GC 2Q1902

[Borys]

 2 April 1902: Cartagena

Captain Luis Carmona rapped on the thick wooden door marked, "Castillo", his memory telling him he'd heard the name before, but not really helping him pin down where or when.

"Enter!", a raspy voice called out.

Carmona opened the door, stepped inside, and threw a crisp salute at the man seated behind a desk before him. The other man - a flag officer with an eye patch - returned the salute, then pointed to a leather chair. "Have a seat, Captain", Almirante Castillo said. "You look like you're trying to remember me", he added.

"I confess that is correct, Sir", Carmona responded as he attempted to make himself comfortable in the very rigid chair.

"We were at the same social function in early April of last year. Your wife was with you until Captain Alviso pulled you away to introduce you to some people he thought were important."

Carmona had to mull it over, but then recalled seeing Castillo standing against a wall, working on a cigar. "Yes, Sir. I remember it now."

"Good. I'm curious, Captain - how did Captain Alviso refer to me?"

Carmona bit his lip, then decided to be blunt. "He said you weren't a part of society, and would be dead in a couple of years."

"Well, he's half right", Castillo conceded. "So, Captain, it is my understanding that you remain in notional command of the former ACM battleship Helena, and that you continue to live aboard her."

"Yes, Sir."

"And you're still attached to the good folks that handle fleet stores, correct?"

"Yes Sir, that is correct", Carmona confirmed.

"You still have regular contact with your crew?"

"Yes, Sir, I do. They're still my men, even if I'm not giving them orders most of the time."

Castillo nodded. "Good, because you need to have a talk with some of them. You're aware of the reverse-engineering work some of your men are engaged in?"

"I am, Sir. It's been underway for a good twelve months now", Carmona replied.

"Let me ask you this, Captain. Have you noticed any out-of-place civilians in proximity to your ship? Men wearing pastel suits and straw hats?"

"I have, Sir, though I can't say I've paid much mind to them."

"You need to start", Castillo said flatly. "Captain, there are expectations by some within the government as to when certain milestones in the reverse-engineering studies will be accomplished. I happen to know that some of these milestones have not yet been met, and that the bureaucrats in question are displeased. That, Captain, could have grave consequences for your men."

"I don't follow, Sir", Carmona said with some anxiety.

"Let me put it this way, Captain", Castillo began, then paused to offer him a cigar. Carmona declined, prompting Castillo to ask, "You're not a cigarette smoker, are you?"

"No Sir - I have a pipe", Carmona replied.

"Good. Cigarettes are for women and children", the admiral growled. "Back to the matter at hand. There is a theory going round that your men are deliberately stalling studies on Helena's main battery. It has been suggested that they are either protesting what amounts to an exploitation of your technology, or they are prolonging what they considered to be an easy and pleasant assignment. Either way, it's obstructing the government's efforts to introduce a new and larger gun into military service."

"I can't see that being true, Sir", Carmona objected.

"Frankly, nor do I.. From what I've seen, you former ACM men have more work ethic than many native Gran Colombians. What matters, Captain, is that somebody in the bureaucracy doesn't share our opinion. They've brought the matter to the attention of the Directorate of Human Resources Compliance - unofficially known to many of us as the Men in Straw Hats. These are godless, immoral men existing only to ruthlessly reinforce the will of the bureaucracy."

"They're not your average paper-pushers, then, Admiral?"

Castillo smiled in spite of himself. "Not at all. They have extraordinary powers - one might say that they are Gran Colombia's secret police force. And they have a knack for tailoring ironic punishments for those who fail the state. I shudder to think of what might happen to men perceived to be obstructing research on guns..."

Carmona winced.

"I think you understand me", Castillo said. "Now go speak to your men, while there is still time."

La Prensa Nacional: 5 April 1902

Construction began today on the powerful new fortress "El Tigre", overlooking the Armada's base in beautiful Esmeraldas. The fortress will include a battery of fearsome twelve inch guns capable of striking down any enemy that ventures near the city.

The announcement comes as no surprise to citizens of Esmeraldas, who were advised of the program some time ago. Indeed, residents of the neighbourhood in which El Tigre is to be located were so struck with patriotic fervour that they declined the government's offer of compensation for the removal of their homes prior to the start of construction. These proud Gran Colombians are now, in many cases, living in temporary quarters outside the city while they debate where to re-site their vibrant community.
   
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The Rock Doctor    
Posted: Jul 12 2006, 08:30 AM


Hegemon
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Group: Head of State
Posts: 463
Member No.: 57
Joined: 4-January 06



   
18 June: Caracas

"Our Spanish cousins show us the way!", shouted a scraggily-haired man from atop a table that would normally hold fruit or vegetables. "They have risen up against those who oppress them, and seized what is rightfully theirs! Now we, too, must throw off the shackles of the industrial-government complex and take our freedom!"

