From Crescent to Hammer and Sickle

[Natal]

Abyaneh, Central Sakibstan

“You will need this if you want to survive.” Said a man handing Javed an old pistol. “There are thugs everywhere. And just because in the mountains there are Diagists living, this doesn’t mean that they will be nice with you, just because you’re in the same religion with them.” The man began searching for something in the chest behind him. While he was looking inside, Javed was looking in the room they were in. It was a traditional one room house made of dirt, so common on this side of the Altai Mountains. On the walls, there were two old Altaic decorative carpets, instead of a bed; there was the traditional Sakibstani mattress. Javed remembered that in history class that because of Shuvalov’s regime, the Altaians were obliged to renounce this part of their culture and tradition and began to use western beds. “Ah here it is”. The man said handing Javed a traditional Sakibstani dagger. “Use this in case of real trouble.”

“Mr. Masud, why do you want to help me? I thought you had some kids, or at least that is what everyone says in the village.”

“Ah, yes.” Javed felt Masud’s sad tone. Before continuing the response he tried to smile, but he failed to hide his sadness. “I had two kids. A girl that now lives in Dara. She left in late 80s when Sakibstan was friendly towards Altai. But since the creation of the Hetmanate I didn’t talked with her. This was more than 20 years ago. But I also had a boy. He was a year older than you. He died in a shootout here in Abyaneh around 5 years ago. The most frustrating thing of all was that he was killed by an Altaic soldier who though he was a suicide bomber. Exactly in the next day, the Altaic soldiers retreated. He would have now 18 years. So, I hope that at least you can escape this country and create a peaceful life in Altai or in any other country you wish. The only thing I can tell you now is that you should cross the mountains towards the Ier River and find a Diagist temple. They will give you a bed and food.”

“Ok…”

“When do you want to leave?”

“Tonight!”

Masud was a little astonished of the date. “Well, then I can only say to you this: Good luck! You will need it.”

“Thanks.”

On the other side of the village, Azadeh and her mother here standing on an old bench and were looking at the sunset. Azadeh’s father went to the small mosque the city had to call for the evening prayer. He was a muezzin, thus in his family he wanted the Islamic law to be respected. That’s why both women were wearing their chadors. Azadeh hated it. In the hot days in Sakibstan, she found idiotic to have to wear a black sheet. When they were in Hamama, the capital of Sakibstan they saw special garments to be wore as chador. But here, in the middle of Sakibstani poorness, Azadeh was made by her father to wear a black sheet as a chador. And now, even if he wasn’t home, her mother obliged here to wear it because many people walked by their house towards the mosque and she was afraid of someone who knows her would tell her husband that the two didn’t respected Islamic law. Another motive to wear the chador was the closeness of the Green Army of the village. And the family didn’t want to be mistaken as Diagist infidels.

“Look, so it’s true. In the following days the Altaians will invade again.” Said Azadeh’s mother while reading the Adevarul Newspaper.

“They won’t invade; they will just intervene to stop the killings.”

“You have much to learn of this world, dear. They call it intervention, everybody knows it an invasion. And the killing is just a cleansing of the rotten parts of the nation.”

“Cleansing? You know that in the morning, if the Green Army arrives, you won’t see anymore some families that you even supported. You never felt hate for Diagists and now you speak of cleaning the nation of them?” Azadeh shouted as she rose from the bench and began walking. Her mother remained speech less. She met Javed walking in the opposite way to the mosque. She made sure no one saw them, and she kissed him.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“The backpack is ready. I just need to take it.”

“Let’s go.”

“We must hurry. I believe I can get the backpack without mom observing if I enter the house during the praying.”

The two ran towards her house and after some moments, they heard the muezzin calling for the prayer. She felt it like her father would call her and pray that she would remain. When they were near the house, Javed remained hidden and she entered the dirt building. She took her backpack from a stash behind an old Altaic rug on which a mosaic was sewed to resemble a lion. She took her backpack and when she turned towards the door, she saw her mother blocking the way.

“Mom, I can explain…” she began crying.

“No, there is no need dear. I understand that life in this shithole isn’t for a young girl, or should I say woman like you. Go, before the praying ends, I think Javed I waiting for you.”

“You mean… that you knew?”

“Of course. I hoped that maybe you would have married Javed here, but now seeing that in the following days the Green Army is here, you should go.”

“And dad? I mean, if he would find out that I love a Diagist and you even knew that, he could kill you. ”
The woman smiled. “Oh, my girl, I can take care of myself, or better said care of him. Go now.”

She went out of the house and met with Javed. When the two got inside a truck in which the Diagist families of the village would escape from the Muslims and run towards Altai, she saw again her mother. The two waved until Azadeh couldn’t see her anymore. Then she remained in Javed’s embrace.

Hamama, Sakibstan

“What should I do with you now?” Asked Mufti Hamza Said looking at Krzysztof Kava. “Your organization has brought the entire National Army on my neck. It was quiet until you created your bases here in Sakibstan. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now?”

“We are now in this shit together, Said.”

“Together? I could have taken control of Sakibstan if your men wouldn’t have been arrested in Gruiu or had bombed the Sultan Fariid Temple. And now you come here and instead of trying to come with a plan to help us get out of the situation, you tell me that we are in shit together. No. We aren’t I prepared for this moment since I took control of the Green Army. Understand that I attacked Diagists, of course I waited for the Altaic intervention.” Said rose from the chair and put some coffee in a cup. “I won’t give you any because that will transform you into a cannibal.” Said said smiling.

“Huh? Cannibal? What do you mean?”

“Isn’t your name Kava? From what I know, kava is the Sarmatian word for coffee. You know, you’re problem here is Sakibstan isn’t just the fact that you are actually an Altaic. It’s that you have pure Slavic origins, with ancestors and all that shit. You have certain arrogance, so common to people like you, people with pedigree, should I say. You are from Rovograd right?

“Yes, how did you know that?”

“Simply. You have a Sarmatian surname and are a Christian, so do you come from Zamosk. But because you have pedigree, you certainly come from a big city in Zamosk, so you’re from Rovograd. What do the Altaians know about your organization and bases?”

“Only that we have bases in Zamosk and here.”

“They they will come after you here.”

“We can still attack Altai, during their intervention; refugees from Sakibstan will run towards Altai. We can hide our men there and easily enter Altai. I only need more weapons from you.”

“Get out.” Mufti Said said with a calm tone.

“What?”

“Let me explain. You are like all those Sarmatian and Slavic nobles from Altai. You don’t care for your people. You only care to get in power. You just killed all those people in Dara because you want to get in control of Zamosk or Altai. Run to the Talemantines, I’m sure they will love to have someone in Talemaniki to use as an instrument of sabotage to the Rovograd government. Now, please, before I call my men, get out.”

“And you don’t kill your own men, your own people?” Kava screamed with a broken voice.

“My people is the Uroduan. The Uroduan is Muslim by its definition. What I fight in Sakibstan is the remnant of the pre Slavic Altaic Diagists. I fight the original Altaians. But you, through your family’s migration to Altai, have renounced you Sarmatian citizenship and became an Altaic man. But you betrayed your own people. The persons you killed were your own people. You, instead of fighting the Talemantines in Zamosk have chosen to fight your own people because they are Diagist. I love betrayal when I get in advantage, but I hate traitors. I hate people like you. If my soldiers find some of your bases, you will be all killed. Find another one who will fund you. Now, I repeat for the last time, get out.” After he finished the sentence, he took another sip of coffee to calm himself.

Gruiu, Altaic base

General-al-ProNat Baraz Salehi was looking at the map of Sakibstan while presenting the nation to the officers of the Cherep and Yatagan Military ProNat divisions. He was all sweaty because of the temperature in the room with all those people inside.

“Sakibstan, the central and north-western regions of the country is occupied by the Altaic mountains and hills. The northern regions are grassy because of the river Apa, which creates the border with Altai. In the south the Sea of Fire occupies large regions of the nation. When we intervene, we must be prepared for guerrilla fights in desert regions. The Green Army will retreat from the grassy lands to make us enter the desert. This will bring us to fight on their terrain. In the mountain and hilly regions are Diagist militias. They will be friendly with us if we manage not to kill Diagist civilians. Hamama is the only urban type settlement in the country. The rest is a dense network of villages in the north, and rarely will we find a village in the desert all of those will have to be occupied one by one. After our first wave takes the villages we will have to come with food truck to give some supplies to the civilians. Only in this way, we can make the civilians friendly towards us. When we will enter Sakibstan there will be a large wave of refugees trying to enter the Dara Krajina. Try to understand them. They were hunted by the green guards. Our border patrols will let them enter Altai and move them in refugee camps near Gruiu and Deva.”

While the general was explaining the puzzle that was Sakibstan, playing with the tassel of the fez was Locotenent Adrian Alkaev. He found all those explications repeated again and again so boring. Alkaev, with his blonde hair and his slavicized heritage was a peculiarity to the Yatagan division. The majority of the people that joined the Yatagan division were mostly Uroduan Muslims from Altai, but from time to time, people that have nothing to do with Islam and Uroduan join too.

“The Sakibstani society is still in a tribal state. You will see that people show this by adopting the name of the village they come from as a second surname. They developed a deep hate of Altai and Diagism because of the continuous fight between us and them. They were united by Islam. And will be so until they will find another motive to be united, that will be the republic we will create there.”

In the 18[SUP]th[/SUP] and 19[SUP]th[/SUP] century, Altai went through a period of Slavism, a period in which old Altaic families changed their names in Slavic ones and began adopting more and more Slavic words. That is why because in Altai, one wouldn’t see only Sarmatian names, even if the Slavs that migrated were only Sarmatians. The need to “modernize” was so great that even Polascianan and Kyivan names were adopted. That is why Altai now has a plethora of Slavic names of all origins.

“What do I say to you isn’t interesting Locotenent?” Salehi said taking the fez from Alkaev and tearing the tassel. “Soldati, smirna!” When he yelled, all the men in the room jumped to stand at attention. “What is our mission in Sakibstan?”

“Our mission to Sakibstan is to provide international aid to the friendly people of Sakibstan against the theocratic, terrorist and oligarchic government in Hamama!” all people yelled in unison.

“We will leave tomorrow, sleep, you will need to be rested.”

 

[Natal]

North of Abyaneh, Sakibstan

“The truck will take us near the Apa and we will meet with the Altaic soldiers there.” A woman said to Javed while they were in the truck. “I see that your girlfriend here was taught Muslim Law the hard way.”
“Why do you think that?” he asked a little surprised.

“Well, most of us got rid of the chadors or the hijabs, but I see that he has chosen to keep the hijab on her head. For this she is a good Muslim or she was obliged from small age to wear it. And I believe that if she would have been that great Muslim she wouldn’t be here. So I believe she was obliged to wear it, even beaten to wear it and this had such an impact on her that she is even now scared to take the scarf down. I still remember some things from my years at the Dara University of Psychology.”

“What happened?” Javed asked her with growing interest.

“My staying in Dara was paid by the military government in Hamama. This was happening in ’88. But in 1990, when in Altai, socialism was falling; here, the government also fell, so there was no one to pay my staying. I had to return before ending my schooling.”

The truck stopped. Azadeh was awoken by the sudden stop of the car. In modern Sakibstan, having a car means you are wealthy. Having a truck means you have a gold mine. There were some old military trucks abandoned by the Altaic army that were taken by some people that started a real business by transporting refugees towards the Altaic border. But now it was time to pay for the trip. The guides began taking all kinds of jewelry or other valuables. Azadeh gave a gold necklace but the guide also asked her to give the hijab. Javed gave two rings and a bracelet all made of sliver. But the guide also taken the traditional and decorative Sakibstani dagger Masud gave him.

“In two days we will arrive at Apa.” The guides said as people began enter the trucks.

Javed embraced Azadeh and began playing with her long black hair. On the other side, Azadeh couldn’t relax. Since they left, she felt uneasy, like a claw gripping of her stomach and she also felt her legs stiff. She felt that all her moves were mechanical and everything made her nervous. The trucks continued their ride towards the border, with that woman telling her stories about Dara, with Javed playing with his Azadeh’s hair and she only staring into the void.

South-Eastern Sakibstan

“So Kava, you want my help?” Hakim Zamam Darzi asked Krzysztof Kava. “Before answering, tell me did you go to the green army to beg? And what, did Said turn you down?”

“He began telling something about cannibalism and…” Krzysztof couldn’t continue because he was interrupted by Zamam’s burst into laughter.

