Dialectics

[Touzen]

The World War.

We had always predicted it. We Post-Delegationists, equipped with the scientific weapons of reason and logic, have long known that the ever intensifying global competition of the international banking cartels and capitalists would eventually lead to a situation where the accumulation of further resources, whether they be of a material or political kind, would no longer be possible, except through the elimination of the competitors for said resources. What we are now seeing are the beginnings of the final death struggle of Delegationist Capitalism: the last battle for the establishment of a global monopoly and the admission of the moral bankrupcy of the "free market" of the Capitalist ideology.

I am worried. Worried, because thousands, if not millions, are now threatened by certain death, poverty and persecution. The human toll of this conflict will be enormous, and those responsible will eventually have to justify themselves for their crimes against humanity. Who would have thought that Charlotte would one day be the key player in the struggle for global revolution?

Yet as humanity is now making the final sacrifice, it is taking the last step towards ascension.

The end of global financial capitalism is drawing close. The dialectic inevitability of the destruction of Delegationism is apparent - even to the Communists, who in a vain attempt to compete in this final race for global dominance in the old order are seeking to secure a piece of the pie for themselves. But just as Communism denies the free market in the same fashion Capitalism does, just in the same fashion the dictatorship of many exhibits the same moral bankruptcy as the dictatorship of the view, Communism is destined to perish in the wake of the global march of freedom.

As the smoke clears over the battlefields of the old world, leaving barren wastelands and destroyed lives in plain sight, humanity will already be establishing its future based on freedom, this simply yet powerful idea. As such even the death of the millions to come seems like a small, albeit repulsive, sacrifice for what will ultimately mean the beginning of global peace and freedom.

The Constitutional State is the vanguard of the global revolution. It has been a staunch defender against the forces of reaction, and although we have often disagreed about the path to take, whether gradualism truly was the right choice (and it seems that the orthodox scholars seem to have been right along in this very moment), the Touzen people are united in their resolve to live up to their responsibility.

I have convened the cabinet for this evening to inform them on my decision to wage revolutionary war.

 

[Breotonia]

The Hour Is Getting Late

...the object of waging a war is always to be in a better position in which to wage another war. - George Orwell​

Office of Tobias Shaw
Shaw-Fujikawa Lunden Headquarters
Lunden, Breotonia
Sir Wharton held the plastic case up to the light, inside a small round piece of plastic, the size and shape of a penny, sat through his scrutiny. "Small isn't it?" Tobias Shaw smiled, "Well, of course. You wouldn't want something much bigger than that inserted into your hand would you?" Wharton, Permanent Secretary for the Department of Administrative Affairs, put the container back on the obscenely over sized desk in Shaw's obscenely over sized office. He looked over the top of his spectacles, frowning, "I must say, Mr. Shaw, that I have the most extreme misgivings about this policy. It's all rather, well, you know. Totalitarian."

"It was my understanding," Shaw retorted smiling the whole time, "that this policy had the endorsement of the prime minister."

"Well yes, but-"

"And you already issue government employees with key cards and identification. Why should RFID be any different. If anything it's cheaper, more effective, and more convenient. We use the same technology in the armed forces for keeping track of servicemen."

"It is different though. You're talking about putting a chip inside of a person. It's so-"

"Much more secure?"

"I was going to say Kyivian."

Shaw laughed, "Jolly good Sir Wharton." He made a show of wiping what was doubtlessly a non-existent tear from his eye, "Really though, you think Breotonia will become a police state if we ask the government employees be identified before the enter sensitive buildings?"

"Of course that's not all these chips do is it, sir?"

"No, they do so much more. Here." Shaw spun his computer monitor to face Wharton, it simply had some type of spreadsheet program open. Shaw got up from his chair, walked away from his desk and once he was about two yards away the screen locked and went to a screensaver of the Shaw-Fujikawa emblem rotating on a black background. When he reapproached the screen unlocked and returned to the spreadsheet. He then crossed the office to a cabinet built into the wall. Again, once he had gotten within a few feet the panels slid away to reveal a well stocked bar. "Can I get you anything?" He asked grinning. Wharton shook his head in the negative, though he wasn't entirely unimpressed by the display. Shaw walked to the office doors, they parted automatically before him and closed as he exited. They quickly reopened as they entered. A slightly electronic male voice began emanating from somewhere. "Welcome Mr. Shaw. Would you like to hear the latest market information?"

