www.navalism.org

March 5th, 1913:

After three months at sea, Captain Abidi was ready to be off of his ship.  Why he had let his cousin talk him into leaving the Jaguar Warriors to join the newly minted Seal Warrior Society....oh, right, his cousin, the Sultan.  And it had come with a healthy promotion as well, to full Captain, Naval Captain, rather than the mere Major he had been.  But finally, they were here, New Zealand as it was called on the map.  A place called Christchurch, named after the prophet Jesus no doubt.  And his men were pouring off of the converted cargo carriers and onto whaleboats for the run in to shore, even as some ships made for the crude fishing and trading wharf to unload under the watchful guns of their lone armored cruiser. 

"Badr, this is the last time we will have to resort to such crude measures" the Captain says.  "I've seen the first of the vessels for the Seal Warriors, Marines as they are called elsewhere.  Next time we are called upon to put to shore, we will sail right to the beach and walk off into the surf, with the guns of our landing ship supporting us."  "Yes, my lord" the sergeant major replies "that will be a good day". 

Over the next week, the majority of the local Maori tribes bent the knee to the Sultan and Allah and his Prophet.  But a sizable number of recalcitrants barricaded themselves in a "Pa" a local type of sunken hill fort turned storehouse.  With a siege likely to last weeks, Captain Abidi decided that a single example of the resolve and battle prowress of his Seals would both serve as an example for what would follow if a general resistance broke out and blood his men in the crucible of glorious combat. 

He stood at the head of an assembled battalion of four companies, 600 men armed with their 1910 Navy Rifles and 1909 Carbines, with some machine guns pulled from the ships for direct fire support along with the Seals 4cm mountain guns.  The artillery duel was anything but lopsided, as the Maori tribesmen had older but larger cannons firing from dug in positions against the rapid firing and accurate, if small, guns of the Aztecs.  But after several hours the guns one by one fell silent to shellfire or machine gun fire. 

With that done, Captain Abidi ordered skirmishers forward, firing at any Maori who raised his head to use a musket.  Drawing his cutlass, the Captain then led the assault by two companies, with the other two following into the warrens den of tunnels.  Young men, volunteers all, sprinted ahead with bundles of dynamite, hurling their cargo into the Pa, though many were cut down by fire before they could crawl away.  The explosions cleared a palisade of thornbrushes opening the way for the assault.  With ululating battle cries from the veterans, the Seal Warriors charged up the low slope and lept into the Pa, rifles and carbines crackling with fire, and bayonet and cutlass being used with abandon as Aztec steel met stone blades hearkening back to their own ancient past.  This was the type of fight that burned deep in the breast of every Aztec, and every man present who had not yet earned his sealskin baldric was keen to showcase his prowress and valor before his brethren.  Released to the madness of the melee, no further orders need be given, and Captain Abidi himself was only a leader of a small party of his staff as he shot and hacked his way into a dugout, catching a club to the ribs in the process of cutting through the rebels.

By the evening, it was all over.  The skirmishers had ensured that none of the Maori rebels escaped, while Captain Abidi, his own cutlass dripping with blood, pistol emptied of cartridges and held as a club, stood in the center of the primitive fortress, master of the field.  Nearly four hundred Maori bodies filled the dugouts and tunnels, while fifty Aztec warriors would need a funeral pyre and another hundred were wounded, most lightly.  Most of the killed were in the initial rush up into the Pa, with many Aztecs, including the Captain, earning a scar or two in the close combat that followed. 

Over the next month, Captain Abidi would see to allowing the locals to bury the dead Maori, though he took great care to show mercy upon those who were not openly hostile.  The battle of Christchurch Pa, as the locals called it, was spread as an example of the professional ability and ferocity of Aztec response to rebellion, while the lightly armed patrolling parties of Seal Warriors were an outward demonstration of the Aztec desire to use a gentle hand in its new territories unless provoked.

March 25th, 1913:

It had been a mild winter.  While ordinarily good for the more tropical acclimatized Jaguar Warriors in the Army, General Actazuma had found the weather to be completely uncooperative to his mission.  His counterpart in Baja colony had swiftly and cleanly accomplished his duty, and even now resources were flowing into the new colony to build towns and industry. 

But Hidalgo was anything but 'pacified'.  The Jaguar Warriors had easily overrun the few established villages and trading posts, sure.  And he had established a line of outposts and 'forts'.  But those were typically blockhouses, or palisades around a warehouse and barracks for a platoon or company, connected by mapped roads, with a few railroads beginning to push north.  Fine for securing a kilometer of territory around and resisting a war party, but not a fortress.  Nothing like the thick concrete walls and engineer-designed fortresses of the Oaxacan Line.  Even then, General Actazuma didn't think those fortresses would do much.  Against the Romans, sure.  But Romans were an infantry and artillery army of the first order.

Against these Comanches, something new would have to be done.  Aztecs had never found the need for mounted troops.  Horses had always been pack animals, with donkeys or mules far more prized for their endurance and usefulness at the plow or the pack trails in the jungles and forests.  The new Sultan's modern bent had meant that his Jaguar Warriors had been uncharacteristically blessed with trucks and cars, but these were not in large numbers and tied down making supply runs to the small garrisons holding his 'conquered' territory.

No, against the Comanches, one had to join them to beat them.  Losses had been light in the initial taking of the territory, mostly because these local animists were scattered far and wide.  But it was their very nomadic nature that was now working against him, as they had no base of support or supply to tie them down.  Comanche war parties ranging from a dozen to several hundred mounted warriors would simply materialize, attack, and then disappear into the vast tracts of Hidalgo and the lands beyond.  On their swift ponies they could cover ground faster than even the finest infantry, and their fieldcraft was excellent as was their natural ability at this type of war.  The only advantage given the Aztecs was that of artillery and modern rifles, for the Comanche fought with muskets, single shot breachloaders, lever action carbines, and even bows and spears.

Jaguar Warrior companies sent after them would find nothing, and foraging parties or patrols would simply disappear with evidence of short and sharp battles marking their demise.  A 'lightning platoon' of Jaguar Warriors mounted on a few trucks had returned only two weeks ago to give yet more proof of their quarry's skill at this new type of warfare.  Thirty Jaguar Warriors on four of his precious trucks had gone to pursue a small war party.  A week later, two bullet-riddled trucks filled with wounded men returned to his headquarters.  Their tale was one of days of driving into the desert in pursuit, only to be ambushed from all sides and then harried by small parties until they were nearly back to the headquarters before the Comanches broke off.  His warriors said that they had killed thousands, but even if they had killed hundreds it was not enough to call the column a success.

No, this was a new type of warfare entirely.  But one he was determined to learn.  And obviously his junior commanders were getting an education from the grand masters of light cavalry operations.  Fortunately, Allah and the Sun God had smiled upon them, for this territory had herds of tough ponies, and their initial advance over some of the larger villages had captured thousands.  Even now, dispatch riders from within the Sultanate were teaching soldiers how to ride these ponies, and care for them.  Some converted Comanches and minor tribal natives were also teaching his officers about their way of war and how to read the land and find water, browse, and buffalo in the wilderness.  Saddles and tack had been made and sent North, for the Comanche used neither.  And a new society, the Snake Warriors, named after the sideways slithering rattlesnakes found here, had been formed. 

Mounted on tough native painted ponies, and carrying rifles, machine guns, and light mountain guns rebuilt onto large-wheeled carriages, the Snake Warriors, he was certain, would turn the tide and regain lost momentum in the expansion into this vast land.  And momentum the Aztecs must regain, for other fierce tribes, the Apache, the Crow, and the Sioux and Cheyenne were rumored to be to the North, and there the Aztecs would have to contend with both the natives and the

It would take months, but with General Actazuma's iron will, he was forging not only an eventual victory, but a legacy of mounted warfare that would expand both his own legend and the abilities of the Sultanate.

March 26th, 1913.

Having completed their inspections, and with parts and crews aboard for the steam with the Japanese diplomatic party and and accompanying collier, the following ships names were noted in the register as being transferred on lease to the Empire of Japan:

Tenochtitlan

Scout
Picket

The three older, albeit refurbished in this decade, cruisers would steam to the Japanese holdings on the West Coast of North America as part of the agreement for the engineers which were now assisting Aztec engineers and planners in integrating new technologies quickly into the Aztec shipbuilding industry.

April 15th

Ambassador Mohammed, Admiral Tochtli and General Coyotl watch the Japanese aviation demonstration with great interest.  Demonstrations of balloons and aeroplanes, with extensive walk arounds were on the agenda for today's meetings as part of establishment of an official Embassy with the Empire of Japan.  The Sultanate's representatives also took short rides on an aeroplane, and both the General and Admiral were impressed.

Of course, their staffs were at times terrified, and at others concerned, and for completely opposite reasons.  After discussing performance figures and what advances were being looked into, the senior officers were also concerned.  For it was well known that Rome had an extensive aviation program.  The Admiral was mostly interested in the possibilities of lighter than air aviation for shell spotting and extending line of sight of the fleet.  The General, he was worrying about the possibility of machine gun armed aeroplanes hunting down and massacring artillery batteries behind the lines.  Missives and cables sent definitively showed the break between the services.  Both expressed a need for the Empire to improve its aviation capabilities at once.  But the Army was practically ordered to go into a crash program for a machine gun with half again the range of the existing 8mm Maxim, the imperative to the General Staff being that hordes of Roman planes with marksmen or machine gunners upon them could maul artillery batteries or infantry columns with impunity unless a gun with longer range could be made to stop them and soon.  The Navy received wholly different guidance from the mission.  The concern of aeroplanes was there.  But the plane types observed would primarily be scouting types.  So a much larger automatic gun would be needed to discourage them from drawing too close to the fleet or its screen, but it was felt that there was plenty of time to draw up plans and specifications, and then properly develop the weapon moving forward.

June 6th, 1913

The Battle of Del Rio

It was hot.  Major Zuma could remember days in Tenochtitlan this hot, but there were always baths, well designed rooms, and shaded patios on his family's estate.  An estate that he had been ripped from by order of the Sultan, primarily because of his family's standing for breeding some of the swiftest horses in the Sultanate, and Zuma's numerous trophies for his riding prowress in his younger years.  The meeting with the reigning monarch was friendly, as Sultan Ali had counted Zuma's son amongst his friends in his youth, and the marriage of the Sultan to one of Zuma's daughters had been briefly entertained before it was decided that the two of them were both strong willed in opposite directions and the match would not be suitable.  Strong will was also a longstanding family trait, one that made the men either honored dead or notable warriors, and the women notorious as being disagreeable. 

But the heat of Hidalgo Colony was something else.  The full fury of the sun beat upon him, even with the broad-brimmed hat that he wore, as he rode astride his horse.  Nearing sixty, Major Zuma had been retired from the Eagle Warriors for almost a decade when his oath was called by the Sultan and he was ordered to go to Hidalgo and assist in the establishment of the Snake Warriors and take command of the Fifth Battalion.  He had studied the Comanche, and learned from the prisoners and advisors just as he had done from the Maya over three decades ago. 

The Comanche had finally moved to give battle.  The crude fort at Del Rio, a place once discovered by prolific catholic missionaries but never claimed properly, was garrisoned by two platoons of Jaguar Warriors, just one in a chain of small forts of adobe placed as outposts along the lines of communication.  And as he glassed the distant structure he could see it surrounded by hundreds of Tipi.  A boat on the Rio Grande had attempted to resupply the fort, but had been unable to.  Even with the Maxim guns on the fort and the 4cm gun and Maxims of the river boat, the Comanche had been able to hold the river and the relief platoon had been unable to establish a corridor that could allow supplies and men to reach the Fort.  The Comanche were well ware of the power of the 'endless repeaters' and had instead sent a steady stream of arrows arcing over small defiles, or sniped at the men from concealed positions. 

But the Comanche had made a miscalculation.  By concentrating, they at least gave him a target, rather than the endless small patrols that had borne little fruit in hunting the elusive tribal warriors across the vast plains.  A target that easily outnumbered him three to one, but a target for a set piece battle nonetheless. 

And so, the Fifth Battalion would be the ones blessed by Allah with the chance to bring the Comanche to at least some decisive grip.  Major Zuma smiled behind the shemagh protecting his face from the sun and dust.  Fifth battalion, unique amongst the Snake Warriors, if derided, because it is, with the exception of its commander, an all female battalion.  In the need for trained riders, Zuma had put forward that the women of the Sultanate were great in number, and that horseback riding was a popular pastime for well born women.  He also noted that women were lighter burdens for horses, and their slighter stature, a detriment on foot marches, was no barrier.  After a discussion with his majesty, including recounting the exploits of Khawlah bint al-Azwar, the experiment was approved, as the fifth battalion of the four battalion brigade. 

They had crossed fifty kilometers upriver from the siege, and ridden East until they located the beleaguered encampment.  Now, with sunrise removing the advantage the Comanche have at night with their dispersed and stealthy movements, Zuma turned to the Captain of the first company of his 300 woman strong battalion.  His daughter, the one notorious for her strong willed disposition.  "Captain Zaniyah, I will lead the second and third companies to cut off the Comanche.  You may begin your attack, Allahu Ackbar"  And with that, the grizzled veteran rode away, leaving the 100 riders of the First Company to make the main attack.

An hour later, the appointed time by the plan, a hundred riders advanced at a fast trot towards the Comanche siege.  Smoke still rose from Del Rio, but the Aztec and Jaguar standards still flew, showing that the elite warriors inside the fort had resisted yet another night of Comanche attacks.  Undoubtedly the high and thick adobe walls had continued to serve them well, along with the machine guns at each corner, though that ammunition had to be running dangerously low by this the 9th day of the siege. 

A hundred riders, clad in khaki, with flowing pantaloons taking the place of skirts while still appearing 'proper', advanced, faces wrapped in shemaghs for the sun and dust as much as modesty out here, the snake pennant flying from the guidon.  At the sound of the trumpet, they sped, covering ground, 1 kilometer....the Comanches are fully alerted to the danger and their camp is like an anthill disturbed...warriors leap upon horses, rifles, muskets, bows, and spears held high as they whoop and ride towards them.  Half a Kilometer....the column splits into a broad wedge, an arrow giving each rider her horse's head and a field of fire for her rifle.  A hundred rifles sling around and come up.  300 meters, rifles crack, and crack again as the cavalry fires at the trot, pouring 6mm fire into the first knots of Comanches charging towards them, felling men and horses as the 1st Company empty their magazines into their foes.  One hundred meters....rifles are dropped and with ululating war cries, the 1st Company spur their horses to the gallop, pistols and scimitars sliding free of scabbards as the outriders edge further inward, tightening the wedge as their Captain leads them into the clash.

Trumpets blast from elsewhere about the Comanche Camp, and two companies headed by Major Zuma crest a low rise, riding fast towards the North flank of the Comanche camp.  The Comanche try to pull up short of the First Company, their following war parties confused by the sudden appearance of the enemy from an unexpected direction, leaving the first war party to face the first company alone.  Pistols snap with fire, and scimitar meets tomahawk as the First Company smashes into and through the first war party, leaving the survivors unmolested as the eighty still mounted Snake Warriors plunge onwards towards Del Rio. 

Major Zuma's remaining companies hit the camp from the North, scimitars rising and falling as they cut down dismounted warriors who are running to their grazing horses.  Rifle, pistol, and scimitar reap a toll in blood as the battalion fights its way through the camp.  The Comanche, past masters of the hit and run cavalry raid, are temporarily paralyzed.  Not by the ferocity of the attack, few could supercede the ferocity of a Comanche brave.  But by the rigid discipline, the shock tactic, and the straight line advance, without wavering, without seeking the arcing maneuver and fast ranged engagements of plains warfare, but rather the brutal firepower and close combat that is the hallmark of the Aztec warrior.

Once in the camp proper, a few Snake Warriors dismount, dragging 6mm Madsens from their mounts to set them up on any convenient perch and pour fire into and between the Tipis, slaughtering scores of Comanches as they make for their mounts.   With most of the Comanches caught away from their horses, the battle is one of cavalry against very light infantry, and Zuma keeps his battalion moving, always pressing, always firing, unable to be pinned in one place and dismounted.  The machine guns atop Del Rio open up a fire towards the Eastern Camp, the Jaguar Warriors recognizing their salvation and using their guns to prevent the Comanches from reinforcing their Western and Northern Camps.

Captain Zaniyah and her first company, nearly half dismounted, casualties, or both, reach Del Rio, turning to cut around the fort walls to stymie pursuit as they reload for a second engagement.  A few minutes later, the rest of the battalion also reaches Del Rio, and forming up, moves to make a second charge out into the Comanche Western Camp.  From atop Del Rio, the machine gunners can see their cavalry counterparts, islands in a sea as the Comanches flow around them in their efforts to escape, some of the islands spitting fire, and some of them falling silent as they're overrun.   The Fifth Battalion advances again, coming onto line, their rifles spitting 6mm death as they close on an assembling group of braves.  The braves charge, tomahawks and spears held aloft, some of them firing muskets and rifles, and the range closes down as the trumpet sounds the trot, then the canter, then the full gallop as scimitars are once again drawn, rise, and fall on the battlefield. 

The much reduced 5th Battalion reforms again, to find the Comanches in flight.  And the Battalion reduced by nearly half in just two hours of combat.   But the Comanche dead and wounded, soon to be dead, litter the field, and hundreds of squaws and children are rounded up. 

Surprised that their salvation is at the hand of a battalion of women, the Jaguar warriors are incredulous.  But they had seen the battle from their post, and could not dispute that the Fifth Battalion had fought with honor.  Over the next week, river boats take the prisoners down river to a rail head where they can be moved into camps, along with the wounded of the 5th Battalion and the Jaguar Warriors, and word of what had happened at Del Rio. 

Upon word reaching the Palace, the Queen demands of the Sultan that they be named her battalion.  And so they are immediately named Queen Fatima's Light Cavalry, though it would take a month for the official recognition, and the new heraldry to reach the frontier.

September 1st 1913:

While things in Hidalgo province and expansions had proceeded apace after the early setbacks,  for general Montezuma in Baja province,  things had hit a wall.  Expanding north, he had run into a people who called themselves the Apache.  Similar to the comanches but somehow also different.   

Montezuma estimated their numbers at less than half of the comanche, maybe fewer.   But the Apache were different.   Even general Zuma, who had rode train and stagecoach to confer with Montezuma, agreed that the comanche were more disorganized and primitive.   

The apache warriors seemed to be far more regimented,  and their artificers or traders far better, as they had acquired a mix of weaponry that was far more modern than the comanche,  and seemed to be able to maintain it and even make repairs.  These were undoubtedly an industrious people,  and highly capable of defending their territory.   Montezuma knew that he could defeat them, but the expenditure of lives and equipment did not justify the poor land that the Apache called home.  So instead he was here, with full brigades of snake and jaguar warriors,  to meet with the Apache chief geronimo.  If an accord could be reached,  Montezuma would be the first to bring a new tribe wholly into the Sultanate sphere since before the civil war.  The thought of Apache warrior scouts leading his armies in northward expansion was appealing.   But could it be done?

General Montezuma's reverie is momentarily interrupted as his batman tells him that Geronimo and his assemblage have arrived at the meeting site.  He tells him to go on, and the General's car begins moving to the meeting site.  The General sits back, cursing the uncomfortable dress uniform, and considers how things had gone in Apache territory......

From the first, things had been wildly different from the Comanche Wars to the East.  The Apache were skillful at avoiding combat, but were also skillful in defensive warfare.  Fighting both in ambush and in set-piece defenses, the Apaches had at nameless canyons and mountain passes held five and ten times their numbers in Jaguar warriors at bay.  While the Comanche were fine horse soldiers, the Apache showed no predilection to mounted or dismounted combat, and were equally comfortable on foot or in the saddle. 

And then there was Chihuahua.  An earthen and palisade protected camp of the Apache.  For 10 days, the Apache had refused to surrender, holding up two entire brigades of Jaguar Warriors.  The fighting had been fierce, and two escalades were thrown back.  Finally after a four day bombardment by 7cm and 10cm guns, the Apache had abandoned the position.  But yet they had not surrendered, they fought their way out of the encirclement and into the hills beyond.  Quite a number of officers, including the Colonel of one Brigade, had been killed in the fighting.  And when the Apache position was taken, it was found to have been pounded frightfully, with bodies left around, but far fewer than had been imagined.  An estimate was that the Chihuahua camp had held only 400 Apache, versus over 2000 Jaguar warriors with their artillery, of which the Apache had only two old cannon to the batteries of modern guns. 

The other thing of note in the conflict had been the honor shown by both sides.  The Apache were fierce fighters, as were the Aztecs.  But the bodies of the dead on either side had been shown honor, something that was again in stark contrast to the haphazard insults by the Comanche to the East.

And so, General Montezuma ended his reverie as he arrives at the arrayed tents for the delegations.  And sits across from Geronimo, war chief of the Apache......and after much discussion, Geronimo agrees to the terms. The Apache will be absorbed on paper as a self-governing tribe of the Sultanate.  The Sultan will allow them to retain their religion and their territory to themselves.  And in exchange, the Apache would provide a warrior society to the Sultanate, a chance to continue to prove their mettle in battle against foes near and far.

Fall, 1913........

Commodore Abidi was getting final reports on the push through in Zealand, finishing the absorption of the island and the Maoris.  With just a few minor skirmishes between some recalcitrant sects of tribes, the Maori had been absorbed without major incident.  A number of his Seal Warriors had been sent home, replaced with Jaguar Warriors, and even now local constabularies were forming to handle patrolling in what had become a relatively quiet if distant colony.  From his command post in the prophet's city of Christchurch, he had merely needed to supervise logistics rather than lead another major campaign.  Based on his reading, his campaign had been one of unbridled success compared to the brutal fighting the deserts and scrublands of Hidalgo and parts of Baja. 

A messenger delivers a wire, transmitted at great expense via Japanese cables and ships as a priority message. 

"Commodore Abidi, your request for Emergency Leave is approved Post Haste.  Return to your Father at Earliest Convenience"

The Commodore grimaces and then orders his aide to have a spot on the next packet steamer to leave secured for him, and to contact the Japanese liason to request priority passage via the fastest route for the Commodore and himself. 

Alone in his office he begins furiously making notes for his trip.  "So, it has come to this.  I must be ready for what Allah wills be done"

Admiral Chimalli was thrilled beyond belief.  From the Flag Bridge of Veracruz, the mightiest ship the Sultanate has ever put to sea, he has managed a task once deemed impossible.  Six Brigades, two of Seal warriors and four of Jaguar Warriors, made landfall into the African region known as Angola.  Overawed by the fleet presence, the coastal tribes submitted with only a single demonstration of Veracruz' firepower being necessary on a hilltop, reducing it from a wooded knoll to a blasted hellscape in two salvoes.  The Seal Warriors main landing was almost anti-climactic, and engineers and civilian administrators were already ashore and beginning to survey for a proper port city to be the capital of Angola Colony, already being named Chimalli City in honor of the Admiral, though he had stated it should be named Ali City. 

Braving the small fishing quays, the Jaguar Warriors and their logistics had been pushed foward, and they had stoically advanced deeper into the interior, fanning out in columns to establish the wider colony.  Reports from the interior had advised that the natives were both tribal and fractious, with no clear unified leadership.  Fighting had been primarily against bow and spear wielding tribes, with few firearms and even fewer of those remotely near modern.  While there had been casualties, the field hospital in Chimalli City had not been overwhelmed or even near capacity.  Of more concern was the climate, if something could be even more oppressive than Oaxaca province in summertime, Angola was it.  Engineers were already drawing up plans to divert streams and drain swamps, anything to eliminate the malaria which was beginning to take a toll on civilian and military personnel alike.  Which was one more reason that the Admiral had found no need to establish a headquarters ashore, opting instead to maintain military command in his flagship. 

A message is run to him by Veracruz' communications officer. 

"Admiral Chimalli, your request for Emergency Leave is approved.  Return to your Father at your earliest convenience"

"Where did this message come from?" the Admiral asks.  "Steamer just came in, she was straining her engines all the way across the Atlantic".  "Very Well, have the Captains all report to my mess at 1700hrs."

Admiral Chimalli tugged at his goatee.  He would need to make arrangements to leave a station cruiser, likely two given the numbers of international players in Africa, and then coal his ships for a speed run back to Veracruz.  Something was afoot, and with the code phrase, it boded ill back home.

Admiral Tochtli sat in the gallery at the Tenochtitlan proving grounds, observing the proceedings.  An old gun, pulled out of storage, with a newly designed breech mechanism.  The old 7cm gun barked, and the Admiral watched, enraptured, as under recoil the cartridge ejected itself and the gun returned on its recoil track to have an open breech, ready for the next cartridge.  A dozen rounds were fired, with three stoppages, so obviously the mechanism needed additional development.  But it was definitely promising.  Returning to his office, the Admiral drafted a requirement for a gun using this mechanism to be developed.  Same should use the lightest caliber capable of a reasonable range and payload while having a high rate of sustained fire.  Same should also be a high velocity gun with long range to be used against spotting aircraft or balloons.  And the gun should have a time fused or quick fused explosive shell with the maximum of shrapnel effect for the purposes of combatting aircraft.  Of course, based upon the day's demonstration, he did not expect quick results, only effective ones in time.  Until then, the Navy would make do with its paired water-cooled MGs to discourage spotting aircraft from coming too closely.

As high summer hits Zealand colony and winter rains fall on the Sultanate, the activity is something to make any dutiful shipwatcher confused.

Rumors going about herald that the Sultan is extremely cross with the Mayans for their moves in the region and plans to do something before too long, but concrete information is nigh impossible for even skilled espionage agents as the various Warrior Societies can be a black hole of intelligence when they so choose, and none have the need to transmit extensive messages outside the fortified palace complex of the Old City.

Seal Warriors are seen in Acapulco in large numbers, and stores and provisions are laid aside there.  And camps are prepared and organized in fallow fields in preparation for joint exercises announced to be with the Empire of Japan sometime in 1914 and the need to billet troops ashore.  Some enterprising reporter gets a copy of a rental agreement for a large tract of land near Acapulco for the purposes of an Empire-Sultanate training exercise to occur between February and April. Surveyors as well as Eagle, Jaguar, and Seal Warriors are seen on the land by reporters and reporters of a less media nature.

The sudden re-arrival of the fleet sent to Angola is a surprise to everyone.  But then the agreement with the Incans to rebuild two of the Sultanate's battleships into 'battletenders' for Incan coastal use is announced, and sailors are removed from those ships to serve on the new destroyers now in their shakedown periods.  And two 20-boat TB squadrons are re-assigned to the Eastern Caribbean, while a third is re-assigned to Baja colony to provide revenue cutter and patrol services to those colonies.

Yes, indeed a lot of things are in motion, but only Allah knows what the plan might be, if there is a plan at all......

January 6th, 1914:

As reported by Parthian Diplomatic Services and Papers:

An Aztec cruiser of their "Scout" type, a small protected cruiser armed with 100mm guns, was spotted by Mayan forces on Point Loma at San Diego Bay in the morning mists.  The two Mayan Armored Cruisers in port, armed with 160mm guns, made steam and set out in pursuit of the interloper which was staying at relatively long range.  A few ranging shots were fired by the Mayan ships with some return fire from the Aztec cruiser as the Mayans exited the Bay accelerating to pursue the ship which was not rushing away.

And then......

Observers noted the words "All Hell Broke Loose" in interviews with reporters to the wire services.  Out of the morning mists sailing at a stately 15 knots came the Aztec 2nd Fleet.  Led by the Veracruz-class Dreadnought Acapulco, with the Saladin-class semi-dreadnoughts Tariq Ibn Ziyad and Harun al Rashid in line, the battleships cut the corner on the Mayan Armored Cruisers.  Some foreign press and diplomatic personnel, already roused by the sound of the medium guns firing were shocked into running to upper floors and other observation points by the great crash of big guns. 

The Mayan cruisers, already caught unawares that the fleet was there, turned to flee towards the open sea to the North.  Parthian Merchant marine officers said that they could tell it was already too late.  A running battle ensued for about an hour, with the Mayan cruisers desperately trying to get away and then charging the Aztec line only to be hammered by repeated straddles of 280mm guns.  Within an hour it was all over, as the Mayan ships were pounded by repeated hits at what would be a moderate range for the great guns.  The lead ship rolled over and sank, the trailing ship was a sheet of flame, still firing its guns until a broadside from Acapulco struck, when it brewed up from either a boiler or magazine detonation and went down quickly by the stern. 

Reports from the Captain of the Parthian Merchant Vessel Spirit were that Aztec destroyers moved in subsequent to the sinkings and began rescuing survivors.  Spirit herself was stopped by an Aztec scout cruiser which performed what was recounted as a quick and cordial inspection by a party of naval officers and then the cruiser escorted Spirit until it could reach Parthian territorial waters.  Spirit's captain also reported that Aztec forces transmitted a signal for all Mayan forces in San Diego to stand down and they would be repatriated without any further bloodshed. 

Additional reports from observers were that the Aztec Battleship Moctezuma laid off Point Loma and began a steady bombardment at long range of the Mayan defenses there.  Observers also reported multiple troopships and auxiliaries seen at a very long distance past the fleet.

January 7th, 1914

Off San Diego

The Aztec fleet stood down for several hours after transmitting their demands to the Mayan troops ashore.  Less than a day of warning was considered enough to effect a surrender, but too little for the Mayans to make any fresh preparations that could not be undone in moments the next morning.  Destroyers sailed close to the beaches in the area during the afternoon, obviously making observations for the troops at sea preparing for the inevitable assault should the Mayans stubbornly refuse to cave.  And naturally the Mayans simply ignored the surrender demand, which had been expected.  The time, however, did open a window for foreigners to make good their escape by land or by sea from San Diego.

Early in the morning of the 7th, the Aztec fleet had obviously had enough of waiting.  Gunfire illuminated the ships of the fleet as they began bombarding three points.  Namely Point Loma, Imperial Beach, and Ocean Beach.  Point Loma being the obvious defensive position to protect San Diego Bay and Coronado Island was a certainty for bombardment, and the battleships made it their personal project.  Ocean Beach was another obvious defensive point, as right by Mission Bay it was the best and only really viable beach for an assault to cut Point Loma off from the mainland.  Imperial Beach was not an obvious defensive point, being south of the Bay, so the pair of cruisers that began firing on anything that appeared to be a potential bunker with 10cm gunfire were something of a mild surprise.

Not long after dawn, and only two hours prior to high tide, troopships began disgorging whaleboats and launches for the run in to the beach.  A scout cruiser sailed in with the launches, firing upon likely bunkers and MG nests with its 10cm guns.  When the troops hit the beach, the first wave being almost exclusively Seal Warriors, the Mayan defenders immediately crawled out of their dugouts and opened fire with machine guns and rifles.  The beach was a charnel house as the Seal Warriors charged out of the surf and up the sandy beach, a perfect target for massed machine gun fire. 

