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Xenonauts 1979: IC

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"Love for all, Hatred for none."​

General Zia ul-Haq, clad in his military uniform, stood atop a podium overlooking a sea of unrest. The world seemed to teeter on the brink of chaos, consumed by hysteria and mass riots. Pakistan was no different, except in one undeniable quality -- Pakistan had Him.

At the impromptu rally outside the newly built Pakistani Islamic Court, Zia knew it was time to face his detractors. Pakistan needed unity. Compromises. The Islamisation of Pakistan could not so easily be waylaid but it could be watered down. The Iranians had turned from a model to rabble rousers, the machinations against Khamenei a clear sign that the Iranian Revolution was in the midst of abandoning its proud islamic heritage with the lies and soulless temptations of communism. The rabble rousing in the streets was clearly a sign of such. Islamism did not need to adapt, for all the miracles of the world could be found within the sacred Quran. Islamism had a solution for every threat. And if the Iranians had shown that their communism could lie and subsume Islamic thought, perhaps the opposite could be true.

The Islamic Court had been forced to make provisions for women. The conservatism of Zia was attacked by it but it did hold purpose, the liberation of women meant more workers in factories. More guns for the army. More of Pakistan's dormant potential unleashed and ready to face the coming apocalypse. But more still, once one concession was made more could be justified.

The reversion of the second amendment.

​

Zia had a complicated relationship with the Ahmadiyya. In his youth and early career, the General had close ties with the Ahmaddiya community, relying on letters of recommendation from them and even marrying a daughter from such a family. These close ties were outweughed by the need to court the more virulently anti-Ahmaddiya Islamists. In another age, Zia likely would've turned completely on the community he owed so much to, but once concession can so easily lead to another and the General had global ambitions for Pakistan's Islamic purpose in the world. The Apocalypse had come and Pakistan would protect all muslims. Even the Ahmadiyya.

The first ruling of the Islamic Supreme Court was the prohibition of alcohol. The second was the confirmation that the Ahmadiyya were recognised as Muslim. Further rulings followed, some restrictive and some liberating. But the second ruling was the cause of the riots currently faced. Islamists of all sorts, even members from the women's union had come to protest the decision to allow the "Qadiani" to be allowed its place back in Islam.

The broad coalition that Zia was trying to build could not be maintained long term but the dictator refused to acknowledge it. In opening his arms to the Ahmadiyya he had secured the loyalty of prominent military higher ups and opened the door to an influx of Ahmadoyya scientists like Abdus Salam, the first muslim to come from an Islamic country to ever win the Nobel for Physics. Yet he had snubbed again the conservative Islamists and caused again fracturing and infighting within the powerful Islamist bloc even as in the long term he had opened the possibility for an even larger and more inclusive Islamist Movement.

Zia was not worried about this unrest. It would pass as all things but there was a hint that something was different—there was a hint of madness in their eyes. The events at the Olympics and what happened at Phoenix had left an effect on the people. The Media was controlled, measured and the full terror of what had happened was minimised and watered down. Even the French broadcasts were censored and thankfully the French Language was such a terrible beast that very few would go so far as to pirate the French information. For now the madness could be contained but the anxiety, fear and sheer panic was building. Everything as usual could not work when nations were falling one by one, imposing harsher economic circumstance on the rest, with the aliens being able to make impotent even the two superper gods of the modern age.

The People needed something to cling to. Something to hold onto. Islam. Islam would be the light. Not Nationalism. Not Communism or Capitalism. Islam and the Islamic World needed unity and Zia knew more than anything that he would need to impose that unity. Consolidate Afghanistan. Save the Arabs from the wester puppets that had festooned and poisoned the heart of Islam.

Zia was the Saviour.

With an unyielding resolve, the Grand-General-Vizier addressed his nation, his voice resonating with both authority and vulnerability. He called for strength, for unity. He called for a united Muslim Ummah that was not divided by sectarian lines. He spoke of Apocalypse. Of the Jihaad of Jihaads. Driving the people into panic and redirecting it for his purpose. General Zia ul-Haq saw the growing madness of his nation and decided to harness it. They would suffer. They would fight. Against the Aliens. Against the Communists. Against even the hated enemy India herself.

General Zia would not once question his own choices, the toll of his dictatorial regime. It was too late for redemption, only action. Perhaps the General could sese that his time in power would not be long. It would, however, be meaningful.

In the end, it wasn't the iron fist that would save the day, but the indomitable spirit of humanity. The riots subsided, replaced by a collective determination to rebuild and forge a better future. Such would be Zia's propaganda. But how many would forget the jackboots? The Islamist giving way to the technocrat. The feminist giving way to the authoritarian. Zia would give scraps and expect loyalty, calling on the need for unity against the Aliens.

The Sleemos had created a golden age for tinpot dictators. Anything could be justified in the face of human survival. Even more when it came to the survival of Islam. General Zia ul-Haq was an amoral bastard but that was exactly what Pakistan needed. At least that was what he told himself.
 
Asia and Oceania cont.​
As the winds carried fallout from Central China over the Yellow Sea, the world was watching events in East Asia with great interest. The events in China's skies proved to forecast a less belligerent foreign policy and a willingness to compromise, especially with China's former enemy in Vietnam. It was in fact China that proved the biggest obstacle to another Xenonauts base, proposed to cover a plurality of the world's population through a new headquarters in northern Vietnam. There were many advantages to a Vietnamese location: the area around Hanoi included the densest concentration of anti-air defense systems in the world. Tested first in war against the French and Americans and later a decisive factor against the Chinese invasion of 1979, there is good reason to believe it would be a deterrent even against alien forces in combination with new technology.

Such a base offered protection over both China and India, not to mention the densely populated archipelagos of Southeast Asia and Japan, all of which lack modern air defense systems. China had resorted to a nuclear solution to alien incursion in its airspace, and it's rather likely India would have had the same response in a similar situation. Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines and the rest are considered largely incapable of stemming a determined alien attack on their own, and the result could easily be another Zambia. If critiques of the Crete base (one could perhaps say creteiques) focused on how most of the countries in its coverage are capable of defending themselves (a view at once vindicated by European successes in warding off successive alien attacks while also undermined by failures in the Middle East and North Africa) the Vietnam HQ attracted little such opinion. Further, this region is almost as important for world shipping as the Suez/Red Sea area, and everyone stands to benefit from Xenonaut overwatch there.

China, however, had been keen to advocate for another location for the East Asia base, due to its ongoing conflict with Vietnam. The Warsaw Pact strongly believed in the worth of a Vietnamese installation since the first UN Convention on the Xenonaut Charter, however, and worked to mediate the issue with the Chinese. Chinese diplomats subsequently went silent on the issue throughout 1980, and border skirmishes with Vietnam continued. Recently, however, Chinese diplomatic channels were re-opened and talks resumed. China's troops are withdrawn, the embargo is over, and China agreed to pay reparations and promised not to veto any Xenonaut plans to establish their secondary headquarters there. With negotiations concluded, all that was left was to actually pick a suitable location within Vietnam. The world had largely assumed such a base would be centered in Hanoi, as the nexus of Vietnam's air defense network, but that wasn't necessarily true. South Korea advocated for it to be situated in the port of Haiphong, not far from Hanoi and well within the AD system's security radius while being easier to supply by sea and offering the Xenonauts maritime power projection, important in a region of islands. The South Korean arguments won out, and the Xenonauts were all too happy to avoid the urban sprawl of the capital.

This was hardly the end of South Korean's interest in Southeast Asia. Inspired by the similar initiative between Spain, Portugal, Morocco and to some extent the United Kingdom, countries in the vicinity of, and some far beyond, the Malacca Straits would work to form the so-called Malacca Protocol. Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore had championed this bout of military cooperation between their nations late last year, but the program accelerated as more countries were attracted to participate. The Americans supplied advanced military hardware, the Australians substantially invested in regional economies and industries, and South Korea would put boots on the ground. South Korean troops were already present in Malaysia, fighting alongside government forces against communist insurgents - getting up to some controversial antics in the process which the aliens included in their broadcast to the world - but stepped up their deployment to the region as a whole with helicopters, warships, and strategic missile batteries, based out of Singapore. But the South Koreans' most important commitment was rather its officer corps, setting itself to the task of actually implementing the Protocol's provisions across the region's disparate air forces and trying to build clout with other countries such as Thailand and Brunei and win their participation in the Protocol. If East Asia could avoid its own Red Sea Disaster, ... well things will be better for everyone.

The Protocol did not have to wait long to be put to the test. Two alien ships appeared in Philippine airspace, one north of the archipelago and the other south, both flying southwest. The Philippine air force was respectably sized but somewhat lacking in technology, and so the aliens thwarted all Philippine intercept attempts before leaving the country's airspace. The northernmost ship ventured into the disputed waters of the Spratly Islands where it again averted Philippine attacks and drew no reaction from China (preoccupied with its own air war on the mainland) nor Vietnam, which was unaware of the incursion until the aliens entered its airspace despite its airport on the eponymous Trường Sa island. Though well south of the area of Hanoi's well-reputed air defenses, the Vietnamese response was rapid and well-coordinated, and the aliens were brought down southwest of Ho Chi Minh City, not far from the Mekong Delta. Vietnamese troops secured the crashsite several hours later.

It would prove less straightforward with the second UFO, which exited Philippine airspace by crossing the strait to Borneo, triggering initially a failed Malaysian response before the UFO waded into Indonesia's portion of the island. As part of the Malacca Protocol, Malaysia - or more precisely the South Korean officers there - had long sent warning to the Council of Jakarta. Malaysian fighters tailed the object in Indonesian airspace, hoping to combine their forces for a successful confrontation. This squadron included several F-15s imported recently from the United States, as part of America's contribution towards defense of the shipping lanes. On the other hand, Indonesia's air force remained rather small, and of that modest quantity contained only a mere handful of fighters capable of engaging alien craft: hand-me-down F-86s from Australia. Nonetheless, experiences in other countries had proved that even outdated jets could work against the smallest alien vessels. Although the Malaysians were working with some of the most modern aircraft possible, their recent acquisition meant that the pilots had comparatively few flight hours, especially with regard to the post-Iceland avionics systems that were now becoming standard with most American fighter planes. The Malaysians failed, although they suffered no losses, as their weapon systems failed to secure a lock on the UFO before expending all their missiles. It didn't help that the aliens stayed at higher altitude, where their performance almost always supersedes all but the most specialized of Earth's fighter jets.

The situation was little better among the Indonesians. Although they had had much more time to practice, old avionics were not necessarily reliable and especially so when trying to target alien ships. Nonetheless, here the aliens began to descend, perhaps nearing the target for their mission, giving the Indonesians a solid chance to defeat the incursion. This is indeed what happened, and the aliens crashlanded in the remote foothills of south-central Borneo. The crashsite's isolation meant that the Indonesian ground response would take several days to mobilize on location, and once they had done so found that there were no aliens left alive to offer resistance, having expired of oxygen poisoning as was witnessed in Algeria. That did not stop the Indonesians from celebrating their success as a military victory, hoping to stoke prestige for the country's contested government and ease public worries.

And there was cause for worry. The waters of the South China Sea, a hotly contested region between several countries, are also rich fishing grounds which most of the surrounding nations - being island chains with limited space for intensive agriculture, which itself is frequently jeopardized by inclement weather - depend upon at least in part to supplement the food supply. Unfortunately, as with the waters of the Humboldt Current and the North Sea, the aliens have created vast underwater deadzones, crippling marine biodiversity. All this together drew attention once again to the matter of a Xenonaut base in Southeast Asia.

Indonesia's military success was only one small part of the new regime's accomplishments since the invasion. Indonesia's diplomatic offensive made inroads in attracting Australian investment, which while not matching the scale of Pakistan's boom in Gwadar, is nonetheless respectable. Indeed, Pakistan and Indonesia appear keen on building mutual ties, drawing upon their mutual Islamic faith, however troubled the history of Islam in Indonesia has been recently. The two also took notice of Algeria, unwavering in the face of the Battle of Metilli and its economic consequences. Pakistan, of course, needs an oil supplier and either of them would suit this purpose, but the brewing alliance - some might say triple alliance - of these powers appears founded on much more than that. Apart from mutually investing in one other, plans are in place that this bloc will invest elsewhere in the Third World.

Australian investment in Pakistan, for its part, has waned in favor of Spain and Indonesia, though interestingly these investments were subsidized (albeit to an almost negligible extent), with Pakistan alloting a small fund to facilitate its partners' industrialization. The biggest implications for Australian policy however would be Pakistan's intent to buy out the foreign industry in Gwadar, this time leveraging a not-so-insignificant fund, though by itself not quite enough to justify the sale of Australia's sale in Pakistan's economy. However, the deal was facilitated when Australian corruption was found implicit in the companies' previous dealings with Zia. The moguls had charged the dictator more money than had been advertized, and Zia was too... Zia to catch onto it until too late. With Australian involvement in the Gwadar Boom already being slightly unpopular at home, after it became apparent that the moguls had committed fraud and made off with far more money than they had any right to, the pressure was mounting on PM Whitlam to look into the problem. Zia's offer to simply ignore the debt and buy the factories off was an unusual solution, but a workable one nonetheless. So it was that the process of transferring ownership to Pakistani state corporations and private interests began, and though it would be a delicate one and consume much attention and time, it would prove a great political success for both Zia and Whitlam. In addition, it seems that the transfer of a small sample of alien alloys to Pakistan was part of the arrangement.

Although in doing so Whitlam had made himself an enemy in big business, the assurance that they would have many other opportunities for state-subsidized investment overseas placated their most vocal concerns. Meanwhile, a propaganda campaign focusing on the Australian victory against alien forces in the Battle of Armidale served to amplify what meager gains had been won in the dealings with Pakistan. Public service announcements, featuring interviews with veterans of the battle and government officials as well as coverage of victories against the aliens elsewhere, inundated Australian media with the slogan "If we can beat one, we can beat them all!". While at first perhaps comparable to the similar program in France, the Australian media paid little attention to the alien technology recovered after Armidale and indeed almost no genuine alien artifacts were shown on television apart from the battered hulk of the UFO itself.

Although it was hoped to sooth the public's nerves and bolster support for Whitlam's faction within the party (with the opposition decrying it as no more than an early election campaign) events elsewhere in the world would overshadow Whitlam's media offensive. If the alien force that laid waste to Moscow and practically backed an upstart admiral's coup were instead to land in Sydney, Melbourne, or Brisbane... critics say the tiny Australian army would be powerless to stop it. If one similar to that which lead to the total annihilation of Phoenix had come to Australia, well the country does not have nuclear weapons of its own and would need the assistance of a nuclear power, all of them far away. Could Australian troops hope to contain the threat long enough for the bomb to prevent the whole continent being contaminated? Most were not optimistic. Yet some were; after all, if we can beat one, we can beat them all, right? There is a surge of volunteers, young men and women enlisting in record numbers. Armed forces proponents within and without Whitlam's party have urged the government to translate its positive budget into large-scale rearmament, to organize the volunteers into combat-ready formations and stack government positions with military leadership.

Whitlam, being the ever-paranoid sort that he is, has begun to fear for his life - or at least his position. A leak in Australian Intelligence services revealed late last year that the CIA installations in Australia he had ordered shut down (for fear that the CIA would use them to plot his assassination due to his socialist leanings, an anxiety that was aggravated after the USSR's state visit) were, in fact, never shut down at all and remained in full operation. In fact, they had played a role in assessing the probable cause of the Arecibo Incident and its effects in Australia. Whitlam has confided in his friends and supporters that he fears the armed forces' growing influence in the government is no more than the beginnings of a coup in the making, ready to intervene the moment "national security" appears at risk, perhaps indeed all part of the CIA's plan. The Americans of course have denied any such plans, only re-iterating their offers to help Australia defend itself and supply weapons. But that is exactly where it would all begin, yes, with the shipment of new weaponry...
 
An Italian Controversy

"They've truly healed me. It's a miracle."

Some officials in the Italian government had been the first to notice that all the Italian citizens reportedly abducted by aliens during the flyover and several landings in the countryside of Rome shared something in common: terminal illness. While it raised eyebrows and aroused interest in most of those who came by this information, it ultimately gained little traction in the public eye despite its potential significance. The abductees came from a range of age groups, economic background, and ethnic identity; all with some form of cancer, severe diabetes, advanced-stage heart disease, and Parkinsons or other disabilities such as blindness or deafness. Had that been all, perhaps this information would have remained noteworthy but obscure, tucked away in the drawer of some census officer or healthcare professional. But of course that was not all: recently families report their missing members have returned not long after the recent flyover in northern Italy, with their ailments completely absent. Initial skepticism of these claims soon died down after medical testing confirmed the patients were back to good health, with nothing abnormal detected.