Applause and a few cheers came from the ring of people around the Socialist speaker.

"It is time, comrades! The workers and common people of Gran Colombia must now prove their worth before God himself as protectors of what is right! Only you and I, comrades, can-", and the speaker fell backwards as a gunshot rang out. He landed on the ground on his back with a thump that raised some dust and began thrashing about, clutching at his stomach. "Ah! I've been shot! Somebody help me!", he shrieked.

Instead, the small crowd turned outward to flee, and found themselves facing four well-dressed men with impassive expressions and, in one case, a revolver. One of the men, wearing a light green cotton suit and a straw hat, announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, please don't be leaving just yet. It would be quite rude to do so before our esteemed speaker has concluded his lecture. In fact, it would be criminal."

The newcomers made their way through the crowd, which hastily parted before them. The man in the green stopped beside the table; his armed colleague, in a tan suit, stood behind and to one side of him. "Very good", the man in green proclaimed. "Let us now hear what else our speaker has to say about the glories of socialism." He looked over to his other companions, both wearing light pink suits.

They produced short truncheons from within deep pockets and began to beat the writhing socialist with short, sharp blows. The man's screaming grew in intensity, and he made a half-hearted attempt to fend off the attacks that earned him a series of strikes to both elbows and wrists. As the barrage continued, the man in green stared a challenge at the crowd around them, daring the commoners to turn their backs or look away at the example being made before them. None did.

The battery continued, the men in pink aiming most of their blows at joints such as knees, ankles, and wrists. They made no effort to strike the head, neck, or torso, though occasionally did so by accident. Red dots began to color the mens' suits, and the wounded socialist eventually passed out from the pain.

A few long seconds of silence were broken by the man in green noting, "I do believe our speaker has concluded his lecture." His colleagues produced clean white rags and began wiping their truncheons clean. As they dropped the rags on the motionless man between them, the man in green said to the muted, horrified onlookers, "The gentleman before you has gone to some trouble to discuss socialism and its consequences. I invite you now to disperse and carefully consider your own thoughts on the matter. Thank you."

25 June: Deepest, Darkest Amazonia

Padre Batista and Senor Sanchez waited, the former patient, the latter nervous. Noise and rapid footfalls were coming towards them from up the path they had just been on. Now, several feet into the undergrowth on one side, they waited, guns in hand.

"Follow my lead", Batista muttered. Sanchez grunted a reply.

They spied white between splashes of green, and then a woman ran past them, cradling a bundle before her. They waited, hearing further noise approaching, and two men pounded past, wearing cane and feather armor, and brandishing what looked like axes with tips of obsidian.

Batista pushed on the path and let out a high-pitched scream that caused the two men to skid to a stop. They turned and had enough time to start forward before Batista put two rounds of buckshot into one of them. Sanchez's shooting was less effective, but the other interloper was dead by the time the fourth bullet had concluded its travel.

"Stay here and keep an eye out for more trouble", Batista ordered, and he began running back down the path, looking for the woman. She was still running, but straining, and he had no difficulty catching up with her. Getting her to stop was not so easily accomplished, so he tried phrases of friendship in every dialect he could conjure. He was rather surprised when a greeting in French prompted her to stumble to a stop.

"Mademoiselle, I am a man of the cloth; you are under my protection", he said. "Who were those men?"

"Soldiers...soldiers from the City of Light", the woman gasped. "They killed my husband and his family, wanted to take me back to sacrifice me to their god! But I escaped in the night and they pursued me."

"Are there more than two?", Batista demanded.

"Not for days now. Just two. You killed them?"

"We did", Batista replied. "Is that a child with you?"

"My son", the woman answered. "He is not well - can you help him?"

"Let me see him", Batista said gently. The woman handed him the bundle she had clenched so protectively - an infant perhaps six months of age. He could not help but frown upon seeing the baby. "I fear he will probably pass away very soon", he said, and the woman began to sob. Batista stepped forward and drew her to him, holding her as she wept. "All is not lost. Have you given yourself to the one true God?"

"No...I have not", the woman replied.

"Has your son been baptized?"

"No", she said.

Batista nodded solemnly. "Let us bring you and your son into the Roman Catholic church. I can not prevent your son's death, but we can ensure his soul is entrusted to the protection of God Almighty. It will be at the foot of his throne in heaven above that you and your son shall one day be re-united. Come; it will not take long, and then you can continue along this path towards safety."

Perhaps twenty-five minutes after they'd parted company, Batista rejoined Sanchez. "Well? Did you find her?", the bureaucrat inquired.

"I did. She says these were the only two chasing her, but that there are more ahead at a city of light."

"Where's she now?", Sanchez asked.

Batista answered, "She is on the right path now, as are we. Forward, my son, and don't forget to reload."