But charge they did, and continued to do, as Scout Cruisers and LSP-A Seal Warrior support ships sailed near the beach or in the case of the LSPs right up to the surf, risking grounding to get direct-fire shots wit their 10cm guns on the Mayan defensive positions.  It took almost two hours as the second wave of Seal Warriors and Japanese Navy Troopers reached the beach, but the Mayan crustal defense was finally cracked by the weight of shellfire and determination of Aztec and later Japanese soldiery to get into the trench lines and dugouts and root out the Mayan defenders by bayonet, sword, pistol, and grenade. 

Commodore Abidi stood in the trench line, looking at his Japanese counterpart.  It was tradition in the Seal Warriors that the commander of an assault go in with the assault waves, and he had made landfall in the mixed Seal Warrior and Imperial Naval Trooper landing just after 0700hrs.  He took a moment to recount the carnage, and the surreal experience of the landing. 

Coming ashore in a motor launch, the Commodore was brought under fire almost as quickly as he had hit the beach.  The light 'boonie cap' with commodore's insignia prominently displayed, along with the other very obvious officers in his party had made them a target.  Several brave lieutenants would not be going home.  Immediately Abidi and his command party had been made line infantry, charging across a hundred yards of open beach and into the defenses where other Seal Warriors were already fighting Mayan defenders. 

The Mayans had not had extensive fortifications, but dugouts and communication trenches alone had been sufficient to kill or wound more than half of the Commodore's command before they fell silent.  The Seal Warriors had proven their mettle, and had proven it at great cost to themselves.  The battle had been a maelstrom, with friendly gunners firing on targets of opportunity, but once the Allied troops had gotten amongst the Mayans, the gunners were no longer able to support and it had become a gutter fight.  Commodore Abidi had even led an assault on a dugout with his Flyssa and pistol, and his left arm in a sling was proof of the tenacity of the average Mayan soldier in holding these rude defenses. 

Looking over at his Japanese Counterpart, Abidi nods.  The Japanese force, having come somewhat mixed with the tail of his own, was in far better shape and organized.  It would be Japanese steel this time, with Aztecs in support, that forced the approaches to Point Loma.  The Commodore and his staff set about reorganizing his force and getting the second-wave, made up of Jaguar Warriors under their own General, ashore to continue the attack towards San Diego itself. 

The nearness of the LSP's to the beach were useful, as they gave relatively easy access to their communication suites compared to the fleet at sea.  Commodore Abidi did learn that the combined Seal and Eagle warrior assault on Imperial Beach had gone well with few casualties.  Evidently the most extensive defenses had been placed here, and the ferocity of the combat to the North of San Diego had managed to keep the Mayans from reinforcing the southern beaches.  Some good news, though hollow when counted against the dead and wounded staining the sand red.

This information I have to get to Cuzco, Loreseeker Iquita mumbled, working in an improvised lazaret.
This kind of slaughter must be defended from.

Elsewhere in the Aztec fleet, Komandor Podporucznik Stanislaw Florczyk was taking notes of his own, while his assistant - Starszy Bosman Lewandowski - was off...doing whatever it was he spent the day doing. Schmoozing with the Aztecs, mostly, coming back with little insights into their equipment and procedures, stuff like that.

Both had been abruptly ordered to join the Aztec expedition when their cruiser had conveyed the Governor of Choco to the Aztec homeland for a diplomatic meeting.  They'd had barely an hour to gather their belongings and catch a train across the country in the company of an Aztec junior officer with a basic knowledge of Polish.  "Good times," Florczyk murmured as he watched the invasion's progress through a pair of binoculars.  "Good times."

A formal notice delivered to the Aztec consulate in Saint Rochelle roughly three weeks after the conclusion of the invasion of San Diego.

The unprovoked, undeclared, and unprecedented act of aggression against the Mayan colony of San Diego is not in the spirit of how civilized nations conduct themselves. There are expectations to when hostilities will begin between nations and these actions should not come as a surprise to the nations involved. The Aztecs should make reparations with the Maya for this acute, unprovoked, aggression and disavow the use of pre-formal declaration of war offensive actions. Should the Aztec government not talk these steps, they should thoroughly contemplate the precedent these action set for the dealings of other nations with regard to Aztec colonial possessions.

(Battle of San Diego posts are still forthcoming, giving Foxy time to work on his.....just felt the need to respond to the above)

The Old City, Tenochititlan. 

The Foreign Minister was reached for comment about the statement by the Romans.  The following was his response:

Well, there are two things we can draw from the Roman letter.  The first is that they obviously feel themselves to be the sole arbiter of what is 'civilized' behavior, and seem to hold that only things approved by them are 'civilized'.  The second is that their educational standards for diplomatic staff must certainly be lacking.  The Romans clearly missed any number of points, so I will briefly address them:

First, as any Aztec schoolchild knows, the Mayans have been engaged in warfare against the Sultanate since the reign of Ali the 2nd.  The current conflict began in the reign of Ali the 5th and has continued to this day.  That war began with an unprovoked attack into Oaxaca province, and the carnage that ensued is the reason why the Oaxaca line exists and entire Army Corps of Jaguar and Eagle Warriors are deployed there to prevent such an attack happening again.  Border skirmishes in Oaxaca province continue annually with incursions by Mayan infiltrators and saboteurs. The important takeaway is that while various cease fires have been occasionally in place since the reign of Sultan Ali the 5th, the Mayans have never entertained a lasting armistice with the Sultanate and thus a state of war exists between the Sultanate and the People's Republic and has so existed since before the Romans decided to meddle in Western Hemisphere affairs or indeed before any of the Romans now loudly proclaiming their moral superiority were born.

Second, The People's Republic deliberately sought to colonize territory which would put it on an open flank of the Sultanate.  The Sultans have for a century invested in the defense of the Aztec Peoples from the depredations of the Mayans, moreso since they became godless communists who slay their own people for perceived slights.  Such an existential threat to the Aztec People must be defended against and has been with treasure and blood.  The possibility of the People's Republic having a toehold in territory that would directly threaten the very existence of the Sultanate could not be abided.  One might note that the Sultan has no interest in the other Mayan conquests as these border other nations including Rome and have no bearing upon the security of the Sultanate itself.

Third, The Mayans both provoked combat and shot first.  The Sultan in his wisdom had ordered that a lone cruiser, one of the oldest and smallest in the fleet, be sent into San Diego Bay to deliver the ultimatum that the Mayans repatriate themselves elsewhere and cease trying to threaten the Sultanate with invasion from the North.  The Mayan cruisers both pursued and fired first upon the Scout cruiser and His Majesty's Navy engaged only when the People's Navy had opened hostilities.  Even then, with the Mayans clearly demonstrating their lack of 'civilization' as the Romans call it, His Majesty's Navy gave the ground forces of the People's Republic a day to vacate the port city and to be repatriated back to the People's Republic.  The Mayans took that opportunity to reinforce and dig in further, causing an increased loss of life amongst our brave warriors of the Seal, Jaguar, and Eagle societies and amongst our valiant Japanese Allies.

Indeed, had the Sultanate behaved in the manner described by the Romans, the loss of Aztec life would have been far less as the Mayan forces would have never had the opportunity to deploy or indeed prepare their infernal defensive measures and the battle of San Diego would have been over before it had even began.  We apologize that we did not seek permission from Rome to protect our peoples and lands from the depredations of an enemy long at war with us....and in a part of the world which Rome has no interest.  The appropriate co-equal powers had been advised of our operations and some indeed sent observers or took interest in our operations.

San Diego
January 7th

The first Japanese troops ashore where the 300 strong contingent of Imperial Naval Infantry aboard the Aikoku Maru. These were experienced troops, having seen combat at Jeju Island. They had also had time to study Aztec tactics, since the Aikoku Maru had transported Commodore Abidi back to Acapulco. Both proved vital as the naval infantry managed to pull off the landing under fire without too many issues, hitting the beach as part of the Aztec second wave. The Mayan defenders, proved to be ferocious fighters, even more so than the Chinese, but the weight of the combined Aztec and Japanese forces proved too much for them.

The second wave of Japanese troops was composed of an army brigade commanded by General Iroh, the elder brother of Admiral Ozai. Once upon a time Iroh had been a decorated veteran, in charge of one of the Japanese army groups in Korea. He had commanded the Japanese 3rd Army Division that held the line allowing the rest of the army to escape. However, the war had not come without cost. His only son had died in combat and he had been made a scapegoat for surrendering at the end of the war. As punishment he had been given command of a mere brigade and sent as far away from Japan as possible. As luck would have it he had been given one more chance to regain his honor.

The wily old general surveyed the landing operations with concern in his eyes. The Aztec assault had cleared the defenders and his troops would be able to land unopposed, but that didn't make things easier. Unlike his naval counterpart, he had had no significant contact with the Aztec commanders or the radio codes and talking with the navy was as hard as talking directly with the Aztec. His troops also had no experience conducting an amphibious operation and it showed. The plan had called for his forces to be completely ashore by noon, but it was late in the afternoon and they where still no where near complete.

Once ashore, the general's task did not get any easier, the bulk of his infantry had landed, but half of his artillery had landed on Mission beach on the wrong side of Mission Bay and the rest of his artillery and support weapons and all of his ammo was still on board the ships. Meanwhile Commodore Abidi was pushing for a prompt assault to take Point Loma, since the defenders there could still dominate all of San Diego Bay. Iroh may have been old but he still had a few tricks up his sleeve, and if all he got was unsupported infantry with limited ammunition, he would make it work.

"Commodore, we will launch a bayonet assault at midnight along this line. Tell your men swords and bayonets only, no loaded guns whatsoever, and no packs. If you can get your ships to maintain a slow but steady bombardment until that time, the noise should cover our approach."

At the stroke of midnight, the Japanese army brigade supported by Aztec troops launched their silent assault. Without time to dig in properly, the tired and outnumbered Mayan defenders where overran and as the sun rose, over the mountains to the east, the allied forces could be seen on the north shore of San Diego Bay [San Diego International Airport]. The Mayan Defenders on Point Loma were now cut off and the allied forces had gained a foothold on the hills. Casualties among the Japanese troops reached almost 20% but they had achieved their goals with bayonet steel alone.

San Diego, Epilogue

After having a much easier time with the mere handful of machine gun nests and skirmishers in foxholes on Imperial Beach, the Eagle and Seal Warriors began moving to invest San Diego itself, with the 2nd Brigade of Seal Warriors reforming and the next morning leading a bay-side landing on Coronado Island, overrunning the positions there without much trouble.  The biggest fiasco in the Bay was when two ships of the fleet train went to anchor close ashore and ran into floating mines left behind by the Mayans.  Minesweepers then came in and cleared the remaining handful of dangerous devices before trying to assist the foundering vessels which wound up beaching themselves before settling on the sands of Coronado.

In keeping with their reputation as the seniormost warrior society, the 1st Brigade of Eagle Warriors thoroughly invested the Southern half of San Diego, advancing at a measured pace while bringing up artillery and machine guns in an inexorable if slow advance.  Snake Warriors, having come ashore on Imperial Beach, rode their horses afield, rounding up Mayan Patrols and advancing on San Diego from the East.  A pair of dug in machine guns held them up for hours as the cavalry did not have artillery and it was only after dark that squads were able to cut off and then assault the bunkers and take them. 

To the North, the Imperial Naval Infantry battalion divested themselves of their copious amounts of ammunition in order to supply the Army Brigade, to the great annoyance of the Army infantry.  Under General Iroh, the largely intact and now modestly supplied Army Brigade advanced on San Diego from the North, completing the encirclement and putting extreme pressure on the remaining Mayan forces.  Combined with the Cavalry managing to crack the Eastern defensive line, the Mayan defenders collapsed back into the city being pursued from all sides.  A short but sharp engagement ensued as Mayan platoons found themselves cut off and surrounded by vastly superior numbers, but under the direction and fear of their Commissars fought valiantly before being overrun. 

Commodore Abidi's force was pretty well spent, having assaulted into the teeth of the best preparations the Mayans could muster.  With his brigade now a battalion, he knew that honor had been satisfied and he should let the 2nd Brigade and the Eagle Warriors, or the Jaguar Brigades just offshore take Point Loma.  But looking on the blasted moonscape, he surmised that the Mayan defenders had to be shell shocked and couldn't have much fight left in them.  Organizing his own Marines and the Japanese into a composite regiment, the Naval Infantry and Seal Warriors advanced on Point Loma even while San Diego was overrun.  The fighting was close, the terrain and the shell craters meaning that troops would suddenly find themselves in contact.  Japanese Naval Infantry, having given up much of their ammunition, found themselves using the pistol-caliber carbines of fallen Seal Warriors as they advanced with their Aztec counterparts.  Just before the final desperate bastions in a few houses within the city fell, Commodore Abidi watched his men raise the Aztec and Japanese flags on Point Loma, accepting the surrender of the remaining wounded or shell shocked Mayans left.

Local doctors, along with ship's surgeons and the fleet train flocked to San Diego bay as the wounded of all nations were treated.  Snake Warriors spent the next two weeks rounding up outlying patrols as the Eagle Warriors took to maintaining the prisoner camp and patrols of the city.  A parade was had through San Diego to signify the success of the operation. 

"I'm still trying to understand why the Japanese are here," Podporucznik Florczyk remarked (in Polish) to Starszy Bosman Lewandowski as they peered through binoculars from the Acupulco. 

"Sorry, sir, my knowledge of Aztec is pretty much limited to things involving food, alcohol, and tobacco," Lewandowski replied. 

"Better than mine," Florczyk noted.  "I assume they've just got a working relationship of some sort."

"Seems a safe assumption, Sir."

"The whole thing makes me wonder if something larger's going to follow, or if the Mayans will avoid escalation."

Lewandowski nodded.  "A regional war would be a pain in the arse for certain, Sir.  We've got a few borders with the Mayans these days.  Be awkward to have fighting there."

"Might slow down that canal we're digging," Florczyk mused.

"Doubt it, Sir.  Think the Mayans, Aztecs, and just about everybody else might find the thing useful, assuming it's actually completed.  Wouldn't surprise me at all if the government's got secret deals with everybody to ensure it stays safe."

"Really?"

"Aye, Sir."

"Huh.  Can't say I find the government competent enough for that sort of skullduggery.  Just between you and me, of course."

Lewandowski nodded.  "Mum's the word, Sir.  Oh, look, that Aztec tub made it ashore.  They might salvage it yet."

Post San Diego Reports and Rumors:

A few things have come out in the post-San Diego environment vis a vis the operation itself.  They are as follows:

-Heavy Machine Guns, rifle caliber water cooled guns, are inadequate to support troops on the attack and smaller weapons must be made available at the Platoon level to enable troops to engage machine guns without incurring horrendous losses.

-The defense is incredibly strong in the age of the Machine Gun

-Cavalry Forces are openly demanding some form of mobility for their own machine guns to bring them into action without necessitating dismounting and assembling them under fire.

-Fire support must be continuous in the attack, whether that is from separate or organic fires is left as an open question

Diplomatic Rumors

The Mayan 'representative' as the Sultan does not recognize an ambassador from the People's Republic, was spotted leaving the foreign ministry in a sullen mood.  Sources say that the Mayans demanded the return of their land at San Diego and were firmly rebuffed.  Sources also said that the Foreign Ministry attempted to open talks with the Mayans for a lasting peace and were denied a conference for such outright.  Confirmed Sources showed Mayan prisoners of war being marched past the Oaxaca line to the People's Republic, a gesture which the People's Republic claims that they could not reciprocate as they do not have any Aztec Prisoners....in stark contrast to the hundreds of Aztecs which have been reported to have been taken captive over the past 10 years alone in raids by Mayan forces in Oaxaca.

The Roman Ambassador was also spotted at the Foreign Ministry with an entourage.  Confidential Sources say that talks have been initiated over the continued ownership of the South Bahamas, but none of this could be confirmed at press time.  No official announcement has been made by the Foreign Ministry and questions about the nature of the Ambassador's visit were replied to with "an afternoon meeting over tea" and "no comment". 

The Vilnius Union Ambassador was also spotted at the Foreign Ministry, which would not be uncommon considering Vilnius Observers were present to ensure impartial reporting of the operations in San Diego.  No comments were given by either party on any additional talks.

Quote from: TacCovert4 on September 30, 2020, 08:36:09 AM
The Roman Ambassador was also spotted at the Foreign Ministry with an entourage.  Confidential Sources say that talks have been initiated over the continued ownership of the South Bahamas, but none of this could be confirmed at press time.  No official announcement has been made by the Foreign Ministry and questions about the nature of the Ambassador's visit were replied to with "an afternoon meeting over tea" and "no comment". 

If desired, confirmation of said meetings over tea with no further comments about conversations would be confirmed by the Roman Foreign Ministry.

June 15th, 1914:

Melbourne Naval Infantry Installation, Australia:

Captain Ohtli stood at attention on the vast training field as numerous Japanese Army and Naval Infantry Officers as well as some Incans took their places in the stands of what was now her 'classroom' writ large.  Barely twenty years old, and already a captain, showed the pace of action and the expansion of Queen Fatima's Light Cavalry.  A select hundred were pulled from Hidalgo province and sent across to Zealand Colony along with some other replacements.  While her own trip had been rather smooth sailing on HMS Sojourner, the first fast fleet replenishment ship to come off the ways in company with a pair of SC-1 class cruisers, a number of her troopers and the large number of horses had a much less enjoyable voyage, having to steam around the rim of the Pacific due to a need to recoal the older transport vessels.  New transports were already being built by civilian yards, powered by oil for smaller crews and designed for the long voyage across the Pacific from Azteca to Zealand. 

"Gentlemen, welcome to the Kiheigakko.  I am Captain Ohtli of Queen Fatima's Light Cavalry.  I am the Commandant of this school and will supervise your training in the cavalry arts as they have been learned by the experience of the Aztec Sultanate in North Erica." 

She notices a number of Army officers, many of them wearing katanas, talking amongst themselves and ignoring her.  Considering her speech to be roughly finished, she marches directly for them in front of everyone present.  "Gentlemen, do you have a question?" she inquires. 

"You're a woman" one of the Army officers replies, stating the obvious.  "And?" is the captain's reply.  "And a woman could not possibly teach a man about warfare", the Army officer continues, several of his counterparts chuckling. 

Knowing that there would be some pushback against her being camp commandant, Captain Ohtli had purposely given her speech in front of the skill at arms course.  "Well Sir, if you bother to read the papers, you would know that Queen Fatima's Light Cavalry have been fighting the nomad tribes of the Ericas for the last 18 months with great success.  And the Comanche are a vicious but equally effective people, and roundly considered to be some of the greatest light cavalry on earth.  But since it is obvious that you do not read Sir, I suppose I will have to show you the final examination for individual skills"

Captain Ohtli mumbles a quick prayer to Allah as she stalks to her mount.  Leaping into the saddle she spurs her rugged desert pony to full speed in only a few lengths.  Drawing her pistol, she fires at the pistol targets as she passes, sending the little iron plates swinging.  Reaching the end of the course, she swings out of the saddle, and without taking the reins from her hand kneels her horse and her and fires twelve rounds from her Lee-Navy rapidly at the two targets two hundred yards distant, including a rapid reload.  Jumping back into the saddle while her horse is standing up, she slings the rifle onto her back and draws her scimitar as she rides through the saber portion of the course, demonstrating cuts through the targets as she dodges through the poles using her knees to control her mount. 

Reaching the end of the course, her scimitar still in her hand, she salutes the Army officers who had been mocking her.  Her chief detractor stands there, mouth somewhat agape.  Captain Ohtli motions to one of her troopers.  "Sir, if you believe that there is nothing about war I can teach you, then take the horse from her and pass your exam.  Otherwise, I believe your Emperor and my Sultan have placed us here to learn from one another and to share experiences to benefit both our armies."  The officer gives a slight bow and steps behind some of his brother officers.

"Gentlemen, training will begin tomorrow at 0500hrs.  My Sergeants and troopers will train you on individual skills and lead you on rides into the Outback to train you on what is needed to be effective at long-range cavalry operations.  Then myself and my officers will train you in how to operate troops and regiments of cavalry.  All of these lessons are important.  I cannot train all of your men, it will be your responsibility to both train and maintain the skills of the men under your command.  Being a skilled cavalry trooper is far more complex than standing watch and occasionally shooting, as many soldiers do.  It requires scouting skills, communications, understanding maps and terrain even at the sergeant level, small unit tactics, initiative, and more individual skills than most soldiers will use in their whole career."

Captain Ohtli then answers some questions.  Yes, this had been a productive day, and at least this time she wasn't being shot at.

June 16th, 1914
Grand Turk, Caicos

Major Acalan reads the transmission with some confusion.  He had been stationed on the Caicos for nine months now, commanding officer for the two Coast Defense Brigades on the islands.  As was custom, small colonial postings did not have a senior officer, but rather an up and coming field grade officer in command of their forces, as a quiet way to acquaint those on a track for a generalship on the finer points of managing larger forces in a relatively low risk environment.

The Major, barely twenty eight, looks at the message again.

NEGOTIATIONS WITH ROME STOP
CAICOS POTENTIALLY IN DANGER STOP
STANDBY ALERT STOP
FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS FORTHCOMING END

Rereading the four lines did nothing to make him reassured or even cognizant of what could be happening back home.  The Caicos had been a quiet posting.  Machine Guns, indeed most rifles, had been stored in brigade armories beside the 40mm mountain guns and 70mm field guns.  The two Coast Defense Brigades, regiments really with only a single rifle battalion and a machine gun battalion instead of the traditional brigade's three rifle battalions, had formed defensive plans, but nothing had been constructed because no defensive works were needed.  The Mayan threat had fizzled, and aside from the addition of two squadrons of torpedo boats, nothing had changed on the island.  Those torpedo boats lay in Grand Turk harbor even now, though one could hear increased activity in the harbor over the quiet sounds of the morning.

However, orders were orders, and Majors did not question Headquarters.  Major Acalan ordered the field guns to be towed to their preposition sites to cover the beaches on the defensible islands, the 40mm guns for direct fire against the beach while the 70mm guns were sited behind dunes to fire on shipping that strayed too close.  Coast Defense troops, a mix of men on their National Service and Seal, Jaguar, and Eagle warriors who had received permanent injuries that would make them ill suited to maneuver warfare, began digging in machine gun nests to sweep likely landing areas with fire, and the old 1895 machine guns were pulled out of storage and prepped by their sites, ammunition chests laid in under cover and roving armed patrols protecting the decentralized ammunition from sabotage or theft.

June 26th, 1914:

The Caicos (aka S. Bahamas)

Major Acalan is roused from bed just after dawn, having spent the whole of the previous day and well into the night in a circuit of his command doing a personal inspection of preparations.  Preparations for what he still did not understand, the Romans surrounded the Caicos on all sides and there had never been the first inclination of hostility from his counterparts, indeed he had grown quite fond of Cabernet Sauvignon and always made sure to have a stock of Tequila on hand when he had hosted Roman officers in his home.  Those invitations and replies to his invitations had dried up as of late however, which was curious.  Certainly Rome could not feel threatened by two short brigades and twenty motorboats operating out of islands as small as the Caicos. 

"Sir, ships have arrived off Providenciales and Crooked Cay" Acalan's batman says to the Major as he pulls on a fresh uniform.

"Well, we were due for a supply run, overdue in fact" Acalan replies, "The islands have a robust fishing industry and are good for coconuts and some fruits, but not for grain or more than a few chickens and goats"

The batman's reply shocks the Major "Sir, I was advised to tell you that there are two Colonels of the Eagle who are in need of your orders".  Major Acalan recoils in the middle of pulling on a simple day tunic.  "Colonels of the Eagle?  How many ships did you say are here?"  "Five troopships, Nine transports, four destroyers, five minesweepers, and two cruisers in escort"  Major Acalan quickly switches to his dress uniform, furiously buttoning his tunic up and buckling on his flyssa.  "Have a boat readied corporal" "Already done sir, An MTB is warming up in North Creek ready to take you." "Advise the Colonels that I will meet them at the Sultan's" the Corporal salutes and leaves the room headed for the sole wireless station on Grand Turk.

Major Acalan nervously rides the MTB across to Providenciales, the major 'town' of the Caicos, the Ensign commanding the boat pushing her somewhat aged petrol engines to flank speed for the transit.  Jumping onto the fishing wharf, Major Acalan steels himself to a proper command demeanor as he walks into the Sultan Ali Hotel, the only one on the islands and into the dining room which has been cleared of non-military personnel, in itself unusual as the hotel is a prime lunch spot for the businessmen and magnates of the fishery and coconut plantations.  He spots two senior officers at a table, and salutes them.  "Major Acalan reporting as ordered".

"Sit down Major, our orders are actually to report to you, one of the grey haired officers of the Sultanate's elite light infantry chuckles"  Major Acalan sits, baffled at the morning's events.  "We are directly delivering an explanation for your orders from the 16th of this month.  The Foreign Minister was approached by the Roman Ambassador in Tenochtitlan about Rome acquiring the Caicos from us.  Negotiations have continued for over a month but have not borne fruit.  Rome considers the Caicos to be a threat to their supply lines, why we do not understand as we do not court war with the Republic.  But in the negotiations, the Romans have referenced Operation Typhoon in San Diego, and implied that if the Sultan does not agree to turn the Caicos over to Rome....well, Rome would take direct action.  The Ministers of Defense and War and the Sultan himself, are in agreement that such potential actions must be prepared against if good faith negotiations are to continue.  The Caicos are a strategic position to ensure the safety of our trade as well as a key position in the outer layer of defense of the Sultanate and its fisheries in the Azteca Gulf. Therefore two Brigades of Eagle Warriors and one of Seal Warriors have been dispatched to the Caicos to reinforce both the physical defense and the deterrent against aggression by the Republic against the Sultanate.  We were sent specifically because the deployment of Eagle Warriors would be publicly seen as a personal step by the Sultan to deter any aggression.  Our orders are to follow your defense plan, Major, and improve what defenses can be reasonably improved prior to the Commander arriving."

"And who will be commanding all of this?" Major Acalan says, "Certainly a mere major is not qualified to command such a force.  And should there not be a Colonel of Seal Warriors here as well?"

"The commander will be arriving in a few days, and the Seal Warriors sent did not include a command staff, so evidently our commander will be from your Society, which is reasonable given the island nature of the Caicos"

Major Acalan sits back, still in shock of the Morning's events.  Seal and Eagle Warriors could be reliably transported without information being disseminated, the two Societies were well known for efficiency and secrecy in their movements, unlike the Jaguar Warriors which formed the bulk of the professional army and typically had large artillery trains and other excessive logistical needs.  Obviously the Defense Ministry did not want word going out that even a modest reinforcement of a position was occurring.

"Gentlemen, I would say that currently the best course of action would be to replace my coast defense troops here on Providenciales with one of your brigades.  The other Brigade would be best to deploy onto Inagua, the other largest island in the chain and replace my coast defense troops there.  I could then consolidate my coast defense forces and the Seal Warriors into a single reinforced command to protect Grand Turk, where our MTB squadrons operate from, as well as Crooked Cay and the smaller islands."  Thinking for a moment of his experience with the local Roman commanders, he adds "The local Romans will likely consider the presence of troopships, with their inherent landing capabilities, as a threat to their own province of the Bahamas, or potentially an initial invasion force for Cuba."

"That has been arranged," one of the colonels replies.  "Once our troops, and the MTB squadrons have disembarked, every non-essential ship will be departing to return home.  At all costs we are not to provoke the Romans, but to provide a deterrent sufficient to keep the Romans at the negotiating table, and if negotiations fail to preclude them taking a rash and ill advised action."

Throughout the day and night and into the third day, ships offloaded Eagle Warriors and Seal Warriors, machine guns, 40mm and 70mm artillery, and two additional MTB squadrons as the minesweepers maintained a picket.  The four old Scimitar-class Destroyers and two old Scout-class protected cruisers established themselves at Cockburn Harbor, keeping an anchor watch around a collier but under orders not to sail in patrol unless provoked or given new orders.  Patrolling was done solely by MTBs operating out of North Creek, except near the Bahamas, where a lone minesweeper maintained a patrol between Long island and Crooked Island taking extra care not to stray remotely near Roman waters. 

June 30th, 1914

The Caicos

Major Acalan only thought he had been exhausted before.  Over the past four days he had found new heights of perspiration and new depths of exhaustion as he worked to slot the reinforcements into his defense plan.  A defense plan built for two Coast Defense Brigades suddenly found itself required to expand to encompass five brigades across four major and three minor islands within his command area.  The headquarters on Grand Turk found itself forced to rapidly expand, and the support vessels and logistical troops had been busy building encampments which were to be replaced with temporary barracks as soon as possible.  Light timber buildings and even tents had been thrown up on Grand Turk, along with a second wireless station and wireless stations on other islands to allow for even limited communications.  Five brigades, over almost a thousand square miles of islands surrounded by the Atlantic to the East and the Azteca Gulf to the West.  He had slept on whatever MTB he used for transport on a particular day, North Creek suddenly finding itself with two score of the forty ton boats anchored in the shallows or run onto the beach.  In the evenings he had hosted numerous Vilnius officers, reassuring his contacts with Hispanola that the Sultanate was only reinforcing the Caicos defensively and noting to them the ships that were departing daily as they were unloaded.  Of particular difficulty had been unloading the MTBs, as only a single crane capable of unloading a 40t boat was in the entire Caicos and it took an entire day to unload them....that crane also being a necessity to unload the 70mm guns from within the holds of their transports and onto lighter barges for transit to the various islands.  The few draft horses and even oxen had been shifted hither and yon to assist, and it was telling that even the elite Eagle Warriors were looking scruffy and unkempt as they toiled daily on field fortifications, shirtless in the miserable heat that even a hundred generations of living in a tropical climate could scarcely prepare one for.  Major Acalan had signed for what had to be hundreds of thousands of rounds of ammunition, as well as three field brigades worth of the improved 1910 6mm Machine gun and the water-cooled 1911 Navy 8mm machine gun.  Pallets, once emptied, had been given to the artillery to use in reinforcing the sandy pads of the new gun sites as they were surveyed and prepared.  Nearly every tree not a part of a plantation had been felled to provide additional lumber for fortifications, buildings, gun positions, or temporary spotting towers, and the work had not become easier as logistics troops were shifted off the islands with their ships as ships were unloaded....the numbers of men going from a quarter of the colony's population to nearly doubling the population overnight, with the associated strain on resources as even the logistics sent struggled to keep up.  More ships steamed in and out daily to provide both the resources needed in the immediate, and the stockpiles needed to reduce the strain on the logistics train.