"That won't be necessary." He returned to his seat. "You're very right, they do so much more."

Wharton continued looking skeptical. "So you have one of those things in your hand?" Shaw raised his right hand and pointed to a spot between his wrist and his thumb. There was no visible scarring. "They are standard for all employees of the Shaw-Fujikawa Group."

"I won't say that I am blind to the advantages of the technology. I still have very deep reservations, there are privacy concerns. I don't know that this is a policy we ought to be pursuing." Shaw waved his hand dismissively, still smiling but with his voice taking on a more confrontational tone. "Luckily for those of us that do trust technology to improve our lives, permanent secretaries do not make policy do they?"

"No." Wharton admitted grudgingly.

"Your department has been directed by the prime minister to implement this policy, yes?"

Again, there was grudging agreement, "Yes."

"Excellent, well, the corporation will be liaising through the DAA to begin registration of government personnel and members of the armed services. The chips are quick and cheap to manufacture, the lengthy process will be outfitting the necessary facilities to use them and implanting them in employees. We think we can get 90% done in the next month. Assuming, of course, a cooperative DAA which Prime Minister Wilson has assured me of."

Wharton did not like the way things had so quickly taken a turn for the worse. He had planned to delay the policy, bury it, wait until it had been forgotten, the standard civil service tactics. He had entirely lost control of the situation. His lips and jaw moved for a few seconds before they formed the proper shape to emit words. "Of course."

"Excellent."

-------------------------------------------------------​

A few hours later, once night had fallen, Shaw sat at his desk sipping from a glass filled with Gunnlish whiskey, Gunn's Reserve 15. At his heart Shaw preferred blended whiskeys, but was very partial to the Gunnlish single-malts. He enjoyed the strong, bold experience of the single-malt, even utilizing a special whiskey glass, designed for the master blenders at the major distilleries. It was a time to celebrate after all, another step of the plan had been completed and the society was that much closer to its goal. He took another sip then said "Call Fujikawa." The computer screen came to life and showed the status of contacting Fujikawa, Chief Executive Officer of Eastern Operations in Nokanawa.

In short order Shaw's eastern counterpart appeared on the screen, his back illuminated by the late morning sun on Touzen. He spoke in perfect English, "Things went well I assume." Shaw raised the glass taking another sip. "You can tell the Foreign Minister of the Constitutional State that Breotonia is ours."

"Archangel?"

"Underway."

 

[Breotonia]

Heeding the Call

Аfter each war there is a little less democracy to save. - Brooks Atkinson​

Office of Director Aaron Hadley
ONI Headquarters
Berth, Breotonia

"...so right about there."

Vice Admiral Aaron Hadley and Prime Minister Harold Simm both stood over a large electronic surface currently displaying Germania. Hadley was pointing at a spot in the Gulf of Lorraine. Simm leaned in closer, "That's close enough?"

"Well within operational range."

"Not too close though?"

"By the time anybody knows something is amiss they won't be there anymore."

"You've made a selection for our lucky messengers?"

Hadley zoomed out slightly, revealing a concentration of dots swarming through the Long Sea. He had turned off the display of commercial shipping, otherwise the screen would have thoroughly been crowded, but there was still a preponderance of EDF and communists ships in the much used sea lane. Prominent due to its sheer size was the Naval Forces Central Fleet, the fleet currently had two battle groups assigned to it and was responsible for the entire Long Sea region. A tap of the finger on two dots in particular was accompanied by info boxes that popped up.

