiastic while drawing this monumental piece of historic art but priceless, as it now was, it couldn't hang at a better spot than outside Craig Ventoosla's office, impressing and intimidating all his prospecitve visitors prior to their entering.

Following his enthusiastic officer down the hallways Ventoosla wondered what could be that important. Well, he was about to find out as they neared a small room with a left open door through which the light of monitors shone brigtly into the dimly lit corridor.

'Sir, after you, Sir.'

They entered the office, being little more than a cleaning supplies closet in size, and Ventoosla stared at a wall of six screens, all lit and five of them with moving pictures, only the one in the bottom left cornern showed a still image of several men carrying office supplies and nondescript intoa building.

'So, you called me down here to watch a new bureau getting supplied with the necessary hardware?"
"Not exactly, Sir. I mean you have the stuff about the offie supplies pretty much down to the core but it isn't some finance office they are filling.'

'So spit it out, man, which building is this?'

'The Ninean Embassy to Narshtaph, Sir.'


Seconds of stunned silence filled the room before any sound from the two men could be heard at all. Finally cutting through the humming of cooling fans from the computers was the sharp voice of Craig Ventoosla in full-business-mode.

'Play the whole file for me at once!'

'The whole 12 hours, Sir?'

'Of course not! Just the last 10 minutes and let the tape run on!'


The screen depicted more men carrying boxes into the building, followed later by desks, chairs, cubilce walls and such. This whole scene wouldn't have been suspicious at all but for two factors: The sheer volume of the move should have been able to supply a office of 50 workers and more and the Embassy didn't have as many employees in total by far to Ventooslas information and secondly:

This was frickin' night time, dammit! If this doesn't smell like covert than I am losing my sense of smell...

'Well, Mr. Kroeger, my compliments for your sharp perception and quick wits. You did well coming to me directly and I trust you didn't tell anyone else of this?'

No Sir, of course not, Sir!'

'Very well indeed. You shall receive a raise in payment of 15 % as of next month and we shall classify this intel as top confidentiality level. Please be so kind and deliver a copy of said tape to my desk personally. A 5 hour time frame around should suffice.'

'Of course, Sir! Thank you very much, Sir!'


Without as much as another word the boss of NISA left the small office, making a mental note to have Kroeger transferred to a bigger room. Kid had potential after all. But what to do with this intel?

What to do, indeed...
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F799
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Pharaoh Nimajne
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
NINEAN NEWS AT NINE

A suited man with a pronouncedly sharp chin and full head of slicked back black hair sat at a desk, news briefs held firmly in one hand as he stared at the camera: "Just as the riots had been quelled through means that we are not, as a state-run-news-agency allowed to broadcast here, it seems that the turmoil of F799's highest office have yet to subside. SOurces inside the government have indicated, in a stunning turn of events for the usually brutally effective police and military forces, that somehow Pharaoh Nimajne who was, until this time, presumed to be being held in a maximum security penitentiary, has, in fact, escaped custody of Ninean authorities and has been on the lamb since shortly after he was very publicly taken into custody for the murder of one of his subordinate ministers. At this time, we are still awaiting a response from the newly appointed divine office of Lady Emily Nim, long lost heir-apparent to Pharaoh Nimajne.

setting down his script the man leaned forward to whisper loudly, directly into the camera, clearly going off the pre-approved government script, What has become of our glorious nation? Now is the time that each Ninean citizen, regardless of personal beliefs, put aside their differences and join together, hand-in-hand, to protect our divine leader and prevent the travesty that is befalling our divinely appointed nation. What will happen next? Has anyone else noticed the sudden vanishment of the usually omnipresent Ninean police forces? or what about the newly constructed casionos popping up around.....

At that moment, the usually clear crisp broadcast was cut off, filling the rooms of countless Ninean households who had turned up their television sets to hear this rare off-script event with a deafening crackling static. Wherever the broadcast had been going, apparently it had not gotten there before unknown forces put a stop to it.

______________________________________________________________________________

BONKER, NARSHTAPH: 0324 hours 27th, December 2017:

Trucka fter truck was backed to the gates as militarily-garbed Ninean Militant FOrces oversaw the offloading of numerous construction items that were, without more than a cursory search for a shipping tag rushed inside alongside several black-clad ''contractors.' Amongst the hustle and bustle, a single man, an unrecognizable Ben Nimajne now sporting a rather less-than-flattering multi-day scruff of a beard and sunglasses was shuffled inside, head down and hood pulled up.

Deep within the bowels of the what-was-supposed-to-be the two story and single level basement Ninean embassy, a rather discretely hidden elevator was used to move large amounts of the purchased supplies deep underground where years ago, a Ninean secret base of operations had been established beneath several yards of bedrock. Here, the new quarters of the Pharaoh-in-Exile would spend his remaining days, monitoring the actions of his nation, his people and his scion.

Whilst the military grade 'contractors' set about improving the facility before they would meet sudden, strange, and completely inexplicable fates over the coming days, months, and weeks, a single line was sent via an aged fax machine housed in the vaulted quarters to the office of Miss Doughdollar, secretary to Narshtaph's head of State.

F799: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

The following day, well before regular business hours began, an entire newly completed set of office furniture, made from the finest Ninean timbers, was delivered fully constructed to the office of Austin Heatherforth; having been dropped off by a truck that looked suspiciously like one of the one's that had been at the Ninean embassy the day before.