His batman, equally haggard, rushes into Major Acalan's office.  "Sir, a cruiser was spotted, steaming fast for Grand Turk".  Acalan tiredly climbs the steps to the observation porch atop the roof of his two story residence. Grabbing a pair of binoculars, he spies a ship pouring smoke as it steams for Grand Turk.  Looking down at the identification chart he muses.  "looks like SC-1 class, she's probably doing well over twenty knots with that much smoke from oil burners.  Either it's a hand delivered message, or our commanding officer has arrived, either way prepare an MTB so I can meet them."

Half an hour later, Major Acalan climbs the ladder to board His Majesty's Ship SC-2.  Stepping into the wardroom, he slams his feet into parade ground attention.  "Commodore Abidi, Sir" he says.  "Captain Acalan, I see you have been busy" the Commodore says from the wardroom table.  "It's Major Acalan sir" the major replies.  "Captain Acalan, I am rarely incorrect in my presumptions of rank.  Especially when I have been declared warmaster for the Caicos defense and given the right to brevet officers at my will.  I will not have my executive officer be a mere major of the Seal Warriors."  For the second time in a week, Captain Acalan stands in shock.  A double brevet by a warmaster would mean that even when whatever crisis might have cause the appointment of one to abate, Acalan could only be reverted one rank.  In effect he had been promoted out of the zone to Commander regardless of what might transpire between the Sultanate and Rome.

"Well then, Captain, if you would brief me on how you have arrayed my forces to defend this colony and stop standing there dumbstruck, I would appreciate it" the Sultan's first cousin, and the bearer of the Star and Crescent for his actions on Ocean Beach, said.  "Sir, I can't believe you were sent here.  I thought you were in San Diego?".  "I was, but my cousin wanted a combat veteran commanding this deterrent force, and someone whom he had the utmost confidence in both fighting ability and ability to diplomatically handle our Roman neighbors without creating an incident they could use as a flimsy justification for an aggressive war.  So a ship, three trains, and a ship later, I and what's left of my staff are here.  Now, about that briefing if you will..."  "Absolutely sir.  Will you be remaining aboard or should I show you to your headquarters?". Captain Acalan replies, still quavering slightly.  "I will go ashore.  My cousin does not want to station such a fast and long-ranged ship as this in the Caicos, he said that the Romans have been adamant in their fear that the Sultanate would use the Caicos as a base for long-ranged raiders and this ship could easily be used as one.  So we will do this ashore, and the captain will steam for Martinique for oil and to tune the turbines before heading to Angola to advise the General there and the station ships as news of this diplomatic spat between the egg heads in the Foreign Ministries would have reached there but not orders to do nothing to provoke Rome while maintaining vigilant guards on the ports.  I'm sure the General has forces protecting the ports, and the cruisers as well, but my cousin and I agree that he may need to be reminded not to take any actions that could be considered a provocation."

Commodore Abidi, along with a few staff, most favoring arms, limping, or otherwise showing the effects of their all too recent injuries in San Diego not having fully healed, make their way onto the waiting MTB and a launch before heading up North Creek and to Headquarters, Caicos Defense Corps, the somewhat odd name for the collection of permanent structures and tents that made up the headquarters of the unified defense of the islands.

Meanwhile, in Hidalgo Colony

General Actazuma wished he had just stayed retired.  Coming out of retirement to lead an experimental Brigade of cavalry was one thing.  But now, nearly eighteen months later, he was sick of the endless wastes of Hidalgo.  And he definitely was not thrilled with his new orders, though with them came the prestigious title of "General de Corps".  With the recent tensions building in the region, Hidalgo had been elevated from a highly active backwater colonial endeavor where a division organization had successfully fought the Comanche and were already drawing up preparations to move into Cheyenne territory in the coming months.

Now, he was no longer a general of an ersatz division within a division.  Now he was a Corps Commander within Army Group North, as the expanded command had been named.  The newly laid track had allowed thousands of Jaguar Warriors to come North, and his own Snake Warriors had seen their ranks swell as second and third brigades of Queen Fatima's Light Cavalry had been formed.  It seemed that even with the solution to the previous minor crisis on the border, reprimanding Captain Atlacoya and holding a bright young officer at her rank when she should have by rights commanded a full squadron in one of the new brigades, had not caused all of the multiplicity of crises with Rome to abate.  The current diplomatic kerfuffle, though the ministry had been scrupulous about releasing too much information some had gotten out and caused a mild uproar in the media that even the Sultan's weight to clamp down on the anger at Rome's presumption that they could just 'take' the Caicos couldn't fully squash.  And so, while Hidalgo had been prepared to stage a Corps for movement North into territory ripe for acquiring, it was now hurriedly being upgraded further.  Already Fifty Thousand soldiers and troopers stood in the province, straining logistics as yet more troop trains were scheduled to arrive.  A balancing act, and in more than one way.

For he was under orders to hold a tight leash on his troopers.  As the most forward deployed of all forces save those at customs points on the Rio Grande, his cavalry were under orders to not draw anywhere within ten kilometers of the border so as to not provoke the Romans to any rash actions.  He had ironically placed Captain Atlacoya in charge of the border patrol route, knowing that she would rather die of shame than stray into Roman lands again.  And as he struggled to keep water, fodder, and other supplies moving to his outlying commands he wondered aloud.  "Why would the Romans poke a resting Jaguar and force it to have to make such preparations.  These things never end well if they go too long unabated, for it is easier to form an Army Group than it is to dismantle such a prestigious command, and it's unlikely that once this crisis has abated the Sultan will order Army Group North to dissolve as an organization.  A move made to satiate an angered public quickly becomes a new policy which quickly becomes a traditional policy....."

June 30th, 1914

The Old City, Tenochtitlan

Constructor Ueman toiled away in his office, looking over various reports as he prepared a series of construction plans for the Sultan's review.  The Office of the Defense Ministry was very different from the Foreign Ministry or Ministry of War.  He was in charge of the construction and maintenance of fortifications, as well as the planning for defending the Sultanate from any foe that might arise to threaten it.  An important job, but not a glamorous one, and typically forgotten until a crisis occurred.....or worse the Sultanate was attacked.

An aide brought in a sheaf of papers.  "Latest reports from Europe my Lord"

Stopping his planning on replacing outdated guns on the Oaxaca line, the minister dutifully began sifting through the small stack of reports.  While the Sultanate did not have much in the way of a formal clandestine network in Europe, it did debrief its various merchant captains and others whose legitimate interests took them to places where things of interest to the Sultanate might occur.  It was never as up to date as what could be gleaned from actual spies, but one found it difficult to hide a division, or a battleship, for very long in a world with large scale international trade.  Indeed the only way that the Sultanate had been able to hide its own moves against the Mayans earlier was the longstanding war and its requisite lack of trade coupled with the dearth of trade routes and indeed people to report movements around the southern Ericas.  Such debriefs and compilations of information were the responsibility of the Defense Ministry, and while reading the reports generated by these efforts was Ueman's job, it had gained some new importance in the last months with the heated negotiations between the Romans and the Foreign Ministry.

Poring over the reports while sipping a cup of coffee, Ueman saw the usual bits and pieces, an Iberian ship here, a Wilno ship there, a small movement of Parthian ships that appeared to be an exercise.  Looking more intently at the Roman section of the report, he began cross-referencing against a ledger of known Roman ships and locations.  Ships were missing.  And not the odd cruiser or destroyer division.  Constructor Ueman's coffee fell from his hand as he looked at the list of ships that should be there, but a merchant captain on an Aztec tramp freighter delivering bananas and other tropical fruits had definitely not identified any of those ships.......in that port.....what had been assumed to be their home port.  Either it was a transfer of a notable squadron, something worthy of notice under any circumstances as a mere clerical duty, or it was a prelude to surprise attack.  Ueman knew that negotiations continued only two buildings away from his own, but his charge by the Sultan was to be the paranoid one, a duty that he had undertaken since the current Sultan's father's reign.

Ueman personally walked over to the Ministry of War, which was next door, and met with his counterpart.  "I think the Romans will attack, and sooner rather than later" he said.  War Marshal Tupoc looked at him quizzically "Ueman, we have moved troops and the Navy has even moved some ships.  But we have taken no action to threaten the Romans, or even provoke them.  And from what I hear at the Foreign Ministry, the negotiations have borne fruit.  A draft proposal is to be completed and presented to the Sultan by the end of next month.  There is hope that this can be resolved before this time next year indeed."

Ueman presented his case, and the War Marshal's eyebrows raised as it was shown.  "Hmm, so the Romans negotiate in bad faith, demanding we give up our lands to them or a third party even as they gather a battle fleet to attack us for the flimsy provocation of simply existing and being sovereign and not their mewling subjects?  If this is true, this is a most disturbing turn of events.  Rome, Vilnius, and Parthia have long been considered to be the most stable of neutral powers and none of our plans have ever reached even a minor crisis before Rome decided that the Caicos were their property without justification.  After last year's small incident between our armies in Hidalgo and New Francia, I was able to work out an amicable resolution and even reached an understanding with their colonial governor about how to prevent such mishaps which can happen in the open scrub and deserts.  I will notify who needs to be notified, Ueman" the old Eagle Warrior says.  "Let's keep this quiet and present it to the Sultan, I do not want the Foreign Minister to be worried about Roman duplicity, Inshallah we will have prepared for nothing and laugh about it when this is resolved next year."

"Should we let anyone else know?  Wouldn't the Foreign Minister need to meet with ambassadors?"  Constructor Ueman replied.  The old Eagle Warrior chuckled.  "Ambassadors are not the only way, just the preference of diplomatic niceties.  Between our own contacts and the Grand Admiral, we should be able to get our case heard by enough of the right people as to prepare them in the event that Rome launches an unprovoked war of conquest against the Sultanate."  "Indeed" Constructor Ueman replied.  "It is surprising though, if any of this is true.  Rome has long heralded itself as the arbiter of diplomatic niceties.  I remember how they condemned the Japanese Emperor repeatedly and publicly, and the Sultan just a couple of months ago for seizing San Diego from the Mayans that we've been at war with for generations without pause....it seems completely out of character to now demand, negotiate in bad faith, and then prepare a surprise invasion of a neighbor at peace."  Tupoc leaned back in his chair "That is assuming that they are civilized as they claim to be.  Or just that they're capable of whining about others incivilities while perfectly willing to be as duplicitous as a serpent when they see their neighbor has something that they desire.  Greed is a powerful force for evil after all."  Ueman nods.  "We shall see what happens"  "Indeed we shall" is the reply "Inshallah this crisis will not come to pass, but everything is the will of Allah"

February 4th 1915, Hidalgo Province

The new Baja Aeronautics concern aircraft looked sleek.  A small biplane powered by a single 80 horsepower rotary engine, it had been originally designed as a testbed and proof of concept plane.  But wartime needs had seen the concern get a requirement for a variant for a more active role.  While airplanes did not have nearly the endurance or spotting utility of zepplins, they were nimble and could engage in combat.  Z-14 had been shot up in an inconclusive air battle between a Roman flying scout and the airship just a few months previous, and the writing was on the wall that Zepplins would have to fly high, fast, and at night in the future when near aerodromes. 

No solution had yet been found for the problem of firing a machine gun through a propeller.  Instead, two 6.5mm machine guns had been mounted on the lower wing, outboard of the propeller, with a long belt of 300 rounds for each gun attached by ground crew before takeoff.  The 6.5mm gun was not considered ideal, but 8mm guns would be too heavy and too taxing on the airplane's structure given their position well outboard of the central spar. 

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/ce/Bristol_Scout_%2835004414011%29.jpg/1280px-Bristol_Scout_%2835004414011%29.jpg)

The other aircraft type at the aerodrome was a half squadron, more training and testing than operational, of the latest aircraft from the Royal Aircraft Factory.  A two seat 'general purpose' biplane, it could function as a scout, or as an armed scout, with a single 6.5mm MG in the observer's position.  The other role could be that of 'grenadier' or 'bombarding plane' as the Romans had demonstrated by dumping grenades out of their planes in the face of cavalry.  A small rack by the observer on each side could hold a number of these 1 kilogram 'bombs' allowing the observer to drop them where their impact fuses, taken from 40mm shells, would set off their explosive charge when dropped from above 100 feet.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/82/Replica_of_B.E.2a_No.471_at_Montrose_Air_Station_Heritage_Centre%2C_Angus%2C_Scotland.jpg/1280px-Replica_of_B.E.2a_No.471_at_Montrose_Air_Station_Heritage_Centre%2C_Angus%2C_Scotland.jpg)

March 4th, 1915, Hidalgo Province.

The ceasefire had been in place for months, but no treaty had yet been concluded betwixt the Sultanate and the Republic....though the Warmaster was in talks with Republic representatives. 

Lieutenant Colonel Atlacoya sat astride her mount, leg neatly folded over the saddle tree, near the border, looking out over towards where the siege lines around Fort Lombard had stopped with the cease fire.  Gone were many of the girlish affectations of only a year previous, the harsh realities of modern war, even on this vast frontier, had swept them away with fire.  Merely a captain at the outset, the horrendous casualties to the cavalry vanguard had seen rapid promotions.  Too rapid for peacetime, though there weren't any officers senior to her to take her place.  Even the General had almost died when he had taken an airship tour of the front only to be attacked by Roman fighting scouts.  Watching the dawn break over the fort, she thought about her time there, about the people she had met.  The ones she had grown to respect.  The one she had loved.  Was Mattheiu still alive?  Or had he been claimed as so many others had?

Her reverie was broken by a rider approaching.  "Ma'am, second and third battalions await inspection, and I've had your breakfast prepared", her aide said as she rode up.  "Ma'am, is everything alright?"  "It will be sergeant.  Inshallah it will be."  Atlacoya says as she wheels her mount and rides back across the siege lines to her camp.

April 20th, 1915

Hidalgo Province:

All along the newly re-established border zone, crews of soldiers now no longer needed on combat duties are busily at work.  Pads are dug and prepared, concrete is poured.  While the well-established forts of Tampico's border zone are not really in the cards, the Sultanate has found itself in need of significantly improved fortifications.  A series of battery-sized artillery forts for 100mm and 150mm guns are established, with concreted and overhead-covered infantry trenches and pillboxes ringing them in an outer perimeter.  The small forts are sited to allow for an attack on any one fort to be able to draw fire from the two neighboring forts upon it in support. 

Windward Isles:

With the cease fire and then treaty, shipping is once more freely moving.  Shiploads of artillery pieces, machine guns, concrete, wood, and iron are in motion.  It is obvious that there are plans to turn Martinique and Guadaloupe into permanent naval bases, and coastal defenses are being built in earnest to protect the islands.  Indeed the start of construction for naval gun and mortar pads and pits can be seen by casual observers coming into the harbor.

Yucatan Straits:  A convoy of Aztec shipping, bound for Martinique, is spotted moving through the straits, escorted by a full squadron of the new large torpedo boats, the fast, low-slung craft making a statement to observing eyes....Mayan eyes...that the Sultanate will protect its shipping and will not brook any aggression or depredations upon its trade.  A statement that while the battle fleet might be down, the Sultanate is not out, and won't be trifled with.

August 1st, 1915.

Constructor Ueman had at the same moment the most enviable and unenviable job in the Sultanate.  For once his previously modest office, tasked with maintenance of homeland coastal defenses and the Oaxaca Line, had swelled.  Swelled in funding and staff until he had to move half of it to an abandoned building on Embassy Row, one abandoned rather 'hastily' by its former occupants.  His main office continued with their endless task of repairs, maintenance, and modernization.  But from his new office in the old Roman Embassy, he supervised the operations of literal armies of laborers, surveyors, engineers, gunnery officers, infantry officers, and the supply system that was straining to keep it all purring.  The Sultan, fresh off of the successful but costly defense of the Caicos, had ordered a significant and new "2nd System" of fortifications.  Trains and ships were bringing guns, concrete, steel, wood, iron, and gravel to the various projects. 

Looking over one map, that of his guest's pet project, Ueman said "As you can see, Governor-General, the first fortifications being made now are improvements to select portions of your original defenses.  These will function as coast watch stations, base range stations for the eventual batteries, and anti-landing infantry defenses."  "And what after that" Governor Abidi replies.  "After" Constructor Ueman chuckles "Mostly it's a matter of waiting for concrete to cure properly, the guns and heavier fortifications require it.  The second phase will be batteries of smaller guns at key locations, along with barracks bunkers and extended infantry defenses and machine guns.  Phase three is where things get interesting Governor, that is when we will truly fortify to throw back a naval bombardment, not just an amphibious assault.  But we have much to do before that.  As you know, we have to prepare the mortar pits for seacoast mortars, along with the pits for the disappearing carriages for naval rifles.  And build those guns and ship them out.  Additionally we have a need to improve the docking facilities at Grand Turk and develop the base concurrently with the third phase of fortification."

Governor-General Abidi and Constructor Ueman pore over the plans, making slight changes as the governor-general points out areas of concern.  The once well-ignored Caicos would not be so again.  After the full project was complete, the island chain would be a "Gibraltar on the Gulf"

October 30th, 1915

Brigadier General Cochise looked out over the scrub desert into the new territory.  Since his people had amalgamated with the Aztecs, their tribal warriors had been formed into a full brigade, given modern arms, and now unleashed as a single force.  The Crow had long been a threat to all the tribes, but against his warriors armed with rifles and machine guns, they were being swept before him.  It was not the most honorable war, but the Crow were lesser peoples and did not engage in honorable warfare in the first place. 

Eagle feathers tied in their hair and wearing a hodgepodge of buckskins and butternut, the Chirqaua Apache advanced into the new territory, already named Geronimo for their recently passed chief and as symbolism of the amalgamation of the Apache into the Aztec Sultanate. 

March 1st, 1916

Mexico Military Reservation


Minister Asad sits with the others in attendance of this new and experimental method to evade the horrors of trench warfare that had manifested during the Caicos War.  Of all of the dignitaries who had attended, his presence was required the least, and yet he felt like the middle of Mexico, a landlocked colony of practically nothing was where he needed to be. 

The Acapulco conference had been "Less" than a success.  Certainly the weather had been amenable.  And his accommodations and entertainments had been perfect.  He, or rather Sergeant Mohammed, had even managed to prevent an international scandal when the Roman observer was challenged to a duel on the open street by the father of a Queen Fatima's Light Cavalrywoman who had died outside Fort Lombard.  He shivered when he recalled how the grizzled veteran had calmly stepped past the confused and visibly frightened Roman and claimed the right to champion.  How close that could have come to the start of another war after a fragile peace had just been concluded.

Asad had not bothered to attend the duel the next day, though he heard that Sergeant Mohammed gave the father a chance to withdraw, and then took him apart with his flyssa.  The aide who had watched said that it was 'elegant'.   Youth.  The Roman representative had returned to the conference with the blanched look of one who had mortality viscerally explained to him.  He packed and departed the next day. 

But it was just another footnote.  The Japanese delegation were delightful, and no one dared to challenge any of their officers, for it's common knowledge that the Japanese are possibly the only ones equal to the Aztec in single combat.  The Vilnius Union delegation, and the other attendees were also perfectly cordial.  But what had been lacking were the Parthian and Byzantine delegations, or their letters approving of a serious broaching of the topic of limiting the arms race.  Without them, Rome had merely sent someone to be polite and to observe, and without the three, there was no chance that the conference would reach any desirable conclusion. The participants had all agreed that peaceful coexistence was best for all, and then had spent the rest of the time mingling as if in one oversize embassy.  So some good, maybe, but nothing like what the Sultan had charged him to achieve.

Asad knew it wasn't his failure, it was ambitious, possibly too ambitious, to seek such a boon.  And now he was on his way to meet with Parthia, something about the Western border of the Sultanate.  He had not even had time to read the materials his secretary was poring over to brief him on this afternoon when his train left for its next stop on his whirlwind diplomatic tour that seemingly never ended.  Too many high level talks, too many delicate negotiations that could not be left to lesser officials.  The Sultanate for too long had been isolationist or embroiled in wars, and there were few diplomats in the country who could do what he had to do every day.

Looking up into the sky, he sees a Zepplin.  Ah, yes, someone had told him that some Eagle Warriors had worked out a new use for the airships.  Something to do with bypassing trenches.  As it flew over the field in front of the stands, at around a thousand meters high....wait?!  Those are men?  Ten of them, ten men leap from the gondola!  But after maybe a half-dozen meters, neat mushrooms of some sort of fabric appear, and they drift towards the ground.  This must be the 'Parachute' that he had heard about in passing from someone in artillery, something about a safety device for balloon observers?  Well, ten is a lot of balloon observers.  Wait, 9.  One of the parachute things flaps like a candle, wrapping around the man who plummets to the field with a sickening thud.  A full minute later the others come down much slower, rolling on the ground as they cut their parachutes loose and come to their feet holding stocked pistols.

"Well", he thinks as he goes back towards his waiting train.  "It seems that I'm not the only one who is pushing the bleeding edge with lives at stake, and not the only one who is finding that ambition may yet be unattainable, or maybe it can be some day"

June 4th, 1916:

Grand Turk, the Caicos

Governor-General Abidi stood on the wharf as the convoy arrived.  The dredging of North Creek was still insufficient for large transport vessels or capital ships, but he had been assured that the Naval Base would be adequately dredged by 1918.  However, destroyers, large torpedo boats, and submarines could now use the greatly expanded facilities on the island cum military installation.  In the aftermath of the devastation that had been visited upon Grand Turk, all the remaining civilian infrastructure had been removed to other islands in the chain, with only one small town dedicated to services for the Naval personnel there. 

The island itself had seen a more drastic conversion.  Gun batteries, mortar pits, and earthen bunkers and trenches reinforced with concrete in places had been constructed.  A concrete headquarters installation had been built, and piers and wharfs had been emplaced in the internal lagoon fed to the sea by North Creek.  The shell craters had been mostly bulldozed over, but enough of the landscape remained blasted that you could easily fathom the struggle that had transpired here not two years ago.  Multiple wireless aerials festooned the island, and an aerodrome complete with its own headquarters and zepplin shelters had been emplaced as well, in addition to the military-commercial zepplin facilities on Providencales. 

The Eagle Warrior brigades had been withdrawn, leaving the Seal Warriors as the island chain's defenders, but with the large and growing emplacements on Grand Turk and the more modest permanent facilities elsewhere in the chain, even the reduced garrison would be nigh impossible to dislodge.  And with the higher quality of forces arrayed at Grand Turk, the islands would be deadly to any fleet attempting to force another amphibious invasion.

But that was not what the Governor General stood here to see, the pinned empty sleeve of his linen suit, the uniform of his new office, flapping in the light breeze.  Out in the roads, transports were anchoring, and their charges, carefully husbanded from the shipyards, were arriving on their shakedown voyages.  At the head were a line of Iberian-made subs, 500 tonners capable of limited operations in the Atlantic, following their pilot launches to their anchorages in the expanded port.  But what caused him to swell with some pride were their smaller consorts, 250t submarines, but submarines made in Aztec yards, their first squadron of domestic undersea combat vessels.  The Submarine Warfare school would be in session as officers and ratings slated for service in Submarines were transferred to Grand Turk for training and instruction in the operation of their diminutive but deadly vessels.  Plans were already being laid for more extensive submarine facilities, and dredging for sand to build yet more facilities and even protected submarine shelters were underway, making Grand Turk the premier submarine base in the world.

June 10th, 1916:

Lieutenant Colonel Atlacoya looked with not a small amount of disdain upon the vehicles her battalion were testing.  Mechanics, Engineers, ordnance officers, and factory workers swarmed over the collection of armored car prototypes being tested in her sector of Hidalgo Province.  A variety of weapons had been affixed to them, from stubby barreled 70mm guns to machine guns, and nearly everything in between.  And equally as varied were the vehicles themselves.  Four Wheeled, six wheeled on two axles, six wheeled on three axles, and even one with 10 wheels on four axles were being tested.

They had been moved into the plains bordering the region of 'Texas' for environmental testing.  And while a number of the designs were proving to be adequate in keeping up with mounted cavalry over the relatively even terrain, Atlacoya grimaced when she thought about how the crews of the vehicles must suffer, their steel plated mounts turning into ovens in the ever-present sunny and hot Hidalgo summer.  One promising design had large hatches that could be opened to scoop in additional air, though when open the vehicle was not much better protected from rifle fire than a mounted rider.  She was glad that for now she needn't worry about being forced to ride in one of the armored cars, preferring the freedom and fresh air astride her favorite pony instead.  But after the intermittent carnage that the cavalry had suffered coming up on small knots of dug-in infantry, she knew that in any future war the mobile protection and firepower of the curiousities would be vital to protect her mounted troopers, and make breaches that she could exploit with the more mobile but more vulnerable horse cavalry.

June 15th, 1916:

Captain Acalan, commanding officer of the 1st Brigade, Seal Warriors, stood on the bridge of one of the Sultanate's shiny new Battlecruisers.  Fast and long ranged, she was aptly named for the great traveler Ibn Battuta.  His brigade, assigned to train new Seal Warriors in the post-Caicos reorganization, had been assigned to Baja Province.  But the Japanese military attache had requested a meeting with senior Marine officials, and Captain Acalan had been picked, the most veteran if not most senior actively serving Seal Warrior Officer.  Ibn Battuta had been on a shakedown cruise for her new crew and a turn at the firing range in the Baja Gulf, and so the Captain had hitched a ride to Acapulco to meet his opposite number.  "Commodore, it will be two days" the ship's captain said, giving the Seal Warrior the honorary promotion as there could only be one captain aboard one of His Majesty's Ships.  Crewmen scrubbed and painted, tirelessly cleaning away the powder stains from hundreds of rounds fired in training.  Her sister ship, Sultan Ali, was even now taking her turn on the firing line for a week of live fire gunnery practice under the watchful eyes of the Navy's best gunners.  What the Japanese wished to discuss, that was a curiousity.  And that it was he and not just diplomatic staff in the meeting, even curiouser.

Meanwhile at Camp Abidi in Baja Province, prospective Seal Warriors trained in infantry warfare and amphibious landing techniques under the watchful eyes of veterans of the Caicos campaign.  Many of the grizzled sergeants supervising their training had been bright eyed privates and lance corporals only a year ago, but war makes hard men.  The training had also been made equally hard, these prospects for the Seal Warriors were subjected to multi-day training evolutions without rest, forced marches and assault courses interspersed with manual labor such as preparing fieldworks, and even live fire training where they sheltered in trenches while under live artillery fire.  The risks and occasional injuries worth the end result, building a Corps of Seal Warriors hardened against as many of the shocks of combat as could be done without subjecting them to the risk of being shelled in the open.

In an isolated corner of the Camp was Captain Acalan's pet project.  A provisional 'Company' of Seal Warriors had been stood up, and along with a large number of civilian engineers and mechanics, worked on an alternate project to the generally officially sanctioned armored car projects of the Army.  With the most experience in trench warfare, the Seal Warriors desired something useful in more constrained environments than the open plains of North Erica, and on a shoestring budget had several prototypes in various phases of testing.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/b8/Skeleton_Tank_02_-_APG.jpg/300px-Skeleton_Tank_02_-_APG.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a7/M1918-ford-3-ton-tank.jpg/300px-M1918-ford-3-ton-tank.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/9c/Bundesarchiv_Bild_146-1971-092-26%2C_Leichter_Kampfpanzer.jpg/300px-Bundesarchiv_Bild_146-1971-092-26%2C_Leichter_Kampfpanzer.jpg)

June, of the coast of Baja

Rear Admiral Tokugawa was glad to be away from that forsaken place called Seattle, he had not seen the sun for since arriving there. What had he done to deserve such a post. His fleet composed of two of the oldest armored cruisers in the Imperial Navy and a lone cruiser. The two newest ships didnt even have a single gun between them. Not like there was any enemy threat to the region. The latest intelligence briefing said the Parthians had all of two minesweepers in the bay to the south and pirates where non-existent. Well it was good to be away from all that and headed for the Aztec base in La Paz. Reports indicated the beaches there were to die for, it would do his crews a lot of good to enjoy some R&R.

His orders on the other hand where most curious. He was to join and escort an Aztec fleet for a joint training exercise near the base at Truk. Nothing out of the ordinary there, but the amount of secrecy attached to it, told him other more serious plans were afoot. That had to explain the presence of select non-naval personnel that had boarded the cruiser Chikuma back in Seattle.

Huitzalin scowled under his broad-brimmed hat.  The Hidalgo sun had done nothing for his complexion, and it was oppressive.  Since 1913 his Model Ali (or Model A) had been the gold standard in automobiles in the Sultanate.  Over ten thousand had been sold on the civilian market, and the car was reliable.  Whether in touring or flatbed truck, the vehicle's front end had been the same.  The Army even loved them, having easily ten thousand of them in service in various guises. 

At least, until he had put armor on them.  His submission to the armored car trials was not 'unique' or 'groundbreaking'.  Some manufacturers had tried various alterations to what was quickly becoming the 'standard' automotive layout.  There were rear engine, mid-engine, and front engine vehicles.  Single axle drive to two and even three axle drive attempts.  Most of them had been plagued with breakdowns.  Huitzalin's had not.  His Model A was as stubbornly reliable as ever, even covered with 9mm of steel. 

And yet the reception had been a blow to his pride.  Queen Fatima's Light Cavalry had been the unit chosen to do field trials.  And they had found three massive faults in his design.  The first was the gun mount.  Only a single machine gun could be mounted to his design, as it stood on a pintle in the middle of the open ring, exposing the gunner from the shoulders up.  That was something he had already planned to fix, and indeed his turret design would allow him to mount either a machine gun or a cut-down 40mm gun, something that his conversations with the troopers had shown to be favorable.  The second was the protection itself.  The requirement had been for rifle fire, but only after he had built his four testbed cars had he been informed that the standard 6mm rifle cartridge of the Sultanate firing a lead projectile would not be the test medium.  Instead 6mm steel-cored projectiles as well as 8mm steel cored projectiles had been flung against his plate.  And at certain angles, 9mm was sufficient.  But he would have to increase it to at least 11, if not 13 or 14, to get the required resistance.  And that only added to his other problem.  His cars were.....slow.  The Model A was built with a rugged 20hp motor.  Had been for the last 3 years.  And on a Model A it would get even the heavier touring model to a respectable 45mph on roads.  But his armored A could barely do half that, and while they had held up well it was due to the remarkably overbuilt craftsmanship rather than brilliance. 

Huitzalin heard a droning and looked up.  A Zepplin airship glided through the afternoon sun, cruising on its gasbags with four engines driving its propellers.  Four lightweight and powerful engines.  Four, yes.  Huitzalin stalked off to the telegraph station.  He needed new engines.  New Aircraft engines.  For those were light enough to not weigh his creation down more in the off-road conditions, but had the power he needed.  He knew that some engineers had bragged about engines with near three hundred horsepower being tested for the largest Zepplins and newest aircraft being designed.  Doing some quick math, he estimated that if it was not too heavy, he could get his armored car to a steady fifty miles per hour off road with an engine of around one hundred horsepower.  He jotted down his message, for his company reps back in Veracruz to begin shopping for engines of between eighty and one hundred fifty horsepower and to work on how to fit them to the Model A.