ONI FLEET> PROWLER-FORCE> ONI PROWLER CENTRAL OPERATION> HMS SHADOW (P-SSN-76) - Prowler-class nuclear submarine, Specialization cruise missile deployment/amphibious forces insertion

ONI FLEET> PROWLER-FORCE> ONI PROWLER CENTRAL OPERATION> HMS EDGE OF UMBRA (P-SSN-81)) - Prowler-class nuclear submarine, Specialization cruise missile deployment/amphibious forces insertion
​

Once he had made the selection a path was automatically plotted between the present location of the submarines and the spot in the Gulf of Lorraine. A small counter displayed that the estimated travel time was a little over sixteen hours. Hadley looked up, "Well, shall we, Prime Minister?" Hadley jokingly said, playing on their continued disbelief that Simm's coup had gone so well according to plan all those months ago. Simm laughed, waving his hand to signal an affirmative. Hadley broke out laughing as well as he made some swift hand gestures on the table that, after traveling a thousand miles through the air in seconds, sent almost forty thousand tons of metal and three hundred men on a journey to shift world events further in the favor of shadowy overlords they knew nothing about.

 

[Breotonia]

Remorse is for the Dead

And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see. And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword. - Revelations 6:3-4​

Office of Tobias Shaw
Shaw-Fujikawa Lunden Headquarters
Lunden, Breotonia


Vice Admiral Ackerson sat across the desk from Tobias Shaw who was twirling an unlit cigar in his right hand with the other hanging lazily over the armrest. Ackerson was the Director for Acquisitions underneath the Assistant Secretary of the Royal Navy for Research, Development and Acquisitions and one of the co-conspirators now guiding Breotish involvement in the reshaping of Europe. He looked annoyed, "The news media emanating from Wiese says that they are in possession of one of the missiles. Undetonated."

"Is that possible?"

Ackerson sighed wearily, "It is not impossible."

"Could it be traced?"

"Not to ONI, not to the Royal Navy. But it could be traced back to Shaw-Fujikawa."

"Where was it made?"

"I don't know, here or Touzen probably. Does it matter?"

"I suppose not. The Archer missile is a popular product, any number of countries could have bought it. And twice as many non-state actors."

"Simm still thinks we should make contingencies. He wants to be prepared just in case somebody chooses to act, well, rashly."

"What sort of contingencies?"

"Air defense, heightened state of alert, blah blah blah. Something interesting though, a rather clever idea. Something I proposed would the company would be rather helpful with." Ackerson leaned over, withdrawing a folder from within his briefcase and sliding it across the desk." Shaw observed the myriad of top secret markings and, depositing the cigar to the side, opened the the packet. He scanned a few pages, flipping through. His grin elongated gradually.

"How naughty. How very, very naughty." He laid the stack back on the desk, clasping his hands behind his head and leaning back. "Simm is sort of, well, sadistic. Isn't he?"

"The others have always gotten that vibe yeah. Just they type of man they need for this job." They shared a chuckle. "So, can you do it."

Shaw nodded his head back and forth, doing some mental calculations. "Yes, I think we can. There will be, well, collateral damage. What vector is proposed?"

"Commercial airliners, we can have global infection in less than a day. Symptoms a little after that."

"Messy. Has he decided to do it or just wants to be prepared?"

"I think just prepared. Insurance, should our plans further be derailed. I don't think Simm expected there to be too much scrutiny on the attack or, at least, anything that might hint at our involvement. This will distract them while the organization puts the finishing touches on everything. Which reminds me, you might want to tell Fujikawa, just in case, so Touzen isn't blindsided when they see bodies on the six o'clock news."

"They wouldn't like that. We'll need both halves of the company to start churning out vaccines anyway." Shaw, holding the cigar again, held it between his teeth, still unlit. He twirled spun his chair slightly, a little to each side repeatedly, giddy and with a grin on his face.

Ackerson, who looked a little amused himself, questioned, "Do you think this is funny?"

"Maybe not funny. By fun."