THE FIRST OF MANY FRIEND

_____________________________________________________________________________

PYRAMID CITADEL-6, F799, OFFICE OF THE DEMIGODDESS LADY EMILY NIM:

Emily Nim is seated behind a large and finely crafted desk as she signs a response to The Bad Economy Ambassador of Trecdom. There, now tell them to get their navy away from Ninean waters

To: Phillipa Georgiou, Prime Minister of The Trecdom Federation
From: Emily Nim, Demigoddess, Divinely-Appointed Ruler, Supreme Commander, Queen of Ninean People Everywhere,
Subject: Re: Change of Power

Thank you for your concern for our nation. It s our every intention to maintain the close long-standing relationships held between the Ninean and Trekie peoples. As you are probably already aware, Ninean Police Forces seem to have mislaid the criminally charged once-pharaoh Ben Nimajne. Even now, we are utilizing all available resources to attempt to locate him; however, we fear that, by now, he may have fled Ninean sovereign territory. Should he have made it to the naval forces that have conveniently amassed just offshore of F799, I trust that you would do all within your power to return him to us post haste. Otherwise, I wish to assure you that Ninean COmbined Militant Forces are quite capable of maintaining the peace and security enjoyed by your commercial and state interests in the Xindi Straits. By the time that my correspondence arrives to your desk, Ninean Naval Forces will have moved on a suspected piracy launch point just outside of Ninean territorial waters. I will see that any intelligence gathered by F799 I.I. is shared via approriate channels with the naval forces of Trecdom.

Your new-found friend and long-time ally:

LADY EMILY NIM - F799


Seting her long white feathered quill down on her desk she brusquely handed the letter to one of her many nameless secretarial staff, We'll see what they think they're doing, she mumbled to herself as she picked up her secure cell phone and quickly placed a call, Yes Admiral, the dispatch has been sent. Move all needed vessels and personnel, to the area of Xindi Straits, address the rebel faction on Blackrock Isle, and ensure that no foreign flagged vessels violate holy Ninean water or air space.

With a sigh, she hung up the phone and tossed it a partially open desk drawer before slamming it shut. It was not even lunch time yet and she was already trying to avert what could be an international incident as well as reestablish the Ninean Secret Police, finish up bringing in much needed revenue into the nation via the construction of several flashy casinos for both locals and far-flung tourists to line the pockets of F799's loyal, After all, she had years of screw ups to amend with all possible haste.
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Phoenix Citadel, Jalanda City


Once the meeting with the Prime Minister was over, those in charge of the nation’s military headed across town to the Citadel. While the Navy was currently the only branch involved in the operation, it was important that all forces be ready should the need arise. Once inside the Citadel, Admiral Cornwell headed straight for the communications room.

“Lieutenant Sato, I need to reach Commodore Sisko immediately. Ensure it’s a secure channel.”

Moving to comply with the orders, the Lieutenant verbally acknowledge the Admiral.
“Aye Ma’am, I shall let you know when I have him.”

Trecdom Naval Vessel Defiant- Somewhere in the Texas Sea.

Commodore Sisko looked at the clock as he quickly threw on his uniform top. For the Admiral to call from the Citadel at this hour indicated trouble brewing someplace.

“Admiral Cornwell, what can I do for you this evening?”


“The leader of F799 has been arrested on murder charges. There’s been rioting all over the country as the news spreads. For the moment our embassy is safe, but I want to be prepared in case the finer points of international treaties are forgotten or ignored. To that end, your carrier group is to immediately deploy to the Xindi straights. Officially you’ll be there as a show of force against the Orions. Even without a potential international crisis, it never hurts to show them we’re prepared ,if necessary, to take military action to secure shipping lanes. Unofficially, you are to be prepared to launch a rescue mission for our people if the situation warrants it. The plan is to use a squadron of Osprey Aircraft. They have a longer range than helicopters while maintaining the versatility. They are not to be armed, nor are the flight crew aside from the standard pistol for survival purposes. I want it clear that we are not taking offensive action against the Ninean government or people.”

Sisko nodded in agreement.
“Understood. We’ll set course immediately, and await official orders launching the rescue planes...”



The Next Day- Xindi Straights


Standing watch on the bridge of the Valkyrie, Lieutenant Riley noticed the RADAR indicator of an approaching fleet.
“Captain Kirk, we have several ships heading our way!”


“Thank you Mr Riley. Lieutenant Palmer, I believe Mr Sulu is leading the recon flight. See if he can get a visual on our friends out there.”


Not surprisingly, the ships were identified as belonging to the Ninean Navy. Kirk glanced over at Sisko who was over for a visit.
“That didn’t take long. Any additional orders?”

The Commodore thought for a minute.
“Let them shadow us. Our anti-piracy measures aren’t exactly a secret. As long as they don’t interfere they’re welcome to watch.”

It put a damper on a possible rescue mission, but they would cross that bridge if they came to it.






To: Emily Nim, Demigoddess, Divinely-Appointed Ruler, Supreme Commander, Queen of Ninean People Everywhere,
From: Trecdom Federation.
Subject: Change of Power


Lady Nim, welcome to the international stage. Our government is pleased you plan on continuing the long standing alliance between our two nations. It is unfortunate that your police forces have lost physical custody of Mr Nimajne. Should we uncover intelligence as to his whereabouts, it will be passed on to your government.

She had to laugh at the implied possibility of the Trecdom Navy hiding the deposed leader of F799. If it were true, he would be on a submarine heading towards the nearest Naval Base, not sitting on a surface ship in the middle of the Ocean.

As for our Naval task force, they are in international waters conducting anti-piracy actions aimed at the Orion Syndicate. Your Navy’s help is not needed, but will not be refused. Again, we stand ready to offer any and all assistance you may require in this time of transition.

Respectfully,

Phillipa Georgiou, Prime Minister of The Trecdom Federation



Once the response was sent, Phillipa pressed the intercom.
“Mr Bates, I need to see Mr Harkness and Mrs Laren as soon as possible."


As head of the two main intelligence agencies, she was curious about their thoughts about the latest development.
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