Huitzalin smiles as he sketches, anticipating a need to lengthen the nose of the vehicle as the new engine and gearbox would need more space.  A longer, leaner armored car, with dual tires on the wheels for floatation, heavier armor to protect itself against machine gun fire, and a powerful one hundred plus horsepower engine flying across the Hidalgo plains faster than the cavalry's horses, indeed one day replacing the cavalry mounts entirely with reliable armored mobility.

July 31st, 1916:

Captain Acalan was once more standing on the bridge of Ibn Battuta.   The big ship had just completed its firing on a test target offshore as part of the exercise.  Referees were even now determining the effectiveness of the bombardment before the next phase would begin.   Under combat conditions, however, it would be his men making landfall under fire and learning first hand if the bombardment was effective.

In the Landing ships and the transports, Seal warriors were loading onto boats.  The captains of the landing ships were also preparing to move inshore, as experimental armor was preparing to make its first simulated combat landing. 

As the boats began moving to the beach, the 100mm guns from the escorting destroyers and grossetorpedoboots opened up a brisk fire of blanks, furthering the simulation.   Sojourner would be busy later restocking charges expended,  but these were important training elements if an amphibious landing was needed in the future. 

Wake Island's defense force was waiting in their prepared positions,  referees walking about and notifying positions that they had been suppressed or destroyed. 

It might be a bloodless operation,  but it was a drill being held to high standards.  Captain Acalan knew what sorts of hell a real combat landing could turn into.   This operation was meant to train the next crop of leaders and to make adjustments to plans and doctrine so that the nightmares Rome experienced on Grand Turk wouldn't be the fate of any Aztec commander in the future. 

August 25th, 1916:

Commodore Acalan (because there can only be one captain on a ship) sat in the wardroom of Ibn Battuta, maps and papers strewn about the large conference table.  There were other officers at the table, but the real conversation was that between Acalan and Vice Admiral Netzahualcoyotl, commander of Task Force Condor.  Only two years ago they had been a battalion commander and the executive officer of HMS Veracruz, but times had forced them to rapidly grow up, times and the loss of so many of the 'old guard' in the war.

"And so, we can see that despite the Navy's fire plan, landing operations against a well-dug in enemy should expect to receive over fifty percent casualties in the first wave, and approximately one third casualties in subsequent waves until a beachhead is established.  The only possible solution under the current plan is to provide more explosive shells to the Navy in order to increase their time on station per ship to saturate defenses with fires."

"Unfortunately, that solution is not workable as the magazines of our ships simply cannot hold so many shells, not when we must maintain over half of our shells as armor piercing or base-fused varieties to defend the fleet and landing ships."

"I agree.  I think that the fire plan should be altered though."

"How so?"

"From both experience and exercises, the fire of the capital ships has a definitive suppression effect upon even dug in troops.  If the Navy does not fire on the enemy shoreline for an extended period, but rather a concerted and rapid fire in the hour preceding the landing itself, continuing all the way until the first wave hits the beach, the enemy can be suppressed adequately for their positions to be gained."

"Without a planned gap in the fire, it will be difficult to prevent friendly fire incidents or shorts hitting our own men as they approach the beach and disembark"

"Compared to the anticipated losses with a traditional fire plan like that the Romans used on Grand Turk, I believe that the losses to accidents with a shorter and sharper bombardment centered directly on suppressing those troops covering the landing site would be acceptable."

The respective staffs got to work on making the necessary changes to the Aztec operation planning for amphibious operations.  The chance of another amphibious landing was low, but the training was invaluable both on defense and offense, and the exercises had worked the rebuilt Navy's crews up to a higher degree of proficiency.  In the aftermath of Caicos war, most surviving officers had found themselves rapidly promoted, and many of the junior officers that would normally have taken staff rotations had become captains of ships in the rapidly rebuilding and expanding Royal Aztec Navy.

Meanwhile, in the lagoon another rapidly promoted officer sat in his chair on the bridge.  "Sir, engineering reports that they have completed maintenance on the boilers"

"Excellent Ensign" Lt. Commander Tupoc says.  Only two years ago he had been a young ensign on his first command, a venerable motor torpedo boat.  One of two survivors from his boat in the battle off Grand Turk, the sacrifices his crew had made had nevertheless been decisive, their torpedoes sending the Roman flagship Sublimis to the bottom in a column of fire.  Now he had moved up in the world after a convalescence at the Naval Hospital, to captaining one of the Sultanate's large torpedo boats, really a small but fast destroyer.

The journey to Wake had stretched his command to the maximum, every ship in his squadron had lain beside their fleet tender multiple times on the journey to refuel and reprovision as their engines had turned nearly nonstop for just over a month.  His small crew had performed admirably, and had coalesced into an efficient team.  But he was grateful for the few days rest and maintenance in the lagoon, giving his men a chance to stretch their legs ashore and use the limited facilities present to perform maintenance on their ships as another long journey was undoubtedly in the offing. 

November 1916,

Brevet Commodore Acalan and Vice Admiral Netzahualcoyot sat in the latter's private study aboard HMS Sultan Ali, named for the current monarch's line rather than Ali the 8th himself.  The fleet, Task Group Two as it had been provisionally named, was effectively the bulk of PacFlt's heavy assets and fleet tender, along with light forces and another fleet tender from Home Fleet.  And a Marine Assault Force of three brigades of Seal Warriors along with their two Landing Ships bringing up the two "Provisional Companies" of "Bisons" the nickname some wag who had been on the great plains a few years back had given to the lumbering tracked vehicles stored in the roll-on roll-off forward holds of the Landing Support Ships.  Armed with a swiveling 8mm MG and a fixed 70mm infantry gun, testing at Baja and Wake had shown promise that they could bridge across small trenches and bring useful firepower forward off a beach while under MG fire.  Could, provided that the mechanics could keep them running. 

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/0b/German_LKII_light_tank%2C_at_the_Deutsches_Panzermuseum.jpg/1024px-German_LKII_light_tank%2C_at_the_Deutsches_Panzermuseum.jpg)

(This but with a casemate instead of turret, single 70mm short gun fixed (only a few degrees fine traverse/elevation) and a ball-mount 8mm MG)

The fleet steamed East, radio silent aside from short-range transmissions between ships.  Transmissions that would be imperceptible over the vast distances of the Pacific.  The cruisers, transports, tenders, and battlecruisers had been built for this, a steady 8kt pace for thousands of miles.  The destroyermen stubbornly kept pace, though they regularly had to lay alongside the tenders to refuel and then steam at 10kts to rejoin the fleet, a caterpillar moving across the expanse.  Maybe one day they would master the art of refueling whilst underway and the entire fleet could steam as one continuously in the Pacific like they did in the Caribbean where they were unaffected by fuel tank size. 

The two men reviewed their secret orders, and reviewed existing plans even as they pored over charts and maps of a certain portion of the East.  Their unspoken but erstwhile allies had expressed interest in some assistance, and in a quid pro quo from one of Acalan's previous campaigns, the Sultanate would provide as it had received.

Nice, it is looking like a Whippet.

;)

Quote from: Jefgte on May 05, 2021, 09:38:59 AM
Nice, it is looking like a Whippet.

;)

My vision was a Leichtractor combined with a Stug.  My Marines experience would put them more in the market for an 'assault gun' with MGs that can swivel to provide an arc of fire support for an infantry assault.  Light enough that it's not going to instantly bog down on sand and can be transported and offloaded relatively easily, armored against machine guns, and with a gun that can break up MG nests.

November, 1917

Lt. Commander Tupoc chafes as he once again lays beside the Fleet Tender Sojourner.  "The last time, thank Allah and we'll be in Acapulco" he says to no one in particular.  This time his crew not only have to fuel their own ship, but maintain the hoses going across to the next torpedo boat in line.  "Message for you sir" his telegraph operator chimes, bringing him a transcript.

HEADQUARTERS ROYAL NAVY

TUPOC, LEFTENANT COMMANDER

YOU ARE ORDERED TO HEADQUARTERS AT YOUR SHIPS EARLIEST CONVENIENCE

REASSIGNMENT TO 9TH CRUISER FLOTILLA

TWO SELECTIONS FROM EXISTING CREW EXCEPTING LEFTENANT ALI PERMITTED

ORDER OF ZUMA, VICE ADMIRAL, COMMANDING

"What is this" Tupoc ponders, "There is no 9th Cruiser Flotilla, and that title is reserved for torpedoboats and destroyers"

Commander Tupoc looks out over the emptiness of the Pacific, so close to home, and wonders.

Vignette
Aztec 'Cruiser' naming convention changes

In the aftermath of the Caicos War, the RAN, at the behest of the Sultan, revamped its classifications of cruisers.  Previously they had been classified as either scout cruisers or armored cruisers, with the former always being of the protected cruiser layout.  However, new classes of cruiser were using a variety of armor layouts and the protected cruiser layout in particular was dying off.  The previous arrangement was also nonsensical as one type of cruiser was defined by a role, a role that it did not actually function in during the war in many cases, and the other was defined by its armor scheme.

Thus a Three Part Designation system was devised:

FC - Frigate Cruiser (or Frigate) - Like its age of sail counterpart, the Frigate is designed for long-range independent operations.  It can operate as part of a squadron, or as part of a screen for a larger fleet, but the key is that it is designed for both a relatively long cruising range, and sufficient to the task of operating independent of supports as a complete single package.

CC - Corvette Cruiser (or Corvette) - The Corvette is a screen/patrol cruiser.  While it CAN delve into independent operations afield, its primary role is that of fleet screening vessel and patrol vessel within the Navy's controlled or contested waters.

SC - Scout Cruiser - The Scout Cruiser is primarily part of the fleet screen, but lighter and typically faster.  Its role is to lead destroyers in fleet screening actions or function in squadrons led by Corvettes, but primarily to scout afield of the fleet and locate and shadow the enemy.  For this long range and high speed is more important than sheer firepower.

November 30th, 1917
Royal Aztec Navy Headquarters
The Old City
Tenochtitlan

Lt. Commander Tupoc walks down the halls of Headquarters, the heels of his dress whites clicking on the polished stone floor of the centuries old building, repeatedly refurbished to reflect current needs.  He bespies a work crew installing cabling down the hallway at ceiling height, looking at them curiously for a moment, one says "Voice telegraph, err, telephony cable between the Palace and the various Headquarters and Ministries to improve communications"  Tupoc nods, interested, and continues to follow the hand-scrawled directions of a yeoman at the front desk. 

Finally he turns a corner, and sees a hastily lettered paper sign pinned to a door.  "9TH CRUISER FLOTILLA".  He steps in to find a single large office with two side offices on one side and a larger office or conference room on the other.  The middle is full of desks, but only a half-dozen NCOs and ratings, most secretaries, sit at them.  One of them notices the Commander and stands up calling "Commander on Deck" and the rest look up from their work and typewriters and scramble to their feet. 

"Lt. Commander Tupoc, reporting as ordered" Tupoc says to the Chief Petty Officer.  "Who is in command here?"

"Sir, you are.  Didn't anyone tell you?"

"Chief, I don't even know what the 9th Cruiser Flotilla is, much less that I am in charge of it" Tupoc, says, surprised.

"Hmm, must have been a breakdown in communication.  Anyway sir, this is your new command.  For now.  9th Cruiser Flotilla is an experimental group using the knowledge we gained from last year's trans-Pacific operations with Destroyer and GTBs.  Someone had the genius idea that if we could manage to cross the Pacific twice with such small craft, why not build a large destroyer that could do independent oceanic operations, like a cruiser.  New doctrine would of course have to be devised, the whole class would be too small and lightly built to be a cruiser but too specialized to be a proper fleet destroyer.  That's what we've been working on, sir, reviewing designs for long range cruising destroyers and looking for solutions to all of the various problems with operating one at sea for months with minimal port stops and no stops in a proper navy port."

Tupoc shook his head "And they tapped me because I just crossed the Pacific twice in a GTB"

"Partially sir, I was present for that selection.  Your Pacific experience is important, but they also tapped you because you're one of the more aggressive commanders, have an enviable combat record, and would be fast tracked to GTB flotilla command or to cruiser command.  The Sultan himself has taken an interest in this project, to see if it could be a solution to the vast numbers of ships the Romans can produce with a revolutionary type of threat that is low cost and high potential yield in wartime.  He asked that a proven combat leader be chosen for the project, and I believe the phrase the admiralty used was "senior enough to run it, war hero, but too junior to refuse"".

Tupoc chuckled at that.  "Well then Chief, which one is my office?"

"Wherever you like sir, we all just got here yesterday"

Tupoc recoils in shock again before he recovers "Very well, I'll take one of the two solo offices, and my second in command will have the other.  All the chiefs will have desks in the large side office, and we'll move the conference table out here as there aren't enough people in this project ot justify a separate conference room."

"Aye sir, I'll have it done before lunch."

With that, Lt. Commander Tupoc goes to clean up his new office, an improvement from the small writing desk space in his cabin on the GTB, but a far cry from having the bridge of his own warship.

December 1st, 1917

The Royal Aztec Air Force in conjunction with the Royal Mail Service announces its Pennant Prize, a competition for new aircraft designs from the various aviation companies in the Sultanate.  The prize is for the first heavier than air aircraft to carry 1000lb for 1000 miles in 10 hours in sustained flight without an engineering casualty.  To meet requirements, the 1000 pounds must be in addition to all fuel and aircrew and calibrated weights will be provided by the RAAF for any attempts.  A 1000 mile course has been set up spanning From Tenochtitlan to Baja and includes flying over the Gulf of California as well as the Sierra mountain range. 

Zepplin manufacturers were put out at this news, as they stated that their dirigibles could already fly over double that distance with that load, and indeed dirigible air service was being arranged on a limited basis from Veracruz to the Outer Gates as the island chains at the entrance to the Gulf and Caribbean are jointly called.  The RAAF and RMS maintain that heavier than air aviation requires less preparation in terminal landing areas and would be more responsive to the needs of smaller regions, as well as the utility of such aircraft developments coming from the project to improve wartime aviation performance.

The Old City, Tenochtitlan

Minister Asad quickly strides through the maze of corridors with an undeniable look of urgency.  Approaching the Eagle Warriors of the Sultan's Own, he says "I must have an audience on a matter of great urgency".  Seeing his obvious discomfit, the sergeant opens the door to the Throne Room without further delay, Ali the 8th being moderately less formal than his father.  "Minister Asad" the Seneschal-Secretary says as he quickly makes his way past desks and other modern affectations of State through the old throne room.  At his desk behind the Sun Throne itself, Ali looks up.  "Minister" he says simply. 

"Word from our European contacts, your Majesty" Asad says with a short bow.  "Emperor Trajan has died". 

Ali the 8th, Sultan of Aztecs, rises and walks with Minister Asad out onto his private verandah, a mirador of vines and fans keeping it cool and inviting in the generally tropical clime.  "Of what" he says simply.  "Of long illness your Majesty, the Romans were not forthcoming with details."  Ali nods.  "And who is the successor".  "Crown Princess Amelia, her husband is Eugene Charpentier, of the Roman Marines who had been captured at Grand Turk"  Ali nods again, in thought, before saying.  "The Emperor is dead, Long live the Empress.  Maybe we can reach a rapport with her and establish good relations moving forward".  "It is possible, your majesty, shall I send condolences?" Asad replies.  "Yes.  If possible, have a packet steamer ship some local flowers for the State funeral, or for the new Empress if our learning of his demise is untimely.  Tell my gardener to prepare some, and to have one of his apprentices accompany the shipment to ensure the flowers stay fresh.  Poppies and Sword Lillies should be in season, and he probably has some Sage or Dahlias in a greenhouse that is in season.  And several Dahlia plants elegantly potted in whole, as they'll bloom throughout the summer."  "Will that be all your Majesty?"  "Have your contacts reach out to the Romans for the Coronation, I would like to send the Queen to represent"  Minister Asad gives a bow and departs quickly to make the arrangements.

Aztec Royal Shipyard Veracruz,

Commander Tupoc stood in his dress whites, watching the yard workers buzz about in the drydock.  Through happy accident of development, the Sultanate did not have a slipway to its name.  But while it might hurt that launchings are more floating-out ceremonies of a nearly completed vessel, the view from the top of the drydock was an impressive vantage of the work being done. 

Fifteen hundred tons.  Fifteen hundred, unladen.  Three times that of his GTB, his first command of an oceangoing vessel just two years ago with better than three times the firepower, and even an expanded mess and officer's/chiefs mess combined into the command mess.  And a proper oceangoing ship, not a low-slung hull with the crew all buttoned up inside to keep a rogue wave from sweeping them off the deck, a true oceangoing hullform capable of pounding through rough seas at speed. 

Another man in dress whites approaches, another attendee of the keel-laying ceremony for HMS Escapade, the second of the E-class destroyer-corvettes.  "Impressive isn't it, the way they work"  he says.  Tupoc turns and stiffens to attention until the other waves his hand dismissively.  "You did well Commander, the Sultan's requirement was not easy to meet, and the timeline was excessively short".  Tupoc chuckles.  "It was Admiral.  Three weeks to finalize proposed plans based on available engines, guns, and torpedoes.  And another two weeks to rush through contracts and approvals to the yards", he says, looking back longingly as the bones of the long and lean destroyer are being welded into place.  The Admiral continues.  "Unfortunately son, I can't offer you one of your ships to command".  Tupoc sighs, resignedly saying "I had hoped, but the next step is usually not another ship command I know.  What cruiser will I be assigned as XO of?"  "Oh, that?"  The Admiral says with some mirth.  "No, you're not getting put as XO of a cruiser.  Or staff on a Battleship.  The losses at Ironclad Bay were most horrific in the ranks of the senior staff and captains, and with the rapid expansion of the Navy, we can't afford slow promotions for our brightest and most energetic officers.  I can't make you full Captain yet, but you're frocked Captain as of now so that you can get to work on your own staff.  Ninth Cruiser Flotilla was a moniker for the planning phase, but it will have a corresponding Destroyer Division, and that Division will need a Captain"  The Admiral opens his hand to reveal the gold eagles of captaincy in his palm.

July 1st, 1918

Costa Rica

The Aztec Merchant ships began disgorging troops to take possession of the new territory.  But these troops....weren't Aztec.  Followed by a Japanese fleet and train, whole divisions of Japanese forces began making landfall, with the occasional Aztec advisor sprinkled in.

July 1st, 1918, Cape Colony

The morning broke cold and damp, with barely any light on the horizon as HMS Toucan steamed into port in the van of a convoy of merchant ships and a troopship.  Captain Battuta nevertheless stood on the flying bridge of his ship, still nearly freezing despite the overcoat he wore.  He secretly envied the Seal Warriors who had been sent as the garrison for the new colony, as quite a number of them sported sealskin overcoats.  All of the sailors and civilians who had jibed at them leaving Veracruz, wondering why they wasted valuable space for such a heavy and hot raincoat, were shivering in jealous rage at the Marines who had experience from Zealand to draw upon and knew how cold it would be at the bottom of the Ericas. 

Gliding up to the docks, the aging but still capable protected cruiser showed off her dazzling new paint, her lines showing her lineage though with four stacks belching coal smoke and her battery of guns in single mounts all along her gunwales.  Nothing like the sleek new corvettes, and the new Frigates and Razees with their "Queen Fatimas Mansions" as their large bridge-blocks were called, bringing increased comforts at the expense of direct armor protection in a battle.  But the Toucan was a tough ship, her service in the war had shown that, and her crew had a number of long-serving chiefs aboard.  Her role would be as protection for the colony, but most often as a customs and livesaving patrol vessel for the valuable fisheries in the South Atlantic and Southern Ocean.  At least until the planned ships had been built.  Icebreakers and Arctic Sloops, the Aztec yards were as confused as everyone else.

Stepping off the Gangplank, Captain Battuta sees a formation of Union troops, as well as a knot of official looking personages.  "Well gentlemen", he says to his staff and single honor guard, "I guess it's time to officially take possession of our new colony.  And see how many of the existing colonists have stayed."

July 1st 1918.  Veracruz,

HMS Eagle, first of her class, steams out of port, brightwork polished, paint refreshed, everything prepared for her mission.  Escorted by her, a lady just starting to edge out of youth and on towards middle age stands on the fantail of her ship, her flagship.  Fatima, Queen of Aztecs, watches the receding image of her husband and Sultan as her first solo mission abroad begins.  "Does it always feel like this Colonel?" she asks.  The lithe colonel, younger than her by four years, answers "Yes, your Majesty, it does, every time" as she thinks of her own faraway love.  Lt. Colonel Atlacoya, specially appointed as Commander of the Guard and Roman Expert, feels the teak underneath her.  And the humming of power as the flagship of the First Fleet, HMS Implacable, follows its smaller consort out of the harbor and into the Azteca Gulf.  "How many days again?" the Queen asks.  "Sixteen, your Majesty.  The Captain says he can push the engines somewhat and keep pace with the Eagle, despite the extra fuel it will cost us."  "Sixteen days at sea, and before today I had only ever had a weekend in a yacht" the Queen remarks.  "First time at sea for me as well, your Majesty.  At least such a mighty ship should be less apt to cause seasickness, or that is what the executive officer tells me".  "Yes, it should.  We shall see.  And call me Fatima, Atlacoya.  We've known each other too long.  And will be in too close contact to be so formal"  "Yes, your Ma...Fatima" Atlacoya stutters through. 

HMS Implacable and HMS Eagle power through the surf line and into the glassy waters of the Gulf as they accelerate to fourteen knots, ferrying their passengers to the pending coronation of a new Roman Empress.

January 1917

An Aeronautical Exposition was held at Tampico.  The following were reported as designs of note for aircraft in development with promise.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/63/Gotha_WD.14.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/9e/HansaBrandenburgW33.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/55/Vickers_Viking_left_quarter_view.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/5b/Orenco_PW-3_64144_Ray_Wagner_Collection_%2816004082564%29.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/2f/Blackburn_Kangaroo_Q_063799.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/ff/Martin_MB-1_front_right_quarter_SN_AS_39059_P104_040315-F-9999G-013.jpg/1024px-Martin_MB-1_front_right_quarter_SN_AS_39059_P104_040315-F-9999G-013.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1d/DH14.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/14/Naval_Air_Station_at_Pensacola.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f8/Sopwith_Salamander_prototype.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/b4/Halberstadt_CL_IV_USAF.jpg/1280px-Halberstadt_CL_IV_USAF.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/e5/Zeppelin_LZ_112_Navy_L_70_Balloons_-_Dirigible_-_NARA_-_20807830_%28cropped%29.jpg/1920px-Zeppelin_LZ_112_Navy_L_70_Balloons_-_Dirigible_-_NARA_-_20807830_%28cropped%29.jpg)


One thing noted by reporters who were granted access was the use of the new and heavier 12mm MG in designs meant to be fighters and ground attack.  8mm is still considered effective by the Air Forces for defensive purposes, but reports have shown the increased range and penetrating power of 12mm are useful enough to justify the weight increase, for reaching out in dogfights and for penetrating hardened or potentially armored ground targets respectively.  This matches a trend in the Army and Navy of increasing the use of 12mm HMGs for anti-aircraft use after suffering the annoyances of Roman aircraft being able to easily stay above the effective reach of ground based 8mm anti-aircraft machine guns while using their own rifle-caliber machine guns against ground targets.

December 1919, Terra Del Fuego

Aztec and Vilnius colonists/citizens in the Terra del Fuego were treated to an interesting sight in port.  The brand new 'cruiser' HMS Penguin arrives, fresh out of the yards.  Quite a stir is caused by the new ship, which despite its small size and light armament is nonetheless built and equipped as a long range ice-resistant ship for primarily civilian rescue and fisheries protection duties.  Aside from her considerably reinforced and even armored hull to break and push through ice floes and light to moderate pack ice, the ship uniquely is equipped with expanded berthing and medical facilities for rescuing crews in the South Seas, as well as an extremely stable design capable of continuous operations in sea states exceeding Sea State 6.  Despite her civilian focused role, she appears sleek and modern when compared with the Toucan-class cruiser which had been the interim station ship for the Royal Aztec Navy forces in TdF.  One reporter noted the completely enclosed weatherproof mounts for every gun on the ship from the 100mm armament to the machine guns. 

January 5th, 1920

An issue from the typically close-held Royal Aztec Army University newspaper 'Dispatch' has leaked to the press in excerpts.  The newspaper is an internal instrument of the Army, with various society members of all ranks able to submit articles and engage in a formalized debate through op ed pieces with a royal decree forbidding statements or articles made in this paper that are not overt character attacks from being grounds for any challenges to judicial combat or used against someone in any promotional or lateral transfer process.  Thus the secret paper is known throughout the military as THE place to find radical thinking and solutions.

The topic of the December 1919 issue was how to employ the new armored vehicles now entering service in larger numbers. 

One article hammered at the Jaguar Warriors plans for their tanks (as they look like tracked water tanks) to be used piecemeal.  The particular author also decried the use of the 40mm mountain gun in the tank and pushed heavily for the use of a short 70mm gun as the primary armament of the casemated vehicle.  He discussed how to use the firepower as a breakthrough vehicle, working in conjunction with the artillery to smash through enemy fortifications and create large breaches that could be exploited by infantry.  The reliability issues with the tank were, in his opinion, too great for it to maintain in the front lines for extended periods and thus should be kept to the rear with its maintenance assets until deployed for a specific objective.  Sources say that the Army has indeed been testing such uses, as well as evaluating the tank in its existing form and role as an infantry support vehicles deployed in pairs to infantry battalions.

Another Article advocated for an even more radical move within the Snake Warriors.  Already the new armored cars, both the fully armored and turretted cars in their 8mm and 12mm varieties, and the open topped armored cars in their twinned 8/12mm and 40mm armed support variety have been deployed in companies to the Snake Warrior Brigades.  A company typically consists of a command platoon of open cars, 2 machine gun and 2 fire support, and 3 line platoons consisting of 3 8mm enclosed and 1 12mm enclosed vehicle.  The new proposal is to build a number of open cars with only an 8mm MG mounted beside the driver, and a slab sided bed aft holding a section of 8 troopers.  This concept espoused would be to put all of the armored cars into a single Brigade, with platoons consisting of 4 enclosed armored cars and two open cars carrying troopers instead of the troopers operating on horseback.  This is certainly a radical proposal that even if it is seriously considered will be an expensive and time-consuming proposition to produce.

May 6th, 1920

"I'm bored"

"I'd like to see some action"

Sailors standing watch aboard the destroyer HMS Dainty converse as they escort a convoy of ships through the Yucatan straits, en route for the canal zone.  Recent activity by Mayan naval forces in the area had forced the Sultanate to begin patrolling the straits more heavily and escorting ships through it.  While the Mayan foreign commissariat denounced the actions as 'overzealous ship captains', the fact that Mayan ships had been reaching out into established sealanes to stop and 'inspect' foreign flagged shipping had been concerning.  While the two Aztec merchants that had been so harassed had been released immediately upon the complaint being filed, it was an insult to the Royal Aztec Navy's honor, and destroyers had been detailed to patrol the straits in a neutral capacity and escort shipping of all nations through them.  This convoy had Vilnius, Aztec, Roman, Norse, and Japanese ships in it, all headed for the canal zone from various ports in the Gulf Coast, more a loose line of merchants than an organized convoy.

Lt. Commander "Zeke" Zuma stood just behind them, quietly avoiding his own commentary as he agreed the duty was boring, but he did not want to reprimand his sailors for desiring action which he would much rather avoid. 

Steaming part of the way down the convoy, about to turn his destroyer back in fact, he is alerted by a radio transmission from one of the Japanese merchants at the head of the line.  *Mayan Cruiser Hailing STOP Ordering to Heave To STOP*

Ringing for full ahead, the new D-class destroyer rides up the length of the mercantile traffic at twenty five knots, until in the gloom it sees a Mayan Armored Cruiser, old yet still more than enough to overhaul commercial shipping, standing close aboard the Japanese vessel, a Vilnius vessel moving to give the pair a wide berth.

Still steaming, Lt.Cmdr. Zuma brings Dainty up betwixt the two vessels while ordering the Japanese ship to continue on course.  The Mayan ship fires a saluting gun, and he can make out loudspeaker orders to heave to.  A boat was already in the water, and the turrets on the cruiser begin to ponderously turn to aim at HMS Dainty.  "Sound General Quarters, bring mounts and torpedoes to bear with armor piercing but do not fire" the Dainty's Captain orders as his ship interposes itself in international waters.

"Aztec Vessel, you are in Mayan Exclusive Economic Waters.  Do not interfere with our customs inspections or you will be fired upon!" comes from the Mayan vessel as both stand at a steady 5 knots, guns trained at each other at two hundred yards range, the maneuverability of the Aztec ship allowing it to avoid a clumsy attempt to body-blow it aside.  At this range, the Mayan vessel's turrets can only target the conning tower, though her secondary guns are matching the destroyer's own main armament gun for gun. 

Commander Zuma gets on his own loudspeakers.  "Mayan Cruiser, this is His Majesty's Ship Dainty.  You are attempting to stop shipping in international waters without cause.  Cease your activities or I will be required to use force to prevent the harassment of civilian shipping."

For the next ten minutes, the two vessels harangue each other as the merchants scatter and head North towards Roman territorial waters where the Imperial Navy would undoubtedly take violent offense to a Mayan transgression.  A single Mayan gun fires, a spout of water rising beyond Dainty's bow.  Commander Zuma keeps his cool, even as his wireless operator furiously telegraphs Veracruz about the incident.  Finally he says into his own speaker "Mayan Cruiser, if you fire upon this ship again I am bound to engage you in the name of the Sultan and the Royal Navy, and all Royal Navy vessels will be bound by honor to destroy Mayan Shipping where it can be found until such time as a treaty of peace is reached.  Are you authorized by your government to declare open warfare betwixt the People's Republic and the Sultanate?"

After another tense hour of shouted recriminations and protests, and with the convoy given a significant head start, the Mayan Cruiser turns to starboard and heads back towards the Yucatan.  Lt.Cmdr. Zuma breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that he could have sunk the Mayan vessel, but at the guaranteed cost of his own command and crew. 

A full day behind schedule, HMS Dainty leaves its charges a hundred miles outside of Vilnius waters of the canal zone.  Orders to return to Veracruz already in hand, Commander Zuma also reads that the Royal Navy is preparing the Weapon-class Frigate Atlatl, fresh from a dockside fire control upgrade, for sea.  The Yucatan straits, the primary baliwick of the Royal Navy's Battle Fleet, would be more heavily patrolled, lest Mayan cruisers attempt to predate upon the merchants plying the sealanes of the Caribbean.