 

[Breotonia]

Under New Management

To err is human, to forgive is not governmental policy.​

Midnight
Office of the Prime Minister
Admiralty House
Lunden, Breotonia

Harold Simm spun lightly from left to right in his chair. The desk was almost 300 years old, carved from what was recovered of the remains of the ship-of-the-line Rapturous Arc which had been destroyed during the Crusades off the coast of Hajr. The chair was brand new. Simm loved a good swivel chair. Adding it had been the first thing he changed in the office after he had had his former boss assassinated by a special forces team that entered through the glass doors which opened to the balcony. Having more secure doors installed was the second thing he did.

Simm was borderline giddy and grinned as he turned his chair a quarter of a circle to his right and then to his left and then repeated. The two other men in the room, Vice Admiral Ackerson, who shared Simm's excitement if not his childish attitude, and Samuel Wells. Wells had been appointed to the position of defense minister upon Simm's rise to the head of government and had been serving in that capacity for the past year. He shared none of the pleasant mood, in fact he looked altogether confused and slightly put off by his leaders antics. A full minute had passed since they all sat down and nothing was said, Ackerson and Simm shared knowing looks and Wells was thoroughly unbalanced by his ignorance.

"Perhaps, erm, Prime Minister we might...ummm. What exactly are we discussing?" Simm halted his chair, and pulled himself up close to the desk. He placed his elbows on the table, folded his hands together with the index fingers extended and placed against his lips.

"Yes. Tell me, Sam, exactly how much funding is the defense ministry currently receiving?"

"All in?"

"All in."

"Well," he began, shifting his spectacles thoughtfully and leaning back to think, "taking into account the base budget, the requisition orders you've pushed through, the operational costs from the uptick in deployments. Perhaps eighty-four, eighty-five billion pounds. Somewhere in that neighborhood."

Simm nodded thoughtfully, "Right, well." He sighed, non-nonchalantly rubbing his hand down his chin. "Double it."

Wells blinked in surprised and stuttered a response, "I'm, uh. Um. What?"

Ackerson finally spoke, "Which of the words confused you?" Simm made a small laugh.

Wells did not share the joke, "Prime Minister you can't, erm, the budget can't just be doubled."

"Why not?"

"The people won't, it'll be a shock to the populace..."

"Don't you read the papers? The defense budget is no longer a matter of public record. I could change it to a trillion, or to zero, or to a number the spells rude things on a calculator when read upside down and the people will never know."

"Parliament..."

"Does not make the budget, I do. They just vote on it, blind. And, last I checked, my party was in power."

"It's not, well, right. Those changes were to prevent foreign sources from gaining too much information too easily about our capabilities. You're talking about a major change in policy. In stance. This is a democracy."

"Now now. There's no need for using such filthy words. This is a me-ocracy or an I-ocracy. I don't know, I'll have to think of something for that." While he pondered that Simm pressed a button on the telephone interface. A side door of the room was soon opened at two men in suits entered. Members of Black-team were rewarded for their assassination of the previous prime minister by being made the guard of the new.

"Sir?" The nearest one said. Simm was still considering a witty name for his rule when lazily pointed at the defense minister, "Shoot him."

All color drained from Wells' face and his jaw went completely slack. He stared in disbelief. "You can't...what?"

Simm spun a full circle in his chair. "Not only can I, it'll be easy!" Wells began to shake violently out of fright. "You're insane!" Simm grinned widely, raised his eyebrows, and shook his head yes.

"You'll never ge-ge-ge-get away with th-th-th-th-this."

Ackerson laughed, "Oh I think he w-w-w-w-will."

Simm pointed the men over to Wells who made an attempt to get up was quickly pushed back into his seat. The Prime Minister got up, strolled around the desk in front Wells. He put his hand out and one of the men placed a pistol in his hand. "Now, all you had to do was as you were told. You had to be difficult. Had to go off and back talk me." Simm hit the now balling defense minister in the side of the face with the gun and then forced the tip into his mouth. At this point Wells ruined an antique and very valuable chair with his urine. "Now, just say that you're sorry and we can move on." Through the gun in his mouth Wells tried to formulate the word sorry. Nothing recognizable came out except muffled screams and sobs.