“And if I am not mistaking, he kicked you out, right?” Kava didn’t say anything. “Well, he jokes about ones heritage and names if he finds him, how should I say… unworthy.”

“What should I do now?”

“You brought this shit upon us. You and your organization. It would be easier to kill you, but this wouldn’t help our situation. Now, it’s time for you to repay for your stupidity and foolishness. Do you still have bases on the Sammari and Saabi territories?”

“Y…ye…yes.” Said Kava stuttering but at the end trying to keep his voice strong. Hakim couldn’t stop a grin at that scene but also tried to keep him voice sober.

“Then, you will fight alongside us, with the weapon in your hand, not like before. And you will transform your terrorists into Post-Delegationist fighters like us and order them to attack the Altaic armies. While some of your men fight here, the rest will continue the bombing of Altai. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then go and issue your orders.” While Kava left the room, Ahmed Saqaf Darzi entered the room and seated himself on a pillow near Zamam.

“You know that this, organization also killed our Altaic ally, Florin Zelenko, right?”

“Yes, I know. I do not trust Kava. He is a coward that awoke Altai and now comes to ask for help. Altai’s current intervention will help us in near future, because it will make the Green Army fight on two fronts. But in the distant future, we will have to fight the Altaians.”

“Couldn’t we make a deal with them?”

“No, the Altaians will only ally themselves with the Hussaini tribe. If we want to take control of Sakibstan and create the Post-Delegationist paradise, we must fight those invaders. But… I still want Kava to disappear. When the fight starts, make sure a stray bullet hits him.”

Northern Sakibstan

The Altaic forces entered Sakibstan in two columns. One, made of the Cherep division was heading towards the Diagist inhabited lands, while the Yatagan division was heading towards Hamama. In the first day, the armies managed to advance 30 kilometers inside Sakibstan, but by the evening the Cherep headquarters reported that the Green Army began mounting defense against the division. The goal of the Cherep division was to relieve the Hussaini tribe from the Green Army onslaught. On the other hand, the Yatagan was to create a series of fortifications to defend the supply trucks from attacks. The road from Gruiu to Hamama was chosen as the first place to give medical and food supplies to the population because of a dense network of small villages in the vicinity of the road.

Alkaev’s platoon was ordered to garrison a fortification that overlooked the Gruiu-Hamama road and other two small villages. Alkaev and two sergeants, Adil Nejem and Alyosha Pavlov were playing poker. While the three were deepened in their game, a tall but very skinny man came to them and with a strong smack of his heels he began to say very loud:

“Tovarase Locotenent, soldier Bogdan Romanov is…” he couldn’t continue because the two sergeants were so scared by him and they fell from the buckets they were sitting on, while Alkaev jumped in the at attention position, with poker cards flying everywhere.

“What the fuck man, we thought that even Hetman Garin came to us. Oh my god, I thought that I will have a heart attack. Is this the new form of terrorism general Salehi was talking about?”

“Tovarase locotenent,What do you mean?” Romanov asked astonished by their reactions.

“Stop it with that entire comrade thing. Were not in the home bases anymore. No one cares about all those titles and ranks here. In my platoon we are a family and all that shit that you see presented in a platoon in every drama war movie. I have some problems with Salehi, so you are here either because Salehi wants you to spy on me, or you were sent here because Salehi sees you as a blond creature like me…”

“Ha ha…” Nejem interrupted Alkaev’s presentation of his relation with General Salehi. “So, Bogdan, if you are here to stay, it means we will have another blonde lips.” Romanov looked at him still astonished, or even shocked, while Alkaev was blushing and the two sergeants were bursting into laughter.

“So, you are here to stay?” Asked Pavlov.

“Yes, I was ordered to be part of the 3[SUP]rd[/SUP] platoon here on the Gruiu-Hamama road.”

“The trucks are here.” Said Nejem. “Me and my group will unload the supplies here at the camp.”

“Okay, the rest of us will go to the villages.” While they were descending from the ridge, Pavlov was telling Romanov the story behind the blonde lips nickname.

“So, we were in Zamosk, and in a medical camp near Marka, there was this girl that was bitten by a snake, when she arrived she had her hands tied because of her being a Salvationist and a prisoner of war. But Adi likes her. When he goes to her and starts to flirt…” Pavlov couldn’t continue as he burst again in laughter. “When she approached her, she responded with a bite… she bitten his lips and didn’t wanted to let go of his lip.” He again burst into laughter. “Like a bulldog.”

Romanov chose to shyly smile, as he knew that in Riff, the lieutenants had a large ego and were very arrogant, but to his astonishment, Alkaev laughed and said:

“I thought that I won’t have a lip anymore…”

The group arrived at the trucks and jumped up as the convoy was approaching the village of Aqda. As the trucks parked and the quartermasters ordered the soldiers to help distribute food, Alkaev was happy that his sector was peaceful.

 

[Natal]

Sammari Tribe Territory, Sakibstan

The trucks of refugees were slowly approaching the Altaic border. During the ride, Javed held Azadeh in his arms and talked with the people in the truck about what they will do after they get out of Sakibstan. Most of the people he talked to said that they do not want now to think about that, as they will just suffer more if they can’t enter Altai. But some of them told him about how they want to cross Altai and go to a Germanian nation or Monterrey. This was something Javed didn’t think about. And only now he tried to see the world in its real sense… a big world with all kinds of people more welcoming that the Sakibstani conflicts. Until that morning his world was only northern Sakibstan and Dara Krajina. He knew English and German, even if both were spoken with accent. His father had three “Teach yourself” textbooks, for English, German and Altaic. So, he taught himself what he wasn’t taught in school. He was thinking that he and Azadeh could live in a nation like Potenza, or Eiffelland or Danmark. Monterrey could also be a good place to start a life, but it was too far. But this also brought another question, how could he and Azadeh cross the sea to get to those countries? It seemed to him that they will have to remain in Altai or, by a miracle, to get into Frescania. Now, for the first time after they left, Azadeh responded to his tries of starting a conversation.

“I don’t know what to think about going to Danmark with that nationalist government. I believe that they won’t accept immigrants.” Said Azadeh when they talked about other possible countries to go.

“Well, then there would always be Eiffelland.”

“We should also…” She couldn’t continue as the truck abruptly stopped. They could hear some screams. Immediately a man with an AK come and was screaming orders for them to get out. Azadeh froze but with the help of Javed, she succeeded in getting out. The militias ordered the refugees line up and started asking where everybody is from.

“She looks weak.” A militiaman said when he saw Azadeh. “Those two are from Abyaneh.”

“Kill the weak ones and the rest have them transported to Faridan.” Said the militia commander.

“No! No! Azadeh, no!” yelled Javed desperate to loose the militiaman’s grip.

“Wait!” said their commander. He turned towards Javed. “You say you’re from Abyaneh? Doesn’t Hussain the muezzin have a daughter named Azadeh?”

“Yes, I’m the one.” Azadeh said with a low voice.

“Put the two in the cars and let’s go to Faridan. The Malik will know what to do with them.”

30 Kilometers south of Hamama

“Do you see them?” Ahmed Saqaf Darzi asked Krzysztof Kava while the two were looking towards the Hamama-Bijar road with binoculars.

“Yes, there are three trucks. Hm… look! A crate fell from one of them. It opened in the fall. It’s full of weapons.”

“Yes, I saw. It’s a weapon convoy. Those weapons would surely help the revolution. Let’s attack.”

The two descended the dune to the Darzi militias waiting for them. All were wearing white desert robes to protect them from the hot weather of the Sea of Fire. The militia crossed the dunes and began approaching the trucks. The white robes and the distortion of the air because of the hot sand made them nearly invisible. The convoy was easily surrounded by the militia. Suddenly shots were being fired. The Post–Delegationist militia began firing from the cover of the dunes. Ahmed began firing short bursts to kill the drivers and thus stopping the trucks. As Ahmed’s squad began firing at the Islamic soldiers, another squad led by Kava began a maneuver to surround the trucks. The Green Army soldiers took cover behind the trucks and began to respond. The battle was one sided, because the Islamic soldiers didn’t properly located the Darzi tribe soldiers. The sky had a whitish nuance because of the hot temperatures, the sand also had a light yellow color, and the Post-Delegationists were wearing white robes. It was very hard to even see the places where they were located. The guards of the convoy were easily defeated and killed and the trucks were still drivable. But Ahmed had another mission. He spotted Kava again. Right when he was ready to shoot, a militiaman that began running towards the trucks didn’t saw him and stumbled on him right when he shot. Ahmed missed Kava. And in the next moment Kava was around his squad. Ahmed knew this was a fail, as he couldn’t kill Kava without risking the life of another soldier.

Aqda, Saabi Territory

“Effendi, general Salehi is here.” An old man said as he entered the house of Malik Ali Saabi.

“Good. Send him in.” Said the Malik with a low, hoarse voice. Immediately after the old man exited the house, General Salehi entered and seated himself on a small pillow before the Malik. He observed that all the pillows inside the room were smaller than the Malik’s pillow.

“General Salehi, I finally meet you.” The Malik said while Salehi took his fez from his head.

“Malik Saabi, I am glad that I finally can see the ancestral territory of the Muslim people from Altai.”

“Do you have a fire?” the Malik asked. At first, Salehi was astonished by this sudden change from formality to casual talk. He took from his pocket a golden lighter, decorated on one side with the Altaic Raven and on the other side with a crescent and a hand holding a scimitar, the symbol of the Yatagan Division. The Malik took it, looked at both symbols, he slowly lighted a cigarette. It was a high quality Altaic “Sav”. He was looking astonished at this old, shrunken man that looked more like a mummy than a living man. While his people were starving, he was smoking the expensive Sav cigarettes. “It is a nice lighter. I’ll keep it.”
Said the Malik as he hidden the lighter beneath his olive green desert robes.

“Effendi, I am not here on a courtesy visit. I come as a representative of the national government of Altai.”

“I know. So, general what does the government want from an old man like me?”

“An alliance with the Saabi tribe.”

“If I would accept that, I would be a traitor.” Because of the hoarse voice of the Malik, Salehi was struggling to understand something.

“But you, the Saabi tribe are rivals of the Sammari. The Islamic republic is a regime that only cares for the superiority of the Hamami tribe.”

“And what should I do?” asked the Malik with a fervent voice. Salehi now discovered the weak point of the Malik: the superiority of the Saabi over the other tribes. It was easier than what he expected. It seemed that this mummy would even trick death just to taste power for one last time. And Salehi was there to offer him the illusions he wanted.

“Think of it, effendi. The Saabi region occupies the Transapa plains. Those plains could feed the whole people of Sakibstan. Understand, Effendi, that by having those plains at your will you can effectively rule all Sakibstan.” A big smile occupied the face of the Malik. “And when all the wars will be over, we will create a new country with only three regions. Hamama which will be ruled by a central government, which will encompass the current Hamami territories and the Darzi ones. The Hussaini tribe will have its own territory and the Saabi tribe will occupy the territories of the Sammari tribe. And of course I promise that I won’t intervene in your business with the refugees.”

"So, you know..."

“Yes, the ProNat knows that the Sammari and Saabi tribes are fighting for whom will guide the refugees out of Sakibstan. If we get help from the Saabi, I will stop the hunting of your guides and begin hunting the Sammari guides.”

“What do you want me to do?” the Malik asked again.

“Just to tell us the moves of the Green Army inside your territory and to order your soldiers not to attack us.”

The Malik remain silent.

“I will come in few days again here with the food trucks.” Said Salehi as he was preparing to get out of the house.

“They plan an attack.” Said the Malik quietly. “You have a base at the intersection of the road to Hamama and the road towards Abyaneh. They will attack it.”
“When?”

“I do not know. But is will commence soon.”

Now, Salehi knew, a second tribe is now allied with Altai there were just three more to go.

 

[Potenza]

Northern Sakibstan

Not too long had the Altaic army begun their press into Sakibstan that a smaller convoy crossed the border. It consisted in three cross terrain vehicles - aging, rusting in some areas, and dirty from overuse - filled with two or three people each. Each of these were members of the Reformed Church of Potenza, and who had been stationed in Altai for purposes of evangelizing the Gospel to the unbelieving pagans and Muslims. In other words, they were missionaries.