Quote...Ringing for full ahead, the new D-class destroyer rides up the length of the mercantile traffic at twenty five knots, until in the gloom it sees a Mayan Armored Cruiser, old yet still more than enough to overhaul commercial shipping, standing close aboard the Japanese vessel, a Vilnius vessel moving to give the pair a wide berth...

Probably a cruiser of the Acanceh class
1906-6500t-2T2x164+8x100-22kts.

It's smells of powder...

June 2nd, 1920


General Atcazuma sits up in the open-topped scout car, one of the new types deployed recently.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7f/Ford-S1-armored-car-haugh.jpg)

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d7/Rolls_Royce_1920_Mk1_1_Bovington.jpg)

  While he felt that the enclosed and turreted car that had been developed was a far superior combat vehicle, he did admit that the 4x2 open topped armored car was versatile.  While it was typically configured with a 12mm MG on a navy-style pintle and an 8mm MG on a skate mount for the co-driver (good for anti-aircraft or anti vehicle/infantry duties), it could be easily configured, even in the field, to carry a cavalry section (6 dismounted troopers), a mortar team, as a light-duty prime mover for 40mm mountain guns or 70mm guns, a mobile telegraphy section, or...as this one was...a protected staff car.  The light armor had been a great enhancement to the Snake Warriors, the cavalry now able to bring durable firepower to bear quickly and over the vast distances of the plains.  He had been less impressed with the standard tracked armored vehicles, those 'tanks' having been heavily influenced by the politically popular Seal Warriors and their need for light and rapid transport.  He hoped that in the coming decade a heavier breakthrough vehicle would be developed, one with armor to resist more than splinters and machine gun fire, as engines improved.  But for now, the Jaguar warriors at least had a mobile 70mm field gun and machine gun, that could churn its way across a shell pocked and trench littered field, for the most part.

Finishing up his two year rotation as Field Marshal, he knew he would miss these chances to check on the troops in the field.  Or in this case, observe the range classes as the new 6mm Section Machine Guns were being distributed to the more forward deployed elements of the army.  The 6mm 'potato digger' guns had been relegated to 'fortress' duties and rear-area armories as the much handier and lighter automatic rifles proliferated.  While some would no doubt decry the loss of sustained firepower, or restart the arguments that had raged since the 1915 war with Rome about the small-bore 6mm versus the heavier 8mm cartridges, the new automatic rifle was a bit bulky for one man, but far lighter and handier than a full-bore machine gun, with a bipod.  The 6mm cartridge also allowed for a 24 round magazine, which could be changed, and the empty quickly loaded by the assistant gunner using standard chargers and a small feeding tool.  With each of the new weapons came 7 magazines, 3 for the gunner and four for the assistant gunner, and double magazine pouches to be tied onto existing belts. 

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/75/Army_Heritage_Museum_B.A.R..jpg)

May I suggest a better and historically local substitute to the BAR: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mendoza_RM2 (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mendoza_RM2)

A bit late production.  It could be the eventual replacement as it would be able to take a 40 round magazine and significantly increase rate of fire.  The BAR in 6mm would be 'light' enough to be considered useful from horseback.

June 6th, 1920

Commodore Ixtili was sweltering.  He understood that the defenses of the Oaxaca Line were valuable, but why the Minister of War had ordered the Chief of Naval Ordnance to personally inspect the artillery batteries was anyone's guess.  He and as much of his staff as he could spare from the ongoing 180mm Turret project for future Frigates, the 240mm gun and turret project for future razees, and the 30mm anti-aircraft project (a project requested by Governor-General Abidi of all people for a new and improved gun for use on the 40t torpedo boats, as a trailerable anti-aircraft and potential anti-armor weapon, and a more effective AA gun for destroyers who just didn't have room for sufficient numbers of 70mm guns to be effective in the AA role...had been drug down into the equatorial jungle to inspect the bunkers of shells and charges, and the guns themselves. 

Checking the various positions, he did understand one thing, the Army had the guns.  But they did not really have the sort of highly professionalized gunnery crews that you would find in any Razee or Battleship's turrets and handling spaces.  The pride of the Oaxaca line was its four 280mm/40 guns, pulled from old battleships and built onto railroad carriages, and then emplaced in permanent positions which had small switching engines to maneuver them across their arc of fire.  The guns combined covered a large portion of the Oaxaca line with the sort of firepower that couldn't be matched, but he doubted they'd be able to fire one round in five minutes, much less the two rounds per minute of properly arranged and crewed turrets. 

Interspersed in the back line were double that number of coastal mortars, the 305mm stubby devices able to lob high explosive shells weighing 400 kilos into the jungle.  And closer to the front were batteries of 210mm guns, the last naval guns to be adopted by the army for the artillery role.

It had been two weeks, but he was finally finishing his report.  He was impressed that the whole lot hadn't rusted away in the humidity, but there were a number of variances that would need to be corrected, including the army procuring refrigeration units for its powder magazines for the big guns and mortars.  He was just glad that he did not have to inspect the fortification works, the field artillery and fortress gun batteries, machine guns, or short-track railroads, that would be its own nightmare for the Army to figure out.  Much of it had to be on the surface, as only in the highlands was the ground dry enough to permit tunneling.  Though the Sultanate had poured a lot of funds into this line, he wondered how long it would hold against a concerted attack, especially given the rising tensions with the Mayans.

August 1st, 1921

The Yucatan Strait

For over a year now, the frigates and corvettes of the Royal Aztec Navy had been plying these waters, doing 'freedom of navigation' exercises in escort of commercial shipping through international waters. 

Lieutenant Soraya stood out on the bridge wings of her first command.  First command of a RAN vessel ever given to a woman.  The war with Rome had opened many avenues for advancement, and female officers were one result of them.  GTB-13, some joked that she was unlucky and now doubly so with the omen of a woman captain, slid through the waves to one side of the convoy as her consort, the Corvette Osprey  loomed some miles away at the end of the stream of civilian ships.  Commander Zeke, his mettle proved in the first incident, had found himself shifted to the Corvette when the new corvettes came off the slipways.  There was still much debate in the navy, some favoring the fewer 180mm guns, while some swore that the three more 150mm guns more than made up for throw weight with rate of fire. 

"Ma'am, ships ahoy, range 8 thousand and closing" her watch officer said.  The small crew of the large torpedo boat was a tight knit family, had to be with only 60 souls aboard. 

Soraya peered through the scope, making out the smoke on the horizon.  The watch officer continued "looks like two cruisers, and I make two destroyers screening".  "A squadron, not ours."  she replies.  "Not Roman either ma'am, I don't think they use cruisers that old in these parts".  "Mayan then.  Make for condition Yankee, engine room to bring the boilers up.  And alert Osprey in case she hasn't seen"

Osprey indeed had seen, the cruiser smoothly accelerating to fifteen knots to catch up to her diminutive consort as they swung south of the merchants, still a league or more inside international waters. 

With the previous activity, merchant captains had become accustomed to the escort, and continued to stately plow ahead at an efficient cruising speed, ready to be clear of the strait and on to their destinations.  Even as not two miles to their South, the Aztec ships formed in line ahead, and moved into a position to intercept the interlopers for another shouting match.

Weather 01-08-1921 ( ref 01-08-2021)

T°=> 29 to 30°
Low clouds 30%
Waves 0.7 to 1m

...It's hot in the boiler rooms.

Aztec ships are known for being cold in colder climes, as they're designed for tropical service with primarily air cooling and lots of ventilation.

August 1st, 1921 1300hrs

HMS Osprey and HMS GTB-13 steamed in line ahead just South of the merchant convoy as they traversed the Yucatan strait.  Now clearly visible, an Armored Cruiser and a protected cruiser of the People's Republic Navy, in consort with a pair of Destroyers, steamed on a perpendicular course, cutting the angle and closing on the convoy as the Aztec ships moved to intercept.

"Ok, so they doubled us, roughly.  I call it two T4 class, with a Jalapa-class cruiser."  Soraya said to her XO standing on the bridge with her.  "Yeah, if it was just the three of them, I'd say it wouldn't be a problem, our gunnery is probably better and we're definitely faster and more maneuverable".  "Agreed, but THAT *she points* is Commander Zeke's problem"

On the Bridge of HMS Osprey, Commander Zeke looked at the Mayan squadron with no small bit of trepidation.  That many ships meant the Mayans were getting serious about asserting rights to control transit in international waters.  "Sir, I've confirmed, it's the Valdemosa".  "Very well, keep a track on all four of them."  If it had just been the Jalapa and two DDs, he would have been confident.  His ship was superior in both design and protection to the small cruiser, even if her guns would chew him up a bit.  The destroyers were no better in a gunfight than GTB-13, and he had confidence in their ability to hold their own until he could support them.  But the Valdemosa, she was slow, but her armor could withstand his guns at battle ranges while even her old 9in guns would pierce his own armor.  He had speed, both of his ships were substantially faster and more nimble than their counterparts, but what he needed was numbers, or firepower.  Right now made him agree with the advocates of the new Splendid Cats, with their 180mm guns, as those would punch holes in Valdemosa and likely at longer ranges with the new Aztec fire control systems. 

"Helm, maintain your course, let's get between them and the merchants, and keep them fended off until the Merchants clear the strait for the open sea.  Comm, radio our position and situation in the clear, let's see if the Romans have picked up on anything yet, we're not far from their territorial waters either, maybe they have someone on patrol closer than our own fleet", he says before sitting down....nothing to do but wait, and hope that the Mayans weren't serious about escalating the nearly routine haranguing sessions.

He looks through his binoculars,  seeing smoke that doesn't match the ships.  Must be two pairs of destroyers,  he thinks.....a full cruiser squadron.

August 1st, 1921. IRS Respublica

Captain Donatien Sala reread the communication report handed to him by the radio operator.

"And this was in the clear correct?" Sala's question confirmation rather than a new inquiry.

"Yes Sir." The radioman replied. "In the clear, no attempt at obfuscation."

Sala rubbed his chin. "What do you think mister Crespi?"

"Posible some Aztec commander is planning to bite off more than he can chew." The first officer replied. "Or, alternatively, the People's Navy is making a major play."

"Any reason we should not investigate?" Sala asked. It would take a few hours to get a recon flight from Tamara or one of the other airfields.

"None." Crespi's reply was measured. "We can be there in under two hours."

"Very well." Sala then raised his voice. "Helm, come about to heading 270 and send for Ahead Full. Signal Collidis and Hastam to preform the same. Sound General Quarters, no drill."

Respublica began to swing west, the smooth hum of the electric drives swelling with power as the large armored cruiser slowly picked up speed.

"Message from the Killian DeCampo sir." The radio operator called before Sala could make his next request. "They are far closer and are responding as well."

"Very well, please inform the DeCampo we are responding as well." Sala replied. "Then notify the Admiralty."

---

"Lookout reports faint smoke to the southeast!"

Alfred Amadei turned in the indicated direction from the port bridge wing of the IRS Killian DeCampo. The commander of the ship named for Grand Turk's highest-ranking casualty noted the irony that his ship was now racing, intentionally, in the direction of at least one Royal Aztec Navy ship. Alfred hoped that his ship's presence may help diffuse the situation, the alert klaxon echoing over the water a practical recognition that it was not under his control.

August 1st, in the Yucatan Straits, International Waters

"They keep getting closer" the XO mused.  "Yeah.  Something's wrong, the Mayans have never come out in this much force.  We've matched them, but they're going to be on the merchants in another hour if they don't break off."  Zeke says.  "I agree Captain, and it's definitely a squadron.  The two cruisers, and four destroyers.  It's almost if they planned to double up on us and force us to back down."  Zeke thinks for a moment before responding.  "Signal Sojourner on the wireless, have her break North.  She can outrun the bigger cruiser, and play rear-guard to the merchants.  Signal the convoy to turn North towards Roman waters, I think they're serious about getting a piece of this lucrative sealane around to the Canal Zone."

HMS Osprey signals the convoy of assorted nationalities, and privately signals RFA Sojourner, the only Aztec ship in the convoy, to cover the rear of the convoy if something goes ill. Onboard the replenishment ship, first of her class, Commander Battuta looks grim.  He hadn't planned on having to take the locks off any of the ready lockers, his ship was heavy with fuel oil and supplies to add to the stocks in Angola.  "Chief, have the gunner's mate open the ammo lockers, and set condition Yankee throughout the ship.  Zeke seems to think the Mayans are serious about doing something stupid today and wants us to play rearguard for the merchants."  Battuta says.  "Captain, he does realize that we're basically a floating fuel depot?"  "I know.  I'm not going to steer us into trouble, but it'll be a good drill for the crew anyway"  he replies.

Back aboard Osprey, Commander Zeke watches the merchants turn ponderously away.  Not that it would stop them from being seized or searched by the Mayans, but maybe it would make the People's Republic waste more time, and maybe they'd call it a day before fingers started getting twitchy on firing studs.  "Captain, ship on the horizon, NorthEast!" the lookout calls.  Looking through his scope, he can't make it out yet.  "Guns, can you get me an ID on that ship?" he calls out, and one of the fire control scopes previously trained on the Mayan squadron pivots, putting its higher magnification to work.  "Roman lines sir, cruiser.  Can't get a positive ID yet", is the reply.  "Very well, maybe they're coming to have a look, can't make things worse" he chuckles.

A signal comes in from the Mayan cruiser.  "Unidentified Convoy, you are trespassing in the Exclusive Economic Waters of the People's Republic.  You will maintain your course and heave to for inspection.  Any deviation from your course will be seen as hostile".  Zeke looks over at his radio operator, "The usual" he says, and the operator begins reading a written statement on the air.  "This is His Majesty's Ship Osprey, operating as part of a legitimate peacetime function in International Waters.  All ships are arranged voluntarily for the purposes of free commerce in international waters and will operate in those waters according to accepted maritime law". 

Thus, as the two forces edge towards long-gun range, the haraunging begins.

IRS Killian DeCampo

"Well, I've learned more about the bathing habits of that one's mother than I needed to."

Alfred pinched the bridge of his nose with exasperation as the radio operator handed him yet another message. He declined to read it.

"Have you heard if there are any Roman-flagged ships in the convoy yet?"

"Yes sir." The radioman replied. "That was the next bit. Seems that the RCS Lili Němeček is supposed to be somewhere in the heard of merchantmen. She is headed from Saint Rochelle to somewhere on the Incan Pacific coast. No idea what her cargo is yet, aside from that it's not military hardware."

The internal sigh budged Alfred's shoulders slightly. "Well, that's lovely. See if you can get the Lili on the radio, assuming the airwaves clear enough to do so. Coded first, then if no response in say, twenty minutes you may try in the clear."

"Yes Sir." The radioman saluted and began to turn away.

"One more thing." Alfred added with no discernable haste. "What's your read on the tone of all these insults and the like."

The radioman thought for a moment before replying. "I've seen at least one bar-clearing brawl start with more civil an insult prelude."

A bar brawl with warships Alfred thought Exactly what I needed.

GTB-13 rolled gently as she twisted side to side, her engineers and helm alternating reverse to the shafts with the rudder hard over, but without the fancy electric drives of the Royal Navy's big ships, the steam necessary for combat speeds couldn't be maintained indefinitely without sending it through the direct turbines.  The changes in bearing also gave some minimal combat benefits, if the Mayans never quite knew a heading shift would be a course change, then the better for her ship, Commander Zoraya thought. 

Certainly thoughts were better than the constant drone of the usual insults and recriminations being sent back and forth between the two squadrons.  The Mayan bleating had become more strident as soon as the smudge on the horizon had resolved itself into the IRS Killian DeCampo.  "Skipper, that is the most ironically named ship an Aztec would ever expect to see" Zoraya hears in the background as she peers at the Mayan forces.  "Yes" she says "let's hope she doesn't meet the same fate as her namesake", before continuing to watch the Mayans.

Zoraya notices it first.  "Standby!" she calls on the bridge of the large torpedo boat, the small bridge crew going silent as she watches PRS Valdemosa's forward turret slew.  "Hard to starboard" she calls as a single gun fires, the shell covering the several thousand meters in agonizing seconds before splashing into the water just fore of where Thirteen's bow would have been.  "XO, all gun crews to load, armor piercing, start warming up the torpedoes.  I think our friends are beginning to get a bit unhinged"

The same activity was going on HMS Osprey as the fire control officers and ratings down in the hull began taking their careful tracks of the Mayan ships and sending elevation and train orders to the fore and aft mounts for the cruiser's 150mm guns.  Armor piercing shells were shoved in, followed by a powder bag, and the breeches slammed home as the guns trained out over the starboard side. 

In the bridge, Captain Zeke was keeping his cool, though it was difficult with both the hot day and the far more aggressive Mayan actions.  "They're acting as if they're trying to brush Dainty aside the first time." he says to no one in particular.  "What absolute arrogance, or insanity".  He turns to the rating at the radio, still busy haranguing the Mayans and demanding they cease fire immediately or they will be fired upon.  "Send a message to the DeCampo, request they convey the merchants away from here."  "Sir, I'd rather have the Romans with us, it's another hull and we know they can fight" his Gunner chimes in.  "I know Ali, but we're not here to start a war, we're here to safely escort the multinational merchants under our charge.  Someone's got to ensure their safe passage"

"Not here to start a war." Lt. Ali chuffs, "Sir, I know we're not, but are they?"

......less than an hour later......

Under the IRS DeCampo's direction, the merchants aligned into a triple line convoy, shortening and making themselves easier to maneuver as they turned due North for Roman waters.  Captain Zeke watched the move as his own ship cut port and starboard, engines alternating between full ahead and slow, as he and Thirteen controlled as much of the sealane as possible, denying the Mayan vessels passage to cross unless they wanted to close to a range so short it would in and of itself be considered an act of war. 

"I have never thought I'd be happy to see that ship." Lt. Ali states with finality, as the armored bulk of IRS Respublica, the bane of every cruiser in the Caribbean, and the reason all of the Aztec corvettes, frigates, and Razees were built for 30+kts, had arrived.  Taking up a position parallel to Osprey if a few thousand yards further out, her guns still fore and aft, but a very present statement from Rome for the Mayans to stand down, as if to say "This Party is Over". 

But the Mayan ships weren't steaming away.  The two starboard flanking T4 destroyers were pulling ahead of their cruisers, coal cinders billowing from their stacks as they accelerated.

Suddenly, the bridge lookout shouted:  "FISH STARBOARD FISH STARBOARD".  Captain Zeke dashes out onto the rail, and the lookout points him to the two Mayan Destroyers closer aboard.  The smoke from the launching charges is still drifting up from their pairs of torpedo tubes as the XO ordered hard to port as standard evasion protocol.  Peering out over the clear water, Captain Zeke does quick mental math at the bubble trails, the aft Destroyer's torpedoes clearly headed for Osprey but easily evaded, the forward torpedoes......

"AHEAD FLANK, BRING US BACK ON COURSE!" He bellows as he dashes back into the bridge.  "Evacuate forward spaces, damage control parties to aft stations!".  "Sir, what do you mean?"  "They're firing on us AND Respublica.  We can dodge, the Romans may not, and they cannot see the threat yet.  Cheeky bastards, trying to disable us by surprise." Zeke says.  "By Allah skipper, do you mean to?"  "Yes Ali.  I mean to protect Respublica at all costs."

HMS Osprey accelerates, easily bypassing the torpedoes headed aft, but slowly, slowly, interposing herself between Respublica and the threat.  "Sir, looks like one will miss forward, the other, Allah help us!"  he hears as the seconds slow to a crawl.  "Hoist the battle ensign, flags and transmit Cleared Hot to Thirteen, Sound Collision" Zeke orders.  "All Stop" he calmly tells the terrified helmsman, "brace for impact gents".

A plume of water shoots well above HMS Osprey's bridge tower as a Mayan 450mm Torpedo slams into her bows, the decks undulating as the ship whips from the impact.  In the forward magazines, the officer turns the flooding sprayers on as he dashes out, slamming the hatch shut as splinters pierce the forward bulkhead of the magazine compartment. 

IRS Respublica

Donatien Sala lowed his binoculars as the plum of water crashed down on the deck of the Aztec cruiser. He did his best to mask any shock in his facial expression.

"Looks like the Aztec took a hit from something big!" The cry from one of the junior officers rang out from further aft.

"Torpedo." Sala turned to Crespi as he spoke. "Do you concur Mister Crespi?"

"Yes sir, that is the most likely cause." Crespi replied. "Based on the distance between the involved ships, it must have been a Mayan torpedo. We are within the possible range of their known weapons."

"Then we have been fired upon by a Mayan warship." Sala's neutral tone out of place and distant.

"At the very least they have discharged weapons without regard to all possible outcomes." Crespi's reply was textbook. "Lets hope the Aztec isn't going to sink on us."

"Broadcast a warning in the clear." Sala began ordering. "Inform the Mayans that they are to disengage and proceed along a steady course away from the convoy. Any continued discharge of ordinance in the direction of any other ships in the area or an attempt to close with the convoy will be delt with by force."

Crespi nodded. "And for our escorts?"

"Send Hastam and Collidis to assist the Aztec cruiser, tell them to get between the Mayan ships and that cripple if they can." Sala's speech quickened. "Tell DeCampo to join us, if the balloon goes up I want all the guns we have."

Crespi nodded again. "Very good sir."

"Train the main battery on that Mayan armored cruiser before that message is sent." Sala concluded. "They need to know we are serious. I will not hesitate to open fire if this continues. If there is so much as a hint of torpedo or a gunfire exchange we will shoot for effect. Time to see how good that new fire control equipment is outside of exercises."

Lt. Zoraya is still staring aft in shock as the badly wounded Osprey heels out of line behind her.  'Ma'am, the Romans have issued an ultimatum to the Mayans to turn away.  Ma'am!" her chief says, a bit more harsh than maybe necessary, but it has the desired effect.  "Bring us on a reciprocal course, guns and torpedoes train to port, we have to cover Osprey against further damage.  Target the destroyers."  In her thoughts, she was torn.  Honor demanded she open fire, but to do so might start a war.  "Any signals from Osprey?"  "Nothing ma'am" came the reply as Thirteen swung to starboard, all the way around past pointing at the Mayans to a reciprocal heading.

Onboard the Osprey, the forward spaces are a mess.  Between her bow now pulling her deck plating down a dozen degrees in the front, and the flooded forward magazine, Capt. Zeke knew he didn't have much left in the reserve buoyancy department.  "Bring us towards the Sojourner, slow, signal her for assistance."  The fleet tender had shops, but she also had stocks of equipment and personnel onboard that could help get the water out and some temporary patches onto the hull, in a few hours.  If they lasted that long.  Even now damage control parties were running through the ship, closing up small leaks and restoring power to systems that had lost it due to the shock of the torpedo explosion. 

"Sir, they're turning in" his XO said, grimly.  "Do we have anything?" Captain Zeke replied, a legitimate question as systems throughout the ship were out of commission.  "Aft turrets report online and connected with fire control."  "Target the destroyer that shot us, we don't want to fire on someone who didn't fire on us first, not yet.  Fire when ready"

The aft twin 150mm turrets slewed, adjusting their elevation down substantially due to the ship being down by the bows.  And as the destroyer turned in with its cruiser consorts, aiming to cross the T of the now messy formation of Aztec and Roman ships, the guns barked, sending gouts of water rising all around the destroyer.

IRS Respublica

The flashes from what had been identified as the MPLS Valdemosa's main battery were not discrete. The wounded Aztec had shot back, something that Sala had wished had not occurred. He had, however, not asked them to hold fire. An oversight which would perhaps be remarked on in the inevitable inquiry about the events of August 1st, 1922. Maybe the Mayan's commanded thought Sala was bluffing, maybe something else had happened. None of these hypotheticals mattered. Sala was not bluffing, and the ultimatum had just been disregarded.

"Fire on the Valdemosa."

---

BRRRT BRRRT BRRRRRRT

The angry buzz of the salvo buzzer cut though the noise in Respublica's B turret. With the precision of clockwork, the gun crews took seconds to clear the three 340mm rifles to fire. A moment of relative calm was blown apart by the crashing thunder of all three guns leaping back against their recoil mechanisms in rapid succession. Suffering no discord from the sudden voiding of the guns, their crews now leapt into action. The waiting armor piercing shells almost quivering with anticipation at the rammers.

---

"Salvo long, approximately 500m from the shortfall of the ladder."

This information was quickly transcribed from the communication tube from which it came.

"Main guns, Main guns. Adjust elevation down 1.1 and ready for salvo."

The crash echoed though the fire control center half a minuet later.

"Salvo short, approximately 100m from longfall of the ladder."

"Main guns, Main guns. Adjust elevation up .6  and ready for salvo. Secondary battery one ranging salvo at current of 6,100 meters."

"We have secondary straddle."

"All guns, All guns. Range to target 6,100 meters."

---

Minuets passed in blurs and Sala watched from the bridge wing as yet another salvo of 340mm shells were hurled down range. If one of the other officers was still yelling for him to get inside the conning tower, Sala could no longer hear the words. The range had been found quickly, and soon after the first major hit. The latest salvo connected hard, with the Q turret of the Valdemosa the recipient of an unwanted 340mm intruder. The turret split open as if a giant pair of hands reached down from the sky and pulled it apart by the gun barrels. Flame belched skyward, the bright orange a stark contrast to the clear blue. The reply from Valdemosa's remaining guns again fell short. Sala found himself counting down until the next salvo of Respublica's guns would sound over the Caribbean.

....

Aboard Thirteen, Lt. Zoraya's ears were ringing.  Unlike the other ships, her GTB didn't have any bridge armor, or indeed much besides a single thin sheet of steel and the bridge glass.  And the roar of 150mm and even the big guns was extremely close to the little ship.  She thought about how much discomfort the gunners were in, as Thirteen blazed away at a Mayan Destroyer with her 100mm guns, her helmsman visually chasing the enemy salvoes with her turbines thrumming as she dodged and weaved through answering 100mm fire in a 4000yd gun duel in perfect conditions.  Now two thousand yards behind and continuing to run away slowly, HMS Osprey's aft battery continued to lay out a pattern of fire on the Mayan ships, trying to keep engaged whatever the IRS Respublica wasn't.  Cheers went up onboard as Respublica's salvo detonated the Q turret onboard the Mayan cruiser, enemy cruiser. 

Suddenly, splinters scythe through the bridge, leaving the radioman wounded, and Lt. Zoraya feels a dampness at her side.  Looking down, she sees a hole in her blouse, and blood starting to discolor her tunic.  With the bridge crew busy with her radioman, she stands her post, letting her crew fight the ship, they were too close to miss with the guns.  And soon enough an explosion is seen on the Mayan ship as well, her dance partner taking a hit on a gun. 

The fight was as chaotic as anything she had ever thought to consider.  There was no plan, two nations suddenly allies of convenience, coordinating like a drunk in the dark, and united only by their singular goal to stop Mayan depredations on civilian shipping, and protect the free navigation of the seas.

OOC:  Good stuff so far.

Within thirty minutes of the destruction of Valdemosa's Q turret another of Respublica's shells accessed Valdemosa's main battery. This hit however, was not to the turret proper but rather its barbette. The thin 50mm curve of armor did nothing more than fuse the Roman shell, which dutifully exploded fractions of a second later as it crashed into a loaded powder hoist on its way to the aft guns. This time, containing the flash was impossible. Fire was into the magazine almost instantly, the crew who could have flooded the room to save the ship set alight as other flammable material was.  The pain was only momentary, as a bag of powder went up, taking a 240mm shell with it. Rapid sympathetic explosions followed until the whole magazine was expanding outward with the force of a small sun.

---

Even from the ever-extending range, Sala was pushed backwards by the blast which blew the stern clean off the MPLS Valdemosa. The roar was deafening, taking away the sliver of hearing his ships gun had left him. The Valdemosa was rocked by a second detonation a short time later which broke a large chunk of the port side. The smaller sections began sinking almost immediately, the larger remnants clinging to the bow continued forward on momentum alone.

"All batteries cease fire!" Sala shouted to ensure the order was here.  "All batteries cease fire!"

Dutifully, Respublica's guns quieted. The sound of smaller weapons further away between the Aztec destroyer and its Mayan counterparts continued.

"It looks as if the Mayans have had enough." Crespi noted, having reappeared at Sala's side. "The cruiser is turning away."

"I do think we have made our point Mister Crespi." Sala stated. "Get the DeCampo over to the Valdemosa, take in what they can of any survivors in the water. Get a firing solution on the smaller cruiser. Tell Hastam and Collidis not to chase the destroyers if they withdraw. Once secured from action they are to provide assistance to the wounded Aztec cruiser. Speaking of which, we should probably try and raise them on the wireless."

"Consider it done, sir." Crespi's acknowledgment was blunt.

"And Crespi, do remind me we need to get our story all wrapped neatly for the report to the Admiralty in Tamara." Sala noted his ears were ringing slightly less than they had been minuets ago. "I'm sure this will go over very well."

"By Allah!" the XO calls out, witnessing the deflagration of the Mayan's flagship.  Stiffly sitting in her seat to try to reduce the certain blood loss, Lt. Zaraya turns.  "Cease Fire" she calls, and after another shot or two the guns on Thirteen go silent.  In the short engagement they had traded a number of minor hits with the older Mayan destroyers, and had been finally in position to launch a devastating spread of their larger 533mm torpedoes.  But now the situation seems to have changed.  "Give them a chance to disengage, if they don't we'll give them a full spread and put them all on the bottom" Zaraya says, with a bit more confidence than she feels.  One of the ship's three corpsmen comes up onto the bridge with a medical bag, and begins wrapping a dressing around her abdomen, clucking that she needs to go to sickbay to have her wound looked at.  "I know, I know, as soon as we're sure they've had enough" is the reply.

After another tense few minutes, it's clear that the Mayans have had it, and are making what for them has to be their best speed away. 

"Ma'am, signal from Osprey.  We're to continue the escort until the merchants are clear and then return to Veracruz."

"Very Well"

Onboard Osprey, the chief engineer delivers his report on the damage, and his assessment that the ship needs to seek the nearest port to avoid the chance of foundering or sustaining additional damage.  Captain Zeke nods.  "Signal the Romans, they have the nearest port.  Maybe they'll be willing to let us dock and perform an assessment, if nothing else".

Quote from: The Rock Doctor on April 12, 2022, 01:07:49 PM
OOC:  Good stuff so far.

Agreed, enjoyable read.
Interesting to see Aztecs and Romans stumbling into cooperation :)

Quote from: Kaiser Kirk on April 22, 2022, 12:36:52 PM

Quote from: The Rock Doctor on April 12, 2022, 01:07:49 PM
OOC:  Good stuff so far.

Agreed, enjoyable read.
Interesting to see Aztecs and Romans stumbling into cooperation :)

Cats and dogs living in harmony, mass hysteria!