"Fine, have it your way." Wells eyes opened wide in horror and then, with a loud bang, the light left them. This flight of life was accompanied by a similar escape of brain matter, blood, and bone, now strewn behind the former minister. Simm handed the gun back to its owner. "Well, that was fun. Clean this place up. I'm having a new sound system installed tomorrow." He strode towards the door, "Ackerson, I'm promoting you to defense minister. The stresses of the job are just too much for poor old Wells. If he keeps it up that job will be the death of him."

 

[Breotonia]

Power Misplaced

We must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex. - Dwight D. Eisenhower​

Office of the Prime Minister
Admiralty House
Lunden, Breotonia

"AND I CAME HERE TO MAKE YOU DANCE TONIGHT, I DON'T CARE IF I'M A GUILTY PLEASURE FOR YOU!" Harold Simm, Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Breotonia and Head of His Majetsy's Government mouthed the words along to the song emanating from a sickeningly expensive sound system that had been installed throughout the room and was now filling the office of one of the most powerful men in the world with pop-punk.

Ackerson bobbed is head just slightly with the beat, his music tastes were slightly more old-fashioned, but he had to admire the system. Simm yelled over the roar, "Now the drums!" he began pounding the air as indeed the sub-woofer came to life and began to shake things across the desk. Ackerson felt his body vibrate with the music as Simm continued his imaginary drumming, after a few more seconds he slid the volume down on his mp3 player and threw his feet onto the desk.

"So?"

Ackerson raised his eyebrows, "I'd say pretty damn sweet prime minister."

"Could you perhaps go as far as calling it 'kick ass'?"

"Yes prime minister. I think I could give that assessment."

"Wonderful, wonderful. Now, speaking of assessments, where are we?"

Ackerson placed a slim folder on the desk which Simm opened and glanced through. "Everything is going surprisingly well. Shaw is running a pretty tight ship, I guess he was born for this sort of thing though. He mandated that foreign orders would have to be eliminated or cut to industries where our own demands take up all available production capabilities but we knew that was going to happen."

"And our non-conventional requirements?"

"They've got barrels of the stuff. We could send every soldier home, destroy the tanks, and sink the ships and we'd still be able to kill every person on the planet."

"What terrible power in our hands. What fun."

"Would you like some figures or...?"

"No, that's fine, I leave it in your capable hands. If you don't mind, on your way out, send in one of the girls. I want to do some dictation."

Ackerson smiled wryly, "Certainly."

After he departed a young slim brunette, dressed in what could only be described as slutty professional, appeared in the doorway. Simm grinned, motioning her to enter. He returned the volume to its highest setting and began to unbuckle his pants.

"IF THE WORLD IS ENDING, I'M THROWN THE PARTY!"

House of Lords
Palace of Parliament
Lunden, Breotonia

Katherine McColl had once been the head of the Intelligence Ministry, one of the most powerful people in the country. Then Simm (or "that bastard" as she referred to him) became prime minister and she found herself fired, the ministry abolished and replaced by ONI, and she was sent to expire from boredom in the House of Lords. There was no better way to end somebody's political career then sending them here. She wasn't going to let him get away with it though. She had not spent her time as head of all the country's vast intelligence resources without making a few friends.

She had just received a text while in session (if session was the right word for the ten or so lords that showed up and then promptly dosed off) from one of her several contacts. Harry Lewis was one of her remaining links to the government and to any knowledge of exactly what Simm was up to. He was a staffer of one of the MPs who was on the Defense Appropriations Committee and was the progenitor of the text and stood waiting for her outside of chambers. "Harry." He nodded and walked to meet her, "Ma'm"

Looking around he guided them to a slightly more private section of the hallway, "I'm afraid I have bad news." He handed her a file with just a few sheets of paper in it, "What is this?"

"A directive from Simm about the military, I've swiped it from my MP's files but I need to return it in the hour. Just read it."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

The Prime Minister and Commander of the Armed Forces.
HIGHCOM/OPD

Lunden.
26th September 2011.​

TOP SECRET
Senior Commanders/Officials only
By hand of Officer only

20 copies
Copy No. 17​

Directive No. 5 for the Expansion of the Armed Forces​

1. As stated in Directive No. 1 for the Expansion of the Armed Forces issued on December 10, 2010 after my appointment to this office, the expansion of Breotonia’s military capabilities is the prime focus of this government and this nation’s industrial might.