In the front vehicle was Eliseo, a man entering his thirtieth year. The driver was Antoni, an ordained pastor whom the other missionaries simply called "Tony." He had been in Altai for the longest time, and spoke Altaic fluently. His profession was a bit unique: veterinarian. His role, aside from leading and guiding the other missionaries in this endeavor, was to help the locals with any medical problems they might have with their animals. In many parts of the country, men relied heavily on the income they got from their goats and other flock, and any offer for free medical assistance, especially when there was a discernable problem, was warmly welcomed. The vast majority of the other missionaries, including Tony's wife Maria, were physicians and doctors of one form or another. Maria herself was a gynecologist who was with them to assist the women in the region with attention they probably rarely received.

The vehicles stopped near Aqda. An Altaic officer manning a checkpoint reviewed their papers and then let them through. Potenzan missionaries tended to have little problems in Altai, compared to their brethren in other parts of the world, as the Altaic government permitted freedom of religion and the Diagist religion, unlike their Muslim neighbors, didn't have any verses in their scriptures that could be "misinterpreted" as calling for violence against unbelievers. When the Muslims held power, there was little chance that the Potenzans would be permitted to evangelize and work freely, and they would experience greater danger. With the push in by the Altaic army, they would have greater protection and greater freedom to do their medicinal and evangelical work.

They stopped near the main square and set the vehicles in a simple semicircle. Tony and Eliseo got out, Tony heading to the back of the SUV and opening it up, taking out a sign that read "Medical Assistance" in both Altaic and Uroduan. The other missionaries in their jeeps followed suit, going into a building they had previously reserved to set up as a temporary base of operations. All the important medical equipment was taken in with them to prevent theft - the only thing left in the jeep were the boxes of New Testaments translated into the Uroduan language, shipped from the church back home in Potenza. A box or two had the Gospel of John translated into Altaic, which they figured could be given to any soldiers they encountered and could witness to.

"I'll be around the back if you need me," Tony told Eliseo, "I doubt we'll want the goats and sheep inside. Take over inside, and let me know if there's any trouble."

Miles from Hamama

A large transport plane landed in the middle of the desert, in an open plane where they knew they could land safely. Once it had stopped, the door opened up and a man wearing high end desert cammo pants, boots and vest stepped out, adjusting his sunglasses and looking about the desert with pursed lips, as if surveying land he was claiming for himself.

This man was Giovanni Falcone, a representative of the Beretta Weapons Manufacturers company. That he was here in Sakibstan was a secret to the Potenzan government, and known only to a few of the higher ups at Beretta. His mission was to transport a shipment of weapons. There had been some discussion about the possibility of business through black market channels. Whenever war or conflict erupted in the world, Beretta tended to test the waters, to see if business was possible. As it stood, Hamami and his army needed weapons if they were eventually going to face the Altaic army and the other factions in the war torn country. Beretta was a well respected name that everyone from the Potenzan police force to the Talemantros army knew - who better to come to their aid? The other factions had been talked to, but Beretta knew that Hamami and his army could pay higher. Not that Giovanni wasn't going to use the competition to try to make a better sale. Beretta had been in the business of selling weapons since the Middle Ages, and knew their trade.

A group of men wearing heavier equipment and armed with automatic rifles stepped out behind Giovanni, going around to the back of the plane and waiting for the crew to open the hatch. A truck came out, and out followed more Beretta personnel with the carts and crates filled with rifles, ammunition, and sidearms. The men themselves were part of Beretta's security team: most of them ex-Potenzan soldiers or Carabinieri, and so they knew their way in combat. Their role would be to make sure the representatives like Giovanni - and most of all, the merchandise - were well secured.

"Careful with the merchandise," Giovanni said, "we don't want to bring cracked weapons to the Mufti now, do we?"

A second man, dressed like Giovanni, stepped out of the plane and approached him. This was Niccolo Colonna, although most people referred to him as "Nico" or "Nick." He was younger than Giovanni, and somewhat wet around the ears. He was finding favor at Beretta, and they had sent him on this trip to learn how to handle such deals, so that eventually he would be able to replace Giovanni.

"The pilot is complaining," Nico told Giovanni, "he says he risked his life well enough flying down here - he wants his payment now."

"We are treating him exactly as we agreed," Giovanni said, "the initial payment was sent to his family in Khalistan. The other half will be sent once it's been confirmed we are in the air and out of this country. We aren't being unfair. Tell him that."

Nico wiped his brow, "Hotter here than I imagined."

"The Altaics are probably happy up north, past those mountains," Giovanni crossed his arms, "any way, we'll go to Hamami and see if he's impressed with our stock. Remember what I told you on the way here - I'll do the talking."

"Roger that," said Nico, doing a little salute. He started to walk back to the plane when he heard:

"Nico!"

Nico stopped and turned. Giovanni was walking up to him, his arms crossed, and his brow furrowed a bit above the sunglasses:

"Show a bit more respect. This entire culture is about respect. If they can't even see my own men respecting me, what will they think about my person?"

"Right, sorry," Nico cleared his throat, bowing a bit, "won't happen again, I promise you."

"Good. I don't ask you to kiss my feet, just remember part of sales is how you address yourself to the customer."

"Right, I think I remember that in school."

Giovanni laughed, taking off his sunglasses and wiping some sweat that was forming on his brow, "Out here, boy, everything you learned in school means absolute chicken shit."

 

[Natal]

Bijar, Darzi Tribe Territory

Earlier that day, when Ahmed and Krzysztof returned from the “front”, Malik Hakim was angry. Angry because Ahmed failed in killing Kava. By the evening, he reviewed his plans and actually was happy that Ahmed didn’t shot him. He only now saw that Kava actually was the leader of the terrorist organization that attacked Altai. He didn’t know if the organization actually had a name or an ideology, but with Kava as a prisoner, he could use the organization as how he saw fit. For that, he invited Kava for dinner, to see what he can do with this man;

“It’s good that you come,” said the Malik as he seated himself on a large pillow and invited Kava to sit on a pillow on the other side of a low table.

“It is an honor to be invited,” said Kava to respond in the way of the Sakibstani formalities. A woman brought two tables with fried goat meat and a bowl of dates and figs.

“Tell me Krzysztof, do you still have soldiers here?” Asked the Malik while ripping a piece of meat from the bone.

“There are two bases, one in the Saabi territory and one in Sammari territory.”

“Good, I have a mission for them, but this only later, after dinner. Just of curiosity, what do you want to do with this organization? What is your goal?”

“I wanted to see a pure Altai. A place where the Slavs would be the real ruler. Now, the economy of Altai is supported by the Slavs mostly. But from that, the Uroduah, and other disgusting communities take advantage and receive aid, even if they don’t work and bring their contribution to the nation.”

“Should I remind you, that you are in an Uroduah country?”

“No. I believe that any nation should keep their people to themselves. Thus there wouldn’t be any problems with certain minorities.”

“So, do you want racial segregation?”

“I just want to see the Slavs in Altai to live better… without whose problematic elements between them.”

“Then, why did you bomb the Sultan Fariid Temple?”

“The purest Slavs in Altai are the descendants of the Sarmatians. They were Tiburan Catholic, not pagan like the Diagists or like those Saracen Uroduan.” The Malik didn’t like the fact that Kava continuously denigrated his people.

“But, what about Zelenko? Why did you kill him?”

”He was an anarchist. What he was preaching there was against the ideas of Altaic purity.”

“He was a Post –Delegationist. Like us. And even you, now that you fight for us.”

“I am not fighting for you! We are simply allies against a common enemy: Altai!” he said with a scream.

“Calm down. If you want to continue this alliance, I want you to order your soldiers to hit Altai with everything they have. But firstly, tell me how do you plan to make the people support your ideas?”

“The same way in which you will create a Post-Delegationist state in Sakibstan. In a region where the people have no social conscience.”

“Go and send your orders. Attack anything… I don’t care; I just want Altai to be hurt”. The Malik was fed up by Kava, and observed now another thing. This terrorist, which is just a man that likes to kill people, was his ticket with friendship with Altai. He could conquer Hamama and divide the country between an Altai north and a free south. As Kava left, the Malik called Ahmed inside.

“Send a message to the Altaians. Tell them that Kava’s bandits are on the move and prepare an attack against their civil population. Also, send them this page.” The Malik said as he gave Ahmed a sheet full of numbers.

“What are those?” he asked astonished.

“The coordinates of the bandit’s bases. I always knew where those were located and with some knowledge of geography, I found those two points. Of course those aren’t exact. Tell them to search around those points. Also, send a message to Hamama and tell them that the Black Army has risen and begins the fight to liberate the people.”

Hamama Presidential Palace

“The Black Army? Is this a joke?” Asked nervously Mufti Hamza Said after Vizier Abbas Kader read the letter from Bijar.

“We lost many weapons in their attack a few days ago. But if those guys from Potenza will bring us the weapons we need, we can easily defeat those anarchists.”

“Yes weapons help, but we need manpower!” said the mufti screaming. “We are facing a three front war. You are the supreme commander of the Green Army, what do you have to report?”

“Well, on the mountain front, the Hussaini tribe continues the retreat. In the north, our forces fight alongside the Sammari soldiers and we are preparing an offensive to fight the Altaic division Cherep and also we are going to break the fortifications of the food convoys near Aqda. I was thinking of sending 300 soldiers to attack the camp we agreed earlier. There is only a platoon there.”

“Send around a thousand, or better, send all our soldiers in the Saabi region to attack that camp. And Malik Saabi will also send soldiers to help us. We can defeat the Altaians.”

“Malik Saabi is more and more powerful with every second the Altaians are there, feeding his people. Understand effendi, Saabi will betray us if he didn’t do it already. He has all motives to ally with Altai. He gets food, he gets weapons and also power. He won’t help us. The best thing we can hope is that he will choose to remain neutral.”

“Neutral, he has a divine duty to defend the Islamic Republic!”

“Effendi, I have a great idea of changing Saabi’s mind. We will attack the fortifications as we agreed. But if we attack the camp on the ridge 580, how the Altaians call it, we can stop all food trucks from entering Aqda. We can thus blackmail Malik Saabi and thus obliging him in allying with us.”

“Show me Abbas, where is this camp?” Asked the Mufti as he put a map of Sakibstan on a low table.

“Here,” said the vizier as he pointed to the intersection of two roads. One exiting Aqda and running alongside the Haffar towards Abyaneh and another that exits Aqda on the west, goes parallel with the Haffar and after a 90 degrees turn to the south, intersects with the Abyaneh road and continues towards Hamama. “I will send there all our soldiers in the Saabi territory.”

 

[Potenza]

Hamama

The single truck drove through the streets of the Sakibstani city in a sea of people, animals, and other vehicles. Perhaps in other parts of the country war was raging and people were suffering, but here there were very few signs of it, except for the occasional military convoy that drove through an intersection, turbaned men with RPG's and rifles smothering the vehicles, as well as the occasional posters showing the face of the mufti himself. In the front seat of the truck was a Beretta gunman at the wheel, Giovanne in the passenger seat, and Nico in a small passenger seat behind them. Nico, who had never been to such a part of the world as this, was taking it all in, feeling like he was in one of those adventure stories he had read as a child. It was definitely much different than Potenzan cities such as Cremona.

"This mufti guy must be impressive," Nico commented.

Giovanni smirked, taking out his sidearm and checking it over, "Like any good Muslim ruler, he sets himself up as the new Mohammad. Since we're close to the presidential palace, let's do a pop quiz for you on how to behave in this part of the world. Do you ever make eye contact with the women?"

Nico blinked, "No."

"Do you ever touch the women?"

"No."

"Which hand do you use?"

"Uh...right hand. Always the right hand. Never do anything with the left hand."

"Will being stared at offend you?"

"No."

"And do you under any circumstances do this?" Giovanni held his his left hand, pressing the thumbs and fingers together at their tips. Nico laughed, replying in the negative. In Potenza, people often did that to emphasize words, as Potenzans tended to be really expressive with their hands and eyes as they spoke. In many Muslim parts of the world, however, that stood for the equivalent of the middle finger.

"Good," Giovanni said, "one more thing - if you introduce yourself, or state your name, don't call yourself Nico. Call yourself by the full name Niccolo."

"Any reason?"

"Nico might sound too Slavic to some of them, and they're not altogether fond of Slavs."

The truck approached the presidential palace. Some of the guards eyed it curiously, but an officer - who had obviously been told to expect them - motioned them away and approached the passenger side window, where Giovanni was holding up a document bearing permission from the mufti.

"Mufti," Giovanni said, "weapons."