The media in Italy was abuzz with the news - some abductees agreed to interviews on national television, where they related what they can remember of their captors. Most who were taken describe their initial terror - aware of their surroundings but helpless and paralyzed (including those not already so), wheeled onto a table and slipping in and out of consciousness to catch only glimpses of their captors and their equipment, the strange smells and sounds aboard a flying spacecraft. Eventually the operation ended after an indeterminate amount of time, and aliens not matching the description of any known specimen spoke with the abductees during recovery, explaining that they had restored their body to normality and discussing at length their apparently benevolent intentions with mankind and Earth. "This is only the beginning," one Doriano Bellini said, paraphrasing his abductor, "they want to research us, to learn how to heal us of every illness and injury." They were all asked if they would like to return home - some, enchanted by their captors, even insisted on staying but were returned anyway, perhaps indicating that it was not actually a choice.

The subjects were then loaded into pods which were - apparently - fired from the UFO that made its way through southern France and eventually downed in Yugoslavia. They were then discovered, having landed safely in their gardens or in the middle of city streets, provoking no shortage of panic though it was quickly overshadowed by coverage of the events in Moscow and Phoenix.

While many report being overjoyed at their miraculous recovery, things are not all sunshine and rainbows for the returned abductees. Some insist that they never consented to any kind of novel treatment and indicate that they might not have even if they knew it would clear their disability. Some families have lost access to benefits as a result of no longer needing so much care, with some abductees being forced to (re-)join the workforce to support themselves and help family pay off medical debts. Social dynamics with their support network of friends and family has changed, with some relationships being revealed as quite different than what they thought. Moreover, even months after the fact, patients report that the trauma of alien abduction, regardless of results, manifests as severe insomnia and anxiety attacks triggered by certain sounds and the abundance of alien-related news stories, inhibiting everyday life. Some also indicate there are sores, pains, "brain fog" and "cloudiness" that did not exist before.

This is hardly the worst of their woes since returning home. Fuelled by an abundance of conspiracy theories in the wake of news of alien infiltrators in Poland and hysteria about a similar possiblity in France, some Italians are convinced the patients are no more than alien spies, having assumed a disguise and "replaced" their captives. It does not help that many of them, after their experiences, have genuinely come to regard the aliens as misunderstood and here to do good, and spoke at length about this opinion on television. The abductees, particularly those who initially agreed to reveal themselves to the public, have been subjected to obscene levels of harassment, and given the volatile political climate of Italy these days it may be of little surprise that one has allegedly been murdered.

Now, with world attention gradually turning away from the aftermath of the titanic struggles in Moscow and Phoenix toward other affairs, the phenomenon in Italy is coming to light worldwide. More concerningly, however, it seems Italy is only the first documented case, as some missing individuals in other countries are said to have returned from space...
 
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Translation of Zohreh Teymouri's Speech on the 14th of Farvardin Addressing the Women's Marches against Forced Tchador and Hidjab, by Jacqueline Courvoisier for the "Mouvement de libération des femmes"

The following is a partial translation of a speech held by revolutionary feminist-socialist activist Zohreh Teymouri on the 14th of Farvardin (3rd of April), 1980.

Zohreh Teymouri led the historic 1971 uprising that attacked and defeated a gendarmerie garrison in the village of Siahkal, Mazandaran, proving to the world and to Iran that the patriarchal dictatorship of Citizen Mohammed Reza could be overcome, not by the mystical-masculinist posturing of useless fanatics but by the determination of rebellious women. When the would-be mystic Khomeini subsequent to the heroic revolution in 1979 unveiled his true colours to the world by demanding that women once more be veiled, she was one of many women who organized action against his sectarian tyranny.

While in 1971, she was associated with the "Organisation des guérillas des fedayin du peuple iranien" (Organization of Iranian People's Feda'i Guerillas), she has since risen to membership in the Central Committee of the "Union révolutionnaire des femmes militantes" (Revolutionary Union of Militant Women) along with other heroic former women members of the OGFPI (OIPFG) such as Marziyeh Ahmadi Osku'i, who likewise were misled and had their interests as citizenesses subordinated to the male-dominated leadership of the guerilla-chic revolutionary organizations. An avowed atheist who does not permit the mysticisms of patriarchal religion to deceive her as to the state and necessity of women's liberation, she has shown, and continues to show through the brave citizenesses of the Iranian Women and People's Revolution, that just as the French woman has paved the way for her sisters in the Occident, the Iranian woman must be the elder sister who shows the way to her younger sisters of the Orient, oppressed as they are, in the state of sectarian oppression and utmost patriarchy.

In this time of foreign incursion into the stratosphere of our Earth, when men are more than ever dictating the fate of humankind and of womankind, we must not relent in our demands, but must let the world know that women will achieve her liberty and her equality by any means necessary, by which we may bury the corpse of patriarchy. We extend a sisterly hand to the citizeness Iran, that Marianne may carry her sister from oppression and take the veil that so obscures her beautiful face from her hair. Long live the liberation of women, long live the Women's and People's Revolution.

Article:
The French feminist Simone de Beauvoir said, "One is not born but becomes a woman". By this is meant the process of male observation and teaching with which they transform us from "human" into "woman". In France and Europe, they are saying, they let the girls be human first before they teach them to be women, but here in Iran they make us be woman so early that one could be forgiven for thinking we were born as such. Listen to those rascals [nâmardân] shouting at us, saying "Women's unveiling means the dishonour of men" and see how they consider us as beasts to be disciplined.

What do your husbands say when you give birth to a girl? He is dismayed and angry! Which father would want a girl who can only be married away? He wants a strong son! Already when a girl is born, these men begin to make her into a woman. She has not yet left the womb and felt her mother's love before they steal her from your breasts and want to marry her away!

If you listen to this rascal [Khomeini], he lies and deflects, saying that Rasulollah [the Prophet Mohammed] did not conquer like the United States to gain greater territory out of greed, but that he meant to conquer to teach us to be human. That is how they see us, sisters, not even human.

[At this point, Citizeness Teymouri begins pointing at members of the audience]

You, khaanom doktor [Miss Doctor]! They will not pay you the same wage as a man who is a hundred times your inferior, and when you marry him, he would rather have you stay home so he can feel good about himself, no? And what about you khaanom nevisande [Miss Writer], are you married to an intellectual? Perhaps a real thinker? Does he love you for your words, or does he love you for his satisfaction in your slavery? What of khaanom khaanande (Miss Singer) whose beautiful singing voice her husband would rather keep in the cage of his home than let sing to the world?

When you talk back, they always say "ah the whip of God is the tongue of men" [Iranian proverb], and then they raise the belt to discipline you like animals, for in the home every man wishes to be Shah. I say, the tongue of God is the whip of men, if you just hear how this haafez [someone who knows the entire Qur'an by heart] can cite, and you would think there is nothing a woman does which is not impermissible. She must not speak, she must not let herself be seen, she must not have sex, she must not be unavailable, she must not be silent when spoken to! If these rascals had their way, at the end of Hajji Morad [satirical short story by the writer Sâdeq Hedâyat], the police officer would whip the money changer's wife instead!

[At this, there is a mixture of laughter and revolutionary slogans in the crowd]

Listen to what they are shouting in return to us, they say that if we go without veil, we will become prostitutes. Why are the rascals so afraid of this? They know that any woman who could sell herself would rather sell body to death than to one of their kind. They need to muffle and hide us away so that this evil man [Khomeini] can prostitute us instead, like Reza Pahlavi who owned four women that he still called wives. Sisters, until every woman is a soldier for our liberation, we can never be free.

Why do you think they will not let us read? Why do you think they tell us to stay inside? Why do you think they tell us we must cover our faces? Why do they tell us not to work? Why do they tell us to fear God? If we knew the name of our oppression—class and gender—and the faces of our sisters, our great masses, what we can accomplish and what little power they truly have, we would never fear them again! Sisters, I tell you, hundreds of thousands of us women have marched in these streets, and this rascal is cowering as if hiding from an earthquake.

They are beating us, they are shooting us, dragging out the misled in chaador and hejaab, they are firing us. They threaten us with beatings, death and rape but in his palace, the rascal cannot stop us more than he can stop the sunrise!
Source: 14th of Farvardin Speech Excerpt
 
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Last global recap
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    • (Herein I will attempt to summarize the last global as concisely as possible to get this game back on its feet after the long hiatus of - according to the notification below this message box, eight months.)



    Europe​
    (Details here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC and here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC and here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC and here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC)
    - In the wake of the escalating Solidarnosc movement, which the Soviet Union says to be the work of alien infiltrators, Poland is collapsing as a military coup begins to enforce martial law.
    - Turkey also collapses and faces a similar situation, minus the possibility of alien subversion, as an intensified Kurdish insurgency meets a fractured government after the recent elections produced no decisive victor and instead a body of five generals launch a coup in a desperate bid to stabilize the country.
    - France faces severe internal dissent as coverage of the events in Poland reveal the possibility that alien infiltration exists and will subvert human societies - the right believes this has already happened at the highest levels in France, and worked to sow distrust in the Alien Ministry's broadcasts. One of the most popular faces of the Alien Ministry has stepped down in light of these events, but not before delivering a speech to the nation.
    - Battle of Moscow/the Olympics; alien forces attack the 1980 Moscow Olympics after a long air campaign throughout Poland and the USSR. Soviet forces had prepared for this in advance, together with a Xenonaut detachment, and were able at long last to defeat the intruders. Nonetheless the previous Marshal of the Soviet Union was forced to resign and in his place Valery Sablin stepped up. International media coverage of the Olympics caught scenes of terror as much as triumph during the battle.
    - The events in Poland and France have been consequential elsewhere. In the United Kingdom for example, hopes were high that the reality of alien infiltration could be kept secret to prevent panic, and this effort has been thoroughly undermined by the very open and free nature of French media and the eagerness of some to create equivalent programs translating the Alien Ministry's efforts into English and a slew of other languages. It didn't help that there is a sizeable Polish minority as well. As the British government has yet to issue a statement on the subject of alien infiltration or answers to the Polish question a movement has grown for a press conference on the matter. Similar pressure mounts in West Germany, as things are moving so fast that governments barely have time to comment.
    - Meanwhile, a delicate ceasefire has been cultivated in Northern Ireland, although more permanent peace negotiations have been stymied by PM Whitelaw's hesitation to pivot towards physically arming insurgents that they may better defend against alien incursion without having to rely on ... what's left of the Royal Air Force.
    - Spain's elections conclude with enough of a victory that the incumbent government is inclined to raise taxes while increasing its military commitments worldwide, as Spanish veterans of civil war increasingly take part in UN operations in Antarctica and Africa. Spain refits its aging navy and sends humanitarian aid to countries battered by alien attacks in the Red Sea, which has also sabotaged the flow of oil to various Mediterranean countries, such as Italy. Spain has attracted Italian investment in return for getting all of Spain's meager domestic oil production.
    - East Germany's government pivots away from the traditional plan of "Stability of Cadres" and instead towards "Refreshing the Cadres"; in other words revitalizing the conservative political leadership of the country and party with new, younger faces, with a different vision for how to successfully build socialism. This has not gone completely without a hitch.
    - An alien formation which began over France eventually makes its way over Italy, during which time apparently some previously-abducted people were returned unharmed or in even better condition than when they were taken. While Italy was the first to report on this phenomenon, it has recently surfaced in France and Germany as well. The abductees have spoken of the aliens' supposed benevolent intentions but have won little sympathy and indeed only aroused paranoia as they are repeatedly harassed.
    - Said formation was finally defeated in the skies above Yugoslavia, a country caught in a tenuous position as the Central Committee has effectively assumed more and more control as Tito is said to be approaching death. Although reliant on a Xenonaut squadron to defeat the UFO in the skies above the Bosnian Republic, Yugoslavia hoped to win a propaganda victory amid stirs of anxiety about something similar to Moscow and Phoenix happening in, say, Belgrade, and sought to win the ground engagement itself. It did, and Yugoslavia has secured alien technology at last.

    Americas​
    (Details here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC and here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC)
    - South America is becoming a really important theater, in both Cold War and Alien War terms: Argentina is all but openly collaborationist with the alien invasion and Venezuela has reverse-engineered the most alien technology so far, being just months away from outfitting brigades with laser weapons; it could be the first country to do so. Cuba has slightly liberalized its economy and ended its arms commitments to rebels across the hemisphere as part of a bid to get the USA to lift its embargo, which worked actually. On the other hand some argue that with the reduction of Cuban and Warsaw Pact aid to revolutionaries in the region, many radical socialist movements have been forced to align with the revitalized Fourth Internationale, based in Buenos Aires, which champions a Posadist ideology which, out-of-character, believes the alien invasion to be beneficial for humankind, but in-character maintains some plausible deniability to that effect.
    - Chile has collapsed into something like a 4-way civil war between liberal generals, indigenous movements, the remaining Pinochet loyalists, and a growing Collaborationist movement. As such it is probably inadvisable as a player choice. At the behest of Argentine representatives of the UN, a motion was passed condemning Pinochet's regime, which in the eyes of some gave a blank check to work to undermine his government. These efforts were not coordinated however, and thus while Pinochet's authority has collapsed, in its place exists only chaos; Mexico backs an insurgency pressing for a free Wallmapu, Eurocommunists and Cubans back existing socialist rebels leftover from Allende's time, Argentina aids upstart alien collaborationists, and in the midst of it all a coalition of army generals who had been plotting their own coup attempt to restore order. Pinochet himself is at large but believed to still be alive, possibly gathering strength somewhere in some forgotten corner of the Chilean Andes.
    - Colombia's insurgency has escalated in comparison to real life at this date, and is considered an outright civil war. American armed forces are stationed in Bogota and conducting airstrikes against heavily-armed insurgents and intercept missions against stray UFOs in the area. Colombia has, together with Ecuador, joined Venezuela in a full military alliance, the three hoping to become a bastion of liberal democracy in a wartorn and increasingly hysterical world and gain access to Venezuela's alien technology in the process while repelling the growing influence of Argentina. The three have moved together to sign bilateral treaties of friendship and mutual defense with Peru and Bolivia.
    - The regimes in both Peru and Bolivia have been convinced to schedule elections near the start of the turn to follow, in return for military and economic aid from the United States and Venezuela. They are likely to be chaotic elections, as both countries face insurgencies growing in strength, especially in Bolivia where a collaborationist movement has surfaced.
    - Brazil would be struggling to cope with intense general and labor strikes across the country and the slow democratization of the regime while serious insurgencies pick up in strength and alien intruders wreak ecological havoc in the Amazon Rainforest. In some other regards things are looking up, as Brazil reaches out to the Alliance for Progress for aid and has secured Latin America's first nuclear reactor as part of a deal with France, who has ignored previous qualms of a nuclear Brazil due to the human rights abuses of the dictatorship. Such energy infrastructure is an important move in a world where access to petroleum is increasingly tenuous.
    - Although American air assets played an important role in warding off alien incursions in allies throughout the world, the United States itself was also battered by repeated alien assaults for the last six months. Two small UFOs terrorized Alaska, while a formation of alien ships sparked panic in New York and provoked a long air battle over New England. Two further alien formations appeared in the Southwest, apparently triggering earthquakes in Los Angeles and eventually culminating in the Battle of Phoenix, the first protracted ground campaign against the extraterrestrial, involving upwards of 200,000 soldiers and an unknown number of alien combatants. Probably (definitely?) the largest such operation on American soil since the Civil War. Beginning with the mobilization of state and federal troops to meet the threat and ending with the "contamination" of Phoenix and the deployment of nuclear weapons on August 7th 1980, media coverage of the battle has overshadowed many other events worldwide and triggered a massive uptick in Hysteria. The President's ambitious program of social reforms paid for by increased taxation has so far been a resounding success, however some have questioned the President's growing power to authorize military force without consent from Congress in the wake of the Cunene Highlands Resolution. This is the alternate history equivalent of the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, though it's a bit more broad in scope, and has allowed American airstrikes in Colombia as much as the US naval blockade of apartheid South Africa, for which the Resolution is named.
    - Mexico has remained firmly focused in domestic affairs, although it acquired older squadrons of fighter jets from Canada to augment its air defense capability in case of an alien incursion. The events north of the border necessarily raised alarm in Mexico, especially as NORAD speculated the alien formation had actually flown into the United States from Mexican airspace completely undetected by local sensor arrays due to its immense speed and initial high altitude. The effects of the nuclear detonation in Arizona have also had minor effects in the Chihuahuan Desert as fallout may have contaminated livestock and crops, but this has not been cause for too much concern as the area is sparsely populated and has relatively low crop yield. Meanwhile abroad, Mexico has taken a firmly pro-indigenous stance in various questions: possibly aiding Maya insurgents in Guatemala, the Miskito people's efforts to resist Daniel Ortega's Spanish literacy program in Nicaragua, the Mapuche people's efforts to establish a free Wallmapu in the midst of Chile's civil war, and so on.