Several days later...
HMAS Osprey would have filled slight over half of the massive drydock at Tamara's naval base. The broken ground of three others showcasing the planned expansion of the key port. The irony that it now held what would have been an assailant in another time was not lost. The missing section of Osprey's bow made the dock seem much larger by comparison. While Osprey did have to suffer a minor humiliation of being towed into Tamara Harbor by the IRS Killian DeCampo, the cruiser had remained floating until the dock's pumps began taking the water away.

Sala stood alongside Zeke as the water slowly fell and Osprey began to settle onto the supports to hold her remaining hull upright. Repairs to the bulkheads were nessiary, in the opinions of the Roman shipwrights, and their Aztec counterparts who had arrived on the HMAS Eagle had declined to disagree. The plan was to make the Osprey watertight again, then send her home for a new bow.

Sala and Zeke had already been though several rounds of debriefings but had only briefly been introduced. Now, with some arrangement by Sala, he had an opportunity to speak to his Aztec counterpart.

"It's sort of like seeing your child in hospital with a broken arm." Sala continued, watching the anti-fouling paint on Ospery's hull slowly leave the water. "Knowing they will be fine, but at the same time wondering if you could have done anything to prevent the visit from being necessary."

"I suppose that is a reasonable comparison." Zeke replied.

"I know you will still have some debriefing to do once you return home." Sala changed the subject. "I've made sure that you will have a full copy of the reports from myself and the other bridge officers. Both through official channels and to you personally, just to make sure there is no funny business on the diplomatic side."

"The though is appreciated." Zeke replied. "I do wonder if Osprey will still be my command after this."

"While I cannot speak to the attitude of your Admiralty, I can speak to my own." Sala turned to face Zeke. "You made one of the most difficult decisions a commander can face in the heat of the moment. You chose to place the well-being of others above the well-being of yourself. That, if nothing else, makes you by my count a good person."

"Thank you." Zeke replied.

Sala extended his hand. "I'm afraid I do need to be on my way. The pleasure has been mine, Captain."

for some reason reminds me of Honor Harrington books, which is a good thing.

Air Identification Bulletin

The following aircraft have entered serial production and are being actively deployed to squadrons within the Sultanate:

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/33/Martinsyde_Buzzard_070707.JPG)

This has been chosen as the standard fighter aircraft for the Army Air Corps as well as the ground based fighters of the Royal Naval Air Service.  While experiments with 12mm MG armed fighters have been tried, it was decided that the weight of the 12mm MG was contraindicated given the performance of pursuit fighters, and so instead of a single 12mm MG, a pair of 8mm MGs was accepted.  While the previous monoplane was a successful design, improvements in maneuverability and low speed performance made this a superior design for current requirements.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/4b/Sopwith_Cuckoo.jpg)

This has been chosen to meet the RNAS requirement for a land-based light scout and patrol bomber.  While it is shown dropping a dummy test torpedo, this aircraft has not yet been certified for torpedo use and primarily carries a quartet of 100lb bombs.  Notably this aircraft can be configured as a floatplane for floatplane operations with a suitably reduced bomb load of 200lb currently.  The RNAS has confidence in this design moving forward for both higher performance and larger bomb loads, to include torpedo dropping.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/86/Airco_D.H.11_aircraft.jpg)

This has met the Army Air Corps requirement for a land-based bomber for battlefield roles. 

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/74/Handley_Page_V-1500.jpg/300px-Handley_Page_V-1500.jpg)

This aircraft has met the AAC requirement for a bomber to replace the Zeppelin types for all AAC operations.  All airships have been transferred to the RNAS for long-range overwater patrol and rescue duties.  Airship manufacturers were very vocal in opposition, but the above aircraft is considered to be more survivable as well as easier to produce in wartime.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f8/Sopwith_Salamander_prototype.jpg)

While the manufacturer lost out for fighter production, the fighter design was deemed to be suited to conversion to a dedicated ground attack platform.  With the proliferation of machine guns making anti-aircraft fires a real problem, and considering lessons learned from Rome as to the utility of ground attack aircraft, light armor as well as a light bomb load of anti personnel bombs back up the single 12mm machine gun for the anti infantry and anti-materiel uses of this aircraft.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/0/09/Fariey_IIIF_of_NZPAF.JPG)

HMS Zoraster has received an upgrade in its floatplane arsenal, an improved single-engine floatplane that allows for more room aboard for the ship's squadron.  A mixed recon/bomber/fighter aircraft, its equipped with a forward and aft 8mm MG and can carry a light bomb load.  The RNAS has designs to use this aircraft to equip scout forces as well as function as a liason aircraft between various islands in the Outer Gates.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f6/Curtiss_NC-1_3_October_1918-_initial_three_engine_configuration.jpg/1024px-Curtiss_NC-1_3_October_1918-_initial_three_engine_configuration.jpg)

The RNAS has been actively looking for a long-term replacement for the Zeppelin types due to concerns with the large facilities needed to maintain the envelopes.  This new production aircraft is not a replacement, but an adjunct as the RNAS trains crews and improves long-range overwater navigation as well as develop doctrine for all fixed-wing patrol assets.

November 1922

Commander Ishmael loved to feel the thrumming power of his airplane's prop as it cut through the morning sun.  Taking off from beside HMS Zoraster, he climbed to altitude and headed for the target range.  Down below him, in the calm waters of the gulf of Baja, he spotted it.  A sausage shape in the water, a dummy the size of a 125t submarine, moored at periscope depth.

Adjusting his aircraft, the squadron leader guided his plane in, his gunner half turned and looking down as they neared the ersatz submarine.  As they glided down, the gunner snatched a cable, and a quartet of 100lb bombs fell, splashing down before detonating on a short time delay. 

Back on shore, the Admiral waits as HMS Ophelio hauls the target up out of the water and brings it alongside the pier.  "It seems that our experiment has some promise" he says, observing the faux hull dished in two places from near miss detonations. 

February 1923

After a significant development process, the Army has announced production contracts for several arms to modernize all Aztec ground forces.  These changes take into account wartime lessons as well as new technologies.

The 1920 pattern rifle has been adopted for use.  Still a straight-pull action for its rapidity of fire, the magazine has been reduced to a six round en bloc clip, as the extended floorplates on the Navy model rifles tended to get beaten up under hard use.  The bolt has has also been changed to a rotating rather than wedge-locking action, to improve lock up and accuracy.  The 6mm cartridge has been retained, with the 95 grain spitzer projectile. 

The 1918 Automatic Rifle has had its barrel shortened slightly, along with substantial lightening and a shift to a more reliable 25 round box magazine from the previous 30 round magazine that showed significant reliability concerns.  The largest change has been doctrinal, with production ramped up to issue two automatic rifles to every squad as a 'section gun' rather than teams of automatic riflemen at the platoon and company level. These changes occurred due to soldier complaints of the weapon being overly heavy and long and not having a role, as it was firmly stuck between a machine gun and a rifle.  To replace the role of the 1918 Automatic Rifle at the Platoon and Company level, a lightened version of the 1919 Machine gun, chambered in 6mm has been recommended and is in low rate initial production.  As opposed to the spade grips and tripod of the 1919, this 1922 Machine gun has a permanently affixed bipod, buttstock, and rifle-style trigger, while retaining the belt feed and heat shield of the 1919 Machine Gun to provide sustained fire.

(https://www.americanrifleman.org/media/20udxdk0/stinger.jpg?anchor=center&mode=crop&width=987&height=551&rnd=132620318710370000&quality=70)


The change with the most impact has been to the Snake and Seal Warriors.  Both were extensively using the 7.65 pistol, in pistol and carbine variations, as a primary weapon system alongside the 6mm rifles and Auto-rifles.  The New Model Automatic Pistol, still in 7.65 but now with 10 rounds in a detachable box magazine in the grip rather than the clumsy forward stripper clip magazine, has been authorized for purchase as well as general issue. 

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/26/M1911A1.png/1280px-M1911A1.png)


In a contrast to the heavy standardization towards a single cartridge within the other forces and reserves, the Snake and Seal Warriors have accepted an additional cartridge into service, the 7.65mm Carbine, or .30 Carbine cartridge, with a 33mm case instead of the pistol's 25mm case.  The additional powder is allowing a new carbine, using 10 and 20 round detachable magazines instead of stripper clips, to be procured.  This carbine has been accepted as a universal rifle for the Seal and Snake Warriors, to be deployed alongside the 1922 Machine Gun, and removing the 1918 Automatic Rifle from their inventory.  Firing over set 'battle sights', the carbine is accurate to 300m, which is considered more than adequate for cavalry and marine use, and was heavily influenced by the Seal Warriors experience in the trenches.  The Jaguar and Eagle Warriors both scoff at the idea in favor of their 6mm rifles and automatic rifles, preferring long range firepower and the fully automatic firepower of the auto rifles versus the distribution of firepower to all squad members with the shorter-ranged carbines.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/dc/Winchester_Self_Loading_Mod_05.JPG)

Ground Identification Bulletin Update

The Royal Aztec Army Joint Chiefs, as well as the Seal, Jaguar, Eagle, and Snake Warriors, have issued a bulletin providing identification to allies of currently produced and deployed ground force vehicles in the service of the Sultanate

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a7/M1918-ford-3-ton-tank.jpg)

The Seal Warriors, after careful testing and deliberation, have gone with a simpler option for their standard ground force vehicle.  This armored vehicle is the 3 ton model of 1922, an upgrade of the 1918 model originally tested.  The M1922 light tank is armored against rifle caliber rounds and has a crew of two.  Improvements from the 1918 model were replacing the clunky dual engine setup with a single 60hp engine and a simple steering tiller arrangement (improving its top speed to 15mph), placing a firewall between the engine and crew compartment, and slightly enlarging the crew compartment to both accommodate the crew better as well as allow for more ammunition storage.  As this armored vehicle is operating primarily with forces attached to the Navy, the single Machine Gun is the 12mm/70 gun found on virtually all RAN vessels, with 500 rounds stored on the vehicle.  While there are heavier options, this vehicle provides a protected mobile machine gun with anti-armor and barrier capabilities, and can be easily loaded and unloaded from vessels.


(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/53/British_Gun_Carrier_Mark_I_-_60_pdr.jpg)

The Jaguar Warriors, having noted specifically the issues inherent with artillery in a trench warfare scenario, have developed a heavy tracked chassis for making the new 130mm guns, originally developed for Navy but adapted for Army use, viable in active trench warfare or other mobile warfare.  With the fully tracked chassis, the mud common in the Oaxaca Line area is less of a concern, and the gun batteries can reduce their dependence on the number of trucks with each battery to tow the heavy guns into position.

December 30th, 1922:

The Old City, Tenochtitlan,

"And as you can see, the Mayans have increased their activities at sea, as well as small scale raids along the Oaxaca Line" the staff officer concluded, finishing describing the last photo taken by a Recon airship. 

"Gentlemen" Ali the 8th, Sultan of Aztecs, began "I believe that we face a grave threat from the Mayans, greater than we have faced in fifty years.  Their brazen actions in the Yucatan Strait, as well as their recent actions against the Vilnius Union, show that they have avaricious goals against the shipping moving around the Canal."  Nods from the assembled officers showed assent.  "Given the likelihood of the Mayans pushing again into open warfare, we need options to deal with the circumstance if it arises."

"Your Majesty" General-Chief Atcazuma of the Snake Warriors began "The Snake Warriors stand ready.  Given the terrain along the Oaxaca Line, I do not think it is suitable for my men and women to operate efficiently.  I would propose that General-Chief Mazatl of the Jaguar Warriors move his forces in their entirety to the Oaxaca Line while my forces can cover our borders with Rome and the other powers to the North."

"Indeed."  Ali said simply "Let it be done.  I would prefer to avoid a general mobilization as that would only give the Mayans cause to escalate.  A redeployment of our professional soldiery should be sufficient to the task."  He continued "Governor-General Abidi, your thoughts?"

"Your Majesty" the only of their number to have led a major operation in the sort of intense trench warfare expected if warfare erupted in Oaxaca, said "I believe that an operation purely along the Oaxaca line is not the Mayan intent.  I believe they will try to make a play for the Canal, it is the only thing that makes sense given their activities.  Their fleet is not capable of defeating even ours alone, and certainly they cannot hope to make significant breakthroughs in Oaxaca without horrendous losses.  Equally, our opposites there, even though their own fortifications are not as extensive, could hold our forces for some time in the nightmare of trench warfare.  I believe that General-Chief Mazatl's troops can ensure our borders, and even make attacks, but to force the Yucatan by land would be an incredibly bloody endeavor.  However, the Japanese do not have a large force in North Panama, and I believe it is the Mayan intention to overwhelm them and then push for the canal while the Japanese and Wilno forces are still marshalling elsewhere to reinforce.  Our first priority, then, must be to reinforce Panama."

"Commodore Acalan" the Sultan continued "What say the Seal Warriors?"

"Your majesty" the commander of the Seal Warriors, also the most junior of the assembled chiefs of staff said "I have Four Brigades of Seal Warriors maintained within our borders that can be assembled.  Two each at Veracruz and Acapulco.  The rest of my forces are spread throughout the Sultanate's Colonies on garrison duty.  I have the ships to move them rapidly if the fleet can maintain a corridor.  Fortunately, these four brigades have a leavening of experienced men, as well as being the first to be refitted with our new equipment.  3rd and 6th Brigades are currently training their attached armored battalions, and 9th Brigade has received its new weapons and the men are training with the new rifles and machine guns.  The issue will be once we're ashore.  The isthmus is narrow, and allows us to maximize attrition, but the Mayans will be able to tap into their own reserves.  Our intelligence shows a number of large armored vehicles, and while they're lozenge shaped and ungainly, they will still be problematic for infantry even with supporting arms."

"Good, draw up plans for deployment, and consult with your Japanese counterpart about staging areas in the event that we must move quickly.  You have experience with the Japanese, use it to minimize confusion."

"Your Majesty" the grizzled old warrior General-Chief Coyotl began "The Eagle Warriors have made some preparations.  My First Airborne Brigade is still testing, but we should be able to move the men by airship."

"Those will be light infantry, without heavy equipment or weapons, and minimal ammunition" Abidi remarks

"Yes, but every one of my men is willing to do what is necessary.  If the Seal Warriors are able to deploy by sea, they could bring other Eagle Brigades with them, and the First Airborne can hold the line with the Japanese until they arrive."

"Coyotl, I have seen the reports of your parachutist experiments, I do not believe they are ready for operational deployment." The sultan remarks. 

"Not by Parachute your Majesty.  But rather deployed to a forward staging area by airship by platoons.  It will be a tedious operation, yes, but the airships can carry them, and we can nationalize airships if need be to have enough."  Expecting the question about Mayan fighting scouts, he holds up his hand "And airships have the endurance to go out to sea before their turn, and thus avoid the radius of coastal Mayan aircraft, it is conceivable that we could conduct such an operation without the Mayans knowing until it  was well under way"

"Very well" Ali says, standing "Continue your preparations, I will convene you all as necessary if circumstances require"

January 6th, 1923:

The Old City, Tenochtitlan

"Your Majesty,  have you"

"Yes, I have. " Ali, Sultan of Aztecs interrupts, obviously not as deep in thought as his aide believed.  "A full mobilization would still only play into their narrative.   But have the Marshal send recall orders to all half pay officers and staff NCOs,  and have the Admiral of the Fleet stand all reserves to and cancel all leaves.  I want the Air service on high alert, and maritime patrols stepped up.  You can never trust a Mayan,  they like to use surprise".

The aide bows, but the sultan holds his hand up momentarily stilling him. "Oh, and as we have not heard from Rome about an ambassador yet, not unexpected,  send a message to her Majestys cousin in Geronimo.   If my obnoxious sister in law is to be believed,  retired Lieutenant Colonel Atlacoya might be the closest thing to an embassy we can get on short notice. "

The aide runs off to the communications wing, confused.  Why would a colonel of light Cavalry be a diplomat, but no matter,  it was spoken, it shall be done.

The 'Buzzard' as the pilots affectionately called the standard fighter aircraft of the Royal Air Corps landed on the strip outside the old city, the pilot getting out to an unusual bow from the ground crew as he walked to the waiting car and rode to the Palace. 

"Father" Crown Prince Ali, Group Captain of the Veracruz Fighter Group, said approaching the Sultan.  "I came as soon as you asked"

"I heard.  You really must get permission from your commander before you take your plane on a jaunt home, despite what your mother might wish as far as regular visits are concerned, the train would have sufficed" Sultan Ali the 8th said with a somewhat stern voice, reminding his son that proper decorum must be maintained without abusing the privileges of his birth.

After several hours reviewing the reports, Captain Ali (the 9th) gave his assessment.  "I don't think it is wise to continue a heavy campaign along the Oaxaca Line.  We will lose a lot of infantry, and we don't have any goals that can be met by a campaign there.  Also, the air campaign should be more limited, let our pilots gain experience downing Mayan aircraft without risking our bombers so heavily.  The Salamanders could be used for ground attack though, they're maneuverable enough to mix it up with Mayan fighters if they get jumped."

Sultan Ali chuckles.  "You're learning well.  I received the same assessment from the General Staff an hour before you arrived.  Things are in motion to reinforce our air forces in the South, but not to waste troops or aircraft on inadvisable trench warfare now.  The threat alone should be sufficient to force the Mayans to deploy assets there."

"Father, will my squadron be going" the Crown Prince asks eagerly, obviously wanting the chance to mix it up again with the Mayans after having only a single pass at the Mayan seaplanes off Veracruz and no real engagement.  "No.  You'll continue to do your duty to defend the Fleet.  It's more important now with so much of it pierside with damage or being shifted into drydocks while the engineers assess what they can do for repairs."

After a few more minutes of conversation, and an hour with his mother, Crown Prince Ali is back in the air, buzzing low over the palace as he waggles his wings in salute, before heading back towards Veracruz and his squadron.

Commander Zeke stood on the bridge of HMS Osprey, reading the surely shortened version of events that had transpired off Veracruz.  Tasked with being the Station Cruiser for the Outer Gates, he hadn't been in position to join the fleet.  And based on the actions fought, he was both jealous and relieved.  Two of Osprey's sister ships lay on the bottom, two lay in cofferdams, waiting to be drydocked.  And his Osprey, which had gone up against the Mayans nearly alone, until the Romans had joined in to assist he and Thirteen, was the only Corvette remaining in theater fit to fight.  He looked through the casualty list again, relieved to see that Senior Lieutenant Zoraya's Thirteen remained afloat and in action.....

Senior Lieutenant Zoraya replayed the events through her mind.  The rush of her division racing towards the perfidious Mayan fleet that was trying to attack her fleet at anchorage.  The frantic gunfire as her gun-torpedo-boats were under the guns of the Mayan cruisers and capital ships.  Ships, her ships and her sisters, brewing up as they were hit repeatedly by Mayan shellfire.  The turn, the launch, and the running back out under fire.  It had been everything she had heard from the dark times of the Caicos War, the valor and the losses.  And yet they had failed.  Where mere motor torpedo boats, firing by blind luck and the eye of the helmsman at insanely close ranges had sunk the battleship Sublimis with a single torpedo, the combined strength of 1st Fleet's GTBs had managed possibly two ineffective hits upon the Mayans.  As she cobbled together a division out of what remained from the GTB divisions, she wondered what it meant, and wondered what it would mean for the doctrines of the fleet.....made for a war they hadn't had to fight against a vengeful Rome.

April.....Costa Rica

Commodore Acalan thought, this must be how the Romans felt.  After slogging ashore, and getting his invaluable light tanks ashore as well, he had been caught in the snarl of traffic that was the Royal Aztec Expeditionary Corps.  The Seal Warriors had come ashore relatively simply, their training and experience in landings making it a simple matter of lowering the whaleboats and making for the beaches off the anchorage.  The LSPs had proven a valuable way of getting at least their tanks onto the pier, as they were able to drive directly off the ships ramps.  But the artillery despite it being 40mm and 70mm guns, the trucks, including his newfangled armored car command vehicle, and the Eagle Warriors and all of their equipment like the 100mm guns and 150mm howitzers, had been hell.  Only made worse by the intermittent air raids by the Mayans.  Fortunately little had been lost when the transports beached or went down.  But it had shot their timetables to pieces, and his forces were only now getting close to the lines that the Imperial Japanese Army was desperately holding against the People's Republic.

At least they were getting into the fight, he thought, fingers idly brushing the carbine he had checked out of the armory before departing.  The battalion commanders and sergeants major had been at Grand Turk, and some of the senior officers and men, like he, had fought at San Diego.  They understood this way of war, and now they were going to bring it to bear with fresh arms and the finest infantry in the world.  Their tanks were small, but the 12mm MGs on them were capable of punching through armor plate, and their 40mm infantry guns had capped rounds as well for dealing with the Mayan tanks that had given the Japanese such trouble.  The 12mm guns in their force also had the ability to shoot down aircraft, as did the 30mm AA guns being towed behind light trucks and their 70mm artillery.  It was time to take the fight to the People's Republic, time to remind them why they should cower behind their defensive lines.

The Royal Air Force Announces the winners of the Crown Prince's Cup for a Naval and Land Fighter using the most modern technology for the Royal Aztec Air Force.  While the cooperation Norse/Roman/Aztec Curtiss company provided the engine, their own design was found to be insufficient and the competing Boeing design was selected to replace the Buzzard in service.  Experiments with the 12mm MG instead of the 8mm MG have been found to produce insufficient results, and the tested single 12mm has been swapped back for twin 8mm MGs:

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/ad/Boeing_FB-5%282%29.jpg)

The Royal Aztec Air Force Announces that it has completed trials and accepted the Cubaroo into service.  It is unusual in being a single-engine land-bomber.  However, she has long range, and can carry a full-size 21in torpedo, which gives them great firepower in anti-shipping strikes.  For bombing operations, they can be equipped with over 2000lb of  conventional bombs.  The single engine is a compromise for maneuverability for an aircraft this size, as well as maximizing efficiency of manufacture.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/50/BlackburnCubaroo.jpg)

The Curtiss Company design for a replacement ground attack aircraft and light bomber has been accepted however.  With significantly more MG firepower than the previous design, it should be a tougher bird to bring down in air combat, along with being faster.  The 200lb bomb load gives it anti-personnel and light bombing capability beside its machine gun armament.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8d/Curtiss_A-3_Falcon_%28SN_27-243%29.jpg)

The RAN announces  its own aircraft.  First and foremost, in conjunction with the Boeing fighter design, is a fighter design that can be used amphibiously.  A floatplane scout-fighter for operating off of HMS Zoraster, as well as the new ships being laid down in the fleet that will be soon equipped with catapults.  An aircraft for recon, as well as protecting the ships against long-range bombers.

(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/9d/71/98/9d71982274636ea3d8fb40aaf3fcf9e5.jpg)

The Eagle Warriors, interested in ways to get over trenches and other obstacles with their light infantry, have been experimenting with Parachutist Infantry.  They have procured a limited quantity of a new aircraft for purposes of furthering their testing in company and battalion sized formations to develop doctrine.  With capacity of two sections of infantry, it is considered to be the first heavier than air aircraft with enough capacity to render viable service in the role.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/5/55/Vickers_Victoria_2.jpg)

July 5th, 1924:

Work continued in the sweltering heat.  The old 40mm gun was too outdated, and did not have a proper round for dealing with armored vehicles at range.  In typical fashion therefore, they had been given a number of the Navy's 30mm anti-aircraft gun, to test a capped armor piercing shell against armor plate at various ranges, and develop a doctrine.  The Jaguar Warriors had seen how their old weapons were less and less effective, and thus wanted new equipment to break the infantry stalemates of the previous war, and bring firepower to bear on the battlefield.  While the round was proving to be effective, the Navy mounts were obviously inadequate to field use, and the automatic breech and feed mechanisms irrelevant and overly heavy for use on the ground.  Further development of a lightweight carriage and a simple single-shot breech for the gun would need to be done, for anti-armor was an infantry job, for anti-tank squads, and the intent was to be able to deploy as few men as posssible per gun, and make it something that could be manhandled across trenches and through jungles with ease.  The secondary plan was to use a hardened-steel penetrator tip on a 12mm machine gun round, fired from a bolt-action rifle, and those crude early attempts were being refined for ease of use and to be less injurious to the operators.

Other projects were under way, such as converting the 70, 100, and 150mm field guns to improved and modernized carriages.  The 40mm guns were to be replaced outright throughout the Army as the oldest and most outdated gun in the inventory, their canister round being ineffective in the jungles except as a last-ditch defense, and modern machine guns being both lighter and superior in that role.

The two projects most important to Commodore Acalan, after his experience in Costa Rica, were the improvement and large-scale rollout of the Automatic Rifles, the Seal Warriors aiming to change their doctrine away from their preference for their short range carbines after the hellacious fighting against the Mayans.  The 6mm would see a resurgence in the Seal Warriors, with the automatic rifles and their 30 round magazines being heavily employed throughout their infantry, which would shift to having four of the guns in every squad, fire teams of 3 men having an automatic rifle, the other two men carrying additional ammunition, carbines, and grenades.  The second project could prove decisive for the light force, as he watched one of their light tankettes launch a ripple of rocket projectiles on the range.  The Seal Warriors tankettes were almost exclusively armed with 12mm MGs, useful, but not able to bring explosive to the fight.  By putting a kilogram of TNT on a half-dozen rockets stored in tubes on the back of the tankette, it could be possible to bring to bear a volley of fire not dissimilar to an artillery barrage onto a threat....though only once.  The Tankette being enclosed provided a modicum of protection to the crew from the toxic fumes of the rockets, though plans to mount them onto autocar-trucks were also in the works.  The general unreliability of the rockets, and their rather broad spread, made long-range bombardment impossible....for now.

February 4th, 1925

Two ships of the RAN put to sea from Veracruz,  steaming at a high cruise.  Both large, and both sent due to a mutual history being honored.   HMS Uhlan, and HMS Revenge, carrying Crown Prince, Group Captain,  Ali....and a number of diplomats, respectively.   Some wondered if it was purely a diplomatic overture towards the Vilnius Union, or if there was a alternative meaning,  a reminder that the RAN was not confined to the Caribbean as the Mayans, they were a power with global reach, even if not on the scale of fleets.

February 7th, 1925

Crown Prince Ali, he had to remind himself, stood on the quarterdeck of HMS Uhlan, looking at the two aircraft strapped down there.  "Too bad" he said aloud, thinking about the catapults that hadn't yet been installed, or the more permanent stowage hardware, the Uhlan designed to hold four of these aircraft with their catapults for scouting.  And defense of the fleet, that had been a requirement after the war, that any aircraft onboard a ship be capable of fighting, the Mayan air force proving to be a deadly threat.  A threat that Ali knew all too well, as he had threaded his 'Buzzard' through combats with the surprising number of aircraft that had been put up over the Oaxaca Line during the war, and had even led raids to try to aid the Seal Warriors in their desperate defense with the Japanese.  So many dead for Mayan greed once again, so many.  He and his father had talked, and never again would the Royal Flying Corps find itself at a disadvantage, he was certain of that.  And these aircraft were proof, even with their floats they were nearly the equal of his old steed.

"Are you sure I can't fly just a little?" he says to the lieutenant watching a technician work on an engine.  "Sir, I would be delighted for you to, but to do that we'd need to slow to under ten knots.  And the Captain is under strict orders, twenty knots all the way to Kalinn.  As it stands, we're still seven days out.  We probably won't make the funeral, we certainly cannot miss the coronation."

"Ah yes, a coronation.  Where I can wear mess dress and talk with the infinite varieties of boring officials and mindless nobility."  Ali replies.

"Sir, somehow I think you're going to find a reason to avoid as much of that as possible" the lieutenant says, pointing at the aircraft, already painted with Ali's name on the cockpit cowling.

"Being Crown Prince has its benefits, one of them being the ability to borrow state property from time to time.  Regardless, I am a pilot, and I have to stay current if I am to lead my squadron". 

The two ships plowed on silently through the mid-Atlantic, HMS Revenge going to pay her respects as the ship that had brought the Union and Sultanate closer together, Uhlan as the ship that symbolized that rapapproachment.  And incidentally, the two ships also meant that His Majesty could avoid another incident with meddling diplomats and officials always nattering about what he was supposed to do. 

February 11th, 1925, Morning nautical twilight.

"Your Highness, I must insist" Minister Battuta, his erstwhile, and thankfully temporary, chief of staff and protocol advisor, continued droning on.

"It's quite simple, Minister" Group Captain, and Crown Prince, Ali replied.  "The Coronation is tomorrow.  And even at flank speed, our ships won't make it to Kalinn until the day after, with half a day of transit to Vilnius.  With this" he smiles, patting the side of the new 'Flycatcher' fighter strapped to the quarterdeck of Uhlan, "I can make it there today.  It's eleven hundred nautical miles by sea plus another one hundred eighty by rail.  By air, it's eight hundred from here all the way to Vilnius.  But I have to leave now, because it's going to take two stops for fuel on the way at Hamburg and Gdansk, and I only have ten hours of flying light."

"Your father would not approve" the grey-haired minister said, smugly.  "No, he wouldn't, but he is not here.  I am.  And as this is a mission of the Crown and not the Navy, the responsibility is mine alone."  "This is not Azteca, Your Highness, you don't know where you're going" was the final retort.  "I have maps, and we will be flying over Roman and then Union territory.  There are aerodromes at the larger cities."

Half an hour later, as the sun peaked over the horizon to the east, HMS Uhlan slowed to ten knots and her aft crane slowly lowered one, then the other aircraft to the surface of the North Sea, just East of the Channel.  With a slight sputtering, both engines of the new 'Flycatchers' roared to life, and the two aircraft bounced a little on their combination wheeled floats as they lifted into the rising sun, winging over towards Hamburg, the fighters significantly lighter with the absence of the 8mm MGs and ammunition that would normally be aboard, a seabag of clothes shoved into the space the guns normally occupied and strapped down.

Group Captain Ali was elated.  Time at sea was not altogether unpleasant, and at least his father's desire to have enough representation for a potential fleet review had meant he could avoid all but one of the stuffy old men sent to the Union as the delegation to the new King.  But this was heaven.  Even with his sealskin jacket and boots, and a scarf and thick fur flying cap, the North European wind was biting compared to his usual aerial haunts.  But up here, he was free.  And not only given the chance to arrive in time for the coronation, but to arrive in style, if without an entourage.  If only the Uhlan had time to get in her scheduled refit, the one that would affix the catapults and four aircraft to her quarterdeck, instead of relying on a collapsible gantry and launching from the sea.  One day, one day.

(http://aviadejavu.ru/Images6/MY/MY87-7/7-1.jpg)

February 11th, 11am

Hamburg regional Aerodrome

Group Captain Ali touched down, his engine purring as he carefully coaxed the somewhat awkward wheeled floats onto the grass.  He mused that the packed and rolled earth of Hidalgo or San Diego made for a better runway for these aircraft especially, even if it was dusty, the field here was somewhat less even than those.  Pulling up next to the buildings, he and Flight Officer Necalli shut down their engines to the slight surprise of the pilots and mechanics present, then swung out of their mounts and clambered down, still wearing their sealskin jackets against the northern cold, with their society's insignia, a stooping Peregrine Falcon, emblazoned on the back and squadron names and rank insignia on the left breast.  On the right breast, Ali's jacket showed eight aircraft, designating his number of aerial victories in the war, while Necalli's showed one, marking him as a veteran of the war as well. 