The officer nodded and shouted something in his language to the soldiers. They opened the gates and let the Potenzan truck in, where it was guided around to the side. As soon as it stopped, the Beretta security detail poured out of the back of the truck, about twenty men in all. Four men took two crates, two men carrying each, and brought them forward. The other men set up a perimeter around the truck - they didn't expect betrayal, but it was their duty to make sure nothing went wrong that could go wrong. Giovanni and Nico stepped out and walked over to the crates, Giovanni nodding briefly before a guard came out and motioned them inside.

Nico was entranced by the inside the palace, for its lovely carpets and amazing decorations. Giovanni seemed completely disinterested in it, and did little but take off his sunglasses and stare forward. His brow furrowed a bit as he saw Vizier Abbas Kader approach from the other side of the hall. Giovanni had expected the mufti himself, not someone who amounted to a right hand man.

"Assalaam aleikum," Giovanni said to Kader as the two finally met in the middle of the hallway. The two Beretta representatives bowed politely.

"Wa'aleikum assalaam," Kader replied, touching his forehead, then his chest, and bowing, "I understand you parked east of the capitol. Very dangerous - the Darzi could have taken you, if they saw you landing."

"We are not afraid of a little danger," Giovanni replied in Uroduan. Nico glanced at him briefly, as if to silently ask, You know Uroduan? Giovanni motioned to his four men, who stepped up and laid the crates down, opening them both. Inside one were combat rifles; inside the other were a sidearms, mainly handguns. Giovanni knelt down and picked up one of the assault rifles, showing it off to the Vizier as he took out the ammo clip, placed it back in, set it, and pulled the trigger, firing an empty round.

"The Cx4 Storm," he began, "has iron sights straight from the factory, including rear sights which can be adjusted for high elevation shooting. If you want to add optics, both sights can be folded down. In fact, you'll find you can customize this gun in a number of ways. Beretta designed this with the freedom of the user in mind. Grips, lights, lasers, bipods...anything you want."

Giovanni knelt down to the other crate, picking up what appeared to be a handgun with a longer grip:

"This is the 93R, one of our machine pistols. It doesn't get used as much any more, so we're looking to empty our inventory. It can fire a single round, but it's mostly used for three-round burst fire. It's got a foregrip on the end to add stability to firing. And on top of that..." Giovanni put the 93R back down and picked up a more conventional looking pistol, "This is the 92 model, our pride and joy. This put us on the international map. This gun is used by Potenzan and Talemantine police forces, as well as Karakhstani security forces. A lot of people in the world would kill to get their hands on a gun like this - and, well, many have."

Nico grinned a bit as he watched Giovanni do his sales pitch, explaining the various guns they were offering to the Hamami tribe. The Vizier nodded and listened, and at one point even asked to hold the 92, which Giovanni obliged. Even some of the Hamami soldiers nearby were watching, curious, some of them with looks in their eyes as if hoping their leaders would agree to this transaction.

"I know we talked about an offer of payment through our channels," the Vizier began, "but understand that the Sakibstani economy has...seen better days. We would not be able to match your request. We would therefore like to offer the equivalent in gold bullion."

"That's not an issue," Giovanni said, shutting the crates and wiping his hands as he stood up, "but I'll be honest, sir - we're here for quite a while, and we're looking to serve the people of Sakibstan. There are many people wondering if they can get their hands on this equipment. We had earlier held discussions with some of your neighbors, and they seemed interested - might even offer equivalent payment."

"I highly doubt that," said the Vizier, squinting his desert-worn eyes, "few are as wealthy as the Hamami."

"Maybe so," said Giovanni, "but I can't go back home with a full truck, and I need to get rid of these guns. So, if the last people I speak with offer even a close price to what you have, well, I need to take it."

Vizier nodded, recognizing the game Beretta was playing, "Very well... what price would you want?"

Giovanni proceeded to offer a ridiculously high price, and before Nico knew it the two men were haggling. The young Potenzan didn't realize people still did that - he thought only Uroduans in cartoons did such things! They continued to haggle until they came midway, and then the two men shook hands. The sale had been done. The Hamami were getting their guns.

"What were your men intending to do in your time here?" the Vizier asked.

"Our plane won't be coming back for some time, we intended to see the sights, I suppose," Giovanni lied, knowing the offer of charity was common in these parts of the world.

"The mufti would be pleased to offer you a place to stay in this city, in the best locations," the Vizier said, "I believe we will also have much more to discuss..." The Vizier glanced about a moment, then approached Giovanni, saying in a hushed tone, "Perhaps...you and your men would like to be of some greater use...for a higher price?"

Giovanni smiled, "Make me an offer."

 

[Natal]

40 Kilometers North of Faridan
July 9, 2012
6:00 am

Command, we are approaching the base,” whispered Adela Lagunov, on the radio.

“Understood, Viper 1, proceed with caution.”

Adela slowly advanced in the shallow river towards the terrorist base, followed by another DIR soldier and a ProNat soldier. The DIR was a branch of the Defense Force, tasked primary with counter-terrorism on peacetime and special operations in wartime. “Stop, don’t move.” She said with a low voice. “There is a scout in the baobab tree. On our right.”

“I saw him.” Said Marek Krupin, the other member of the DIR. He took his suppressed PSL; an Altaic Semiautomatic rifle with scope equipped and targeted him. The fire wasn’t heard and the scout fortunately didn’t fell from the tree. When Adela looked at him, it looked like he was leaning against the stem.

“Good. Let’s continue.” She whispered. The three entered the base but stopped again when Marek saw two more guards on a small wooden bridge above the river.

“Ade, you take the left one.” Said Marek as he targeted the right one. “On three… one…two…three”. The two simultaneously pressed the triggers. Nothing was heard, just the two men fell. The three slowly went to the bridge and dragged the bodies in the water.
“You two see if there are any more terrorists in the base, I’ll try to see what I find in the main building.” Adela started sneaking towards a building made of dirt while the other two were creeping around tents to find other terrorists. The building was empty. Like the rest of the base. Adela found some documents and browsed them a little.

“Command, this is viper one, I found their plans,” she said on the radio. “There are some interesting things here.”

“Viper 1, return to base. We will investigate them at your arrival.”

Faridan School
July 9, 2012
8:00 am

Dariusz Kozlov was looking some kids around 16 year olds were playing volleyball. He slowly nodded to another member of the movement. “It has to be done,” he said whispering. He took a pistol out from the pocket and shot a bullet in the air. Immediately everyone turned their eyes towards him. “In the school! Now!” Immediately, other members of the movement unsheathed their AK-74 and began pushing the students inside the school building. Dariusz saw a teenager trying to run. “For the Slavic people,” he yelled as he targeted the boy and shot. The teen was hit in the head and collapsed.

The only room of the school building was also occupied by a teacher in her 30s and a class of kids around 10 year olds. When the first shot was heard the teacher approached the widows to see what happened. She saw the boy that was running towards the village and his killing. She went immediately to the door with the intent of locking it, but in the same moment, Kozlov entered the room.
“Out of the way!” he said with a clear voice.

“What do you want from those kids?”

“I said, get out of the way!” Kozlov screamed and in the same moment he shot her in the head. Everybody in the room froze. “Get her out,” he said to one of his henchmen.

50 kilometers south-west of Aqda, Saabi Territory
July 9, 2012
8:45 am

The Haffar River was like a border between the lush Transapa plain and the Sea of Fire desert. On the northern banks of the river lay the Savanna like Transapa plain. Guarding an old wooden bridge was a small Altaic garrison situated on a small ridge. On the other side of the road, there were around 2 kilometers of large bushes and another cliff. More to the east was the Sakibstani village of Masuleh. An entire company was dispersed and hidden on the cliff between the village and the garrison.

“The Malik said that the greens will come from the village, passing under this cliff in a complex tunnel system. It will make them literally spawn face to face with the defenders.” Said Alkaev playing with strap of the steel helmet.

“Poor guys from the camp. They literally are bait for the enemy. I don’t want to be in their place. I would prefer to be…” Adil Nejem couldn’t continue as he was interrupted by Bogdan Romanov.

“In a bed, with a nice girl beside me.”

“Do you think girls would like a strange guy like you?” said Alyosha Pavlov as he entered the discussion.

“Strange? Me?”

“Yeah. First, you are blonde. Here most girls are used to black hair and light brown skin. If they will see you they will believe you are an albino and won’t push you towards the bed but towards the doctor.”

“Albinism is genetic, a doctor cannot repair it.” Said Alkaev when he heard the topic of today’s talking between the leading “scholars” of the army.

“Try to explain that to a local girl. She will at first ask you what a doctor is, especially if she is born after 1990. So, Bogdan, secondly, it is your height. Remember s week ago, Aqda? All people there came to you and wanted to make comparisons between their height and yours. I told you and I say again, you will scare a local girl.”

“And if I make a bet in which I say that I will fuck a local girl before you? And I will do it especially because I’m blonde and tall, I’m exotic to them, and exoticism will make them curious.”

While Pavlov and Romanov were talking about how scary is a slender but very tall blonde is, Nejem went to Alkaev.
“Waiting is always the thing that breaks you.”

“Yes, at least in fight, you are full of adrenaline but here… just waiting. And the main problem is that we must wait for some time even after the attack starts. We must wait for the greens to exit the tunnels.” Said Alkaev looking concerned towards the small fortified ridge.
“Adi, I wanted to ask you, as you are going to the mission briefings, why we didn’t bomb those tunnels?”

“We found too late the entrance in them, and General Dabrowski didn’t give us some attack helicopters or bombers to do it. This whole cliff is made of rock conglomerates. Thus the wind eroded the soft rocks and created this complex system. It is too dangerous to enter it. Thus, after the battle here, we must clear the village.”

“The Saabi Malik said that the civilians have fled the village of Masuleh. And now it is a stronghold of the greens.”

“I know, Adil. And I feel that they will try to lure us there. I told that to Salehi and he said that we must do it, but if we take heavy casualties, he said that the Katushas will come and destroy the village.”

Suddenly, the platoon heard a strong wave of voices screaming and everyone looked towards the base on the ridge. Shooting began to be heard. Now, everyone was waiting for the order to attack.

 

[Potenza]

July 9, 2012
9:00 AM
Aqda

"We need to send some of the boys out."

Eliseo glanced over, seeing Tony walk into the makeshift hospital. Eliseo glanced over to the young Sakibstani boy and patted his knee, "You'll be fine. Just be careful with the falls all right? Oh, and since you were such a good boy..." He reached into his pocket, taking out a bit of taffy candy, which the lad took happily and walked off. As soon as Eliseo had washed his hands in a nearby sink he turned towards Tony, "Send who out? What?"

"I was just by one of the Altaic command stations," Tony said, "there's a hostage crisis in Faridan - an entire school was just taken captive. No word yet how many dead or alive."

"Oh my..." Eliseo covered his mouth. That was horrifying. He had expected to see some of the horrors of war, but...a school? So soon? Why? He nodded towards Tony and said, "Well, I guess it's better we send some people. Two I imagine is what you're thinking."

"Church policy," Tony said, "I was thinking Matteo and Luca."

Matteo and Luca were two physicists who had both had training in family medicine, though only Luca had finished his doctorate. Matteo accompanied him, earning university credit for his mentorship. They were often referred to jokingly as "the Gospel brothers" on account that their names were the Tiburan version of "Matthew" and "Luke." Luca was in his older 30's and already showing a bit of gray around the edges, while Matteo was young - in his mid 20's - with a slender figure, and was probably the more attractive of all the missionaries. They both had experience in Altai doing missionary work, and so would be capable in this situation of serving however they were needed.

"They can offer medical aid to the Altaic soldiers, either for themselves or for any hostages they rescue," Tony said, "or they can simply be used however the Altaics may see fit."

"I see. When can they leave?"

"Actually, they're already getting one of the jeeps ready. I just need to give them the go."

 

[Natal]

Faridan School
July 9, 2012
9:10 am

When it was heard that the students were taken hostage in Faridan, the DIR moved immediately and surrounded the building. Leading them was Adela Lagunov. Their mission was to try to find some witnesses to find information about who was the aggressor before General Utkin would arrive with the gross of the Cherep Military ProNat Division. Adela was angry. Angry because someone would even kill children to see their goals accomplished but also angry that literally no one saw what happened. From time to time some crying would be heard from the school and from a small opened window some yells in Altaic or Uroduan. Adela couldn’t understand what they yelled but saw it logical that, if the screams were in Altaic, surely the hostage takers are the ones who occupied the base when raided earlier this day. Observing that, she was frustrated, because if she would have hurried the plans would have been by now deciphered and maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

“Comrade Captain!” shouted one of the DIR soldiers, waking Adela from her daydreams. “We found and eye witness.” Adela when to the soldier who called her and observed an Uroduan woman in her 50s speaking loudly in Uroduan.