    Africa​
    (Details here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC and here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC)
    - The UN authorizes a mission to restore Zaunda's rule in Zambia after an alien-triggered famine led to a mass uprising that toppled his regime. South Africa also probably had something to do with it. Ironically some Zambians and others in neighboring countries have taken up arms as overt alien collaborationists, and engage UN forces with little success. Zaunda has re-assumed order in the capital, but heavy fighting in the countryside continues, as does the UN mission, who carry out their secondary objective of creating a reasonable headquarters to defend Southern Africa from alien attacks, plus humanitarian relief and reconstruction effort. A corresponding effort, lead by India and South Korea, is based in Kenya to offer a similar umbrella of protection to Eastern Africa, though some fear this is no more than a ploy to gain influence in the region rather than the supposedly more altruistic aims of the UN mission to Zambia. Similar things are said of France's establishment of the Ministry of Cooperation, which after the French intervention in the Central African Republic, has successfully reshaped the perspective of French involvement in the region among local countries towards more positive viewpoints.
    - Ethiopia is not doing so well in their civil war, and Somalia appears to be gearing up for Ogaden War round 2 or alternatively escalating its disputes with Kenya, having apparently found an unknown foreign sponsor. Meanwhile, Libya is mounting pressure on the northern border with Chad.
    - Ever since the alleged nuclear test in the South Indian ocean and the collapse of minority rule in Zimbabwe (former Rhodesia), pressure has never been harder on the apartheid regime of South Africa. The United States has ordered a total naval blockade to enforce a complete economic embargo, using a carrier task force, and goes so far as to violate international law in boarding and detaining ships suspected to be carrying weapons to South Africa, confiscating any such shipments. European allies and others have also joined on this embargo, with Spain threatening to nationalize any company found to continue dealing with South Africa. Cuban, Angolan, and East German forces, together with Namibian separatists, have repeled a South African offensive and look to counterattack into Namibia itself, with materiel support from the United Kingdom and Yugoslavia. With WarPac forces on the ground, Western forces at sea, aliens in orbit, and uprisings rippling through its interior, South Africa's current regime must surely be in its twilight.
    - Much of this success came on the back of a de-escalation of fighting in the Angolan Civil War, made possible by a combined effort of Cuba and East Germany on the MPLA side and with Brazil and South Korea on the UNITA side. However, South Africa had severely maimed UNITA during Operation Sceptic, and MPLA was no longer interested in compromise with so thoroughly weakened an enemy, preventing complete ceasefire but nonetheless brokering enough of such that coalition forces could prepare to sweep through and liberate Namibia.
    - Algeria receives an outpouring of aid and support from various countries, including Yugoslavia, Italy, Libya, and Venezuela. The lead-up to the Battle of Metilli lead to the devastation of its most important oil fields and most of its armoured corps, which while bad news for Algeria was arguably even worse for the countries dependent on its oil supply, especially after the devastating Red Sea Campaign saw weeks' worth of fuel deficit due to alien bombardment of ports and tanker ships. This, among other things, lead to an OPEC meeting which ended with an announcement that the cartel would be raising oil prices.
    - While the world resolved to aid Zambia through the region's crisis, a similar scenario in Sudan was largely left to Egypt to solve. Egyptian troop presence has effectively maintained the weakened government's rule over the country, undermined by the alien bombardment of Port Sudan, which crippled the country's economy as over 90% of its trade was annihilated. Egypt allowed Sudan to send materials through its own ports, and has invested significant resources in the defense and economic recovery of its southern neighbor, to such a degree that some say Sudan is becoming little more than a puppet state of Egypt. The two have signed a mutual defense pact. Similar efforts have been mirrored further up the Nile Basin, as Egyptian air defense missiles and other weaponry is lent to Tanzania and Somalia, while Egyptian troops are deployed to Uganda to help the newly-installed government keep order and reduce the burden of Tanzanian occupation.
    - Egypt arranged a worldwide vote to extend the UNEFII's mandate in Sinai. Due to the peace treay with Israel, neither country could deploy troops in the region, a liability for efforts to defend the all-important Suez Canal from alien attack. Egypt's arguments won almost universal agreement and it was decided that defense of the Canal would be a semi-permament UN mission in the Sinai, to which multiple countries have contributed.

    Asia and Oceania​
    (Details here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC and here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC and here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC)
    - Two alien formations flew over Central China, where they were all but invincible. These particular UFOs were too large, too fast, and too well-armed for any of China's vast but largely obsolete air force to pose much of a threat. Fortunately, the Chinese had gathered as much themselves, and had long been developing a new kind of nuclear weapon delivery system that could be used against hostile UFOs in flight. Such weapons were deployed for the first time, after conventional air battles saw the UFO's escort fighters defeated, at great cost to the PLAAF. The nuclear airbursts in the regions of Ankang and Chongqing occurred in relatively rural areas far from the major population centers, but the effects on the local population as well as those downwind and downstream are apparent. At least the UFO formation leaders were downed and no longer pose a threat to China or other countries, though the Chinese have not been able to salvage as much from their wreckages as hoped.
    - Another UFO flew over northern Japan, which itself was facing revolution on the horizon. The local American garrison proved itself worthy with an exemplary performance against the alien scout, bringing it down in Hokkaido and leaving the wreckage to Japan to study, after the deduction was made for the Xenonauts of course. Despite perceived American generosity in complying with the rules of the Xenonaut Charter all countries had agreed to, Japan is on the verge of civil war as the ruling New Left parties push for radical reforms and distribute arms to their paramilitary wings, and violence has already erupted in the streets which already resulted in an American soldier deployed in Osaka being shot in the crossfire. Pressure is on for the Americans to intervene.
    - An alien intruder in the Korean Peninsula dodged American and South Korean intercept attempts and flew into the North's airspace. While American fighters tailing the UFO withdrew, South Korean fighters proceeded with the North's permission, as part of the Minjok Defense Pact between the two nations. They kept a close eye on its position to relay to the scrambling North Korean pilots. Eventually the UFO landed in the countryside, where North Korean soldiers mobilized to the site by helicopter and eventually secured the world's first example of an undamaged alien spacecraft, albeit a small one. That is the testimony of South Korean pilots involved, however; the official North Korean story is that actually the UFO was a daring American raid to poison the water supply, bravely thwarted by the national heroes. North Korea has used this to justify refusing a Xenonaut delegation to take the usual 10% tithe and get a look at the intact reactor, becoming the first country since the Alien War to violate the Xenonaut Charter.
    - Long had the world, especially East Asian countries, hoped for a second Xenonauts base to be built in Vietnam, particularly around Hanoi. The USSR and Eastern Bloc allies supported a Vietnamese bid to host such a base, but although there were many advantages to such a location, including protection over vital shipping lanes, oil producers, and a plurality of the world's living human population, significant obstacles remained including the volatile political situation of Indochina. For one Vietnam was actively fighting the Chinese in border skirmishes leftover from the Chinese invasion of late '79, and engaged with Cambodian insurgents in opposition to its successful invasion of the Khmer Rouge just before that. Perhaps sobered by the so-called Flare of Chongqing, Chinese policy toward Vietnam laxened. Troops were withdrawn from the border, the economic embargo was lifted, and China indicated it would no longer veto a Vietnamese base. The Xenonauts thus established their second HQ in a secret location near Haiphong, the area chosen for its proximity to the air defense network of Hanoi but being easier to supply by sea. An East German brigade, made up entirely of volunteers from the NVA, has been transferred to Xenonaut Command to form the first troopers of this region, continuing East Germany's growing ties with Vietnam.
    - During this time the base was put to the test almost immediately with alien forces attacking the Philippines and eventually entering Vietnamese and Indonesian airspace. Both were eventually downed by the countries' respective air forces and secured by their armies with Xenonaut assistance.
    - After Australian enterprises in Pakistan were caught up in scandal after scandal, Pakistan motioned to nationalize the industries, a move which met little Australian resistance and made Prime Minister Whitlam an enemy of big business, though they were nonetheless financially compensated for the seizure. As important economic leaders in Australia give the PM the cold shoulder and even members of his own party are alienated by some of his decisions, like inviting the Soviet Premier for a state visit, and Australian intelligence revealed that the CIA monitoring stations he had ordered shut down were in fact still in full operation - not to mention the ever-looming alien threat which Australia proved itself ill-prepared to face during the Battle of Armidale - Whitlam has grown increasingly paranoid. Hysterically so, some say...
    - Pakistan's economic boom meanwhile continues apace, with Australian investment gradually superseded by American and Spanish involvement, while new trade partners surface in the form of France, China, Algeria, and Indonesia. Zia's ambitious gamble to prioritize rapid industrialization above all else and political success in nationalizing the massive influx of manufacturing capacity brought by Australian business has so far paid off, but cracks are beginning to show - an insurgency brews in the countryside where valuable uranium is mined for shipment to South Korea, an operation considered so vital for the latter that Seoul may consider intervening after workers at the mines went on strike for fear of their safety after a work truck was bombed by tribal fighters, delaying the shipment.
    Middle East​
    (Details here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC)
    - The provisional government of Iran has driven Khomeini into refuge in the holy city of Qom, where he preaches against the efforts of Iran's revolution undertaken since he was ousted as its leader. With the help of Soviet intelligence and French experience, Mehdi Bazargan - the closest thing to a leader Iran has in the moment - launched a media offensive against Khomeini, which was unexpectedly successful not in weakening Khomeini so much as strengthening the revolutionary government's position. Vigilantes were encouraged to act against Khomeini, however in the meantime it seems outright civil war has been avoided in Iran.
    - Bazargan would also endeavor to settle the matter of the Arvand Rud / Shatt al-Arab river, the allocation and traffic of its water long a matter of dispute with neighboring Iraq since the days of the Shah. The Soviets would mediate a potential treaty between the two nations, hosting a summit in Samarkand. There, the Iraqi delegation, emboldened by reports by Iraqi intelligence that Iran was in no position to militarily resist their demands, and convinced that Iran's allies would be unable to help them while the aliens besiege their capitals, stubbornly refused to compromise and simply issued demands, all of which Iran has refused. War between Iran and Iraq looms at the horizon, though few are convinced it will last more than a couple months...
    - For its part, both Iraq and Iran had received a great deal of technical and military assistance from France, keen on leveraging the influence it has possessed in the region since the downfall of the Ottoman Empire. The French were constructing a nuclear reactor in Iraq which, according to Israeli apologists, was merely the first step on the road toward Saddam acquiring nuclear weapons. True or not, the Israelis were enough convinced of the urgency of it that a small squadron of Israeli fighter-bombers flew on a secret mission through several countries in an attempt to bomb the reactor and render it inoperable. Unlike the historical outcome of this operation, the Iraqis received warning in advance and their air defense personnel - on more alert than ever with aliens dipping in and out of the atmosphere - repeled the Israeli attempt. The move has done little to discourage French and Italian aid to Iraq.
    Worldwide​
    (Details here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC and here: Xenonauts 1979: IC IC)
    - Alien activity in Antarctica enticed the UN to authorize a military expedition to liberate the continent, as all research bases at the south pole had gone silent after the first few months of the invasion. Countless countries participated in the mission in some way, with ships, aircraft, submarines, experienced mountaineers, port facilities and more. The operation was successful in retaking control of some bases, but not all, and cost - materiel and human - is rising. Reconnaissance has also located a large alien construction in Antarctica, the nature and purpose of which remains unknown.
    - The world was faced with a resolution on what to do about alien materials recovered in international territory, such as the high seas or indeed Antarctica itself. After two rounds of indecisive voting, no conclusion has been reached on this subject.
    - The aliens broadcast a message for all mankind, indicating that they would accept a surrender but only one tendered by a popular referendum of all humanity, not something produced by the UN's bureaucracy.
    ​
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Zia Noire 2 - Cut the Cards, Punch a Shark
    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



    Ost​

    Once again he was in an acrid cigar smoke filled office. Once again he was talking to strange Romance language speaker. Once again he was selling the country. Once again General Zia ul-Haq would decide the fate of his country.


    The dimly lit office murmured with uneasy anticipation. Outside, the streets of Islamabad lay still, a calm not latched in the more rural hinterlands of Balochistan. General Zia ul-Haq sat at his desk, the weight of the world pressing down on him, a storm of smoke swirling from the Cuban pleasantly inserted between his lips. The air was thick with the scent of tobacco and the acrid stench of impending war.


    Saddam the bastard was finally going to do it. They had all seen it. Zia remembered the conversation he had with Gaston (at least that was what he thought his name was since it wasn't Pepe) and it hadn't been a good one. The Israeli attack on Saddam was an annoying. The failure to gimp his reactor meant a tinpot dictator threatening the balance of the world was too close to developing nuclear warheads. Though at least an Israeli failure in Iraq likely meant the Israelis wouldn't be targeting Pakistan. It seemed the Almighty protected even the worst of his faithful. Zia gave a silent prayer and prepared himself for what would come next


    The Iran-Iraq conflict was going to happen. The Iranian Revolution had destabilised the region. The Gulf was a cauldron of mistrust and old grudges and now we had to fear women coming out of the kitchen and bashing in the heads of corrupt politicians. Zia would approve if it wasn't for a general mistrust that the public could target the right people. He respected women. Enjoyed good shapely figure within a Burqa as much as any ma. But more than that, he knew their dangers. The scarlet letter. His mother holding a rolling pin. Women could be fierce. And so he would tolerate the Iranians. Perhaps things could be learnt from them.


    Still instability provided an opportunity and chaos was a ladder. The gulf was now a chessboard; the pieces men, and the stakes survival. Zia liked men but he liked survival more. Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, sensing the ominous winds of war, had reached out to Pakistan, not with pleas but with cold offers of mutual defense pacts. The ink on the treaties was still wet, the signatures barely dry, but the agreements were already heavy with the promise of blood and steel. This was Defence Diplomacy.

    Pakistan did not have oil. It did not have the advanced technologies of the West nor the supreme industry of the East. But Pakistan had men. Pakistan had zeal. And Pakistan was controllable. A mad dog willing to do anything for money and faith - in that order.

    Zia knew the game he was playing was dangerous. The pacts were a double-edged sword—on one side, they offered a shield, an alliance that could protect Pakistan from the chaos spreading like wildfire across the Middle East. On the other, they were a noose tightening around his neck, binding him to the decisions of foreign monarchs and the unpredictable whims of war.

    But the ties went both ways. Pan-Arabism had failed so now perhaps? Pan-Islamism may stand a chance. And this agreement with the Gulf provided a way for Pakistan to assert its role as Protector of the Faith. Pakistan was borne of Islam. And through Islam it would rise.

    As he brooded over the documents on his desk, the door creaked open, and Luigi slipped in like a shadow. The Italian was a creature of the night, his movements as fluid and silent as a cat. He had the kind of charm that could disarm even the most guarded of men, his feline grace only matched by the sharpness of his mind. Zia rather liked him and that made him wary. The last person who made Zia feel this way was that American woman. A charming character but cunning in equal measure.


    Luigi, a representative of the Italian government, had come to Pakistan for one reason—oil, the lifeblood of nations. Italy was a wounded beast, scarred and hurt from its own battles against the Sleemo, yet here was Luigi, dressed in a sleek, dark suit that barely contained the danger lurking beneath his polished exterior. He moved with the confidence of a man who knew his value, his pretty eyes glinting with an arrogant mirth bright like a flash of lightning within a storm. He settled into a chair across from Zia. Pakistan was not a significant oil exporter but through ties built as a Defender of Islam, Pakistan had stockpiled years worth of oil usage.

    "General," Luigi purred, his voice smooth and thick like honeyed wine. "I hear you've been busy. Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Indonesia, Algeria… those are powerful friends to have in times like these."