While his command of the Union's language was tenuous at best, with some gestures assisting, along with a few bank notes, Ali was able to explain that he needed fuel and oil for the aircraft, a restroom, and coffee and a snack for both of them.  With a few more gestures and garbled words, he was able to politely refuse the pork sausage in favor of a piece of beef stuck between a sliced roll, a 'hamburger' as they called it.  After checking the engines and aircraft over themselves, both men consulted their maps and confirmed with some local pilots who had ambled over at the sight of two strange single-seat amphibians.  Confirming their route, as the clock struck noon the two aircraft lifted back off for the next leg, to Gdansk.

February 11th, 1500hrs

Ali looked at the light with a careful eye as he landed.  Daylight was still holding, but even on a clear day like today he was running behind schedule.  The lads at the aerodrome had been nice enough, but it was looking more and more likely that he wouldn't be flying out of Gdansk, not if he wanted to land at Vilnius, especially without warning.  He walked into the terminal, looking for a telegraph office to wire the Vilnius aerodrome.  The man there chuckled slightly, and picked up a telephone, a device only in very limited use in the Sultanate outside of Tenochtitlan and Veracruz provinces.  After a couple of minutes, he handed the phone over. 

"Vilnius Military Aerodrome, Porucznik Moszenski speaking, how may I help you sir"

"Good evening Porucznik", Ali said, "does your aerodrome have lighting for night landings?"

"Sir, we do not authorize civilian aviators for night landings here"

"I apologize, I did not introduce myself.  Group Captain Ali, Crown Prince to the Sultanate.  I am trying to make the coronation, but without lighting I am afraid I cannot make Vilnius, it will be dark with me a half hour out by my calculations"

"Sir!" the Porucznik replied.  After a few more minutes, another older voice was on the phone.  "Your Highness, are you qualified for night flying?" 

"I am sir, in single and multi-engine aircraft by the Royal Flying Corps.  I have over a hundred sorties that included night takeoffs or landings in the Mayan war"

"Very well, it is your decision as pilot in command.  We will have airfield lighting.  Clouds are scattered with a ceiling at eight thousand, appears some weather will be moving in over the next twenty four hours.  White lighting for the landing field, red and green flashing on the tower."

"Thank you sir, I expect to arrive before eighteen hundred"

Ali hands the phone back to the terminal employee, then jogs out to his aircraft.  Looking at his wingman, he hands him a wad of cash.  "Pay for the service and get you a place for the night.  You'll have to wait for the morning, you're not qualified for night landings yet"  "Sir, I can fly as well as anyone"  "I know you can, but we don't need any accidents.  Bring yours in in the morning"

Group Captain Ali steps lightly into his aircraft.  With a salute, Flight Officer Necalli gave his craft a once over and then stood at attention as he powered out onto the airstrip. 


------

1700hrs,

The light was failing, and Group Captain Ali alternated between staring at his map, out his cockpit, and at his instruments, principally his compass.  Night navigation was nerve wracking, and he wanted to be sure he had a positional fix before the light failed and he had to rely on what city lights there were to use.  He was already wishing that he had been able to fly one of the big birds, with their much better instruments.  Looking down, he finally saw a verifiable landmark, and set his course, less than a hundred miles to hold that heading.

------

1750hrs,

Even up here, it was at the end of nautical twilight, and only through the penlight installed in the instrument panel could he still see his compass and airspeed indicator.  On the surface it was fully dark, except for the twinkling red and green lights of the Vilnius Aerodrome, just off to his right as he started a slow base leg, getting a good look at the runway before he made his crosswind leg and came around.

Using up a lot of the runway in a nice gentle glide, Group Captain Ali eases the Flycatcher down, careful to avoid slamming into the dirt as he brings her onto the grassy field.  Still, the unknowns always catch up to you, and as he puts down a resounding crack and a jerk to the left tells him that he's probably damaged the portside float.  "That'll need work" he says to himself as he taxis out and heads towards a hangar, where someone is helpfully waving a lantern and a couple of pairs of headlights indicate vehicles.

"Welcome to Vilnius, Your Highness" one man says as he gets out of the aircraft, stiff from over eight hours in the cockpit. "Thank you" Ali says, unwinding his scarf and stretching just a little.  "We have hot coffee and food in the briefing room, and we can give you a ride to the embassy."  "Actually" he says with a bit of a flyer's grin "I'd prefer to go anywhere but the embassy.  Listening to the ambassador dress me down for flying here is not something I want to endure this evening, when I'd much prefer a drink"

July 1925......the proving grounds, Baja Province,

Hours of firing in the heat had been grueling.  But they had finally finished the first round of testing.  The current service light machine gun was still in the running.  But a belt-fed variant was not far behind.  A number of other designs had failed during the testing.

Next it was a variety of rifles.  The 7.6mm carbine had proven effective and popular in trench warfare.  However, the lack of stopping power had been felt in the Mayan War, as well as the lack of a full-auto option for the carbine, as it had just been a long-barreled pistol with a stock.  A new concept, of a detachable box magazine of thirty rounds, trebling the density of fire in the assault, proves popular, though the fully-automatic 'submachine gun' variant has numerous teething troubles.  Another rifle that shows promise, is one requested by the Jaguar warriors, a self-loading rifle in the 6mm cartridge, with a detachable magazine.  Traditionalists decry the expense of magazines and new canvas-gear to hold them all, Modernists praise the speed that can be maintained on follow up shots.  Some even claim that the automatic rifle is irrelevant, the firepower of a squad with these rifles exceeding that of a traditional squad with an auto-rifle and bolt actions.

September 5th, 1925

The Old City, Tenochtitlan.

Queen Fatima and Sultan Ali the 8th sit at dinner, alone, as is their custom once per week.  "I hear that our son has been spending time with a princess" Fatima says.  "Hmm" is the reply.  "All the suitable young women I have shown to him, and he has still not chosen a wife, and that is your response?"  "He will choose one who suits him when he is ready to do so" Ali replies.  Fatima continues, "If he has feelings for the Parthian princess, such a union would bring our nation close with a neighbor, and one quite powerful.  It could be advantageous."  The Sultan looks at Fatima inquisitively.  "And if our son does so choose, it will be his choice.  I will not brook any interference by the Foreign Ministry in these matters.  Arranged marriages of state help in the short term, they do not always bring nations close.  If the union is bad, they can even make relations worse over the course.  If he chooses to tell us, then we will take notice.  Until then, we will be silent on the matter, for his sake." 

Queen Fatima smiles disarmingly at her husband.  "I'm just happy he has decided to spend some time with his feet on the ground, and maybe love something that doesn't have wings.'  Ali chuckles "From what the Admiral told me, he took the Parthian Princess for a flight. So maybe not entirely on the ground"  Queen Fatima's feigned shock draws a chuckle from her husband...."You really must talk to him about taking such risks, his brother is entirely too young to take the throne and would need a regent".  The Sultan sighs.  "He will soon be promoted into suitably boring command roles, I have forbidden the RAF and RNAS from permitting him to fly in experimental aircraft, I won't take his passion away from him."

Wiktor feels Ali's pain.

Although he's not been seeing Parthian princesses since the coronation and he's not flying at all, so eh.

June 1925,

Ali walks from his barracks room to the lecture hall.  "Just one more week" he mutters to himself as the skies open up with another rain, Portsmouth being the wettest place by far he had ever set foot, and that was including the jungles of the Oaxaca line.  Despite the heat, his sealskin flight jacket was getting regular use, as a uniform raincoat if nothing else.

Father had been right, it was the right career move.  Though he was somewhat annoyed that it was interfering with his ability to actually see Europe.  The Imperial Republican Navy Command and Staff Officer's Course had been fascinating learning however.  And necessary, Ali was well aware of his impending eligibility for promotion, and he was debating on whether he would want to put in for Wing Commander, or if he would want to move fully into the RNAS when the new carriers completed and eventually aim to take command of his own carrier.  Billets were available on the Martinique and her sister ship, and he had seen some of the plans for a follow-on design that would have a full Commander Air Group, the Navy's version of Wing Commander, rather than just a Group Captain running its flight deck.  There had also been talk that captains of aircraft carriers would be required to be qualified as pilots, so his cache as one of the Sultanate's more experienced aces would be a benefit to match against his lack of sea time or time as a naval officer in command of a vessel.  He might even have to take a billet onboard another ship, he mused.

But regardless, it was time for him to get Staff training, and the Romans did have one of the more excellent staff academies, so the opportunity to study there as a cultural and diplomatic exchange student had been one he could not pass up.  The Roman officers were genial enough, a few of them fellow pilots who would buy him all the tequila he could drink in exchange for stories at the pub.  And he had discovered mead, a european beer of honey, and so not 'technically' a violation of his religious mores....something that would drive his mother to distraction.

Speaking of distractions, as he enters the classroom building he thinks again of Shirin.  Now that is someone he could distract himself with.  And potentially a match, she has the chops as a field commander, something of a boon in the heavily militarized Aztec culture, and from his short experience with her she would definitely hold her own against the ladies of court, even those who came from Queen Fatima's Light Cavalry.  Maybe he should write to cousin Atylacoya, see how she had managed her own relationship from beyond the Sultanate.

Late June, 1925

Somewhere in the Channel

Crown Prince Ali was delighted by the opportunity.  One of his classmates at the Command and Staff Officer's Course had been able to secure him a chance to get some proper flying experience.  IRS Marathona was Rome's smallest and least important of carriers.  But she was still equipped to 'fly off' aircraft, something that was only done experimentally on HMS Zoraster.  And Ali had been forbidden from 'experimental' operations for reasons of Queen Fatima's sanity. 

But of course this wasn't an experimental carrier, it was a Roman carrier.  So technically, it wasn't a violation of the Crown's wishes.  He smiled as the deck crew prepped the Dewoitine D.1 he had been authorized to fly from the Marathona back to Portsmouth.  The aircraft's usual pilot continued his briefing, and then slapped him on the shoulder.  Ali pulled his goggles down over his eyes as the deck crew torqued the prop, letting it go as he hit the starter and the fighter roared to life.  A short run down the deck into the headwind generated by the ship and a small dip after clearing the deck before his wings bit firmly into the air, and he was aloft. 

An hour later, and the Dewoitine D.1 touched down at Portsmouth Naval Aerodrome.  Ali noted that the aircraft was quite similar to designs being pursued by the Sultanate.  The maneuverability and visibility were excellent, though he noted that the latest Aztec designs were somewhat faster in a straight line.  Of course staying abreast of developments in peer nations was always important, the Sultanate had been caught out behind in technological innovation before, they would not be again, not in key areas.

Tsk, tsk, Ali.

Quote from: The Rock Doctor on June 28, 2023, 06:24:14 PM
Tsk, tsk, Ali.

I've styled the Crown Prince as a blend of Aragon and Maverick.  He's 27, and very aware of the responsibilities on his head as the Crown Prince.  But he's still somewhat chasing the adrenaline rush.  So he's 'figuring himself out' as he grows into the heavier roles meant for him in time, but he's not in a rush to be Sultan, Ali the 8th is only 50.

As long as the Sultan stays away from downhill skiing, he should be fine.

Vignette, Off San Diego

Dawn

3rd Battle Squadron sailed in line ahead off San Diego, simulating a run to bombard shore defenses the next day.  The three Implacable-class battleships, the oldest in the fleet, surrounded by destroyers and with a scouting screen pushed out, closed on the unsuspecting port as a surface action group. 

However, the port was not unsuspecting, because a Zeppelin had picked up the formation the day before, and even now aircraft were up, flying with the morning sun as it illuminated the cold waters of the Pacific. 

This was the first exercise trial for the direction of the large torpedo bombers, their big single engines thrumming as they cross the water at a thousand meters height, following vectors from the Zeppelin's navigational crew to locate the task force. 

Finally, at 0800hrs, and over three hundred miles from shore, well outside the range anyone would normally launch a strike, the task force was spotted.  In the attack by two squadrons of the 'Cubaroo' torpedo bombers, five aircraft were ruled as shot down by the battleships and their escort group.  But a total of six torpedo hits were also ruled, as a Town-class cruiser and two of the three battleships were ruled to have been hit, along with a ruled 'incidental hit' on an escorting destroyer.  For the estimated cost of six aircrews, the RAF had estimated to have sunk a destroyer, a corvette, and damaged two battleships, one severely.

The results of this test were made public, unusual, but seemingly in an effort to impress upon an unnamed nation that their surface fleet was no longer safe, even well out to sea.  Perhaps in the Yucatan Straits?

1925, in Iberia:

After completing the course, Crown Prince Ali dug into the incredibly boring series of tours, diplomatic overtures, and other 'fluff' as he called it throughout Europe.  Fortunately the major overture, Rome, had been satisfied with his attendance at something that was at least intellectually stimulating. 

Taking a stop back in Wilno, he had discovered that someone, he suspected his mother, had made sure the Flycatcher he had flown to the Union was safely aboard HMS Uhlan and well out of his grasp.  Unfortunately for whatever had been planned, the Crown Prince had put his economics minor to use, and possessed a not-inconsiderable nest egg of investments in the budding aviation industry.  It took three weeks, but with the help of some contacts and a few suggestions to factory representatives, 'Private Citizen' Ali had managed to procure from the Fokker Aviation Works a 'C.V' model.  Civilianized, with no armaments, it met all the absolute requirements that had been placed upon him, as it was purchased from a reputable manufacturer of aircraft and was not experimental or prototype, though he looked longingly at some of the new fighters being produced and thought about how much one of those would be as an 'air racer'.  Nevertheless, much to the eternal chagrin of old Minister Asad's Diplomatic Corps, the Crown Prince had managed to procure a steed. 

And ride it he did, flying from Wilno to Iberia for a Royal Appearance, and managing to get one night in Madrid to himself before the diplomatic staff caught up to him.  Continuing to buck the trend of royals to be carted around in pomp and circumstance, his 'barnstorming' tour made him both the darling and the laughinstock of the press.  Some papers played up the adventurous decorated officer, while others decried him for failing to show the proper decorum of a future head of state with his 'antics' flying from one state visit to the next as he made his way across the Med to pay visit to the Berbers, the spiritual founders of the dynasty he was heir to.

Such a rascal, that man.

January 1927.

It had been a long tour, finally getting home late in 1926 before winter gripped the European Continent.  But Crown Prince Ali was now home, and had his first order of business.  Namely ensuring the Aztec fleet, including his fleet air arm which he considered his despite his relatively modest rank, remained cutting edge.  It had been cutting edge aircraft that had allowed them to even survive the hordes of Mayan aircraft which had come as a surprise, and the foresight to mount notable antiaircraft guns to the ships of the fleet.  Of course, he chuckled to himself, he did have an inside track to advise the Sultan, as opposed to the stodgy 'battleship admirals'.

"Father, I know that our battle fleet is still substantially smaller than Rome, or Vilnius, or Parthia.  It's even smaller than the Mayan battle line in number of hulls.  But our hulls are better.  And Veracruz taught us, if the Mayans want to deny us battle it is a hard fight to make them stand."

"That is why you propose these 'strike carriers'?" Ali, Sultan of Aztecs, answered.

"Yes, I think the Martiniques will prove to be good designs for their stated purpose.  I have seen numerous European ships of similar types.  But with a mere three squadrons and spares we cannot hope to put a large enough strike package aboard to seriously threaten a major fleet.  Martinique will hold a mere three flights of torpedo bombers.  At best that will mean that we can torpedo three enemy ships before necessitating a second sortie.  The Strike Carriers would hold no fewer fighters than the Martiniques, but would have nine flights of torpedo bombers, allowing them to devastate an enemy battle line with torpedoes before our own battle line closes to take out their cripples with either the big guns or the guns and torpedoes of the screen."

"I see, but I can't simply halt battleship production.  There are considerations of the skills needed to make the big ships, guns, and armor.  And your strike carriers will need drydocks as big as any battleship"

"Then build a single one.  I've seen the plans, they want a 30 knot battleship that is large enough I could build a battlegroup around a strike carrier for less tonnage.  This idea is sound, we've seen how effective aircraft can be, even when they're the wrong aircraft and used poorly.  Properly trained Aztec pilots, in Aztec planes, would be far more effective than the Mayans."

"We can build a division of these new carriers, for your experiment.  If they prove to be ineffective we can use them to support the cruisers like the Martiniques will"

And with that, the topic moved to antiaircraft guns, the Crown Prince feeling almost like a traitor to his aerial brethren as he explained where he and his fellow aviators thought the existing 70mm and 30mm guns were deficient, and that guns which could reach out with heavy concentrated fire would be more effective against things like torpedo bombers, ripping them down before they could drop their fish.  The Japanese 50mm rotary guns had been used, but didn't have the appropriate shells and were of an older manually operated type.  A middle-ground round between the 30mm currently used and a 50mm round, with proper Antiaircraft shells, and run through a rotary cannon that was on a powered mount, that might be a solution to the problem of producing enough concentrated antiaircraft fire in a single burst.

The Queen interrupted the technical discussion.  "What of this Parthian Princess, my ears in the Union told me that the two of you spent some time together?" 

Ali showed mild reddening of his cheeks before steeling his expression.  "Yes, we got along quite well.  She is a beautiful and formidable woman."

"Will we be seeing her?"

"I don't know mother, I would like to see her again, show her Arizona.  I think that there could be something, but I do not wish to encumber whatever it is with the annoying court politics of an official courtship."

The Sultan nodded slowly while the Queen rolled her eyes.  "Then invite her to see Arizona.  And let me deal with the court, that is my job after all"


------

The telegraph in the office of the Aztez Embassy in Parthia began ticking.  A priority message, to be typed on royal stationery. 

To:  Shirin, Princess of Parthia
From:  The Office of the Crown Prince of Aztecs

It would be my pleasure and humble request to host you, with or without entourage, at the Royal Villa in Arizona, for hunting, flying, and diverting entertainments.  Please respond at your earliest convenience.

P.S.  I had a wonderful time meeting you in Vilnius, and I would like to show you my home.  We will avoid the Capital, I know you enjoy court as much as I do. 

Ali

The Embassy's senior Courier took the letter, sealed with the appropriate seals, and set off to take the train for the Palace to ensure the letter swiftly made its way towards delivery.

May 1927, Acapulco

Having received the invitation from the Parthian Court, the wheels had to immediately be put into motion.  The unfortunate circumstance of being on the far side of the world and immediately beside a hostile nation meant that Ali could not simply look at a train schedule.  Travel arrangements had to be made, and made quickly but with sufficient detail. 

The simple solution would be to book passage on a liner, alternatively to take one of the small corvettes that regularly plied the sealanes as part of an informal international arrangement after the Vilnius Liner incident some years previous.  Now there were typically Aztec, Vilnius, and other nations' ships at sea on routine cruises.  A few minor incidents had been solved, and HMS Jaguar's surgeon had performed an amputation when a crewman on a tramp freighter had his leg crushed.  It had been a boon to international relations, the Sultanate had by deed proven that it was the fully civilized society they were, and not the backwater barbarians that some of the more effete European papers had started with as far back as the Caicos War. 

But neither of these solutions were allowed.  This was a state visit of sorts that the Crown Prince had been invited to attend, which occasioned  a proper arrival.  Potentially a conference of nations, in an informal setting, where inevitably the bulk of diplomatic relations happened.  So the very aged Minister Asad's demands to have a number of diplomatic personnel could not be ignored, and the Sultan had to tell the Crown Prince privately to 'suck it up'.  There would also need to be staff for the Crown Prince.  'Fortunately', he thought, 'I don't have the staff that I would if I was a fop in the palace'.  As Group Captain, he rated an aide, a subaltern, currently a senior cadet at the Veracruz Naval Academy pulling his mandatory period of 'sea duty' before being officially commissioned as an Ensign.  And as Crown Prince he also rated a manservant, a Valet, to ensure that his clothes matched protocols.  As he had begun flatly refusing any further staff, his mother had insisted and been able to arrange, a seasoned old valet who had served in the diplomatic corps.....a way of forcing Ali to have a protocol officer for official events.  All of this conspired to a minimum of ten personnel that would need to be transported, along with sundries such as a couple of motorcars and other things that the Sultanate would like to show off in Parthia.  Combined with the training mission, over a hundred total personnel would need to travel to Parthia, including a commander for the military mission.  So a Landing Ship had been laid on, with Seal Warriors and Snake Warriors and Jaguar Warriors loading equipment and arms aboard for demonstrations, along with tons of ammunition in pallets in her holds.  Various industrial concerns had also requested space, some of it granted, to demonstrate new models of equipment potentially for sale or license to Parthia, the ancient kingdom a new and exciting potential partner in these emerging technologies.

And then the Sultan, at the request of the Navy Department, had approved another rapid change to the plans already in motion.  Group Captain Ali needed his staff rotation before he could be cross-decked in rank to Commander, and the Admiralty frankly demanded that the 'perennial flyboy' do sea time as a naval officer.  This was part of his transition, as he had been originally part of the Royal Air Force, but with the split as the Royal Naval Air Service grew large enough to gain independence from its land-based cousin and be a fully fledged society within the Navy, all officers would be required to do a 'sea tour' as well as an 'engineering tour' and 'damage control tour' to be fully qualified for promotion above Squadron Leader.  If Ali wanted to be the 'CAG', or 'Commander Air Group' of a carrier, he would need to get his qualifications in, and he was technically the most qualified aviator to be the CAG for HMS Martinique when she commissioned next year, not to mention some slight favoritism towards having the first CAG in the Sultanate be the Prince. 

And so, the route, as well as the ships, had changed twice before finally settling on the present arrangement. 

"Good Morning your Highness" Commodore Acalan said as the younger man caught up to him on the pier.  "Good Morning Sir" Ali replied, crisply saluting the the grizzled veteran, practically an uncle due to his regular appearances at official dinners.  "It seems that I will not be traveling with you after all' he continues, "I have orders to report to Commander Zeke".  "Indeed" the Commodore replies.  "Commander Zeke is a smart officer, you can learn much from him as XO of Chapala.  Remember, you are there to learn, your father was XO of Tenochtitlan before he took the throne.  A captain of a Frigate or Cruiser is still the Sultan's voice in foreign lands, even in this modern age of undersea cables and wireless telegraphs.  The decisions you make in such a position can have wide-ranging consequences, so you must be knowledgeable about everything, a diplomat, an engineer, a warrior, and a humanitarian."  "Yes Sir" Ali replied as both men set to handing off their sea bag to sailors who would take them to their respective ships....an old regulation against 'personal servitude' requiring every officer to carry their own sea bag to the pier, even officers who rated aides....even crown princes who rated servants.

Commodore Acalan turns to go back to his office, his own departure for Parthia aboard the landing ship not for a couple of days, along with the training cadre and the diplomatic group.  Group Captain Ali, Crown Prince of Aztecs, walks up the gangway of HMS Chapala, saluting the colors and reporting "XO Coming Aboard" to the Chief of the Deck Watch, his aide and valet already aboard. 

Later that day, HMS Chapala put to sea, the most modern frigate in the RAN, for her routine patrol, with a stop at Zealand, and ports of call in Japanese and other national ports before entering the Persian Gulf to deposit the Crown Prince in time for the start of festivities.  On her Catapults, a venerable Flycatcher, the standard floatplane of the Sultanate, and the other a 'Gooney', or 'Gunard', one of the options selected for final approval trials as the newest floatplane in the sultanate, this one equipped as a fighting scout with the requisite pair of 8mm MGs forward and a scarff ring around the observer's position for mounting of either a high magnification scope, camera, or a light machine gun.  A few strings had been pulled, and some had admitted that if the Crown Prince was denied the ability to fly he would find a way, and so an aircraft which could have a second pilot to handle maintenance or returning it to the ship after Ali arrived in Gilan would be preferable.

June 14th, 1927

Eighteen Days.  Eighteen days of nothing but sea and sky, and the occasional squall as HMS Chapala's geared turbines thrummed at cruising power across the vast emptiness of the Pacific for the port at Christchurch.  Named by Christian missionaries before the arrival of the Sultanate, the name had been kept as it was properly 'Of the Book'. 

But finally, they were here.  And cruising off of the small rocks to the south of the island, one of which was a primary gunnery range.  The new XO needed to complete his gunnery trials.  And for the first time in his career, Ali was not imbued with his usual overconfidence.  He had spent the last week with the gunnery officer, inspecting the triple 180mm turrets, and studying the tables.  But now, inside the armored citadel of the ship, he had to run the Combat Information Center, the 'non spotting half' of the Aztec fire control apparatus.  Or rather, he had to demonstrate competence in running the already competent crew manning the fire direction computers and running the turrets. 

For the next three hours, the young officer was put through his paces.  Haltingly at first, but with increased confidence each time, he logged orders from the bridge, plotted the target, and designated the spotting ladder before ordering salvo fire on the rocky outcrop.  In the end, the rock had been reduced in height by maybe half a meter, and the gunnery officer and chief gunner's mate grudgingly gave their assent that he had passed his gunnery qualifications.  Not with stellar performance, but satisfactorily.  Which was perfectly alright for Ali, his talents were in deflection shots at speeds over one hundred knots, not interpreting data and complex trigonometry to lay twelve guns onto a target. 

Pausing to top up fuel and stores, and a day for the visiting royal to meet the local governor, or 'perform in the circus' as Ali was known to say in  the wardroom, and HMS Chapala was off, cruises and other stops on her way to the Gulf.

Late September, 1927:

The Persian Gulf

HMS Chapala completes loading the aide and valet into the ship's motor launch for the couple dozen kilometers into port where they will begin their journey by rail with the Crown Prince's luggage, or at least the bulk of it.  With only a small bag, Ali, Crown Prince of Aztecs, but more importantly Group Captain of the Royal Naval Air Service, swings his feet into the open cockpit of the 'Gooney', privately chuckling at how he had finessed the new aircraft as being 'pre-production' rather than 'experimental'.....it had after all already been cleared for production and service and would soon be a primary aircraft onboard His Majesty's Ships.

With the aircraft's 'official' pilot strapped into the observer's seat, the ship's crew swing the catapult out over the midships rail.  "CONTACT" is called and the engine coughs once before catching, the roar of her modern powerplant dwarfing that of the aircraft Ali had trained on just a few short years ago.  Checking his headphone, he can hear the wireless set, one of the aircraft's primary purposes, buzz in his ear, the other covered in layers of wool to dampen the rushing wind and engine noise.  With a thumbs up to the flight crew, he takes the engine to full power, and with a shock, the gunpowder catapult fires, throwing the floatplane clear of the deck and into the air in less than fifteen meters of travel.  He makes one pass around the ship, gaining altitude and checking to ensure everything is nominal, before pointing North, towards Rasht.

An hour and a half later....

"Isfahan Aerodrome, this is Royal Aztec Navy Aircraft Chapala One" is said in somewhat accented Greek

"Chapala One, Isfahan Aerodrome, go ahead" is the reply in much better Greek

"Requesting Landing Clearance and Fuel, Destination Rasht Aerodrome"

"Chapala One, you are Cleared to Land, Winds are Five Knots on the Deck"

After a short stop at Isfahan for fuel and to consult local charts, Ali and his co-pilot observer take off, winging North for Rasht, arriving well more than a day before any other elements of the Aztec contingent, the co-pilot taking over the aircraft once they reach the ground as Ali hops out, day uniform under his sealskin flight jacket, and strides with his single bag for the waiting Parthian car.

The 1920s have seen vast changes in the arms and equipment of the various ground forces of the Sultanate.  The four major warrior societies involved in the ground forces of the Sultanate also mean that these changes are not universal, and different forces are equipped differently for their roles.

The below is a published guide of small arms equipping the various societies at the Platoon Level:


Jaguar Warriors:

Service Rifle:  6mm Lee Mk2, 6mm Straight Pull w/6rd Magazine, En Bloc Fed.

Service Pistol:  (Officers and Machine Gunners Only)  'Hi Power' 7.65mm.  7.65mm, 10rd Detachable Box Magazine

Light MG: (1 per Squad)  1918 Automatic Rifle.  BAR, 6mm, 25rd Detachable Box Magazine

MG: (1 Per Platoon)  1919 Air Cooled Machine Gun, Browning 1919 in 6mm


Eagle Warriors:

Service Rifle:  6mm Lee Mk2, 6mm Straight Pull w/6rd Magazine, En Bloc Fed.

Service Pistol:  (General Issue)  'Hi Power' 7.65mm.  7.65mm, 10rd Detachable Box Magazine

Light MG: (3 Per Squad)  1918 Automatic Rifle.  BAR, 6mm, 25rd Detachable Box Magazine


Snake Warriors:

Service Rifle:  7.65mm/33 Carbine.  7.65mm, semi Automatic, 20rd Detachable Box Magazine

Service Pistol:  (General Issue)  'Hi Power' 7.65mm.  7.65mm, 10rd Detachable Box Magazine

Light MG: (2 Per Squad) 1922 MG.  6mm 1919 MG 'Stinger' (Lightened for operation from bipod or shoulder only)


Seal Warriors:

Service Rifle:  7.65mm/33 Carbine.  7.65mm, semi Automatic, 20rd Detachable Box Magazine

Service Pistol:  (General Issue)  'Hi Power' 7.65mm.  7.65mm, 10rd Detachable Box Magazine

Light MG: (2 Per Squad) 1922 MG.  6mm 1919 MG 'Stinger' (Lightened for operation from bipod or shoulder only)

Vignette Explanation: 

"Why does the RAF and RNAS run a disproportionate number of single-engine aircraft?"

The RAF and RNAS have been drastically expanding over the last several years.  This has put an undue strain on the engine manufacturing industry within the Sultanate.  As such, while multi-engine designs are viewed favorably for certain roles like long-range overwater flying, a strong focus in requirements has been to husband available engines by operating single-engine designs whenever possible.  This has caused some changes in procurement, in large part to the benefit of one Blackburn Aerospace Limited, who produces a family of designs that both maximizes operational airframes compared to engine production, and has introduced a level of consistency in maintenance practices.