“What is she saying?”

“She said that some guys entered the school…killed a student because he tried to run… and then killed a teacher.”

“Go and tell the ProNat that we can identify the two corpses.” Said Adela to another soldier; at that moment another shot was heard from inside the school.

Inside the School
9:11 am

“Dariusz, the DIR have surrounded the building,” said a terrorist as he looked outside through a small hole in the wall.

“I know… We must wait and we must buy time for our comrades in Altai.” Then he began saying in Sarmatian: “If we make Altai and the whole world turn their eyes towards us, our soldiers will hijack easier the plane in the Altaisk Airport. We will ask the Altaians for the liberation of our men out of the Altaic prisons. If they won’t do it we will make the plane crash on the Victoria Palace.”

“What do you want from us?!” a girl in her 16s asked crying.

“Shut up or I’ll fucking kill you.” When Kozlov yelled, the girl began to sob. Another student slowly approached her and trying to soothe her.

“Stand away from her!”

“She is afraid!”

“I said, stand away from her!” when Dariusz Kozlov yelled, he accidentally pushed the trigger of the pistol.

50 kilometers south-west of Aqda, Saabi Territory
July 9, 2012
9:15 am

“Ok, put your robes on.” Said Alkaev when he saw the signal rocket fired from the camp. The shootings were heard stronger. The camp was by now nearly overwhelmed, as there were more soldiers of the green army attacking than expected. “Make sure that your helmets are covered. Let’s go.” The company’s platoons, dispersed on the cliff, began moving towards the ridge. Then, from the center of the formation, the signal was heard. It was a word in Uroduan which Alkaev didn’t understand it, but though it meant “attack”. In that moment the company entered the fight with the traditional Muslim battle cry: Allahu Akbar!

The attack of the Altaic soldiers created confusion between the Green Army soldiers. The Altaians were wearing the same things as the Muslims, namely desert robes. The only difference between the soldiers was weapons used, even if both armies were using AK-74s or 47s. The furniture- wooden parts of the weapons were painted black in the Altaic weapons. While some of the green soldiers were veterans of the first Altaic intervention and knew how to make the difference between them. But even those couldn’t really fight because of the general confusion and the chaos created.

Alkaev opened fire towards a group of Sakibstani soldiers and immediately he heard their bullets flying near his ears. He took cover behind some rocks. He looked on his left when he saw another man taking cover near him. Alkaev observed quickly that the weapon wasn’t painted so he quickly fired a burst towards him. The man died and his head hit the ground and his face turned towards Alkaev in a grimace. His eyes were locked looking exactly at Alkaev- a psychic breaking glance, with those deep green eyes; very queer looking for an Uroduan. Alkaev was brought back to the real world when he heard Romanov yelling as he shot. As he rose from between the rocks, he shot a Green soldier near him and approached him as the Uroduan fell on his knees. He didn’t saw that the man had a grenade in his hand and when he was shot, he dropped the grenade. Alkaev was lucky as the Uroduan was between him and the exploding grenade. He just felt a blow in his chest that made him fell on his back, splashed with the blood, meat and bone bits of the Uroduan soldier. His ears were buzzing. Romanov saw him and began to shake him while yelling:

“Comrade Lieutenant! Comrade Lieutenant! Are you okay?”

While still a little dizzy, Alkaev pointed towards Romanov’s head. “Your head. The… clip that held the robes… on the helmet…fell.”

Only now Bogdan Romanov observed that. To look like the Uroduan Green Army, the Altaic soldiers were wearing robes. But also to have some additional protection, under the robes they were wearing their steel helmets. To be sure that the robes didn’t fell from the helmets, these were attached to the helmets with three clips. Now, Romanov was like a target with his helmet visible. He quickly took off the helmet and put the robes on his head again.

By this time the Uroduan host began retreating because of the confusion created. Chaos would have been the better word to describe it. Some of the soldiers looked like they were possessed by their animal instincts- the idea of kill or be killed was in the head of everyone fighting. The adrenaline changed the soldier from the simple human to an animal that tried to kill as many enemies as possible. But there was a major problem, nearly none of the Green Army soldiers knew who the enemy was. While the Altaians knew that the guys with the painted weapons were friendly, many of the Sakibstani didn’t observed that, they creating a situation in which a Sakibstani soldier killed another Sakibstani before being killed by a Sakibstani or an Altaic. The confused, desperate host began to run to save themselves, some even dropping their weapons in the process. The territory of Saab would be declared only if the last outpost of the Green Army would be destroyed: the village of Masuleh.

 

[Potenza]

Faridan School
July 9, 2012
9:30 AM

Luca and Matteo pulled up not too far from the DIR line surrounding the school, not wanting to cause any disturbance or receive an unwanted barrage of bullets. The back of the jeep bore some medical supplies - mostly morphine, bandages, some minor surgery tools and the like. There was, in addition, some of the tracts and gospels they had brought, should the situation present itself. They were there to offer medical aide and support first and foremost, but they did not forget their greatest mission.

"There seems to be some concern," Luca said, putting the vehicle in park.

"Should we wait a while?" Matteo asked, glancing to his partner before the blockade around the school.

Luca shook his head, undoing the seat belt and opening the door, "No, but don't leave the jeep just yet. Let me handle this."

He got out, holding up his hands to show he was unarmed, and to give any of the Altaic soldiers ease of mind.

"I'm Luca," He said in Altaic, tinged with a Tiburan accent, "that's Matteo in the vehicle. We're with the Reformed Church's medical volunteers. We're here to help, if we can - is anyone hurt?"

 

[Natal]

Pajari Palace; Altaisk
9:30

The Pajari Palace was the headquarters of the ProNat since the times of Dragan Demian. Maksym Tomaszewski was looking at Hetman Darko Garin’s office. It was the same office in which his father had his headquarters when he was the leader of the ProNat during the People’s Republic. But this was a long time ago. In those years Maksym didn’t care what the ProNat is, or if it is edible. He just wanted to go the Military Academy in Dara… but not to be a soldier; the military academy meant for him liberation from the family constraints. With a father like his, a man who sometimes mistook the family with the secret services, the military academy meant liberty, liberty away from Altaisk and finally a few years of freedom in Dara, with beaches, booze, sex, friends and other things. He only now observed that Kostya, his son was also eagerly waiting for his leave for Dara. And now, thinking of it over again he can see that he doesn’t give a damn about the military academy itself, but waits to start the same life he had when he was a student in the academy.

Suddenly, a man entered the office and gave Hetman Garin some documents, saluted and left the office immediately. Tomaszewski looked at Garin as he read the papers. He found ridiculous, even laughable the grimaces the hetman made as he read the papers.

“What is it? Are those the plans of the terrorist group that General Utkin reported of?”

“Yes, those were found by the DIR special forces in two bases in the Sammari territory. It seems that…” he stopped and gave Tomaszewski a copy of the documents. The two read in absolute silence. The first one to break it was General Tomaszewski. He burst into laughter when he read the whole document.

“To hijack a plane and crash it in the middle of Altaisk, if possible in the Victoria Palace? Are those guys so idiotic that they don’t know that we are in alert since the bombing of the Sultan Fariid Temple?”

“Either way, those terrorists are killing and taking hostage children in Sakibstan to make us turn our eyes over there. It is just a diversion.”
“It is stupid. You can’t simply make a whole intelligence bureau to turn their eyes to just one event. I say that what is happening in Sakibstan is just the effect of some frustrated Altaians of Slavic heritage who believes that by terrorizing and killing Uroduan students can create the “pure”, or how they call it Altai. “

“We must close the airport when they are inside it… or no we must catch them in the plane.”

“Yes, let everything go as normal and just some minutes before the plane leaves, stop it. The plane leaves towards Christiansborg at half past twelve. By then, I will be leaving towards Sakibstan to clean the shit after Utkin’s actions, so you will remain here to stop this.

“Yes…” said Garin absently. “Yes we will plant some agents on the plane and keep the plane at ground until the terrorists are arrested.”

“Either way, I have to go.”

“Good luck!” said Hetman Garin as he shook Tomaszewski’s hand. After the general left the room, Garin went to the intercom and said to his secretary: “Call the general staff of the ProNat to an emergency meeting.”

Near Bijar; Sakibstan
9:45 am

Ruslan Sadowski hated to continuous swinging of the back of the camel. He hated the fact that he was accompanied by two Uroduan who didn’t speak Altaic. He also hated that he couldn’t understand Uroduan language. He tried to listen what his two companions were talking about, but all he understand was that they were talking about the city of Noul Al A’raf. By now he could see the village of Bijar. He was born and grown in Dara; he called home a city with around 4 million inhabitants. He grew up in the “Hetmana Kosmodemianskaya” neighborhood, right adjacently to the port. The neighborhood was full of the smell of the rotting algae, dead fish and fuel from the port and above that the airport was close so, there wasn’t a full hour in which you couldn’t hear that noise of the planes’ engine in the distance. It was a smelly and noisy place, but it was home; Here, is in the desert and all he could hear now was the breathing of the camel. The atmosphere was overly quiet. He hated this.
When the three men entered the village, they were welcomed by Malik Hakim Zamam Darzi, and his right hand Ahmed Saqaf Darzi and five tribesmen wearing olive desert robes and holding in their hands some old models of the Mosin-Nagant rifle.

The Malik greeted him and slowly led him to his house. Ahmed remained outside with the Malik’s wife, while the two Altaic Uroduan that escorted Sadowski remained with the five soldiers who greeted them.

“I came from the orders of the Knyagyna, Chancellor and Hetman. I am here to see what the situation of the Black Army and the Darzi tribe is... and also to meet a special guest of yours.” Said Ruslan as he wanted to get to the subject as quickly as possible.

“The situation is grim and worsens every day. The greens are defeating nearly all of our raids and if the situation won’t change, we won’t see the August sun.”

“The ProNat does everything to stop Hamama and help the Darzi tribe.” Ruslan continued to feed the Malik with words in which he praised the resistance of the Darzi tribe and repeated a few times saying that Altai does everything possible to help the tribe. But when Krzysztof Kava got out of his room and entered the living room in which Ruslan and the Malik talked. Ruslan stopped and looked at Kava. The tension that began to be felt in the room made the Malik retreat in his room and let the two men speak in private.

“So, you must be Ruslan Sa… Sad… Sadowski I think. I’ve been told that an emissary from Altai will come to speak with the Malik, but let’s be sincere; you just fed the Malik with lies. I now even believe that the Military ProNat simply waits for the Darzi tribe to be defeated and only then push the offensive towards Hamama. But before that, let me ask you something: You bear a Slavic name. Are you a Slav or a Median?”

“I’m an Altaian.” When he heard Sadowski’s response, Kava burst into laughter.

“The term “Altaian” is an artificial one; you are either a Slav or a Median. But when I heard your response you I can see you are a Median. You Medians are the worst people that exist on this world. You are just copies of the Uroduan people that took Slavic name. You are just a bunch or thieves that steal entire cultures and then simply say that you own them. You call yourselves Slavic now, just because you use Slavic names; but you also stole parts from the Uroduan culture; while you are actually talking a Tiburan language. Yes, even if it has huge Slavic influences and many Slavic words, the Altaic language is still Tiburan. The Median people are nothing. They are…”

He didn’t finish the sentence as Ruslan Sadowski gave him a punch in the face that made him fell to the ground.

“I’m an Altaian, you criminal! The Medians are the Altaians! The only thing Altai needs to get rid of is criminals and fascists like you!” Screamed Sadowski continued to punch him and after he got up, he again hit Kava again with the feet in his ribs. He got out of the house and began talking with the Malik about how much he is rushing to go back. As he prepared to camel for the trip, one of the Uroduan from his escort asked:

“Where are we going, tovarașe Maior?”

“To Faridan. Incredible how you now know Altaian! Let’s move!” the party began moving north towards the Altaian lines, but Sadowski had to be careful as they will be traveling through Green Army territory.

OOC: Potenza, sorry that I didn't mentioned the Reformed priests in this update as I already written the 9:30 talk between Garin and Tomaszewski when you posted. I will write about them in the next update.