    Zia eyed Luigi with a mixture of suspicion and grudging respect. The Italian wasn't too dissimilar to the last foreign representative who had darkened his door—a mysterious Frenchman who had been all business, charm and danger, a walking blueprint of French geopolitical ambitions. Zia had been glad when he left. His replacements had been the more boring, banal sorts but that French man? Well Zia pitied his correligionists in West Africa. The Italian in comparison resembled a snake more than the devil of the French, Luis had a name and Zia didn't fear he was going to suffer a coup from insulting him. It helped that twinkish good looks were less intimidating than striking handsomeness.

    "I have what Pakistan needs," Luigi continued, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, "and you, General, have what Italy desires. This could be the beginning of a beautiful partnership."

    Zia knew better than to trust a man like Luigi—his feline grace masked claws that could tear into you if you let your guard down. Yet there was something about him, a raw, animal magnetism that made you want to believe every word he said. It seemed the Italian Cat-Boy knew how to play the game. The Italian were, yes, but in a distant way, a tool that Zia could wield in the murky world of international politics. One with less danger than a True Great Power. Not that Zia would say as much to the Italians he so desperately needed investment from.

    The general took a long drag from his cigat, a Cuban Sunday in this shitshow of an existence, his eyes never leaving Luigi's. The war drums were beating louder with each passing day, and only those who could mobilise their nations the best would survive the coming alien apocalypse. Zia had sold his countrymen to foreign exploitation many times and while dissent was growing, they would endure.


    "We will eat grass if we must, Luigi, but Pakistan will survive. " Zia finally said, his voice low and measured.


    The Italian smiled, a slow, predatory grin that revealed nothing but promised everything. "May this be a mutually beneficial agreement, General."


    Zia leaned back in his chair, exhaling a cloud of smoke. The pieces were moving, the board was set. And with men like Luigi in the game, Zia knew the stakes had just gotten higher. Pakistan was moving into the Gulf and Italy would have a guy on the inside. At least, that was what the general intended to offer. Italy seemed disinterested in more than just getting the oil and free shares in Pakistani industries at Pakistan's own expense. But such was the cost when Italy's expertise was so helpful. If Zia had to bend over to empower the country? So be it. He'd bend over and think of England with a grave that would put a New York Nancy to shame. That was the Zia Way!

    "How Fucci." he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips as General Zia ul-Haq borrowed a phrase from his previous meetings with the Frenchman. A sign of his desire to seem educated and sophisticated.

    "Oh and General?" The Italian stopped before turning. A threatening smile with tempestuous eyes that reminded Zia of the rage a woman with legs that went on for days would have if someone grabbed her butt. "So be careful with your agreements with Gaddafi. We are not blind to them."

    Zia stared back silently.

    Luigi continued. "Don't cause a mess in our yard or we may be included to do similar to you. Our temper has been… shortened from the recent alien attack." With that the Italian left and Zia breathed a sigh of relief.

    He wasn't sure how much the Italians knew but it didn't matter. Pakistan would survive.

    Zia would ensure it by any means necessary.
     
    Last edited:
    Article:
    This is the CBS evening news, with Walter Cronkite!

    "Almost 40,000 refinery workers threatened strike today as the government of Prime Minister Bazargan moved forwards with the ratification of the new Constitution of the Democratic Republic of Iran. This constitution, which was drafted last year and has been under heavy fire from both the right and left in the fledgling republic, has gone unsigned since its drafting but has been under especially harsh criticism since last month when the Freedom Movement of Iran, the Prime Minister's own party, announced an agreement with mister Mohammed Shariatmadari's Muslim People's Republican Party and a smattering of smaller parties. Protests have broken out in Tehran, and both the OIPFG and IRGC, Maoist and Islamic guerilla organizations, have vowed to resist its ratification with violence if necessary. Bob McNamara is there to report."

    The camera cuts to a scene from central Tehran, a congested cityscape of streets widely built yet still too tight for the winding and weaving of Iranian drivers, a motorized anarchy of cars each trying to find some advantage by which to pass one another and move on with their busy days. On the nearly non-existent sidewalk, and in-between the cars, men and women either walk or march, holding aloft banners and shouting in Persian, seemingly heedless of the cars themselves, as if they weren't there at all. As if distantly and beneath the shouting of angry Iranians, the hustle and bustle of regular chatter makes it through to the camera like a whispered sussurus of murmuring, eternally too far away to make out, yet just close enough to tantalize the imagination. The sounds of the distant city are only interrupted by the grainy voice of the speaking journalist transmitting from there.

    "Chaotic demonstrations erupted just yesterday, when the Prime Minister's coalition announced that it would ratify the new constitution, which has long been a controversial object of political division in Iran. It's far from the intensity of the Revolution, where these scenes were so frequent that the cars couldn't even drive, but the political scenery is still far from pretty for the government which only holds a plurality in the Iranian Parliament."

    The camera pans over the street, pointing towards the palace of government and the unadorned tricolour of the Iranian Republic wafting from its position on flagpoles and Iranian soldiers in dress uniform standing on guard outside the doors.

    "The new constitution has been criticized heavily for compromising too much; to the Muslim fundamentalist clergy of the Shia religion, the constitution allows minority religions far too much power and leaves no role for clergy in government, not to mention maintains a secular republic with no adherence to any religion. Indeed, experts say that the constitution is inspired by a French approach to religion, dubbed laïcité, meaning that religion is completely separated from government. Criticism is far from restricted to the Muslim fundamentalists, however, and the law has also come under criticism from the opposite end of the religious spectrum:"

    The camera pans to a leftist rally, with tricolours and red flags alike, a speaker standing on a stage with a podium. He is shouting and rallying the listeners, who shout "Dorud bar parastar, dorud bar moallem, dorud bar qazi" in solidarity with female nurses, teachers and judges. The camera fixates on them, demonstrating the crowd's vast size and intensity.

    "From the left, we are seeing heavy criticism that it insufficiently protects workers' rights and threatens to illegalize workers' assemblies, as well as the revolutionary committees that currently form a significant element of judiciary and government. In addition, the constitution's federalist elements are also under significant criticism; strikingly from not just traditional enemies of such, but also from several regional parties, who have refused to enter the governing coalition. Ethnic parties of the Azeri Turkish, Baloch and Lori peoples of southern, eastern and western Iran have criticized the constitution for overly favouring the Kurds, one of Iran's largest minorities in western Iran on the border with neighbouring Iraq."

    This time the camera changes to depicting the streets of a city in the Iranian west, panning over seemingly endless miles of refinery buildings and gazing upon miles and miles of oil fields.

    "And on the subject of Iraq, here we are reporting from Abadan, the hub of the Iranian oil industry, where fourty thousand refinery workers have threatened to strike...
     
    The people of Pakistan yearn for freedom!

    For too long have the proud people of Pakistan suffered under the erratic and unreasonable Leadership of President Zia, their country sold for scrap and it's resources exploited for the profit of foreign capitalists. A cry for freedom was heard, and the people are ready to pick up arms and fight for their country and it's sovereignty.

    And North Korea shall deliver those weapons into the open hands of the downtrodden. In perfect alignment with Juche ideology, we do not abuse this opportunity to the benefit our own armament industry, but instead hand over Pakistan's weapons to Pakistan's people. True freedom can only come from within, and now the freedom fighters of Pakistan know that they are not the marionette of a foreign power, but they are wielding the power of their own country, merely passed along by the benevolent hand of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea.

    Already the forces of oppression are trying to reign in this movement for sovereignty, as we have heard that Korean soldiers from our southern brothers are there, forced to defend the interest of the capitalist elite of this American satellite state, who seek Pakistans riches for themselves. But those who fight for freedom know no fear, and neither the henchmen of imperialism nor the recently spotted UFOs will break the fighting spirit of the brave people of Pakistan.
     
    PLEASE STAND BY...

    AND NOW,
    THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES,
    ROBERT FRANCIS KENNEDY    ​

    "My fellow Americans, good evening. Three months ago, we were visited by the specter of horror. A conflict which we believed limited to our skies and to foreign lands came into our very homes and into one of our own cities. Phoenix, the Hero City, gone but never forgotten, burned at the touch of the alien menace. And though we lost friends and family, soldiers and airmen, we did not yield, nor did we fail in our goal. The aliens paid dearly for their evil acts, and we drove them off our sovereign soil.

    Until now, we have fought this alien conflict at a remove, falsely believing that our two great oceans would shield us from its direct effects as they always have before. But this is not some distant threat, not some mundane foe. The aliens hang over our nation, as they do all nations, like the Sword of Damocles, perpetually threatening disaster.

    But we are not defenseless. We are never defenseless. We are possessed of the greatest military the world has ever seen: hundreds of thousands of soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines, along with technicians, mechanics, clerks, and workmen. Their commitment to our safety is absolute, and so we must meet their commitment with our own, a renewed determination to uphold the compact that safeguards our freedoms and our prosperity. We must devote every resource, every effort to this conflict, for it is existential in a way that we have not seen since the scourge of violent Nazism once ravaged Europe.

    We cannot do this alone. Though we are mighty and capable, our might is not unlimited, our capacity not inexhaustible. And so we must combine our forces with those of our neighbors and allies, our friends and rivals, crossing borders and oceans to join hands with our fellow humans who are united in the struggle against alien imperialism.

    To do these things, to accomplish these essential tasks, we must have a government that is fully mobilized alongside its citizenry and military. That is why, in the coming days, the leaders of both houses of Congress will put forward a comprehensive package of legislation that fully commits the United States to war with the aliens and their collaborators, expands the government's ability to wage that war, and reinforces both our internal and external security. And because the fall of another nation to collaboration or enslavement is a threat to our security, this legislation is not just national, but global in scope.

    The Global Defense Act will come up before the Congress soon. My fellow citizens, I urge you to contact your elected representatives to support this legislation; not just your Congressmen and Senators, but your state representatives as well. The governments of the states should and must be in full accord with the direction this country is taking, and it is up to you to ensure that they are. Only together will we triumph against this menace.

    Together, with hard work and determination, with grit and with zeal, with God's own providence, we will come through this struggle, stronger and better for having won a war for our very existence.

    Thank you, and good night."

    TRANSMISSION ENDED​
     

    Cuba, Los cielos

    The time had come for Cuba to be tested. For all of the bravado, all of the chorus behind Earth's defence, behind the defence of the revolution, came to the fact that Cuba's survival hinged on the finesse, skill and determination of pilots who flew up to the sky and faced an enemy beyond their planet.
    Where the likes of missiles and ordinance would fly up to meet the Heirarchy vessels that would dare cross the Revolutionary People's Republic.

    Alberto grasped the controls of his MiG and flew into the heavens, to greet the devil that sown so much terror, death and misery to the Americans in the North, who had devastated comrades in China, Algeria and the world over. The heart of Cuba's resistance beat strongly, and all of the blood pressure was needed as he climbed altitude and came to terms with the fact that he may not be coming back from this mission, but he would do his duty to protect la patria.

    Identified under Callsign "Pulpo" because he always seemed to escape death through finesse and fine handling like an Octopus escapes a fish tank, Alberto was an escape artist as a child and the nickname had stuck since then. In Angola he defied the South African airforce the pleasure of his death, and now when he thought he was going to be in rotation to be at home with his family, his wife and children, he graced the cockpit once more to see if could pull off a miracle one last time.
     
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    General Zia ul-Haq stood on the high balcony of the command post, his gaze sweeping over the vast expanse of the Pakistan Military Academy's parade ground. The first light of dawn cast a pallid glow over the assembled troops, their figures ghostly in the half-light. The usual pride Zia felt at the sight of his disciplined soldiers was absent this morning, replaced by a gnawing dread that had taken root deep in his gut.

    The world had changed in ways no one could have foreseen. The Cold War, a global struggle between ideologies, had been violently disrupted by an even greater, more terrifying threat. Alien invaders, creatures of incomprehensible origin and intent, had descended upon Earth, wreaking havoc across the globe. The United States and the Soviet Union had paused their rivalry only long enough to consolidate their defenses, cooperating but antagonising in equal measure and the spectre of nuclear annihilation still loomed. The invasion had become just another battlefield in their struggle, with each side trying to outmanoeuvre the other, even as the alien menace threatened to consume all.

    In Pakistan, the situation was dire. The General had quickly realized that this was no ordinary war. The invaders, with their advanced technology and ruthless efficiency, had already devastated swathes of Europe, Asia, and the Americas. Many countries had fallen from the strain of survival and even the Superpowers were made to bleed. Zia knew that Pakistan's survival depended not just on military might, but on a higher purpose, a divine mission. He had always believed that Pakistan was destined to play a special role in the world, a messianic duty to protect Islam and its people. Now, as the world teetered on the brink of extinction, that duty had never felt more urgent—or more impossible.

    "General," a voice interrupted his grim reverie. It was General Akhtar Abdur Rahman , his ever-loyal subordinate, his voice tight with the strain of the last few weeks. "The final contingents are ready for deployment. The men are prepared, and the transports are on standby. We are awaiting your orders."

    Zia nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. He trusted Rahman, he had taken a neutral stance during Zia's initial coup but when General Chishti had second regrets about Zia's rise and sought to counter-coup him, Rahman had made the right move. Head of the ISI, he was instrumental for the (hypothetical) nuclear project and protecting Pakistan from infiltrators of all stripes. Zia trusted Rahman enough domestically to focus abroad.

    The contingents he was sending to Spain and Mexico, to fight alongside foreign armies in distant lands, were a necessary sacrifice. Pakistan's own borders were under constant threat, yet Zia had committed these soldiers to a global cause, knowing that the survival of Pakistan was inextricably linked to the survival of humanity. The invaders had no concept of national borders; they would crush all resistance, regardless of where it came from. Pakistan's soldiers were needed everywhere—on every front, in every battle. The South Koreans had pioneered the strategy of middle powers engaging in global humanistic fighting, but Pakistan would perfect it.

    However, it was not the regular troops that weighed most heavily on Zia's mind. It was the special regiments—the men who had been selected for a mission that defied all logic and reason, a mission born of desperation and faith. These were not ordinary soldiers; they were volunteers, men of unshakable belief, who had stepped forward knowing they were being sent to certain death. They had been briefed on the nature of the task, the specifics kept secret even to them, words could not truly convey the horrors they would face. Faith could sustain them through it.

    "Take me to the Volunteers. " Zia ordered, his voice steady, though his heart was heavy.

    The Head of ISI led him through the military grounds, past rows of soldiers who saluted as he passed. Their faces were grim, their eyes hollowed by the endless strain of preparing for a war unlike any other. These men were being sent to fight in foreign lands, in countries they had never seen, for people they had never met. Yet they understood the necessity of it. Tgey would not fight for a unifying force that would knit all humanity today we, the invaders did not transcend the Peggy conflicts of man. Ideology, politics, religion - all held relevance even as human extinction and enslavement drew close. The soldiers would fight for Islam. For Pakistan. They would be transformed from humble men into righteous Ghazi.

    The whispers of fascism was insidious but Zia was didn't know how ti spell.

    As they approached the secluded grove where the special regiments were gathered, Zia felt a cold dread settle over him. The grove, once a place of calm reflection, now felt like a place of doom. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the murmured prayers of the Imaams who moved among the soldiers, offering blessings and words of comfort. The men knelt in orderly rows, their heads bowed as they received the final ministrations of their faith. Nearby, a group of doctors administered last-minute injections—experimental treatments meant to stave off the alien pathogens. Tales of unique alien alloy attributes and chemical concoctions of ancient herbs. Medallions and talismans of Islamic power. All but the power of Islam was falsehoods but the belief of extra strength and bravery, of immunity to alien brainwashing and radiation would be necessary to draw strength. Especially immunity to radiation. Zia had considered lying about using elerium in one of the deceptions but decided it would be too unbelievable. The placebos had to at least sound plausible.

    In a decade or two, there would be a scandal. A price to be paid. But that was then and this is now.

    Zia approached the nearest Imaam, a frail-looking man with a long, white beard and eyes that seemed far too wise for the horrors they had witnessed. The Imaam paused in his prayers as Zia approached, and the two men exchanged a look that needed no words.


    "Assalamu alaikum, General," the Imaam greeted him softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

    "Wa alaikum assalam," Zia replied, his tone grave. "How are the men?"

    "They are prepared," the Imaam said, though there was a tremor in his voice. "They have placed their trust in Allah, and they understand the gravity of what lies ahead. But they are only men, General, and what they face… what they face is beyond anything we have ever known."