2. The Defense Council, the Chiefs and Staff Committee, and my political advisers warned me that public approval could not be depended on and a small but devoted force of political activists could have resulted in an unwanted public relations situation following the death of Prime Minister Wilson and just prior to the election legitimizing my interim government. As such, the Party successfully moved to make defense appropriations bills secret to the public and the Houses of Commons and Lords.

3. With detailed knowledge of the undertaking of armament being closed to all but myself, the Defense Minister, the senior members of the MoD, ranking members of the Armed Forces, the Defense Appropriations Committee, and necessary members of industry three increases of the operational and acquisitions budgets of six billion pounds each have been accomplished in the beginning of the year to fund initial expansion and lay the ground for further increases.

4. Following the accidental death of Defense Minister Samuel Wells on the 24th of this month and my appointment of Vice Admiral Ackerson to the position he used his knowledge and administrative skill from his former post of Director of Acquisitions under the Assistant Secretary of the Royal Navy for Research, Development, and Acquisitions to compose a bolder time table for our program.

Therefore, with his advisement, I have undertaken to make an immediate increase of the defense and acquisitions spending as follows:

Defense Spending from £89 billion to £181 billion.

Acquisitions fund for immediate spending will be granted an additional £512 billion.​

I am aware of the administrative and industrial complications that his will create and am counteracting these by first appointing Defense Minister Ackerson special powers to expedite administration and secondly by creating a de facto position Minister for the Coordination of Industry with all the necessary powers and authority required to oversee the industrial operations of this undertaking. This position is to be filled by Tobias Shaw who will officially serve as minister without portfolio.

This plan requires our actions to be undertaken as if we are operating under a war economy. The harmonization of industrial output will allow for such output as much as can be expected without putting too onerous a strain on the civilian population who should be kept as unaware as possible for as long as possible. While doubtless rumors and conjectures will abound we must not allow positive confirmation or official admittance of the program for as long as reasonably possible. Above all the exact details must remain hidden even after it is known that we are pursuing a rigorous program of expansion.

The plan does not have and end or expiration date, but this initial phase is set to be perhaps half completed in six months, three quarters in a year and complete in two years. While production of aircraft, ground forces, small ships, equipment for the expansion of infantry forces, etc. can be mostly undertaken in the next six months the production of larger ships will take a good deal of time longer.

Table 1
Active troops: Current-560,000 | Projected-1,120,000
Reserve: Current-165,000 | Projected-330,000
Paramilitary: Current-100,000 | Projected-1,000,000
Tanks: Current-785 | Projected-900
Aircraft: Current-1,500 | Projected-3,000
Aircraft Carriers: Current-11 | Projected-15
Battleships: Current-5 | Projected-5
Cruisers: Current-20 | Projected-40
Destroyers: Current-45 | Projected-90
Frigates: Current-40 | Projected-80
Corvettes: Current-36 | Projected-72
Submarines: Current-4 | Projected-4
Nuclear Submarines: Current-64 | Projected-128

Defense Minister Ackerson will lead the armed forces in its recruitment and production orders and Minister Shaw will direct the organization and coordination of primary industrial entities such as the Shaw-Fujikawa Group, ONI shipbuilding operations, etc. as well as preparations for Contingency R6:5 being conducted by Optican Pharmaceuticals and Medical Technologies.

The authority to begin this program has already been given and is underway.

signed: HAROLD SIMM​

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She was in near shock, this was not just outrageous and a complete departure from policy but it was likely illegal. "Who the hell does he think he is? Id he fucking mad?"

"Ma'm, perhaps you ought to keep you voice down."

She whispered but without sounding any less fierce, "Directive number five? What the hell did the other four say."

Harry's face darkened and he looked quite worried, "I don't know ma'm but, well, I think they've been burning them after reading."