 

[Natal]

Faridan; Sammari Territory;
9 June 1952
10:00 am

Adela Lagunov felt her heart beat as he talked to the Potenzan medical volunteer. She liked Matteo, but now she was angry by the fact that the terrorists don’t want to cooperate. She just found out that this Dariusz or whatever his name was just shot a student. And all that she could do was to wait. General Utkin was an incompetent, useless idiot and the Sammari Malik clearly stated that Kava and his terrorists were a Median problem, so he will not intervene.

She was outraged by the Sakibstani Uroduan way of thinking. She was outraged by the fact that some people even think that it is possible to create a state which sees an ethnicity superior to another. And also hated the fact that those people would also destroy the lives of some students just for their ideal, which is more like a nightmare for the rest of the population.

To try to raise the morale of the people in Faridan, with the permission of General Utkin, Adela ordered the distribution of some supplies for the people and asked the Potenzans to help her with the distribution. After she gave a pack made of sugar, oil, salt, flour and rice to a woman in her 40s with nine children around her, she returned to her post near the school. She was nervous…

In the school, Dariusz was also nervous. Some of his people even told him a few minutes ago that this whole action was madness and must be stopped. Now, a girl is also crying over her injured boyfriend after he was accidentally shot by Dariusz. And above that, the DIR surrounded the building. He was afraid. The DIR were the Median Special Forces and Dariusz didn’t actually know if those guys would care for some Uroduan students. Especially when some of his men won’t fight back if the Medians would storm the building. He observed that the initial elation disappeared from many of the movement’s members and some were now thinking or even trying to quit and resume their normal lives. For the first time since he joined the movement, he was afraid…

Pajari Palace; Altaisk;
11:15 am

Hetman Garin waited as the general staff of the ProNat seated at the large round table. While waiting for the members of the general staff to take their places, Darko Garin threw a glacial glance towards the Political Commissar Alen Sidorenko. The Hetman hated the political commissars in general, and Sidorenko in particular. For him Sidorenko was a threat, like Tomaszewski. Darko Garin was a colonel when the Hetmanate fell and the socialists gained power again. He narrowly escaped the military purge, in which nearly all the generals that were friends, business or political partners or even acquaintances of the Hetmans were declared traitors and thrown into jail or even executed. He managed to ascend the military ranks during the revolution and now, a regime that he supported was actively hunting him. That is why he hated Sidorenko. He was a Political Commissar. Even if officially, Sidorenko’s duty was to make the will of the Worker’s Party known for the general staff members. But Garin knew… he knew that Sidorenko’s duty was to spy him.

On the other hand, Sidorenko was slightly amused by the grimaces of the Hetman. He was actually just a simple member of the general staff, just that he held the rank of Political Commissar of the People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs instead of General of the ProNat. Sidorenko also observed that the Hetman was always suspicious towards him. This also made the Hetman exactly like a character in a caricature. Sidorenko also knew what the Hetman thinks of him, so to make it more obvious, he sometimes made sure that the Hetman saw him looking at him or even see a slight smile or a grimace. All those actually fed the paranoia of the Hetman and will influence him to do a mistake and when this will happen; Sidorenko will be there to make sure that Garin’s career will be over. As Garin presented the documents the DIR captured from the terrorists and was presenting his plans on how to catch the terrorists, Sidorenko was closely listening to him, when another member of the staff, General Darya Attar interrupted him:

“We must create a special unit who can fight those terrorists. A unit which is specially prepared to fight those terrorists…”

“No. said Sidorenko interrupting her. “It is a useless waste of public money.”

“Do you have a better idea?” asked Darya Attar.

“I will only say this. We must stop the hijacking of the MedAir plane. This will be their last action.”

“Why do you believe that?” asked Hetman Garin.

Before responding, Sidorenko threw another of his disarming smiles. “The Median people lived under a military dictatorship that show everybody how miserably it failed by losing the war with the Talemantine Empire and losing the region of Zamosk. They lived under a dictatorship. Now, the revolution brought them a democratic republic which works under the socialist principles. Now, look at what those terrorists want. They want to revive Altai and make the Slavic ethnics be superior over the Median and Uroduan ethnicities that populate the state. The people aren’t willing to change a democratic republic to a dictatorship. And this action, of hijacking a plane and…” he burst into a laughter which quickly disappeared”…and crashing it on the Victoria Palace is a grandiose plan. It really is something like a final battle in which they would either win by killing all the People’s Council and thus make the country enter a perfect crisis for their artificial revolution, or we will win by arresting the terrorists on that plane and thus stopping the Movement for the Advancement of Slavic Purposes from being a threat to the Median people. Until then, I must write a rapport for the Commissar General of Internal Affairs, so I am sorry if I must leave this meeting.” He left the room knowing that most of the incompetents with Garin as their boss where stunned while the intelligent and even normal members of the staff approved him and even knew that this whole meeting was useless.

 

[Natal]

Near the village of Masuleh; Sakibstan;
9 July 1952
11:45 am

Alkaev verified if his PSM-40 and then looked at the village. It looked desolate and deserted. There were three companies prepared to storm the village; one of those was commanded by him. Behind him a detachment of 10 Ksyusha Rocket Launchers were being readied to bomb the village if the companies encounter strong resistance. As Nejem as approaching Alkaev, Pavlov and Romanov were again talking fervently about how the local girls would be afraid of something which Pavlov called “a blonde tapeworm”.

“I can’t believe they talk about this now. Masuleh is known for the fact that it is a stronghold of the Green Army. I believe that this battle will be worse than the one on the cliff. And they, instead of being concentrated before the battle, are talking about sex. “

“It relaxes them,” responded Alkaev. “It is great if they found something that relaxes them. Leave them… But you Adil, are you ready?”

“Yes… Look, the other companies are moving. Let’s go to finish this…”

The three companies approached the village. It was strange, it looked deserted. Alkaev’s company entered the village through a small fenced garden. To get out on the street, they passed through a deserted dirt house. There was no one in the village. The atmosphere was tense because of this quietness.

“Pavlov, Nejem in the house to our left. See if there is anyone there. Romanov, with me.” Said Alkaev as he entered a small courtyard on the right side of the road while the rest of the company continued to advance on the road.

Pavlov and Nejem entered a small alley from which one could enter two courtyards. Pavlov advanced and didn’t saw Nejem entering one of the courtyards. Nejem looked around. It looked as it was another deserted household. He was now aware of the queer silence. He suddenly heard something being dropped and broken as it fell on the ground. He quickly turned towards the noise with his PM-383 prepared to fire. He left his heart pounding in his chest. When he turned he was only a scared woman in her 60s, wearing a chador. He let the gun down and smiled towards her showing her that he won’t do her any harm. As he turned to get out of the courtyard, he heard three shots and felt an excruciating pain in his back.

The three shots created chaos in the company. Everybody started shooting in what they believed to be Green Army positions. Pavlov quickly entered the household where Nejem was. As he entered the courtyard, he began shooting towards the house with no result and as he began to drag Nejem to the company he yelled: “Guys, Adil is down! “

By now, the soldiers saw that no one was actually shooting back, so they stopped. As Alkaev and Romanov were heading towards Pavlov, a soldier told them that Captain Alinejad ordered the retreat from the village.

As they were dragging Nejem towards the Median lines, Alkaev went to the captain to report him the fact that one of his men was injured by what is possibly was a Green Army soldier. But he saw the captain giving the order to the Ksyushas to destroy the village. As he saw the rockets launched at such large speed and the continuous chain of explosions that were destroying the village, he was more and more frustrated by what happened. If they are now already destroying the village, why the fuck did he had to risk the life of his men and even friends? When he returned to Nejem to see how he feels, he arrived just in the moment to hear the medic saying that there is nothing he can do. Sergeant Adil Nejem was dead. A life lost just because of the stupidity of some superior officers.

 

[Natal]

Aleksandar Vinokourov International Airport Altaisk
9 July 1952
12:27

The Douglas DC-6 plane was preparing to leave. There were only 3 minutes left until the plane will leave towards Christiansborg with two stops, one in Zadarska and one in Arvi. Captain Faiz Ali was in the airport’s control tower while in the plane there were five agents. The plan was to stop the plane and see is someone begins to agitate or become nervous; this way the terrorists can easier be identified; and if the plane would still be quiet, everyone in the plane would be searched, to see if they have weapons at them.

“Stop the plane.” Said the captain to a worker in the control tower. Immediately the announcement was heard in the whole airport: “Attention! Flight no 351 towards Christiansborg is delayed for two hour because of technical problems.”
“Perfect, now we must wait…”

In the mean time, in the plane it was already announced that the flight will be delayed two hours. Agent Kaminski was looking at the passengers in the plane. Everybody was talking about how awful is this delay, but he didn’t saw anyone becoming aggressive as he imagined. People were outraged in general, but no one was acting strange.

Some minutes later, he looked at Commissar Saqqaf, the leader of the operation and nodded. It was the sign that the ProNat agents must start the search. Kaminski stood up and said: “This is an operation of the ProNat and of the Commissariat of Internal Affairs! Everyone, please take your seats and prepare the luggage to be searched for weapons and blunt or striking objects.”

When he heard the ProNat agent saying that, Aleksandar Borisov and Elena Pavlova knew that their action was compromised.
“How the fuck did they knew?”

“Don’t know, the placement of our base was known just to the Darzi Malik. Maybe Dariusz was caught and he told them everything.”
“Fuck. We must do something…”

“We can still take control of the plane… How many do you see?”

“There are only two. Do we do it?”

“We don’t have any other alternative.” Said Borisov as he took a pistol and targeted the ProNat agents. “Stop! This plane is now under the control of the Movement for the Advancement of Slavic Purposes.” When they saw him the ProNat agents tried to unsheathe their pistols but they knew that the terrorist would kill them long before they could take the weapons in hands, so they stood motionless.

“Don’t move! Start the plane!”

“We can’t.” a ProNat agent said.

“Do it or I will kill you all!” screamed Elena Pavlova.

The terrorists didn’t saw that in the back of the plane there 3 other ProNat agents. Kaminski took his pistol and shot Elena Pavlova in the arm she was holding the pistol, while another ProNat agent shot Borisov in the foot.

As minutes passed, from the control tower, the captain was becoming more and more nervous of what was happening in the plane. But then, he saw that a door from the plane opened and the ProNat agents were carrying the two terrorists. He was proud; it was the first part in the victory against those mezhist terrorists.

Faridan; Sammari Territory; Sakibstan;
9 July 1952
15:30

General Tomaszewski finally arrived in Faridan after a long trip with a plane from Altaisk to Gruiu and a ride with a Jeep from Gruiu to Faridan. He was tired. Tired because of the road and tired because of this crisis. As the 3 Jeeps entered Faridan, he went to Adela Lagunov.
“What is the situation, Major?”

“When the terrorists too control of the school, they killed a boy around 15 years old and a woman, probably a teacher in her 30s. An hour later, at 9 o’clock there was another shot heard from the school and we believe that there is an injured student in the building. We…”
“Stop. I want to talk with someone before we stop this shit.”

The general began walking towards the house of Malik Sammari. After a few steps, he saw general Utkin approaching him.
“Comrade General Tomaszewski! I want to talk to you.”

“You don’t have anything to tell me nor do I want to hear anything. You will have a talk with the People’s Council when this campaign ends and maybe if you have some bad luck you will also meet the Court Martial. Consider yourself relieved from the office of commander of the Cherep Division.”

“But, comrade general…”

“Shut up Utkin! You are pathetic and the mistakes you made here, will delay even more the advancement of the Cherep division. You made some pathetic mistakes that can easily be called ridiculous. Just leave and hope that the People’s Council will be merciful.”
Maksym Tomaszewski continued his walk towards the Malik’s house as Utkin remained behind.

“Good day!” said Tomaszewski as he entered the house. The Malik was in what was the equivalent of a living room, with two teenagers in front of him. The two were scared of Tomaszewski’s entrance while the Malik was surprised by this lack of good manners.

“We need to talk.”

“I suppose you must be general Tomaszewski… I heard some of your soldiers talking about you coming to the front lines.”

“Let’s get to the subject as I want to finish this quickly.” Said Tomaszewski as he seated himself near the two teenagers. “Why you didn’t give any sign of life during this crisis? You lost a student, a teacher and you also have a student injured there who can also be dead by now. “

“It is a Median problem. They are your terrorists…” the Malik couldn’t continue as the general burst into laughter.