    Zia nodded, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what he was asking these men to do. The mission they were about to embark on was one born of sheer desperation. The tales of Italy had filtered to Pakistan from the presence of Italian capitalists but had become warped. People had been take. And returned but wrong. Like the ancient stories of fae, sleeper agent monsters. Ticking time bombs that would bring calamity. Tainted by the alien touch.

    Zia stepped forward, addressing the soldiers with a voice that carried the weight of both command and prophecy. "Mujahid of Pakistan," he began, his voice resonating through the grove. "You are about to undertake a mission that will determine the fate of the world. The enemy you face is not of this world. They seek to destroy everything we hold dear—our faith, our families, our very humanity. But you, you are the chosen ones. You have been selected not just for your bravery, but for your faith, your belief that Pakistan has a higher purpose, a divine mission to protect Islam and humanity."

    The soldiers listened in silence, their faces set with a grim resolve. They had been told what to expect, but the true horror of what they were walking into was beyond comprehension. Still, they were ready. Their faith was a shield, their belief a weapon. The guns and tanks and jets even more weapons.

    "Gog and Maggog have come to earth, the Day of Judgement may be drawn near. But you must not falter. You must hold fast to your faith, to your duty. You are the sword of Islam, the last line of defense against a force that seeks to obliterate us all. Go with the blessings of Allah, and know that your sacrifice will not be in vain. Pakistan, and the world, depend on you."

    A heavy silence followed Zia's words, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Slowly, the soldiers rose to their feet, their faces pale but determined. They were ready. They had to be. There was no other choice.

    As the soldiers began to file out of the grove, heading towards the waiting transports that would take them to the frontlines of this new, terrifying war, Zia felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Him. Lieutenant Saadullah Khan.

    "Sir," Saadullah Khan said respectfully, "do you truly believe this sacrifice of our sons is needed?"

    Zia could read between the lines. It was a criticism of him selling out his country to the capitalists. Zia didn't hate Bhutto. He… built Pakistan a chance. But he wouldn't have done what it would take.

    Him and the lieutenant (then brigadier) had a complex relationship. He had been an officer under Zia's command in the 1971 war and had served admirably. A war hero. But he had ideas. Disapproving of what Zia did for the Jordanians during Black September, Saadullah was what Pakistan needed - and it had been hard to face

    Made to retire for the farcical reason of being too religious, Saadullah had been religious in a way Zia never could. He truly followed the tenets of love.

    Yet Zia know Pakistan needed them both. The only man who could lead the suicide mission was Saadullah. The world was a different place now, a place where faith and duty were all that stood between humanity and oblivion. He had no answer, only the faintest glimmer of hope that somehow, against all odds, these men might make a difference.

    "On the beaches. In the mountains. On the seas and in the air. We will fight them. So let us fight them on our terms. Let us fight them and make them know that humanity, that Muslims, will never surrender!"

    The men cheered. And with that, they prepared to head to hell. To serve the devil himself.

    To Libya!
     
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    A Dead Woman Took a Walk in the Mountains

    The guerilla woman could think of many times she should have died.

    The first time had been in a small town in North Azerbaijan; she had traveled there during her studies at Tabriz, and a gendarme had held her up when she had gone to the town to teach the illiterate children of the town where the Shahist education system did not reach. Her mobile schools were for all, whether they were nomads or citizens. She had argued with him, spittle flying from her mouth and his hand so close, so close to his gun. In the end, he had only beaten her. But she should have died then.

    The second time had been in Tabriz, when she had led the student protests a decade ago. She had been a writer then, writing her poetry under the name of a wave, for that was all she wanted to be. They should have killed her then, but because she was school teacher and a woman, instead they had sent her to Osku. Find a husband and be good, submit to his authority like the Shah and be good, teach your girls to find husbands and be good, your boys to find girls and be good; boys and girls to worship your Shah and Iranzamin. She should have died then.

    The third time had been in Tehran, when she had learned of the fate of Hamid and Shirin; sweet Hamid and brave Shirin. It had been her who was too slow, her who was too late at the meeting house, her who should have drawn her gun and fired. It had been her who should have swallowed a cyanide pill when ammunition ran out and she was surrounded on all sides and she would rather let them take her corpse than have the satisfaction of bowing her. She should have died then.

    The Special Military Commissioner who stepped off the helicopter was not a living woman.

    It was a dead heart within her chest, through which icy blood circulated in her veins underneath the crisp, olive brown uniform. The hands underneath her neat gloves were the hands of a long-dead corpse, and their touch was the chill of Amoo Nowruz' snowpeaked Damavand. And those who met the eyes of the corpse-woman as she stepped off the helicopter and saluted, they met the eyes of a corpse which should have long ago stopped walking, should long ago have been laid to rest and died a martyr's death.

    But the Special Military Commissioner was a guerilla, a cherik, a comrade of the Organization of Iranian People's Fedaii Guerillas, and such corpses do not pass into the grave until the cyanide pill is swallowed and the ammunition is empty. Guerillas such as her do not have such a privilege.

    Up here in the mountains, the air was light enough that breathing could be difficult and laboured; the thin air could derive a living human of proper oxygenation, she had taught to a class of children once. They had been from the lowlands, she remembered, and awed at the thought. Is our Iranzamin, she had asked, not vast and wondrous that our mountains extend up so far, our coasts so low? Now she taught no children and made no productive work; as a guerilla she had fought for the future, and as a teacher she had guarded it. Now she was a corpse, and dead women are not bothered by the thin air of Iran's mountain peaks.

    That is why they sent her, she reasoned. The task she was sent to perform was an ugly one, and the living are best kept away from such things.

    The sun was low and red, a beautiful sight illumining the earth, transmuting the high mountain peaks into ivory-capped golden colossi. From these gilded titans, she had taught in history classes, ancient Iranians had said that Arash the Archer had sent flying an arrow so far as to move the horizon. Were she a living woman, she would have been able to understand the beauty she was witness to; the winding rivers joining into the Euphrates and Tigris, the emerald green of verdant foothills, the golden fire of the sun's radiance dancing in the waters, waltzing with nuances of purple, blue and red; a royal cloak for the sky itself.

    This was a beauty which the Shah had sought to usurp and steal. The dress uniform of the Pahlavi regime pretended at the blue of the sky, his cloak had imitated the multicoloured heavens, his crown the sun itself. She wondered sometimes if he was any different from her now; they should have killed him. Instead he became a wandering corpse, going from nation to nation to beg for scraps of borrowed life. In a sense, both of them should have killed each other. In a sense, they had both done so.

    But she was not here for reminiscing, she was here to do her ugly work.

    Looking towards the lowlands of Iraq, she muttered under her breath:

    "Lapenaw i Hamid û Shirin dabu min bekozhin." Marzieh says. For Hamid and Sharin's sake, they should have killed me. Her Kurdish rusty and unpracticed, no longer sure exactly who she's thinking of.

    It's time to get to work.
     
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    Alexei Kosygin was having a very bad day. He unfolded his handkerchief, coughing harshly into it. He grimaced. Australia was not so difficult a visit. The climate was not as hot as he expected, and the people were as convivial as their reputation seemed to imply. He had even gotten to see a kangaroo. To visit Pakistan, of all places, and when his health was in a particularly rotten state… curse his foolishness!

    He had nearly canceled the trip, he remembered. It was already tenuous - forming closer ties to Pakistan was always a long shot - but he had allowed himself to be swayed by the advice of his Council of Ministers. The Minister of War spoke at some length, with some verve, regarding the necessity of this naval lease agreement. Reluctantly the General Secretary had assented. But the heat was so utterly apparent from the moment he stepped out of the plane, and had only gotten worse. His shoes felt too tight, and walking around the naval facility with countless toadies, hangers-on, yes-men had exerted him even further. None of them had the balls to mention his shortness of breath, the multiple breaks he had to take. But did they think he could not see their little glances? Their plaintive whispers?

    "Mr. General Secretary." A young aide's voice stirred him from his woes. Kosygin glanced to her, hastily putting away his handkerchief into his breast pocket. Her name was… was… what was it? She was some functionary, some under-under-secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Georgian, wasn't she? "It is almost the scheduled time for the speech. I have an additional copy." Why was she telling him this? Did she think he had misplaced his?

    "Yes-- yes, that's fine." He quickly waved her away. The girl tensed, adjusting her spectacles and hurrying to stand aside. These youngsters… they were entirely too eager to help. But, all the same, was that young spirit not what the Union needed? Now of all times?

    Kosygin sighed, after a moment. "It is no trouble. I only need time to collect myself further. This temperature is…" he trailed off.

    "We are nearly finished, Mr. General Secretary," she said, keeping her tone professional. "Only this speech to go."

    "Best to get it over with then." Kosygin nodded, holding out a hand. The aide handed him the speech, and the General Secretary of the Soviet Union slowly hobbled out of the building, squinting at the harsh sun. There was applause in the gathered crowd. His chest hurt. He took a moment to breathe, looking down again at the typewritten notes in his hands.

    It is said 'politics make strange bedfellows.' Perhaps it may also be said that crises make comrades of former foes.

    The General Secretary was already out of breath. He pushed through.

    We face now the single most pivotal crisis of our generation, of ten generations, of humanity's total history. If humanity is to survive, it must link together, arm-in-arm, with former foes, and let old enmity fall to the wayside. Let this naval base be a first sign of the linking of arms, of unlikely allies

    Kosygin coughed harshly into his fist. He pounded at his chest.

    unlikely allies coming together, arm-in-arm with former foes… for the sake of all men.

    There was more. It was never read. As Kosygin breathed, grasping the podium, several grim-faced Soviet soldiers approached the General Secretary. One leaned in, whispering into his ear. Kosygin's eyes widened. Without another word, he left his speech upon the podium, hobbling off the stage.
     


    QUIET TWILIGHT
    ​
    They drape the blanket over her smile like a mourning cloth. She is, as always, imperious, as comfortable in an empty room as in the summer swarms. The visitors have dwindled, now, until, at last, she is alone with the hooded and the stone-faced men. The Louvre is closed, they say, for renovation. It is a lie, as they have grown fond of, in these desperate months.

    She smiles at the liars, all the same.

    As with Mona Lisa, so with Venus, so with Thinker, so with headless Victory of Samothrace, all disappearing one by one, the stone and marble and canvas carried by the stone-faced men. The passions of Picasso, the impressions of Monet - all are gone from Paris, the weight of their love carried through streets and through tunnels, into trucks and into trains. Some of these treasures, pillaged pieces, are stowed in mountainous sarcophagi, so that a greater empire might not take them in its stead.

    Or else destroy them utterly, to send the universal message carried on the reliefs of old Assyria, in the paintings of kings upon a battlefield, in the art of wartime tapestries, and flag-waving maidens: that victory is ours, and your time is gone.

    France has tasted defeat before. In living memory, the swastika was hoisted in Paris - in living memory, great generals rooted out the undesired to please their slavemasters. There is no rescue by elan, and no brave charge of the chevaliers. The shadow of the Arch de Triomphe has no hero walking out from it to rescue La Patrie. The dreams of '68 are a stupor woken from, the dreamers now grey workers, bureaucrats, politicos, all of them compromised in cleverness. A middling country, spitting wild rhetoric of enlightenment even as a bubbling fascism brews its own concept of reason in the monstrous underfroth of France. How can there be anything else, but defeat for this small earthen patch of green and brown, before a threat that blots the stars?

    And still the cafes crowd with shouts and argument, and the cigarettes still light at dusk's calling, and the bakeries still open with the sun, and still the televisions run. Young lovers still embrace, and the patter of the rain still strikes the glowing streets of midnight Paris. There is no American bravado, no Soviet determination. But there is a quiet love, that does not embrace the end. In this little country, life not grand or dour, still holds on, at the twilight of mankind.

    Beneath the blanket covers, and behind the bunker doors, the woman's smile holds.
     
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    The Mazatlán Declaration
    September 8th, 1980​
    One would have hoped the Pearl of the Pacific would've become The Pearly Gates, come the apparent rapture.
    Instead, it had in bare few weeks seen an incredibly unfortunate series of events: an incursion from the skies above Los Cabos (apparently attempting to imitate the patterns of descending civilian planes at such airport, to poor results), the bombardment of Phoenix, the ingress and egress of who knows how many shipments, diplomats and what must have been hundreds of misjourneying flocks of misplaced birds, no doubt in disarray after such aerial action and blast. No doubt, the transportists' bonus ledgers were abrim with hand-drawn rows and hastily-noted names.

    "What could we do?"

    Very little. Though being equipped, tested, prepared and tested again, the useful elements of the Aerial Unit are in excess new and minute in number, compared to the cutting-edge grand designs of bases just north of the border. And if they had failed...
    They had not quite failed, routing an enemy so unknown and yet so discouragingly strong is regardless a feat worth however many medals the pilots could carry, but the loss of life and scarring of the earth that still befell it meant a very tangible loss to several families, thus prompting more than a few rash decisions.

    One such choice came in the form of Joint Bill 9, one of very few top-down bills approved by the Confederation's multiple, discordant moving pieces. It made manifest a shared airspace and, importantly, a shared military budget, to be used by the heads of each branch of the military so long as the Executive Council approved of it. Modified syndical compacts were soon to follow, with the Radio and Television Syndicate near completely giving up the use of certain sections within different electromagnetic bands for use in constant communication and coordination.

    Perhaps the still-living memory of the Autumn Revolution had been the bill's saving grace — naught a generation had passed, and there was still a certain fervour about "protecting our freedom," whatever that might mean.

    And so, the next branch of the military had now time to propose its own use for the shared budget:

    We are global peoples.
    Councillors, the Naval Unit has found a particular pattern to alien attacks, about half of which seem to scout out and concentrate fire upon or near vital trade nexoos.
    With the permission of the syndicates, acting only when their vessels shall so ask, we seek to completely renovate our fleets, making us capable of protecting our trade and, most importantly, our sailors, from any intruders below or above.

    We are capable peoples.
    Councillors, the Three Units have been informed of the alien crystal's immense energetic output, which can be put to great civilian and defensive use. We request the allocation of some funds for the further exploration of this material, in coalition with the Chemists' and Physicists' unions.

    We are compassionate peoples.
    Councillors, having now the possibility of deploying units abroad, we request the deployment of proper aid to our sisters and brothers fighting in Wallmapu. As they asked for our aid, we provided what we could. We can now grant full backing to freedom.


    Letters from Chihuahua
    August 7th, 1980
    Transcribed from an Emergency Immediate Communicate ("    Luz Roja") to all nexus of the Middle American Microwave Network. Emitted at Chihuahua, Chihuahua, 7:24:15 AM.​
    Phoenix cae en 15. Conchos sienta AT-5. Sota Nogales. Colima-Hidalgo-Hidalgo-Cero-Dos-Cuatro-Tres-Uno.

    August 12th, 1980​
    The wind blew, it seemed, against good sense, dusting all but the mountains. Just what kind of blast had it been?

    Most councils here scurried to call extraordinary sessions after one phonecall. One damned sentence from up north, not even a conversation.
    "Castle dropping in Phoenix, get in, T20."
    Some particularly sensitive antennae had picked up Kennedy's encumbered figure, in either shock or fear, talking about the deployment of a "final option" on Arizona. Very few knew what it actually meant — though the word "nuclear" had raised the eyebrows of few among the knowing — or why any of this was at all relevant enough in the first place.
    But I did.
    I was asked to answer the phone. I turned on the Red Light.

    We've been trapped within the more thick-walled buildings for 5 days now. Some instead are in the maquilas, while particularly bulky armoured vans from SERSIPAPRO have been repurposed as transport. One of us suffered heatstroke yesterday because of it. No matter.

    The dust signatures have died down. Sweeps have been organised for any outstanding concentrations, but most of us are still huddled here.
    I have to get a letter to the Six. They won't like it.
    Keep Tito inside still. Don't take any milk for a few weeks.

    — María.


    August 15th​
    Councillor,

    I write in no uncertain terms when I say none of this is normal.
    I ask you understand that "normal" ended twenty-two years ago. We've been doing everything in our power to stay ahead with understanding what it all means, as I'm sure you've noticed with the news of several strange materials in labs across the country. But while this is all fine and great, it has come at great human cost — Phoenix is, ironically, in the ashes.

    With the very skies posing a risk to us, we cannot keep our patchwork defence network as-is. In the coming weeks, you'll receive a letter and proposal from Lagunillas, where I reside, begging for old safety protocols to be revisited at the earliest. I, and the undersigned, ask you consider it strongly. Our airforce is not incapable, but neither is it at all strong enough for what we need.
    The sky isn't any single Delegation's. It is not the Confederation's. But the ground below it is ours to protect.

    Signed,
    María Esther Ortiz Salazar, en representación del Consejo del Sindicato Federado para la Investigación,
    A P R O V A D O

    October 11th
    Extract from a communiqué between Valle Capital and Washington, D.C.    ​
    — Robert, you know the bill for it barely passed. We had to stamp those words everywhere for weeks just to get Oriente on-board.
    — ...
    — Do you think any of us wants your noses showing up down here again? It's going to take one hell of a miracle, and you lot don't have the track records of saints.
    — ...
    — Sure. Skip the formalities, I have to go. Something's up on the radar


    The Convention of Mexico
    September 22nd, 1980 ​
    After the approval of an "Elerium budget," scientists and reporters alike gathered at the Libre Universidad's halls, quick to pivot to any new developments in the recently-acquired pieces of extraterrestrial material. Hard-fought samples had come to the city, at great sacrifice and after months of convincing the Coordinador of the absolute importance of exporting materials to help rebuild North Africa. Further exchanges would follow thereafter, though for now, the holy grail of atomic science: element 115, somehow (as far as anyone knew) completely stable, the only one of its kind. Its apparent fluctuating density made it more than a curiosity and an outright outrage when it was discovered that relativistic effects were to blame for its very existence, causing a near total rewrite of more than a few equations and theories.
    Regardless, that would be then, and the promise of a nuclear revolution without the nukes had lured many.

    Robed academics paced back and forth, waiting for some samples to recrystallise after their sublimation point had been reached. The idea of lasering them instead of using hot plates floated around, but whatever light emission mechanism available existed was still far too small or far too weak for what it apparently required. The pursuit did, at least, yield an amplified beam back, while the material itself seemed to compress itself further.

    "Sir, come here."
    'Mm?'
    "The recryst — the enriched elerium sample, I mean."
    'What of it?'
    "The lightest application of a reactive species — oxygenated water, for instance — to the pure crystal-"

    View: https://giphy.com/gifs/reactionseditor-explosion-kung-fury-26uTt2zN11nFuyH1C

    As it turned out, the fresh crystal had only been metastable, and it could quickly — and, importantly, energetically — rearrange itself to a different structure with the right stimulus.
    The age of the rechargeable bomb had arrived.


    'Come and see'
    October 11th, 1980​
    An odd quiet reigned the rooms of the radar centre, lights turning on and off as usual. Civilian planes went by, training jets moved onwards and looping.

    Perhaps it would last, perhaps the operators could sneak in a quick nap.
    The other room could surely pick up the bore.

    Commander Pérez had been in a call with the White House, who had (rightly) become quite insistent in improving air defence 'cross the Continent. This was the third call where he suggested greater integration of the defence forces in the Americas, though the first contacting the Commander directly instead of the Executives.
    A hard bargain to strike, that one. Who'd have thought Bobert was spooked enough to try and make the puny mexas his equals?

    A blare. Another.
    A weirdly-shaped signature graced the first few quadrants of the green and black screens below.

    A third blare. A fourth, a fifth, a ninth.
    The training squadrons began forming into two deltas, attempting to shoot out whatever they could — canisters of the new explosives haphazardly shoved into tubes, on occasion.
    Speeding up, the alarm soon graced the Commander's ears. Who approved such a change in formation and speed.

    ...

    It had dawned on him that he should not yet hang up.

    "Hey Robert?"
    'I thought we were done, Mr. Peyres.'
    "You didn't happen upon the devil's phone number, did you?"
    '...Beg pardon?'
    "Your miracle. I'll call my people later, if they don't do it now."
    '...'
    "..."
    'I'll send them in.'
    "...
    "Try to avoid levelling any towns, if you could."
    'Sure.'

    Circunventing procedure, Quique Memo then decided that the facility was to be taken over by the military entirely, per an Article 12 exception. As the planes flew in, he ordered a link established via "whatever's quicker" to Valle Capital, first to the Assemblies and then to TV and Radio centrals. The second "Luz Roja" in the span of three months.

    Kennedy would have his continental NORAD. The flying saucer had made sure of it.
     
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    "Mais non, c'est...compliqué," the slickly suited Frenchman tells her when she asks if South Korea is still an anticommunist dictatorship. He is a student of spectacle rapidly downgrading his expectations for his impact in New York; she is an impenetrably titled emissary of syndicalist Mexico who he understands to be a peer despite her delegation's labyrinthine internal anarchy. She is on a mission. He is on his second cigarette. "They are...adrift, perhaps? Maybe a decade ago, two, not only were the scars of their war more fresh but anticommunism was everywhere abroad, too. But the state of play changed. The system's recuperations were not as invincibly self-replicating as they had been no?"

    "Eurocommunists in my country, in Spain, gain ground and the sky does not fall. Your country goes through..." His gaze falls on yellow taxis far below them and fails to find the words he is looking for. "...so many changes, let's say, and the United States does not invade. Japan shifts from anticommunist to uncertain to social democrat to something rather more pointed. The South Koreans lifted their heads up from their desperate primitive accumulation and found themselves surrounded, on one flank quite literally, by independent socialists."

    He taps some ashes off into an ashtray, smiles at her. "You know the JCP, they actively told the ROK that they 'weren't taking a side' in the 'Korea conflict'? Friendly to both? That spooked them I think. A Japan that saw them as no better a neighbor than Pyongyang."

    "But they couldn't coup and bribe and conscript their way out of that one. I think what they started thinking years ago, and the factions that emerged victorious in this recent shakeup really cemented, is that the independent socialists needed to be people they could work with, because if they were at odds with the eastern bloc and Beijing and Paris and Pyongyang and independent socialists, that was getting to be too many, and it was cutting them off from too many people they needed to sell to, or buy from, or rely on for a favor. Iranian oil, Japanese factories, and yes, our ships."

    "So a real softening, I think, but driven by strategy, and their system's need to develop a new and more sustainable story in the face of a changing international stage. You note that their commitments with socialists are to countries like yours -- truly third way, not close to the Soviets or Maoists -- or mine, fully west-aligned. They've talked to the others some since the invasion but it's more cautious, more arm's length."

    "I think they've tried repeatedly to reach out to Vietnam, including through us, and been pushed away rather than the ones to walk," she notes. "Plus the...oddly racialized 'Minjok Pact,' or their work with Algeria. None of those countries fit your model...?"

    "Self-interest," he immediately rejoins. "Algeria has wrecks and oil, and working with the DPRK boosts their air defense while limiting the chance of war-"

    "So perhaps there are factors here besides four dimensional bloc system chess?" she says, teasing more than asking.

    "C'est compliqué," he repeats, more than a little surly that she is no more in love with his theory than she has been with him.

    ---

    "The construction divisions of the chaebols," the Yugoslavian military attaché tells her promptly when she corners him after a punk show to ask where an isolated country with a UN mission younger than the alien invasion found their suddenly widespread diplomatic corps. "God, we've been fighting them for contracts for years. You don't understand how fucking...these fucking guys...okay. Imagine."

    "Your job is to get construction contracts in these deeply fucked up countries. If the country could afford to build their own shit they would, or better, they'd afford Americans. They can't, so they're looking for people who can cut them a deal because they're paying their workers a fourth as much and sourcing materials suspiciously fucking cheap. You speak one and half languages besides Korean, points distributed at random - well it actually correlates to age but what the fuck ever I'm still drunk - across Japanese and English, and you have a cheap suit, and you're getting dropped into the airport of a country you've never seen before to make your case that you're a better option than the equally lost Serbians or, by god, at least better than the statue obsessed motherfuckers from your friendly neighborhood Juche worshippers. Also, if you don't land enough contracts and run them tighter than an ant's asshole, your firm is gonna lose out on export subsidies this year and nobody's gonna blame the princelings so it's probably your fault."

    He abruptly pauses for a long drink of his beer. Finishing it, he waves down the bartender for two and offers her one. Squinting, she takes it.

    "Bunch of those guys in their Commerce Ministry doing deals. Was already kinda true before the coup and now it's really fucking true. Take those guys, throw in a bunch of random field grades with decent language aptitudes, some legacy rich kids who already worked at embassies in southeast Asia, and some KCIA spooks who studied in America at some point and you've got enough diplomatic staff for their big fucking expansion."

    "Their country's kinda full of this typa guy, right? As far as they're concerned they've been doing nothing but hustle and grind since independence. Here's a province of burned out farms, build factories so that we can ever catch up with the North. Here's a company that has existed for five minutes and has six desks. Find a competitively priced export product and ship it before the end of the year. Here's two boats and eight marines. Take that island back."

    "And you can tell, right? There's a lot of grit in that but you can see their faces going pained and then bored and resigned every time there's a debate in the UN that goes longer than an hour. Incredible confidence, very tactically sharp, very little theory, roughly enough ideology to paint a small postage stamp. The generals are ministers and the ministers are businessmen and the businessmen are politicians and the politicians are generals. They all switch hats. It all runs together into a...hive of swarming pragmatists who have no idea where they're going or why but are determined to get there in a precisely fucking optimized fashion. For all the swagger and the projects they're like a country tailor made to be the sidekick to the capitalist powers if you ask me. All movement, no map. Cool though. Fun to drink with. So you want to fuck, or...?"

    "Thanks, but no," she says with a smile. "You really think there's no map? No real theory of where they're going? Couldn't that just mean no public map?"

    "Fuck if I know. I'm not that kind of spy."

    ---

    "Well it's not just who's in charge and what they want," the woman in the loose headscarf says, eyes flashing as she rejects the very premise of the question up front. "Dictators are not gods. They're men. The people bound and push and pull them. So you should really be learning about their social history. What it means that they've raced so fast from agricultural colonial backwater, with heavy industry concentrated on the north, to commercial middle power and export developmentalists extraordinary. What does that do to a people? What does it do to their politics? What does it do to their art? That will tell you much more than learning about an assassin and an old man."

    "...but if I wanted to learn about them anyway," the first woman says, tone idle as she plays her fingers over the iranian's shoulder. "Just while I petition for the budget to pursue detailed sociological study of the Republic of Korea before turning in my report next week." Her lover responds by making a face, and she smirks and kisses it. "Just give me more basic background. Who are these guys, what do they want?"

    "So the one they call Director - KCIA, formerly, now National Security - he was the assassin, obviously, but he was a regime guy going back a ways. Close friend of the old dictator, sometimes one of his pet liberals and sometimes just his pet. Maybe more verifiably than ideology, he was the rival of two different factions that were clearly more conservative and harsh - the Hanahoe, a secret society of general officers who'd gone to school together and whose leader ran a key defense intelligence command, and the presidential guard, an even more hierarchical and frankly dickish group. Kim kept losing ground to those factions politically and then after the killing they proved to be the people he had to fight, pretty literally. They fought each other, though, and other parts of the Army, and it was those two days that really helped him get away with it. There were tanks and fighting on the streets, lots of confusion, and his KCIA got to play kingmaker and ally with the parts of the army they hated less."

    "So there was a month, month and a half where things stopped being as violent and they had scheduled a new election of sorts. Their election laws under that new constitution are...bad. Details get murky here, but it seems like the director managed to pull some strings behind the scenes and dump the ineffective acting president and get a rubber stamp presidential convention to replace him with Lee Chul-Seung, who's a... liberal conservative? A conservative liberal? A democratic reformer, anti regime, former exile, part of the opposition, but the center of the opposition, maybe even the center right. Less important to a lot of Koreans then where he stood against the regime, and it's this weird daring upset. The coup-off victors have picked a reformer to be president for them, and it's unclear if he'll have enough power to benefit from it, or if he'll overtake them."

    "But aliens are invading the planet, everything's in flux. The move suggests a unity government of sorts. But it's not that long in that there's protests anyway, and one of them sparks a full on police riot. Dozens killed. Cops and parts of the army start trying to cover it up but the Director and the President both denounce it. They pick a fight about it, really, and the chairman of the joint chiefs, the other guy behind the president with a shot at replacing him openly some day, loses. He gets sacked. The original fighting had provided opportunities to purge the military's hardest right, and now most of rest of their right is on the back foot, and the Director consolidates power as the president moves him from the KCIA to a new office very clearly modeled on US national security advisors, just with a slightly different name...that lets people keep calling him Director Kim. The same thing that secured Kim's final ascendance also made the new president's power more real, right? So they're up there at the top together, mutually indebted, set to steer the country's response to the Hierarchy."

    "So...not entirely sure what they want. They seem like centrists. What kind is very open to debate. Opposed to the old regime's excesses but unable or unwilling to dismantle its whole edifice quickly, and given the benefit of the doubt by a people still reeling from the discovery of aliens. That's the point at which they hit the world stage and you know what they did there."

    "So is one of them in charge of the other? Do they get along? What do they disagree about?"

    She shrugs expansively and pulls the anarchist into bed.
     
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    PACT OF THE ANDES
    Keynote Speech of the Quito Accords, delivered by Jaime Roldós Aguilera (President, Ecuador), July 23, 1980. Excerpt:

    "We are no strangers to struggle. For the better part of a year, we in Ecuador have operated a constitutional, legal government knowing full well that such a thing means a daily struggle against autocracy, of repression, of rule by and for the gun. Our neighbors know this too. Later this year, Peru and Ecuador will join us in that selfsame struggle. Colombia continues its own, distinct struggle.

    We are honest. We are hardworking. Our actions, our work, must prove our intent to step forward -- to conquer the gun, to surmount the whip -- and our actions prove us in the face of these old struggles.

    We share a new struggle too. A new struggle, echoing old ones. From across the skies, new enemies come -- new Aymeriches and new de la Torres, but with the same old threat of subjugation, of the crown and the beating-stick.

    None of these struggles can wait -- they must be won together. We must embark on the most important work of defending ourselves and our history and building a noble destiny. We must be the Ecuador that won at Pichincha, the Venezuela of Carabobo, and the Colombia of Boyaca, a brave people, turning towards the skies in defiance. We must be the heroic peoples of the Cordillera. A democratic peoples, of humanism, of work, of liberty. Long live Sucre! Long live Bolívar! Long live Humanity!"


    Scholar's note: Ecuador, long the junior partner of the many diplomatic pacts of the various nations of the northern Andes, was by far the most initially skeptical of the Quito Accords, despite Roldós's support. The choice of venue and keynote speaker were both meant to assuage Ecuadorian anxieties. Roldós's keynote notably put pressure on the Turbay government to the north regarding the Colombian security law, though the Herrera government in Venezuela continued to support it.
     
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    ​

    The captain's chair was like a hug from an old friend. Not so old as to be unrecognizable, mind, but a few months distant. That warm and uncomfortable sort of meeting where the handshake overstays its welcome and the name sounds rusty, or perhaps foreign, in your mouth. But they're happy to see you, happy to remember, and the pieces fit and it is good.

    "That'll be the doctors," the cloud of smoke huffed. It was a security man. Dalmatian, of Italian extraction, with a good Italian face but none of the charm. He was dull, even by the standards of men who carry Israeli submachine guns in their briefcases. The pilot was not opposed in principle to men smoking in his cockpit, but considered failure to ask first a sign of bad character.

    And sure enough, there is the van pulling up to the plane, there are the little doctors and their little implements. He was not in the mood to welcome them aboard. A DC-10 rolled by and the pilot could just make out a curious little face watching at every porthole. They'd wonder for a while, he thought, and then they'll be wherever on this little world they call home and it'll fade away.

    He would have liked to have been an airline pilot. Carrying those little faces home to their children or their lovers or off to some other gleaming facet of life. When they landed he would've stood in the cockpit door and smiled at them as they disembarked, all that undifferentiated humanity. He would have liked to have been an airline pilot.

    Instead he had carried one man. He had flown him to all major continents, to Pyongyang and Baghdad and Bermuda. He had been with him on that tarmac in Tripoli when he first heard about the crash that took Bijedić's life, seen the shock dissipate in the face of that incredible resolve that had carried him through so many losses.

    "Will he actually come?" the first officer asked innocently. The smoke swirled. There would be no answer. It was not the kind of question that men like the smoker could think about for long. An uncertain, unclean, altogether human thing to ask. The cigarette cloud muttered something softly disapproving and stepped out into the main cabin.