“Tell me Malik, are you a real idiot? You don’t see that we are trying to save your tribe’s students, children? You call it a Median problem, yet Sammari tribesmen are held hostage in the school. But I have a theory on your general stupidity in handling this. You are afraid that any change in Sakibstan can affect your grip over the Sammari tribe. You didn’t openly support the Hamama regime because you knew that it provoked Media, nor you did oppose them because you knew they could defeat you. You just wanted to have a place to hide from the current events hoping that they will pass and you will remain the head of the Sammari tribe. Well, we are now here. And when we live, a Malik has no place in a socialist society. This also means your demise.”

“You can talk this way to me!” Yelled the Sammari Malik as he rose from the pillow. The two teenagers were still following the exchange of remarks with fascination, but Tomaszewski observed that the boy understood Median while the girl was confused.
“Who do you think you are? You are now nothing! We are on your door step, Sakibstan as you know it has fallen. From this day onward, the Sammari tribe is part of the Sakibstani People’s Republic.”

“Get out of my house!” The Malik wanted to say something, but Tomaszewski punched him and he fell on his back. The sudden move scared the two teenagers. As the Malik was mumbling something, Tomaszewski was getting out of the house and asked the two teens to follow him.
“What are your names?”

“I’m Javed and she is Azadeh.” Said the boy.

“And what were you two doing in the Malik’s house?”

“We’re from Abyaneh and are trying to escape to Media. I am Diagist and Azadeh is the daughter of the Abyaneh muezzin. We won’t be allowed to see each other in Sakibstan and for sure I would have been killed by the Green Army.”

“Do you really want to leave you families here and move to Media?”

“The word family, comrade general should be a synonym with love. Here we aren’t loved if we aren’t Muslim fundamentalists. At least Azadeh would be seen as a pariah by her family. But I have no family; I would have been killed when the Green Army took Abyaneh.”

“Okay, a convoy will leave this evening towards Gruiu. From there you will have no problem. Give one this to one of the drivers and tell them that general Tomaszewski asks him for this favor.” Said the general as he gave Javed a banknote of 100 Median Reai. “Tonight you will be in Media, you will be safe.”

In the school, the Dariusz saw that 3 Jeeps came in the village. He was nervous because he didn’t know if the plan succeeded or not. He wanted to know if at least the plane was hijacked or not. Nearly all if not all of his men found this whole hostage crisis absurd. He was the only one who knew the truth. Media must disappear from the map to give way to Altai, to create another nation like the perfect Mezhist Union. But…
“No! This must stop! Dariusz, look at him!” said a member of Dariusz’s party pointing to the injured Uroduan student. He was still breathing, but lost much blood; he was pale and now unconscious. A girl was holding his head, sobbing quietly. “I was naïve. When I heard of this movement, I imagined all those revolutions the socialist present. But I never thought that I must kill kids.”

“Calm down…” Dariusz couldn’t continue. From the outside the voice of a man this time was heard: “The plan of you organization failed. The hijackers are probably dead by now. There is no need now to kill yourselves. Come out of the school with your hands in the head!”

“We failed! It’s just because of your retarded ideas. You Dariusz are not a revolutionary, you are just a psychopath that probably loved to kill that student and teacher in the morning and now you surely also killed him!” said the same man pointing the injured student.

“Shut up! I need to thing, there is still ho…” a shot was heard and Dariusz fell being shot by one of his own men. When the shot was heard the DIR stormed the building but were astonished to see that the terrorists surrendered.

Half an hour later, Tomaszewski came to Adela and seated himself on a bench near her.

“I can’t believe it is finally over.” Said Adela instead of greeting.

“Yes, what a day we had… Yatagan fought two battles and we fought some maniacs that killed children. The world is full of such…”

“Don’t think of that. Think that the movement is finally defeated.”

“There is still Kava.” Said Tomaszewski concerned
.
“Kava is held in Bijar and the Darzi tribe, even with their Post-Delegationist foolishness are friendly to us. There is only Hamama left.”

“Comrade General, you asked me to report you the condition of the injured student.”

“And?”

“The medic said that he lost too much blood…he died few minutes ago.”

Tomaszewski looked at the soldier absently, he was thinking at the boy he saw shot in his chest and the girl that cried beside him, then he thought of the other couple which he helped escape Sakibstan… It was hard to see people so young suffer so much… one is suffering because of fundamentalism the other couple is suffering because of radical mezhist ideas. War was inhumane, as it was started by old men but the younglings seemed to suffer the most from it. Life is not fair. He slowly left to tell that girl whose name he never knew that her boyfriend whose name he forgot died…

 

[Natal]

Darzi territories; near the Median border;
August 26 1952;

Ahmed Saqaf Darzi was followed by two soldiers of the Black Army and Krzysztof Kava. Bijar was yesterday attacked by the Green Army. It was a surprise attack, as no patrol of the Black Army reported seeing them. And it was a detachment of camel cavalry, so it was easy to see. Ahmed also believed that maybe, the problem was that in the last days, even weeks, with so many failed raids, the Black Army was a force just on the paper. Ahmed barely escaped. The greens killed the Malik and everyone who was in the Malik’s house but he never understood how a scum like Kava escaped the killing. As he got out of the village, he found two soldiers of the now defunct black army and after two hours of walking towards the Median border they saw Kava behind them. He was in a bad condition, but incredibly, not because of the Green Army soldiers but because of Ruslan Sadowski. It seemed that he broke some oh Kava’s ribs, as since his departure, Kava felt excruciating pains every time he talked and sometimes, when he was breathing a grating sound could be heard coming from him.

Now, they were approaching a small oasis near which they can spend the night and then continue towards Media, maybe tomorrow evening they will be in Arryni. But then Ahmed saw some camels coming towards them. He couldn’t see who was coming for them but he felt a chill on his back when he thought that it can be the Green Army. After a few minutes, they could me seen clearly. But… those weren’t Sakibstani robes… He saw somewhere those strange uniforms, with flowing white coats, turbans, veils and black trousers. When he remembered who those were, he felt something new for the first time in his life… he felt safe and relieved as the Patriotic Guards finally entered Sakibstan from the south to help the Black Army. He fell or lost his conscience, or fainted, but the next moment he was on the ground looking at a Median soldier dismounting a camel. He then turned his head and saw Kava groaning because of his injuries and his two soldiers talking with the Medians. Then he saw an officer coming towards him.

“You are Ahmed?”

“Yes… what happ…”

“ You fainted, probably of dehydration. I saw that you sill kept Kava as a prisoner…” he said grinning. “By his condition I sense he made you some problems.” By now Ahmed raised and was looking at the oasis, where the camels went to drink some water. “The people thanks you,” said the officer grinning. “Hakim, kill him!” When he heard the order, Hakim, took his PSM-40 rifle and shot Kava in the head. “Our job here is done. Hakim, give Ahmed and his escort 3 camels and let’s move.”

Ahmed was looking confused everywhere… He was shocked. He absently took the bridle of the camel and then saw how the Medians were preparing to leave without any other word.

“If you follow the sunset you will get to Arryni from there, you can get anywhere in Media,” said the commander laughing as he began moving with the rest of the unit.

 

[Natal]

Altaisk; Parc Restaurant;

Alen Sidorenko gave some money to the cab driver then slowly began his ascension on the stairs that link the Flacara Rosie Boulevard to the terrace of the restaurant. Last week, he finally succeeded in giving Garin a kick in the ass and thus making him resign his position as hetman. There were some unforgiving mistakes in Sakibstani campaign that simply sealed Garin’s fate as leader of the ProNat. Sidorenko just took advantage of them and thus he paved the way for his friend Maksym Tomaszewski as future commander of the ProNat.

A few days ago Alen also transferred to the Commissariat of External Affairs. Immediately after the Median Revolution, the ministries were changed into General Commissariats and every commissariat had a small army of political commissars whose duties were from assisting the inspectors of taxes of the General Commissariat of Finances to being members of the military general staffs like he was in the ProNat staff for the Internal Affairs Commissariat or even assist diplomats for the External Affairs Commissariat. In the first days after the revolution, the ProNat asked special all black uniforms for their commissars, so the rest of the people saw the ProNat political commissars as people who had high friends in the Party mostly because it was extremely hard to find a workplace there. When Alen said goodbye to the all black uniform of a commissar of the Military ProNat and said hello to the dark khaki with red collars of the “usual” political commissar, his new colleagues accepted him and even befriended him, a rare thing to happen to the “new recruits” in the External Affairs Commissariat. He was invited to the restaurant by his colleagues to celebrate his transfer.

As he passed through the terrace which was overlooking the boulevard, he approached the other terrace, which was overlooking the Ier River. This second terrace was usually filled with customers who were considered friends of the Worker’s Party, as a simple customer must make a reservation of a table here several days before the dinner, it was incredible how for a high ranking member of the Peasant’s Party there was always a free table. He saw one of his colleagues, approaching him.

“Alen, hi! It’s good you finally came. You need to meet someone.” Said Fadil Kader as he led Alen Sidorenko to the table. As Alen approached the table, he saw another colleague of his, Vadim Ostasenko talking with a woman. He found her familiar, but in the position she was currently keeping her head, he couldn’t see her face. When Vadim rose to shake hands with Alen, the woman also raised her head. He saw her, long black hair, tanned skin, black eyes and slight prominent teeth, which didn’t destroyed her beauty but enchanted it.

“Alen let me present you…”

“Raisa Shevchenko. It has been a long time.” He said with a smile and when she put forth her hand for a shake, Alen took her hand and kissed it.

“Yes, it has been, 8 years, since your parents moved from Altaisk to Dara. I missed you.” She said with a disarming smile.

“Hm… I see you already know each other… even better.” Said Fadil as he and Alen seated at the table.

“So, how do you two know each other?” asked Vadim surprised by the exchange of replies between Raisa and Alen.

“We were in the same class in high school.” She said with another smile.

“We were good, if not best friends, back then.” Remembering those years made Alen angry… angry because he didn’t had the courage to tell her that he loved her. But now, 15 years passed and even if he was single or had some one night stands, she surely has met someone who wasn’t afraid to tell her how he loves her. As the four of them were talking about their high-schools and their lives in the universities and in the General Commissariats, a waited brought them a bottle of wine. It was a 5-year old sweet red white wine from Deva. Fadil rose with his glass full of wine saying with a slight sorrow in his voice:

“I want to congratulate you all. Friends, tomorrow you leave. Alen, you will go with Sorin Sokolov in Sakibstan. It’s a great thing. You will become popular in the nation because of that. If I were you I would enter politics with that popularity, as sometimes the diplomat and his aide who sign the peace become as popular as the army who fights all the battles. Raisa, even if we know each other for a short time, I wish you luck on your expedition in Thasaidh.” He stopped for a moment. “I really, don’t you what to say… may you see the best parts of our socialist friendly neighbor state…” he couldn’t continue as the three burst into laughter. “As for Vadim, I can only say this: take care of yourself and give me the key to that apartment on the Victoria Socialismului Boulevard as I would transfer to a post in Dara and live in a luxury apartment if you die in Karakhstan. So, may you sell enough oranges there and try not to die, but if you do at least leave a note behind regarding the apartment.” The four of them burst again into laughter. “But now sincerely, all of you leave tomorrow. I really want to congratulate you for this and I want to see you all well. “They stayed two more hours talking about everything.

When Raisa told them that she retreats, as early tomorrow morning she must leave, Alen also told them that he must go. As the two were going along the Flacara Rosie Boulevard, Alen and Raisa talked about how each of them lived after their separation. From the talks, Alen began to observe that she was single now and not only that, she suffered after he moved.

“You should really think about a political career,” she said after w while. “Remember the revolution? The commissars who disarmed the Hetmanate armies and the ones who created the first councils in big cities became famous and we see them exactly as the Frescanians see their founding fathers. You will be popular. “

“Popularity doesn’t mean everything…”

“The Talemantines and their white terror are knocking at the door. If they will invade and conquer us, we will die because we are commissars. If we won the war, Karin should be very popular and surely would win the 25[SUP]th[/SUP] of September elections.”

“He will win if the Talemantines would invade us and we will defeat them…”

“He would win if we would participate. I know he won’t. Everybody in the Education commissariat knows that Karin said that whatever happens with the Talemantines, he won’t participate in the elections. He said that he is fed up with politics so he will retreat from this scene. This will create a void in this power struggle.”

“But the General Commissars will fill the void. But you must also know that many of Karin’s commissars are seen as incapable. Karin is the one who literally raises the average IQ of the clique.”