    The pilot's grandfather had shivered and starved with the First Army on the road to Skadar. His father still bore the marks of a German dog's fangs on his arm. And he flew an American Boeing for a President. It was the old man that had done that, not him. Something in his chest knew that. All of this was built by Tito's hand, and men who mattered thought that made him indispensable. Thought it right to carry him out of his homeland again for one more throw of the dice.

    A Pan Am passed. More little faces. The pilot was not an important man. He did not know whatever important men knew. But he had seen the president when he was stronger. He had witnessed the bitter fights with Jovanka and then he had never witnessed her on his plane again. And he had seen the state of the old man when he flew him home from the United Nations in New York. He knew that he was simple. His thoughts meant little. But he admired the President, considered him a great man.

    And even great men deserve to find peace.
     
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    Of "Talks," Snakes, and other Diplomatic Misgivings​

    Diplomacy for anarchists tends to be one-sided — it's either others looking in disgust or a bullet trying to find its mark. The Confederation knew, however, that this approach would not do it any favours, and instead of balaclavas and AKs, it was decided that whichever approach would suit the situation at hand best should be the one taken.

    In New York and Geneva and elsewhere it'd be a suit and tie. Average, perhaps, but the manta clothes of many regions lend themselves to quite a good base in place of a button-up and stiff pants. And so there was some breathing air.

    There had been, of course, an opening statement on the 11th of November of '79; the head of the delegation would soon go into retirement and, in a bid to raise his pension, decided to take all protocol and shove it into the half-proverbial bin: the largest hat that could be found in 20-odd miles, a moustache that was only slightly artificed with hair picked off a paintbrush, and the world's least desirable jorongo, so awash in rainbows and stripes (but without a pattern, per se) that it would appear more the printout of a 60s album made a spectrogram.
    Being quite clearly unacquainted to shame, he decided to call a motion to demand reparations:
    • for the American Intervention
    • for the french intervention
    • for the second french intervention
    • for the misattribution of vanilla
    • for the British takeover of Veracruz, and abandonment of Chan Santa Cruz
    • for beans on toast
    • for the ever-girthless zucchini
    • for the Canadian hoarding of historical documents
    • for Spain, generally
    • for the prussian school
    ...and other such mix-match of conditions. He was never sanctioned (the General Secretary was, conveniently, preparing a capucchino so complex it required multiple sorts of cream and coffee), and instead there reigned a span of silence almost unrivalled at the halls of the General Assembly.

    Being as it were, the Confederation's representation was always quite assertive in its criticisms and somewhat cold in its recognitions.
    This was but a demonstration of mean and method.

    So common a pattern it became that his replacement — an always inquisitive woman with a stare like needles — had, through sheer might of will, apparently charmed the Iranian representative, to non-public results.
    She would henceforthrequest to be accommodated "no farther than four streets" from the main UN building, possibly to match her counterpart's request for housing "no closer than three squares" off the same landmark.


    But diplomacy had been so far theorised now to be beyond nations, it was now to be with peoples.
    Far beyond the unhallowed halls of world's discordance, in a corner of Tegucigalpa, such an experiment had thus developed: one face to the state, one (or more) face(s) to the populous.

    Where Mexico had largely ignored and instead often convergently applied the techniques of states in Central America, sibling countries embroiled in dictatorships and half-democracies, no longer fully backed by Northerner hubris yet holding stalwart grip over their subjects, the Confederation instead felt an undeniable duty to provide aid where aid was needed.
    Outrage was to come once more, certainly, though this time it might be bullets. For once, it might not be towards it.

    A man with a disposition like poorly polished granite toured the tension about the streets, whose former noise so ubiquitous of the Big City had been reduced to an alternating patchwork of protest, clashing and a ringing silence. No pupusa stand with any self respect would open the five days of the business week, let alone the entirety of a civilian period.
    Inconvenient or not, it meant methods had to change and adapt, no longer the question-and-coffee gatherings of the sociologists would suffice, and there would need to be... different paths to tread.

    In those days when the roads and walkways more resemble fields past the winter harvest, less tasteful businessmen will hold their meetings within closely-guarded halls away from the capital's asystolic core, at the very first and very last hours of light, and in those hours would they'll trade worries and plans. The very gunmen guarding might be high-ranking military, who will upon the plateau of night drown their memories in rum, bourbon and absinth, in powders which call to the senses and dismiss reason and in the vast underground masses of people, who they hold as target practice and targets for their own repressed emotion.

    One provider of various liquors might indeed appear to be made of sputtered basalt, and indeed he might serve and listen to the endless laughter of maddened traitors to humanity, and he might indeed, on occasion, accidentally copy a key to the rooms where the hidden are kept, and he might incidentally loose it under the door and over its long stairs.

    And, occasionally, the wine might be served to someone else by someone from the underworld of another guard's terrible network; and, occasionally, this might drive another needle into their noggins, and perhaps they'd look in the mirror and gaze at a man whose face is as broken hematite, beset by older and newer insets of reddened rain.

    Fourteen began their numbers, and they might have grown to sixteen; but at most it would be fifteen, number 8 finally broke. Had sixteen continued, a seventeenth might have joined, and he might've gone a shadow behind those yet to be "hidden," and he might have induced enough fear for them to resort to spread fear. But at fifteen it would stop.

    He fled to Sula, he fled and took all he could, he took all he could and 'returned' who he found.
    And he said much and he thought much, and then he began —

    Pueblo hondureño,
    les hablo con sangre en mis manos,
    con gritos en mis oídos,
    con miedo de verme al espejo...
    And he would tell of all he did, and he would denounce the rest. Death would be a mercy to the constant, retching cries that kept him quite far from any peace under the stars, and so he would look it at the face through a glass lens on metal frame, and perhaps his face would seem the slightest like life and less like gravel.

    And of course, the man of a million names and a cratered face would happily record a tape, and he would send it to the north and the east and the south, and perhaps he would stay a little more.
    Perhaps he would help run the first café with daily service in decades, and perhaps he would try and host meetings in other stands and other places, and perhaps he would, slowly, gather the final nails into the coffin of fifteen men with yet others in tow, though his was not the hammer to wield.
     
    INSTITUTE FOR EXTRATERRESTRIAL INVESTIGATIONS
    LOCATION: CLASSIFIED
    DATE: CLASSIFIED
    TIME: CLASSIFIED

    The five men in front of him made Captain Pedro Pablo Rojas Villarruel anxious. How could they not? Between them, they warranted four stars and three sashes, and now they stood here, waiting for his word. Of the five, Herrera seemed the most nervous. Strange, given that of the five, he'd been here before. The man to his left was taller and less heavyset than Herrera, graying, and bore a perpetual scowl that marked him as the President Turbay of Colombia. Behind him was a whip-thin man in green dress uniform, balding, and with a look in his eye that forced Pedro to wonder what he'd seen done personally. To the other side: Jaime Roldós, the President of Ecuador -- the young, charismatic orator leading a government not fully his own. His face was carefully schooled, impassable. His heavy glasses might have as well been a mask, for all that got through Backing him: another general, this one shorter, younger -- the Minister of Defense Marco Subía.

    He swallowed, and began.
    "Mr. President, esteemed gentlemen, it is my pleasure to show to you Facility 19 of the Institute for Extraterrestrial Investigations. Or, as we call it here -- he gives a polite chuckle -- Han Solo Base. Colonel Quijada regrets that he won't be able to show you around. He assures me he is recovering well from his incident and that we should be as comforted as he is in, and I quote, his "experiential proof that these things will be more than children's toys"

    He leads the men through the back door -- out of this small 'reception' building and into the rest of the complex, down the gravel road to the range. Two soldiers dressed in fatigues stand facing, 30 feet downrange, sculpted models of the gaunt corpses that have appeared in the last 18 months. They wear bulky backpacks of the same fatigue camoflauge, with four metal fins protruding out of the covering backwards and cords two centimeters accross extending from the bottom right of the backpack to the "gun" held at each of their shoulders. The gun's familiar grip and stock -- seemingly taken off of an assault rifle -- rapidly lead into a wholly foreign assemblature. The gun's barrel terminates six inches ahead of the forward grip, with a circular guard hiding the forehand from the front, while the familiar assembly of chamber and magazine is altogether absent. Although the sight, too, seems standard-issue, the gun as a whole seems almost undergrown, half-formed, even childlike.

    The order to fire is almost anticlimactic. There is no report. There is no noise. The men do not stagger back or even brace. A spot of green the size of a dime appears on the extended foreheads of each gaunt target and vanishes leaving an equally sized hole, steaming from the energy released.

    Taking the VIPs down to examine the dead ballistic-gel gaunts, the Captain continues:

    "these laser weapons have come together remarkably quickly after the Directora was given the autonomy to pursue her design here. The fiberoptic cord is the innovation here -- it gives us more opportunity to deal with two of the three biggest challenges with this sort of technology.

    The alien weapons we've seen all are at least an order of magnitude more efficient storing energy, and while we're working on that, the 'pack and the cord let us destribute the weight away from the hands and on to the back. They're also far more efficient in heat loss and heat recapture and the 'pack lets us simply dissipate that through the radiator vanes. On down the line, we'll address that in, as the directora says, an elegant way but this gets these models into service."

    He sighs slightly. "the xenomaterial requirement is still a pain-point here. Raúl has thoughts on miniaturization and minimization, but that is something of a risky -- he chuckles -- and controversial project. His first attempt is why Colonel Quijada is not giving you the tour."

    He offers a shot to each VIP. Turbay and both generals take one; all hit, guided by the hand of one of the laser-men.

    "So, Mr. President, esteemed gentlemen, if I may be so bold: my question. We can give the sleemos and the sleemo-lovers hell with this. Will you let us?"

    The answer, he thinks, is already known.
     
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    Suharto's Address ​

    "…This historic proposal should not be seen as a sign of submission to Britain, but rather one of cooperation and protection from the alien menace." Suharto addressed the gathered council and representatives, a bead of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. The address had been interrupted not fifteen minutes ago by the news of Pakistani weapon tests in the Libyan deserts, and the room was deadly silent. "Our involvement has come at no cost to our autonomy, to our finances, or to our people. Britain has been generous in her terms, providing…." While the address continued on for another half hour, it mattered not what the representatives voted for, as the council had already reached a unanimous decision.

    Laksamana* Sarasvati stood in the rain on the steps of the government building, smoking a cigar while musing over his misfortune. He had been one of the most vocal proponents for Suharto's dealings with Britain and Pakistan, and in the commonwealth negotiations had been rewarded with quite the expansion to his fleet; 17 British-made ships were leagues above anything he could field at the moment. However, now with the events in Libya the ships were detained in Australia and might never reach Indonesia's shores. He chuckled a bit, thinking back to the last council meeting. They had been foolish, idealistically so. All pretense of opposition to Suharto's schemes had dropped after the UFO was shot down in Borneo, as if bending the knee to him would somehow keep them safe from the aliens. As he struck his lighter to resurrect the dying cigar, a limousine pulled up to the steps of the building, and a drawling voice called out to him from the open window. "Bundi, my friend, you should not stand so in this rain; it is poor for your health."

    *****

    ​
    The limousine belonged to councilman Nesia Sani, one of the few elected council members hailing from Sumatra. As they rode along, the decanter was drained of its scotch, until the two lifelong friends were sufficiently emboldened to discuss the current state of things. "It's a crime against Indonesia, is what it is." Saravasti said, stirring the ice cubes in his glass with a finger. "We were on track to great things. The armed forces modernization projects, the Infrastructure bill, and by Allah project Dajjal—"He cut himself off as Sani put a finger to his lips and gave a sideways glance to the driver, quietly raising the partition. "I digress." Saravasti said, a little sheepishly. "But my point stands. We retracted our opposition in the name of our country's prosperity, and Suharto abused that trust and, in the process, got us tangled in a fine mess. All eyes are on us— and the world may not like what it sees."

    Sani stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I was not expecting such sentiment from you my friend. I was expecting a heated confrontation with you over this, I am loath to admit." Saravasti gave a quick snort, much to Sani's amusement. "I must apologize. I am glad to hear you are not merely one of his hounds."

    "Who could be? After what he's done?"
    "Well, Councilman Kuiper, and his two Bajingan in Java. For starters." Sani said, looking out the window in interest.

    "I am not concerned with the barking of Kuiper. The air force is practically non-existent at the moment, and while that will be changing soon, it would take a miracle to change the council's opinion of him."

    "Quite."

    They rode in silence for but a minute more, at which point the limousine came to a stop and Sani practically leapt from his seat with glee. "Well then," he said, straightening his tie. "If you are sick of siding with Suharto as you sound you are, then you'll be interested in joining me for dinner."

    Saravasti realized that he had not put thought once into where they were headed, much less asked. He squinted at the weather worn sign of the bar they were parked outside. "And what brings you out here, to such a charming little restaurant?" He said in both parts humor and curiosity.

    "Ah, well. The council's having a bit of an impromptu meeting tonight. Very exclusive venue, only for like-minded individuals" Sani said with a coy smile. "It is a secret one, of course."

    Saravasti grinned and left the limo, taking in the smell of opportunity. "Is there any other kind?"







    * Laksamana is a position roughly equivalent to admiral
     
    Flashpoint: Iraqi Invasion of Iran 1980-1981
  • Threadmarks
    • Flashpoint: the Iraqi Invasion of Iran
    The USSR sponsored what would be failed talks between representatives of the fledgling Republic of Iran, mid-revolution, and the Iraqi Republic in Samarkand. What began as hopes to finally close a point of contention between the two countries devolved into merely Iraqi threats and demands backed by military force after Iraqi intelligence revealed that Iran's once formidable military was disorganized, ill-prepared, and lacking parts and expertise for some of the weapon systems it inherited from the Shah. These threats ultimately did not cow the new Iranian government to alter it's previous commitments, and Saddam Hussein shortly thereafter declared the 1975 Algiers Agreement to be null and void. That essentially started the countdown to war, though Iran was caught somewhat unaware.

    Both sides made purchases of weapons from their respective backers, with France in particular backing both countries. Iran, anticipating being overwhelmed in the early stages of conventional conflict against a numerically superior foe with a significant advantage in tanks and aircraft, declared initial mobilization and would deploy numerous new units, including various Kurdish and tribal militias as well as paramilitaries of various political groups to act as auxiliary to the disparate conventional army.

    Iraq invaded in late October 1980, with a barrage of airstrikes and a missile barrage accompanying the main thrust into the Khuzestan region. The opening moves of the war over the last 6 months are described thus.

    An alien formation also intruded in Iranian airspace during the war.

    Disposition of forces:
    Iraq's force began the invasion with in excess of 213,000 soldiers, mostly operating Early Cold War weapon systems and a handful of Late Cold War systems recently procured from France. Iraq had air and armoured superiority.

    Iran would defend with initially 147,000 soldiers. What they lacked in numbers and equipment they hoped to make up for in fighting spirit, not only defending a homeland against unprovoked aggression but also defending their Revolution from outside annihilation.

    (Iraq received +1 ops dice from air superiority and +1 initiative from armoured superiority. They have more base initiative and ops dice than Iran due to larger force. Both sides had roughly equal Experience. Iranian troops have higher morale than their Iraqi counterparts.)

    * The first month of fighting did not see a complete collapse of Iranian lines, though Iraq would seize significant territory in the countryside of Khuzestan, they made little moves into the cities of Ahvaz and Khorramshahr. Iran came close to stalling the offensive in some places, but ultimately some units were encircled.
    * The second month proved less fortuitous. The Iraqi spearhead, backed by air support, advanced further into Khuzestan, and Iran was forced to withdraw the bulk of its forces into the foothills of the Zagros to recuperate. Iraq turned its attention to sieging the Iranian cities its tanks had encircled.
    * 1981 opened with a stalemate along the Zagros, broken only by the odd skirmish, airstrike, or costly Iraqi probing attack. The situation changed somewhat as Iraq lost its armoured advantage (for -1 initiative) and Iran gained a mountain warfare advantage (for +1 initiative), equalizing the forces. Nonetheless the cities of Ahvaz and Khorramshahr were eventually captured after two and a half months.
    * An alien interloper, escorted by two fighters, deployed in the Arabian Sea, first making its appearance known by an extended bombardment of Musqat, the capital of Oman. They then flew into the Straits of Hormuz, attacking several freighters and fending off the meager air forces of Persian Gulf states (which had Pakistani and Indian assistance) before eventually heading into Iranian airspace via Bandar Abbas. Iran failed several intercept attempts, losing a dozen fighters in the process, before asking for help from the Soviet Union as the Xenonauts were preoccupied with the larger alien incursion in the Mediterranean and Iran being at the very edge of their effective intervention range. As Soviet interceptors were en route, the aliens made landings in Shiraz and Esfahan, abducting numerous people before continuing their eastward flight. The Soviets forced an engagement above the desolate Dasht-e Lit where they managed to down one of the alien fighters before the formation ventured into Afghan airspace.
    * As of April 1981 the Iraqi offensive has stalled out as their great advantage in tanks is less useful once leaving the relatively smooth hinterlands of Khuzestan and its population centers. Many tanks are now smoldering wrecks thanks to the close range of urban and highland combat and the lethality of the RPG-7 vs an Iraqi export model T55 or T62. Nonetheless Iraq maintains air superiority, and its advantage in the air has only grown due to Iranian losses against them and the alien intruder. For now an Iranian counterattack looks difficult to arrange, but not impossible with some help...
     
  • Threadmarks
    • October

    The wailing of sirens, the shouting of men in voices that reek of fear and fury; the roaring of the motors of Iraqi tanks, the low and distant din of bombs; the whining of missiles whistling through the air, of sharp wings cutting the air with their deadly dance in the skies.

    This is what the man sees and remembers, his panicked flight from Khorramshahr into Ahvaz a chiaroscuro of spinning images; angry mustacchio'd soldiers, shouting and screaming. Oh, everything is spinning, everything is turning.

    Congested crowds and panicked shouts; pushing and pulling, the human herd a stampede in the streets. Shadows falling on the ground, the sun is merciless to them. Too many people, too many screams. His eardrums are shattered, he cannot feel his legs. Endless radio broadcasts and newsreels. Foreigners with cameras and always the rolling treads of approaching tanks, and the stench of sweat and oil mixing with the human refuse of a city already packed too big before.

    This is what the man sees and remembers, safety in Ahvaz becoming a rout into Shahre-Kord. There is no end to any moment, no interruption to any sound. A panorama of impressions and expressions become an endless tide of shifting sound and image, screaming without end whether awake or asleep. Oh, everything is spinning, everything is turning.

    The scream of Iranian jets, the dread shadow of alien craft over the horizon transmits itself by rumour faster than the radio can report them. They're fourty people crammed in the back of a jeep, and everywhere and always they turn their heads and necks to look for soldiers, like barnacles opening and closing on the surface of a ship. The radio is saying Khorramshahr has fallen, Ahvaz has fallen, Abadan has fallen, Khuzestan is Iraqi and that the Zagros has fallen. Is this to be the end? The Kurds are shouting, shouting, they're holding guns and promising vengeance; vengeance and death.

    This is what the man sees and remembers, him and countless others at the recruitment office in Shahre-Kord. Endless poverty and misery reduplicate themselves, mating with each other in the rut of the sweat and heat of myriads of war refugees cramped together. The world is spinning no more, turning no more. Everything has settled into a terrible, furious clarity; a reality that will not change.

    The man is no one in particular. He is not necessarily a man either. He might be a woman, displaced by war as well. He might be Persian, he might be Kurdish, or Arab, or Luri. He might have any age, from as young as twelve, to as old as fifty. He might have not come from Khorramshahr, but from Bandar Shahpur, Dezful or Andimeshk. His story is reduplicated in the hundreds, in the thousands, replicating itself into a kaleidoscope of running feet, screaming mouths and panicked eyes. The man fills up Esfahan, Shahr-e Kord, Khorramabad, Borujerd and Kermanshah. He stands in line for rations in Tehran and Shiraz. He sees aliens land in Bandar Abbas, and looks to the skies for Soviet planes in Sari and Ardabil.

    And all around him, there is the whine of the planes and the fearful whistle of the missiles, the low thunder of distant bombs and the terrible fireworks of the bombs falling all about, the din of motors and the commotion of tank treads crushing both stone and skulls underneath their weight, and the drumming of rifles opening fire and the screams of the wounded whether soldier or civilian, and the crying of children who once made rude gestures at the man on his way to work whom he no longer knows when he will see again. Yes, these and many were were indeed among the many sights that the man saw in October and the months thereafter, when the world was made to spin and turn, as if had Saddam Hossein sent it forth as a spinning top on his table.
     
    Article:
    Bazargan Resigns as Prime Minister after Failed Speech

    1724993771454.jpeg
    Erstwhile Prime Minister of Iran dr. Mehdi Bazargan speaking to students at Tehran University -AP

    Dr. Bazargan's two-year stint as Prime Minister of Iran ended yesterday.

    Following intense criticism of a speech delivered in Parliament on the 28th of October in response to the Iraqi invasion of Iran, Dr. Bazargan tendered his resignation as Prime Minister of the Republic of Iran yesterday. Dr. Bazargan delivered his resignation speech outside the Senate House, confirming his resignation and saying: "What I have done, I have done for my country; God does not alter the conditions of a nation unless they change their own selves."

    Dr. Bazargan faced severe criticism for a speech he delivered in Parliament on October 28th, causing the Toodeh Party to defect from the country's governing coalition, forcing a vote of no confidence in his government. In the speech that Dr. Bazargan was so hotly criticized for, he declared that: "Through emulation of the Imam Mahdi our Islamic Democratic Republic will win in our sky, on our land and in our Gulf. Our soldiers will be like Hossayn; they will resist, and they will win, and our Islamic Democratic Republic will encompass Karbala and Najaf."

    In the same speech, he also attacked the socialist ideology of the ruling Arab Socialist Ba'ath Party of Iraq, which he described as "soulless" and "idol-worshipping".

    Immediately following the speech, criticism was severe. The former Prime Minister was booed severely, and verbally attacked, by the Toodeh Party, and lawmakers from the Organization of Iranian People's Fedai Guerillas [a Maoist guerilla organization] loudly accused him of "Khomeinist ideology". In response, sitting lawmaker for the Moslem People's Republican Party Hossayn Mahmoodi, a former Zoorkhaneh wrestler, threatened the sitting OIPFG lawmaker Bahram Anooshirvan Hasheminezhad with his fists, the latter returning the threat with references to his time as a guerilla in the Siahkhal Movement a decade earlier, in which he and a squad of Maoist and Feminist guerillas had attacked a gendarmerie post of the Shah's regime and killed three policemen. Only an intervention from the lawmaker Tahmineh Aydunlu, from Dr. Bazargan's own Freedom Movement of Iran party, let cooler heads prevail and stopped the Parliament from devolving into an outright, open brawl.

    The incident forced the suspension of the parliamentary session, though lawmakers eventually returned to vote on Dr. Bazargan's tenure as Prime Minister, in which the Toodeh Party and a number of lawmakers from his own party, defected the governing coalition, forcing his resignation.

    Initially appointed by Ayatollah Khomeini, the religious leader who looked to lead the revolution before his ousting in March 1979, Mehdi Bazargan had looked to have won the confidence of the Iranian people, presiding over the country's first democratic elections, leading the Freedom Movement of Iran party in a coalition with the Moslem People's Republican Party and the Tudeh Party. During his time in office, the Republic of Iran was officially declared, a federal system for minority regions introduced, and the country's rampant inflation was combated.

    His time in office faced criticism for its inconsistent policy on religious and minority issues, and presided over an initially pacific foreign policy with regards to Iraq, recalling Iran's military commitments in the Persian Gulf and Oman, as well as participating in Soviet-arranged talks in Samarkand to make the two Republics commit to a lasting peace. The talks, which have faced criticism from several sources as a Soviet attempt to spread its influence in the Middle East by cultivating Iran and Iraq as East-aligned client states, devolved into little more than brinksmanship on the part of both states.

    He also presided over several attempts to ratify a new Iranian constitution. The constitution, if ratified, would officially declare Iran a Federal Islamic Democratic Republic — the first of its kind — though the same constitution has also been criticized by Iranian adherents of Khomeini as insufficiently acknowledging the Islamic history of Iran, and taking a laïcité-inspired approach to religion. With Dr. Bazargan no longer holding the position of Prime Minister, it is uncertain what the fate of the proposed constitution — which is widely perceived as one of Dr. Bazargan's personal projects — will be.

    Dr. Bazargan's resignation comes at a critical time, as the Republic of Iran was invaded by its neighbour, the Iraqi Republic, this month, with the majority of the oil-rich Khuzestan State under Iraqi occupation. In response to Bazargan's resignation, a new and collective head of state has been formed to avoid the necessity of finding the votes to elect a new Prime Minister. This new body, the "Central Committee for the Propagation of the Revolution", consists of a number of candiates elected by Parliament in general, as well as representatives from the country's ten constituent states, and has already appointed a three-person "Executive Committee" from its own ranks to take the role formerly fulfilled by Dr. Bazargan.

    While this measure has been criticized as insufficiently democratic given the lacking party infrastructure and organization in several of the federated states of the Republic, advocates praise it as a necessary measure to avoid division and "Khomeinist personalism".
    Source: Bazargan Resigns as Prime Minister after Failed Speech
     
    Flashpoint: Antarctica + Alien Broadcast II
  • Threadmarks
    • Flashpoint: Battle of the Midnight Sun
    (around former Davis Station, Antarctica)
    The United Nations had previously authorized an unprecedented military expedition to liberate Antarctica from alien control. In the process of said operation, a French scout helicopter had discovered a large alien operation, dubbed a 'construction site', in the former Australian Antarctic territory in Princess Elizabeth Land, close to the now abandoned Davis research installation. An incoming blizzard forced the patrol to withdraw, but news that the aliens were building something permanent on Earth's surface was cause for great alarm in the United Nations. As the Security Council debated on a strategy, the South Korean representative posited a question to the Xenonaut liaison, seeking their recommendation. Some members had already suggested using nuclear weapons against the construction site, but this would be in violation of the Antarctic Treaties (albeit so was the large-scale expedition already underway) and further there were concerns that such an explosion at the poles would have unforeseen effects on the Earth's climate. That said, the unknowable purpose of such a base proved worrisome enough that something had to be done, and on this point the Xenonauts opined that the alien position was on the coast and thus susceptible to naval support bombardment, to soften them up while ground troops would take a beachhead and then advance on the aliens during the summer, where they would enjoy almost 24 hours of sunlight for a period of about two months.

    The plan called for an escalation of various nations' commitments. With the end of the World Wars few ships remained capable of the kind of shore bombardment that was needed, and so the United States accelerated its program to refit the Iowa-class battleships for action. All four would attend the assault, after undergoing expensive and rapid modernization and the necessary arrangements were made to produce enough ammunition of the appropriate caliber. They would be joined by a full American carrier task force, accompanied by a Soviet carrier task force with several guided missile cruisers, and several submarines. The international coalition altogether contributed a total of 45 destroyers, some very modern and some 1930s relics. Considerable logistical effort was needed to support the mission, including what ended up being hundreds of freighters from various nations making runs between the fleet and supply points in relatively nearby countries, particularly Australia.

    Between the American and Soviet carriers, plus helicopter tenders, the mission put to field 140 combat jets and 25 utility helicopters. Missiles, guns, and airstrikes would bombard the aliens repeatedly for in excess of a week once the midnight sun shone prominently at the dawn of November 1980, with news of the opening broadsides even cutting through the news during the hotly contested race between Robert Kennedy (D) and John Anderson (R) on Election Day. The destroyers and fighters would provide a vast air defense screen to hopefully repel any alien counterattack. In the meantime, a force of almost 50,000 soldiers from 5 nations, lead by a sizeable Xenonaut contingent bearing some of the first human-built energy weapons, went ashore on both sides of the alien base and gradually surrounded it, making probing attacks to determine the perimeter of alien defense and try to gather intelligence on the kind of firepower they have at hand.

    By late November the full-scale assault began. The hope was to overcome the aliens' defenses at the latest before March, when the sun would start to set on Antarctica for another several months. The effect of the coalition's bombardment was hard to discern from a distance, but whether severe or not, the aliens had responded in kind. Eleven small alien craft occasionally flew sorties against the combined task force; in the end they would sink ten destroyers, two cruisers, and the battleship USS Wisconsin. In return, five alien ships were downed, with the force's submarines working to locate the underwater sites for future salvage. Dozens of fighters and bombers were also lost during the successive air duels and strike missions.

    The infantry advance was no less perilous. Some of the alien forces were familiar; Soviet officers recognized the enemy robotic infantry as the same sort which had ravaged the streets of Moscow during the Olympics, while by now the forms of snakemen and gaunts were all but iconic symbols of the war for many households worldwide. There were nonetheless new factors: among other things the alien foot soldiers had heavier weapons, had arctic camouflage, and even more durable bodies of alien alloys. As what some Xenonaut soldiers insisted on calling 'droids' advanced to counterattack, drawing significant firepower to bring them down, zipping high above were a new alien unit entirely, light infantry skipping through the air on jetbacks, firing down out of retaliation range with precise blasts of plasma. The combination of this with the stubborn advance of the 'droids' proved a brutally fatal tactic, especially as the relatively lightly-armed detachments of UN infantry (a necessity in the Antarctic wastes) lacked some of the heavy equipment that made the ultimately successful defense of Moscow possible.

    With time, the UN and Xenonauts adapted. Laser-equipped Xenonaut troopers would focus their firepower on the aliens' drone infantry, while technicians reconfigured Stingers and Strelas to target the alien flyers, so-called 'buzzards' in radio comms, to limited success. Heavy machine guns and autocannons from some fire support vehicles proved somewhat more effective. Lasers also sufficed much better against the alien robots than ballistic firearms had managed, though it still took substantial firepower. After weeks of fighting, the UN broke into the base proper, and by this time mostly encountered the aliens' rear echelon engineers and operators and the like, which offered comparatively little resistance with the exception of a few dubbed 'psions' who battlefield and eyewitness reports indicate capable of instilling confusion and despair in approaching human soldiers, priming them for an ambush. In the end, the base would be captured, at heavy cost, just in time for the UN to finally pass a resolution about how alien salvage from international territories such as Antarctica should be distributed. Preliminary salvage team reports dozens of units of alien alloys and tens of elerium to be distributed among the coalition and Xenonauts, but also critical were the handful of live alien captives, including one of the so-called buzzards and a snakeman soldier.

    The victory in Antarctica gave much to mourn over, but there was something else; many have come to hail it as the 'end of the beginning' of our generation's war, the end of panic and helplessness in the face of the alien menace. New technology and new degrees of international cooperation have allowed mankind to succeed, even in an unprecedented location with countless novel logistical and technical difficulties, in a counteroffensive, retaking territory from the extraterrestrial. For many in the general public, it was the first time since July 1979 that they felt any hope that the crisis might one day come to an end...

    (Hysteria has been reduced.)
    (phat l00t is recovered)

    Another Alien Broadcast
    As before, the aliens intercepted broadcasts all over the world to insert their own imagery. While the first time had come as a surprise, the second received more timid reaction. The aliens had besieged Earth now for a little over two years, and for most it was just the new normal. A fact of life that 30,000 objects high in the sky were demanding their submission. There were even some for whom the incoming alien broadcast was something of a relief, something of a bated breath, yet of course for others an occasion to panic.

    This time the aliens accompanied their messaging with little in the way of visuals, electing instead to place a logo - possibly their ensign or flag - surrounded in an almond shape by twisting, sharp forms that shifted into the familiar writing system for the respective language of each specific broadcast. In the English version, it declared 'A Message from your benefactors, the Sentient Milieu'.

    "Below we see a failing world. Our spies have given insight into this tragedy: institutions and ideologies firmly and earnestly dedicated to the betterment of humankind's lot in the universe, to building a better world. And all of them failing. We have seen failing civilizations before, and you will also fail. If you look up, you will see something never witnessed on Earth: a successful society. We have triumphed over death, over petty squabbling, over sickness and injury. Your philosophers debate with one another how best to live, whether it is better to be compassionate or expedient, to seek equality of outcome or equality of opportunity, to reserve resources for the strong or distribute them based on need. We are older than you, and we have already figured this all out. We would be happy to teach you.

    Unfortunately, one of your failing, miserable institutions is the United Nations, which has heard our pleas for Earth's surrender and replied with a declaration of war, and even now I am made to understand that you are plotting a resolution to punish any who endeavor for peace with us. Take heed, people of Earth - your leaders are foolish, desperate to hold on to power at any cost, even if it means your own annihilation. Take heed, and overthrow them, and reach out to us before they can squash you. The Milieu will happily defend its protectorates from barbaric, narrow-minded aggression.

    We have the tools to deal death and life in equal measure. You have born witness to our capacity to kill. Now you will observe us heal this ravaged world."
     
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