“But Pavlichenko, he is seen as capable. “

“Yes, he is seen as capable. But you must not forget that Pavlichenko was a diplomat during the Hetmanate and even signed the separation of Zamosk. He isn’t popular. So, if there will be a war, there will be no one to take the glory. Also the council-communists haven’t chosen a candidate yet. They are preventive as now they are popular but they don’t want their popularity to diminish because of a retarded candidate. So, if I were you I will go in Sokolov’s delegation and then, enter politics beside the council-commie faction. As Sokolov stated several times that he doesn’t want to join politics and this “grand” delegation is just you, him and some bodyguards, so if you go and then enter politics you will become famous for annexing Sakibstan and if you manage to win the elections maybe you will become a member of the People’s Assembly or a General Commissar or maybe who knows… even Premier.”

As they talked, the two stopped in front of a big 16 storey high apartment block with a large hammer and sickle made of iron on the block’s rooftop.

“This is where I live. I…I know it is late and tomorrow we must leave, but if you want you can come upstairs, maybe we can drink a coffee…”

 

[Potenza]

Aqda, Sakibstan
September 1

It had been some time since the Reformed missionaries moved into the region. They hadn't grown in number, but after the success of the Median military, they had managed to spread themselves out a bit, mostly across the northern regions. Tony and Eliseo still remained in Aqda as a kind of "base of operations." Matteo and Luca had stayed in the Faridan area to assist with the people, both in grief counseling (from a biblical perspective) regarding the recent hostage crisis, as well as offering their medical expertise for both the Median soldiers and the Sakibstani people.

"Got a letter from Treviso the other day," Tony told Eliseo in Tiburan, the latter of whom was attending a Median soldier.

"What did they say?" Eliseo asked in Tiburan, then told the soldier in his native language, "Here you are - take two every few hours, until the coughing stops." The soldier thanked him and walked off, after which Eliseo explained to his fellow missionary, "Flu."

"How do you get the flu in the middle of the desert?" asked Tony.

"Same you do in the summer," Eliseo explained, "lack of sleep, stress...your immune system slacks a bit on its duty, and your health enemies move in."

"Guess war is the same every where," Tony remarked, then proceeded to answer Eliseo's earlier question: "They said the brothers and sisters back home are happy about the work we've been doing. We might get a few new people coming our way."

"Oh really? People are that interested in Sakibstan?"

"The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few*," Tony replied, "anything heard from Matteo and Luca?"

"They're doing all right, last I heard. Apparently Matteo had some Median soldier following him around or something like that." Tony raised an eyebrow. Eliseo visibly blushed, then explained, "A female soldier. Sorry."

"Ah, well, I'll be praying for him - he may be a missionary, but he knows better than to missionary date."

Maria, Tony's wife appeared, tapping her husband on the shoulder:

"Baby, some Median soldiers are here."

"Oh? What'd we do?"

"It's not that. They have a unit mascot - and he's sick. They want you to look at him."

Tony smiled a bit, "Well, this should be interest. Take it easy, Eliseo - I'll be out back if you need me. God bless."

----------------
* Matthew 9:37

 

[Natal]

Hamama Northern Suburbs; Sakibstan

Alkaev was awoken by the first rays of the sun, as the window was situated on the eastern side of the room. He looked at Ava El-Hashem.
“Good morning”, she said after a few moments.

Ava El-Hashem and her brother became famous in the latter part of the Islamic Dictatorship, or how the Sakibstani people called it, the Green Dictatorship. Her brother, Hamza El-Hashem was a supporter of the monarchy and of Emir Gamal Al-Karimi. He managed to survive the Mufti’s executions as he was a friend of the Vizier Abbas Kader. But it seems that in those two years in which the Mufti ruled the country, he changed his political views, from a conservative monarchist to an extreme form of socialism. Immediately after the Mufti was executed and the remnant of the Green Army was changed to the Sakibstani Land Forces, led by the Vizier, Hamza went in the south and united the remnants of the Black Army and created a communist militia. The Median government, on the other hand didn’t want to outright support Hamza El-Hashem out of fear as his actions could create a new dictatorship in Sakibstan similar to the Miroslavian one. On the other hand, the Vizier was unpredictable and the fact that he killed his own leader, the man that put him in power, also made him untrustworthy. Altaisk was afraid that he can turn against Media as he turned against the Mufti.

But there was one more important character in the political scene. She was Hamza’s sister, Ava El-Hashem. She became famous in Sakibstan after she began helping people get into Media. It was known that she had her protectors in ProNat, which even the Mufti was too afraid to provoke, even if it was known in the whole country that Ava could help you escape the Green Dictatorship. After the armistice was signed, Ava went to see Tomaszewski before he would return to Altaisk. Rumors said that she talked about how great Sakibstani would become if it would become a province of Media. Also there were also rumors circulating which said that the General rejected all those ideas or even was “disgusted” to think that the Median economy would support a region like Sakibstan. It meant only 5 more million mouths to feed. After the general left Hamama, those rumors died out.

A few days later, Sorin Sokolov and Alen Sidorenko came to Hamama to sign the peace. Ava went again to talk with them and immediately rumors began circulating. Now, people were saying that Sidorenko even said that the People’s Assembly was talking about the possibility of Sakibstan to become a Krajina of Media.

By now, even if rumors were very varied all told one important thing: Media was supporting Ava El-Hashem. In a few days everybody heard this and the southern regions of the country and Hamama became concerned. Everybody was afraid of a civil war between the Vizier and the El-Hashem brothers supported by Media. But incredibly, the Medians ordered the Red Militias of Hamza El-Hashem to stand down and disarm and of course the order was respected. Now, the country side was again quiet.

More and more people are struggling with the idea of a woman ruling in Muslim Sakibstan. One of them is Vizier Abbas. He knew that his days were numbered and there were only two ways of leaving the Presidential Palace in Hamama. One in which you are carried out in a coffin or maybe he could escape by his own initiative. But where to run? Hajr? Jurzan? No, the only place he could escape was maybe to Kersveld. But maybe the Cantigians would find him there. He didn’t want to die but he knew that every day spent in Hamama is another step towards the execution squad. So, the Kersveld is the only option. So, even if it would be unacceptable for a true Muslim, the people had to see a woman become head of state because the Median sword was upon them and more than that it seems that Hamza El-Hashem also supports his sister as a ruler.

“Morning… Ava said opening her black eyes. With her long black hair and tanned skin, she was beautiful. Alkaev went to put his uniform on, still looking at her naked body. Before returning to their outpost, which was right across the road, Alkaev looked outside the window. He saw Romanov coming outside the same building he was in with a girl near him. As the couple went to Pavlov, Alkaev saw that Pavlov grumblingly gave Romanov some money. He smiled when he remembered the bet the two made when Median soldiers entered the country. After he took another glance of Ava who was trying to get a few more minutes of sleep, Alkaev left going to his post.

 

[Natal]

Victoria Palace; Altaisk;
6 September, 1952

Alen Sidorenko was sitting in Maksym Tomaszewski’s office reading a newspaper article about some dissensions in the ruling coalition of National-Communists and Vanguardists.

“It’s perfect,” said Alen with a smile. “The fight between those two really makes our battle easier. Until now, the Social-Democrats have accepted an alliance with the Council-Communists.”

“So, there should be no problem. Once the coalition of Nationalists and Vanguardists disappear, this new coalition would have the majority in the People’s Assembly. So, it’s simple from there. Karin rules a minority government and he will fall from a vote of no confidence. And emergency elections are held immediately.” Said the newly appointed Hetman. This was the first step in cleansing the country from the old Hetmanate influences. When Garin retreat from the public scene, the rank of Hetman was…”decentralized”. Instead of meaning Supreme Commander it was something equivalent to Marshal and by now only Tomaszewski, Sinistyn and Salehi were given the rank.

“The Vanguardists have a big number of parliamentarians. That is why they are breaking now from the National-Communists. Their lack of popularity would pull down the vanguardists. And for this they won’t ally again even if we form the coalition. But my main problem is that those so called Green-Communists who are no more that some Muslim clerics who want to be in politics. They have enough members in the People’s Assembly to give the Vanguardists a majority, more even than our council-communists and social-democrats together.”

“And you said that those Greens won’t want to side with the social-democrats… so I feel that you should talk with Karin, of course after his coalition disbands.” Said Maksym as he took some tzuica a traditional Median distilled drink made of pears and poured is two small glasses. Alen took one and drank the shot through a single sip. He felt how the drink was flowing from his mouth to the stomach. It was double distilled. He grimaced as he still felt his mouth still burn from the 60 degrees alcohol drink.

“Yes, Karin is desperate. The elections are near and he will surely have no members of the People’s Assembly for the next years. But he still has a significant number now. So, we must approach him.” Alen paused a little, thinking. “We must do two things before proclaiming the coalition. Raisa and Fadil have spoken with important members of the Commissariat of External Affairs to make our ambassadors tell the other head of states that this so called crisis is a very short one if there will be any…” he said smiling. “So, Maksym we will have to wait a few days to see if Karin and Amjad jump at each other’s throats and then we can get to the next phase of the plan.” Alen finished the sentence with a slight smile, remembering that tonight he will go to take Raisa from the airport as her plane from Dara arrives in a few hours, she finally returning from Thasaidh.

 

[Natal]

Block no2; Apartment 5; Flacara Rosie Boulevard; Altaisk
9 September 1952

Raisa woke up earlier than Alen. Looking at him as he slept, she put a bathrobe on her and went outside to take the Sunday newspaper from the mailboxes at the entrance in the block. It is still very early in the morning so, the street looked desolate and the block was quiet. Last night is rained a little and thus it was a cool morning, for Median standards. She felt a chill when she took the newspaper, remembering her of her family’s trips to Arendaal and Engellex. She entered the apartment and went to the kitchen. She poured some water in a kettle and started preparing some coffee, while she was reading the headlines. After some minutes, Alen entered the kitchen.

“Mornin…” said Alen rubbing his eyes.

“Hi! Read this.” Said Raisa with a smile as she handed the newspaper. Alen took it and made big eyes when he read the headline. “Karin accepts the proposal of Alen Sidorenko and Fathi Amjad. Emergency elections are to be held in three days.” Alen was happy. His plan was to see if Karin is so desperate to do emergency elections succeeded. Him and Fathi Amjad both agreed to ask Karin to do this and both think they are in the zenith of their popularity. Alen is nervous about this, as Vanguardists are still popular in Media after the reign of Dan Shuvalov. He knew that by now everything is a game of who can get more votes by making their coalition bigger and bigger and thus attracting the votes of the parties the alliances are made of. Fathi Amjad managed to create a coalition with his Vanguardists and the Green-Communists, a small political faction made mostly for the Islamic electorate. Alen, on the other side, created a coalition with his Council-Communists, the Social-Democrats and since the day before yesterday, he made the National-Communists join his coalition, but again, since yesterday it wasn’t a coalition anymore, but a single united political faction which he choose to call “The Popular Front of National Convergence”.

Some people in his camp also told him that he moves too quickly, but this move, to centralize the coalition, to make it a single political faction, not only an alliance, was showing the people that in this faction’s people with many different ideas were united by the will of making Media strong and life better for the Median people. The National-Communists, often seen as extremists, the Social-Democrats seen as moderates and Council-Communists always seen as the democratic socialists were united in a single faction. It will show to the people that they don’t want to be elected for they own good but for the people’s good. Alen was also happy to that Amjad allied with the Greens, so he could ally with the National-Communists. He doesn’t know why those two factions hate each other, but this time he was happy that they are doing it.
The preparations were already made as the “normal” elections were nearing and there is nothing to do until the election. The day after tomorrow will be the great day, in which he will become Premier and finally someone who wants to bring Media’s former glory back will take power.
The article made him smile.

“So, it seems we only have to wait now. Look down on the page…” said Raisa as she was spreading some butter on bread.
“The Danish prince Constantine arrives in Dara.” He said reading loudly the newspaper article. “Well, the people always have seen the Arens and Danes as great friends. And I am not the type who hates a nation just for their government system. I find this as an obtuse way of seeing the world… After the elections, I will formally greet him and give him sincere excuses for the political problems the country is in exactly when he arrived.

“So, you think you will win?”

“Look at Amjad, honey… He is a joke.”

“He still knows how to use your…our youth against us, continuously reminding the people that you have no experience.”
“He forgets that I have an army…” said Alen as he kissed her and left the kitchen and went to change and dress to go to the Commissariat of External Affairs.

“Yes, it’s a good thing that we are friends with Tomaszewski, but make sure the people doesn’t find out that you are slightly insinuating that you can destroy Amjad and take control with the force of arms. Even if the people will be kept at bay by the ProNat, the Carentanians won’t like that…”