(Pictures not present to no over-tax server)

Naval Air Spotter, Army Artillery Spotter, Floatplane, Landplane from Land Bases, and being tested in limited numbers on the Martinique-class carriers:  Blackburn Blackburn

Torpedo Landplane:  Blackburn Cubaroo

Transport Landplane:  Blackburn Cub (Transport Variant of Cubaroo, 10 Passengers)

Lightweight Fighter Landplane:  Blackburn F.2

Flying for hours over Parthia, and then Byzantium, with the occasional stop for Fuel, Ali finally makes it to the aerodrome near Mecca.  The local Byzantine Officers are bemused at the amphibian with a green tail and the sun and crescent before they receive the telegram that the Crown Prince is coming to Mecca.  There is a small scramble, but Ali politely brushes off offers to dine and lodging, promising to dine with them the next day when he returns.  Obviously no modern craft are allowed there, and he winds up renting a horse for the ride.  Once there, he speaks to the Imam and attends Mosque, satisfying his duties to the religion of his birth, though Ali is relatively nonplussed with the affair, being secular himself.  After lodging the night in a pilgrim's hostel, he says his morning prayers, views the site where Mohammed rose to the heavens, and then rides back to the aerodrome for a light luncheon with the Byzantine officers. 

Winging over the aerodrome, he points his nose to the NorthWest and flies out over the Mediterranean, finding HMS Chapultepec from the air not too far from where she had indicated she would hold station.  A somewhat bumpy water landing later, Ali is craned aboard the cruiser and she makes turns to exit the Med at Gibraltar, en route to Veracruz.

January 1928

The Old City

"How was the trip", Queen Fatima asked her son.  "It was excellent.  I got my qualifications at sea, I saw a great many sights.  I even managed a truncated pilgrimage to Mecca en route home." Prince Ali replied with a small smile.  "You see what he does, mocking me" the queen says, turning to the Sultan, "he is your son".  "Ali" the Sultan says quietly "tell your mother about the Princess.  You had expressed an interest in courting her, is that interest still there?"  Ali gets quiet for a moment, then replies.  "Yes.  In fact, I have expressed my interest to her and she seems to be amenable to receiving it.  We will have to see if things progress when she comes to Arizona."  As an aside he adds.  "Oh, and I have extended invitations to Wiktor of the Union and Lady Aspas of Parthia as well, they seemed to be pairing off in Parthia and as a party we have always gotten along."  "Wonderful" the queen replies, "will we get to meet your princess when she is here in October?"  "I would like that very much, I believe I may be finding out if she is interested in marriage and I would want your blessings"

March 1928, the Royal Villa, near Flagstaff

Crown Prince Ali takes a personal hand in planning with his staff, setting all arrangements in motion and ensuring that the Villa shows the most elegant and modern sides of Aztec life.  On the road, a tractor grades and rolls the road, with gravel being brought in to make the main parking area near the Villa as smooth and dust free as can be done for Arizona.  The forester spends days in the backcountry with his assistants, scouting the wildlife and being sure of their patterns for anticipated hunts.  The nearby aerodrome has its clapboard terminal building refreshed, a new wing being added to the building to hold modern improvements to the utilitarian design.  The Camp at Flagstaff, of the Sixth Brigade of Queen Fatima's Light Cavalry, is abuzz with activity as its buildings are all cleaned and whitewashed, small repairs being made in anticipation of an official royal visit. 

But alas, duty calls, and Ali boards a train for Acapulco, his orders to spend the intervening six months at sea aboard HMS Martinique as she conducts shakedown operations in the Pacific. 

June 1928

Commander Ali, acting CAG for HMS Martinique, wings over the Pacific on a navigational exercise, flying to San Diego and back to the carrier with a squadron of fighters.  While the carrier is a mere 80 miles from San Diego, it is far enough to give the pilots a taste of the vast oceanic operational distances without any navigational references.  Finding the carrier after only a quarter hour of searching when their dead reckoning was somewhat off due to crosswinds, the squadron circles as the aircraft land.  Ali lands last, as is his responsibility, and powering down climbs out of his aircraft to make his way onto the carrier's superstructure, the 'Island' as it's called.  "They are getting there, a few more months and we'll have a functional air group" he remarks to the Captain.  "And a few months after that we will be training yet another air group.  There are already plans to lay down bigger carriers the first of next year.  And other aviation ships.  It's the way the Admiralty thinks we can protect our fleet and project power, so they will want as many pilots as possible trained." The captain replies.   "Indeed they will, and I think they're right.  Aircraft are getting better much faster than ships are.  Already we can drop torpedoes and even from long-ranged aircraft.  Pretty soon we will be able to seriously bomb and torpedo ships underway."

August 1928

Sgt Maj Metzli finished her inspection of the last armored cars.  "All of this new equipment,  you'd think we were preparing for war" She remarks to Brigadier General Ohtli.  "The Crown Prince is having several foreign dignitaries over, including some Parthians.  And they've expressed interest in our methods.   So we will be doing demonstrations." Is the reply.  Metzli sighs "I'll prepare a training schedule for the brigade",  she tells the brigade CO.  Ohtli chuckles.  "Cheer up sergeant major,  you had been wanting new trucks and motorcycles for the patrols anyway.   Now you have armored cars and even the newest armored fighting vehicles."  The sergeant major scoffs "new motorcycles and trucks are one thing.  But the mechanics will have to be trained on the armored cars.  And the troops will need range time.  And I'm sure we will have to adapt them to the desert and elevation since these were built in Acapulco.  A million tasks, and we need to be proficient and spit shined by October."

Throughout August and into September the 6th puts the new equipment through its paces while also continuing to beautify the camp.  Plus planning for security,  a million things indeed.

September, 1928, RAN Base Grand Turk

Ensign Abidi-Caicos stands in the Conning Tower of his first command. While he could have taken to the Seal Warriors as his father had, who had earned the honors to give his son the honorific from the Caicos War, he had chosen the submarine service.   And now he was at his first command after completing the academy.   

The 9 men under his command, and Ensign Abidi, made up the crew of S50, a 125 ton coastal submarine assigned for the purpose of protecting or closing the outer gates, the primary trade lanes into the Atlantic,  and the outer perimeter of what the Sultanate considered its maritime domain.  The gulf and the Caribbean were contested certainly,  but the Sultanate had, with great sacrifice,  built a substantial presence astride the trade lanes to secure its commercial interests.

Abiding was also coming to grips with the vagaries of command.  While technically qualified,  he was the command officer.  And as his XO, a grizzled petty officer promoted to warrant officer, had explained,  he was in command not control.  The next two years of his career would be learning,  and mastering the paperwork and logistics While being taught how to operate a submarine.  If he successfully completed his tour, he would be allowed to take the Perisher when he reached the grade of lieutenant commander,  and through that brutal course gain selection for the ocean-going large submarines the Sultanate had in smaller numbers.   Failure in this command would shift him to the surface forces aboard cruisers,  just another officer amongst thousands.

October 10th, 1928

1000nm off of San Diego

The Blackburn held station orbiting the area as her crew looked out over the waters of the Pacific.  For two days HMS Martinique and HMS Zoraster had put up aircraft scouting to the NW of the Carrier Scout Group, searching for the anticipated ship or task force.  Finally at just a little after noon, the spotter picked up something on his binoculars.  "Tally Ho, ships sighted at 3 o'clock."  The aircraft edged closer until they could make out multiple cruisers.  A quick cross reference confirmed their Parthian design.  Contacting the carrier by the wireless aboard the relatively large aircraft, they confirmed "Group Sighted". 

Aboard HMS Dragoon, the Admiral turned his task force, bringing up steam as they moved to intercept.  Aboard HMS Martinique, the CAG was busy, throwing up a BARCAP.  It was only an exercise, the Mayans had been relatively quiet at sea in general and in the Pacific in particular since the fleet exercises had begun.  But he was taking no chances.  This particular group of ships would make it to San Diego unmolested, and the CSG was under orders to intercept and provide escort......

October 14th, 1928

After arriving at San Diego and settling the affairs of such a polyglot fleet anchoring out in the harbor, as well as his responsibilities as an officer commanding the air group of the Aztec CSG, Prince Ali boards the Aristabara, his dress whites gleaming as he is escorted to meet with Princess Shirin. 

"Your Highness, His Highness the Crown Prince" the escort proclaims

"Your Highness", "Your Highness" the two of them say back to one another before both crack into smiles at the stilted formalities.  With that past, Ali steps up to Shirin and says "Shirin, I have laid aside a boat for the afternoon.  Would you care to come with me on a tour of San Diego and its environs?"  She thinks a moment before replying "Only if one of my chaperones can come with us.  I believe the court was somewhat put out that we went off on a private airplane tour in Gilan last year that included landing in an unsuspecting fishing village.  There were comments about the 'Crown Prince being reckless'" she giggles, using air quotes to emphasize the last words.  "But of course, it is one of the local squadron's MTBs, plenty of room for several members of your entourage" he replies.  Some of Shirin's bodyguards appear to turn a shade of green at that realization.

Two hours later, the old but well maintained MTB-B motors out into San Diego Bay before swinging around Coronado and Point Loma to take in the sights as they motor up past Mission Beach before turning back to complete the slow tour.  Ali points out a number of sites on Coronado and Point Loma where the Seal Warriors landed under fire, some of the craters from battleship shells still visible on the outcrops.  Returning to the harbor, Ali asks Shirin "Your Highness, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to a ball being held on HMS Martinique?"

The cobalt blue water of San Diego harbor was stirred by little waves, while the deep azure skies held just a slight breeze.  The first Parthian Flight Deck Cruiser Avio Aristabara lay at anchor, her foredeck bearing the pair of heavy 230mm turrets, while looming above and covering to the stern was the flight deck to allow scouts and fighters to be launched. The pair of observation towers bracketed the forward edge of the deck, linked by a graceful and slightly arched flying bridge. The views from up there were spectacular.

Down below on the flight deck, as PrinceAli approached, there was at least one quite enjoying that view.  Princess Shirin Arshakuni of House Arascid had not expected to be fighting butterflies of anticipation as she stood on the flight deck awaiting the arrival of Aztec Air Group Commander, the dashing Prince Ali. A silly smile kept trying to steal onto her face, which she replaced with a more restrained and gracious look. Or thought...the covert elbow nudge of her Guardian Pantea called a lapse to her attention.

The arrival of the Prince and exchange of formalities was swiftly followed by her failure to keep that smile in check, but it was met with one of his as well.  Her brother had impressed on her that, unlike in Gilan, here she was representing the Parthian Crown and Nation, and so while she was to remember appearances at all times. Regretfully, she framed this new restrictions with a common story to help them sit easier, and from Ali's expression, he understood. She eagerly accepted the offer of a boat tour, but turning to select her four guardians, she saw Youtab's olive skinned had a hint of green, while Pyrasatis's eyes were wide and her face set. Taking pity, she left the pair on the large and relatively steady Avio Aristabara, and between Musa and Pantea, settling on Sergeant Pantea.

The tour was enjoyable, she had never been at the site of an amphibious battle, and so the narrative helped bring her training manuals into focus. As part of the Rangers, her expected role in such a battle would have been as a dismounted scout-sniper, or as a team infiltrating and attacking a strong point. The tactics the seal warriors took were of real interest to her, and so she asked about the methods used, and particularly signaling to keep the naval fire support on Mayan positions and not Aztec. The lack of cover on approach underscored need to either gain some sort of surprise or smother defenders in shells to keep them down. That, or simply bring enough bodies to absorb the casualties and still overwhelm the defenders. At the end of the tour, Ali asked her to a ball, which she happily accepted.

October 18th, 1928, San Diego Harbor

HMS Martinique had been thoroughly cleaned, the Aft half of her hangar deck converted into a ballroom draped with curtains to hide the more martial implements, and bunting everywhere on the pier facing side of the ship.  Bright lights shone the way down the pier and illuminated the brilliant white and green of the carrier, all the way to the aft gangplank, complete with red carpet.  The Aircraft were up on the flight deck, freeing up space below as a steady stream of servants brought foodstuffs not typical to a warship aboard along a different gangway for preparation in the ship's galley.  The Officers of the squadron, as well as local dignitaries were all present, and a buffet dinner at large tables was being arranged along the side, with other tables and chairs arranged along the walls to provide places to eat.  The un-heralded guests mingled as sailors in dress uniform walked by carrying trays of hors'd'ouvers, small glasses of tequila, and glasses of sparkling agave wine, the Aztec and technically halal version of champagne.  A separate affair for the ship's crews was being held on the take-off deck of HMS Zoroaster, and the sound of music could be heard emanating from there as the guests alighted from their motorcars and walked up the gangplank.

First the announcement of several local noble dignitaries.  Then the announcement of the Provincial Governor.  And then the Lady Aspas and Prince Wiktor, who had just arrived and was using a cane from his recent brush with death.  The Parthian honor guard quietly filed in behind them, along with a pair of Eagle Warriors in full dress uniform with swords.

The Parthian apparel was dictated by the occasion, with the customary formal robes of state worn over the lighter clothing. Formal Parthian wear declared the status and role of each personage to those who knew. The robes of the Royal party were of a deep emerald green silk richly embroidered with golden threads, while those of House Suren were a deep russet. Only the guardians assigned for the evening forwent the robes, wearing a formal, but pragmatic uniform of forest green and silver. The honor sashes worn by all crossed from shoulder to hip, the carefully wrought badges boldly stating the accomplishments of both the family and the individual. For such as Shirin and Aspas, the echos of millennia dominated. Delicate spun golden jewelry frosted with gems adorned the ladies, while the men wore sturdier pieces with simple settings.   Once the entrance was accomplished, and the formal introductions were complete, the Parthians would shed the robes for their more typical formal garb. The men wearing a tunic in  over breeches tucked into boots. The women wore a high collared silken dresses, falling above their knees. The silken stockings worn under were matched not to fashionable heels, but in a nod to the shipboard event, light sateen shoes.

Finally, through the open hatch, stepped two more figures.  "His Royal Highness, Ali, Crown Prince of Aztecs.  And her Royal Highness, Shirin, Princess of Parthia" sounds clearly across the hushed crowd as Shirin steps onto the deck in her finery, her arm draped through the arm of Ali, in his full dress uniform, the high collared white tunic form fitting and decorated with medals and badges, along with his new rank of Commander in the Royal Naval Air Service, the royal blue trousers sporting the bloodstripes that denote an honorable combat tour.  Once a footman takes the formal robe from Princess Shirin, her own elegant dress, the silk expertly died to a gradient from saffron down to deep crimson, the princess a glorious fall sunset glistening with jewels and matching the white and blue of the Prince.  Both are presented with flutes of sparkling wine, and as the ranking noble in the ballroom, Ali lifts his glass, prompting all others to lift their own...."To the Sultan" he says, to a cacophony of repeated replies. 

With that, the decorum is satisfied, and the ball takes on a formal but less stilted affair, officers and ladies taking their turns around the floor as small groups break up to enter discussion or to sample the cornucopia laid out alongside. 

A few minutes earlier...

"The ball is in a ship that exists to hold airplanes," Jadwiga Blaszczak remarked as the motorcade came to a stop alongside HMS Martinique.

"I admit it wouldn't have been my first choice," Wiktor noted.  "But there's certainly a novelty to it."

"That is true," Jadwiga nodded.  Her husband had been at Wiktor's side long enough that she'd been to a few high-profile society events with him, just they'd been in palaces and castles rather than big slab-sided boats.

"If I didn't say so already, your hair looks very nice," the prince added.  He himself was in standard army formal dress, all white with the usual gold or black bits.  The only not-quite-standard element were his trousers, which had been tailored to give a more relaxed fit around his injury.

Jadwiga smiled and preened in her dark blue gown.  "You didn't, actually, but thank you.   Mrs. Buras and I helped each other out, of course."

"I assumed it wasn't Jan's handiwork," Wiktor smirked, and the doors opened and they started along the pier to the gangway.
"How's your leg holding up?" Jan asked.

"It's alright," Wiktor said, which Jan knew to be Wiktorese for It fucking hurts, Jan, and I'm going to need a drink soon[/].

"Alright," Jan repeated.

The music swelled as they reached the top of the gangway and were led inside.  Guards saluted, and an Aztec in a resplendent uniform smiled and bowed.  "Good evening, Your Highness.  I would be pleased to announce your arrival..."

"Perhaps we could have a minute to compose ourselves?" Jan suggested, noting Wiktor's flushed cheeks and deeper breathing.

"Of course, Sir."

The others in the party politely adjusted their jackets and ties or, in the case of Deputy Minister Buras' wife, floofed her already voluminous silver hair.

"Please, go ahead," Wiktor said.

The Aztec nodded and stepped forward, whereupon a marine opened the heavy door in the bulkhead and a second rang a bell.  The herald proclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce, from the Vilnius Union, Prince Wiktor of the House of Vasa; Deputy Minister and Missus Hendryk Buras; Kontradmiral Anton Cech; Komandor Josef Jablonski; Komandor-Porucznik Maas de Vries; Komandor-Porucznik Jesper Hennings; and Kapitan and Missus Jan Blaszczak."

The Vilnius entourage was unique, as was the majority of the Parthian entourage, and there was no lack of conversation betwixt the various dignitaries, minor nobles, and officers.  However, all eyes, especially the Aztec ones, and most especially the eyes of the wives of minor nobility....the rumor mill of Aztec court politics, were on the Crown Prince and the Princess.  Whether they were taking a turn on the dance floor, or just standing and talking with the other ball guests, the titular host's consort was the jewel of the ball, and the envy of a number of minor nobles whose daughters had been potentials....if long shots. 

Speaking with the Vilnius delegation, Ali comments.  "Missus Blaszczak, I hear from another of my officers that you have an interest in carrier aeroplanes?"  The lady smiles slightly "I have some curiousity about the subject yes", she says simply.  "Well then, if everyone would follow me, I have a surprise for you."  Ali leans over to a midshipman and gives a quiet order before the prospective officer scurries away.  "Come, come" he says, giving Shirin his arm before leading them through a gap in the drapery separating the ball area from the remainder of the hangar bay and over onto a piece of deck outlined in bright yellow.  Once they were all inside, Ali made a casual motion and suddenly the floor smoothly lurches up, raising them on the aft elevator to the flight deck.  A handful of sailors are busy at work on an aircraft, and another handful are setting up a table and chairs behind the carriers' 'island' superstructure.  "Prince Wiktor, I know your leg must be bothering you something frightfully.  Please, have a seat, we will have coffee shortly,  there is Tequila and wine, and I have ordered up a bottle of potato vodka which I believe is more your preference.  The stars are beautiful after all". 

From across the harbor, you can see the lights on the deck of HMS Dragoon, as the 'crew party' is in full swing, the sounds of swanky popular music barely audible at this distance above the pitter patter of the waves against the pier.  "Now, Missus Blaszczak, let me show you the three major kinds of aircraft onboard a carrier.  We have fighters, torpedo bombers, and spotting aircraft.  The Sultanate is somewhat unique in that we have a dedicated large spotter aircraft.  They are equipped with a better wireless set for longer ranged communications, and on the Blackburn the navigator can even use sizeable nautical charts inside the enclosed cabin.  We also use them occasionally to transfer personnel or small items if within range of shore."  Ali explains, showing her the bigger biplane, as well as the slightly smaller if more sleek torpedo bomber and then he pats a notably smaller biplane with an all metal fuselage.  "And this, this is my pride and joy.  Right at a hundred and fifty knots, and very maneuverable."  He looks over to see the table prepared.  "But I mustn't bore you all with the concerns of aviators.  Come, come" he says, towards the now set private table.  "Being one of the senior officers on this ship has a few privileges.  One of which being that I can get a private table away from all of the courtiers, and with the best view in San Diego"

The formal entrance had been well staged, and the sparkling appearance of the HMS Martinique a tribute to their efforts. Once the initial formalities had been passed, the ornate robes could be removed and placed in care of attendants. While Lady Aspas had been able to join and hear from Prince Wiktor herself, assuaging concerns that the severity of his gunshot wound had been hidden, asking detailed questions...and it did give Lady Aspas a reason to dote a little on the injured one. For Princess Shirin, the formalities took a little longer, and she really wished to spend time with Prince Ali, and so it was not until a little later, after the first several dances, could politely excuse herself and go visit with Prince Wiktor and relay her concerns and sympathies for her friend. Of course she would inquire about the exact nature, grilling Aspas for what she had learned, and sharing not only her experience of her recovery from 'a lesser wound' – , but that other rangers had taken similar wounds and had returned to service, so she had great hopes for his future...and as Parthia was home to some of the oldest medical institutions, if Wiktor would appreciate formal assistance, Shirin was certain someone appropriate could be sent – with a significant look towards Aspas.  With that, she had to take her leave and return to her Prince.

There, Shirin gave her arm to Ali, who took an entourage on a tour. As she watched him, his passion and knowledge of aircraft was evident in his voice, and his eyes alive. Shirin had dedicated time to the airbase near Resht, learning the models the Air Service had, and had a much better appreciation of the points he was discussing than she had previously, but not nearly his depth of knowledge.   The private table at the end was a pleasant surprise, with quite a view.

The Ball was beginning to break up, and the private nightcap was concluding.   Ali stands, looking at Aspas and Wiktor busily talking to one another.   "Princess Shirin,  would you walk with me?" He asks quietly before they get up, one of her guards keeping a respectful distance as he leads her between the aircraft parked on the deck and away from casually prying eyes until he reaches one with familiar black stripes denoting a group commanders aircraft.  He steps up onto the wing and retrieves a small box from the cockpit.  Shirin eyes him quizzically until he kneels in front of her beside the aircraft.   

"Shirin,  tomorrow we go to my villa.  But a royal villa, one where court functionaries and gossips abound.  So I wanted to talk tonight while I am a commander in the royal naval air service,  and in some ways more the master of my fate.  I have grown fond of you over these past two years, and I do not want to express my intentions merely in the stilted manners of court.  If I were just an officer, I would ask for your hand here and now.  But we are not entirely such people,  and such arrangements require our respective monarchs approval.   I am however expressing my intention to formally request your hand, if you are not opposed."

He opens the small box, revealing a gold ring holding a brilliantly sparkling fire opal.  "It's is a Fire Opal, a native stone of my home and symbol of the Sun Throne.  Some say it is a droplet of sunlight forged in a volcano. Which is what you bring whenever you walk into a room. You do not have to answer yet, take this as a token of my regard and give me your answer in your own time."

He hands her the small box with the ring before standing.

****Fire Opals are born in volcanoes and are crimson but with a brilliant sunburst that in special ones sparkles with internal facets.  They're also native to Mexico.

"Well, he's dancing," Jan Blaszczak murmured into Jadwiga's ear as they, too danced.

"I've seen worse," she replied, diplomatically eyeing the Union prince and Lady Aspas on the floor.  "It might be more honest to say she's dancing around him while he stands, but it's a reasonable effort."

"I'll tell him you approved."

"Yes, yes," she said.  "Are they getting married or no?  This is taking forever."

"Last I heard, which was before we left Europe, the negotiations were done and the two of them needed to have a talk here at some point.  Figure out whether there's still the personal interest to match the diplomatic interest."

"Is there?"

He dipped her forward, then brought her back up before answering.  "Seems that way, but I think there's something to sort out.  He hasn't said what it is, but I'm wondering if religion's an issue."

"I could imagine that," Jadwiga agreed.  "They like each other, even if they hold back in public.  She probes and pokes at him in conversation but has that serious doctor face."

Jan snorted, drawing a look from the closest Aztec couple.  "Wiktor literally calls it Resting Doctor Face."

"And what is going on with this Wik thing?  Nobody calls him that."

"She does, with his permission."

"Okay then," Jadwiga said, waiting as her husband spun her out, then pulled her back in.  "So no announcement here?"

"Gut instinct is no:  They don't want to distract from Ali and Shirin, which Wiktor absolutely expects to happen before we leave.  More likely, something is announced by the palace once we're at sea."

"Assuming they work out that remaining detail."

"Assuming that, yes."

Quote from: TacCovert4 on October 15, 2023, 04:00:48 PM
... " If I were just an officer, I would ask for your hand here and now.  But we are not entirely such people,  and such arrangements require our respective monarchs approval.   I am however expressing my intention to formally request your hand, if you are not opposed."

He opens the small box, revealing a gold ring holding a brilliantly sparkling fire opal.  "It's is a Fire Opal, a native stone of my home and symbol of the Sun Throne.  Some say it is a droplet of sunlight forged in a volcano. Which is what you bring whenever you walk into a room. You do not have to answer yet, take this as a token of my regard and give me your answer in your own time."

He hands her the small box with the ring before standing.

****Fire Opals are born in volcanoes and are crimson but with a brilliant sunburst that in special ones sparkles with internal facets.  They're also native to Mexico.

Shirin's eyes grew wide and she gave a little gasp of astonishment when her Princes words and deeds became clear. Her hand covered her mouth as he finished, and the magnificant fire opal came to view. A momentary pause as she was rendered speechless in happy surprise.

As Ali goes to stand, she kneels and clasps his hand in both of hers, gazes in his eyes and she says "my precious Ali, what at first I thought perhaps a mere infatuation is proving to be much more. I delighted in our time together at my home, and I have come to merely confirm what I know to be true. We know there are barriers, but my intent is the same as yours, I am so happy you feel as I do."

Standing, she takes the gift, and places it on her finger...wondering at how clever Ali had been to find the proper size, just another indication of the agile mind she held so dear.

Ali and Shirin stand, Ali's smile bordering on the ridiculous as he steels it down to something more appropriate for the scion of the Sultanate and an Officer in the Royal Navy.  "Come, we mustn't keep them too long, they may talk" he says, leading Shirin back to where Aspas and Wiktor sit.

October 19th, 1928, San Diego Aerodrome

Bundled slightly against the anticipated altitude despite the relatively mild coastal temperatures, the various parties arrive at the aerodrome, four gleaming White aircraft in RAF markings awaiting on the tarmac.  Each of the big biplanes was powered by a single massive 'thousand horsepower' engine in the nose.  A variant of the Navy's 'Cubaroo' torpedo bomber, each could carry twelve passengers plus its crew of two.  By the boarding ladder of each aircraft is a small sign denoting where the various functionaries are to board, with the lead aircraft having two mechanics standing beside physical steps with handrails....a preparation for the convalescing Prince Wiktor to board in as much dignity as is possible. 

Standing there in his sealskin flight jacket, Ali watches the 'motorcade' of vehicles arrive, his having arrived earlier to help the pilot of the lead aircraft do the pre-flight and go over anticipated weather and route briefings with the flight crews.  Seeing Shirin and Aspas exit their vehicle, he makes a concerted effort to not rush towards her, erm them, briskly walking to meet them before walking with them back towards the aircraft.  He notes that Princess Shirin is wearing the ring, and wonders what conversations must have transpired at her wearing a new and significant piece of jewelry....

The steps weren't great, but Wiktor had practiced them faithfully - even on the cruiser, with its newly installed lifts - so he was able to make the climb without actual assistance.  It was slow, and he felt a bit conspicuous about it, but still, he made it.

The interior of the aircraft was its own challenge, given how the fuselage sloped down toward the tail, but he handed off his cane to Jan and used both hands to grab at seat-tops and other convenient handholds.  "Didn't anticipate this," he murmured.

"Life is full of surprises," Jan replied.

"Is it just me or did Princess Shirin have a big new ring on her finger?" Jadwiga asked.

"I didn't notice," Wiktor said as he kind of flopped into his designated seat. 

"Never occurred to me to look," Jan said, handing him the cane and only then turning to check on his wife.

"I'm fine," she noted. 

"I'm sure you are, but still," Jan nodded.  "Why were you giving the princess the eyeball?"

"I wasn't," Jadwiga said.  "I just noticed it.  Women notice these kinds of things."

"Oh," Wiktor said.

"Maybe I'll notice a big new ring on Aspas' finger soon," she added.

Wiktor shrugged.  "Maybe you will."

The Quartet of Aircraft took off in sequence, then forming up in a V formation with the notables in the lead aircraft, they made their way east across the scrub desert into Arizona, arriving some four hours later, well within the total ten hour possible flight time of the aircraft, though no one on board really wanted to be in the air in a seat for that long.  While there was quilted insulation to dampen the noise, the large radial kept a resounding thrum throughout the aircraft, and some debated whether an aircraft with engines on nacelles would be quieter.  Once on the ground Ali explained that the Sultanate had found it difficult to rapidly scale industry to manufacture engines for all the aircraft and motorized vehicles in both military and the growing commercial sector.  Therefore single engine aircraft had been given procurement priority, with twin engine aircraft on the horizon as manufacturing capacity began to catch up with demand.  This particular aircraft was the commercially available passenger or cargo model of the Cubaroo torpedo bomber, which had proven an ability to strike a fleet at nearly thirty six hours of hard-steaming distance from the airbase that struck it, and was a key element of the long range bomber force with either a full fleet 21in torpedo, not a lightened aircraft weapon, or a thousand kilos of bombs.

On the airfield, a full platoon of Queen Fatima's Light Cavalry stood by, on motorbikes, some with sidecars, waiting to escort the motorcade from the aerodrome to the villa several miles away on a hilltop.  The snow capped mountains gleam in the distance under the afternoon autumn sun as the crisp air blows across the open cars.  Arriving at the villa, the motorcade passes through a gate, guarded by a pair of serious-looking Eagle Warriors, and finds itself in a large courtyard bordered by a wall, with a large two-story adobe house and connected outbuildings, trees and plants abound.  Servants and guards are shown to the bunkrooms and apartments built into the wall, and the various dignitaries and guests who had been invited are shown to their rooms in the Royal Villa. 

Ali seems both at home and uneasy, showing off 'his' country home to the invited guests, but maybe listening and looking at bit too much at the Parthian delegation, seeking their approval.  The walls all whitewashed and gleaming in the sun, with glazed tile bordering the entryways and window sills, and magnificent murals painted onto walls protected by the tiled roof overhangs.  The house itself is a square, with a central courtyard and garden crossed by paths and benches, with citrus trees giving a light scent and varieties of flower tended by the gardeners.  Each room is elegantly appointed, but simple, with no gratuitous extravagance.  And in deference to Prince Wiktor's injury, the Vilnius apartments are closest to the dining and ball areas, though it is noted that with the dry climate much of the entertainments will be out in the main courtyard.  The Parthian apartments are respectfully placed opposite Prince Alis own quarters, though a minute's curiousity would show that Princess Shirin's room's garden exit led directly onto a path meeting at a bench with a matching path from Ali's quarters.  One large bedroom was curiously empty near Prince Ali's quarters, as well as a full bunkroom and several perimeter apartments.  Almost as if another guest or guests were expected later.

Attached to the perimeter wall, one can quickly see stables, the guard quarters/armory and servant quarters, the small guardhouse with a cupola at the gate, and another stable called a 'garage' where a couple of touring cars, a coupe, and a couple of motorbikes including one with a sidecar sat in their stalls and attended by the mechanic.

After getting settled and the lay of the land, the Butler announces that dinner will be served promptly at sunset, servants already preparing tables in the hall/ballroom to that effect....

After the ball, the Parthian delegation had returned to Avio Aristabara.  The hybrid warship swayed gently at anchor, and her hanger deck was spartan, lacking all the efforts and pageantry the Aztec had displayed.  The quarters, impromptu suites carved from the officer accommodations finally allowed some seclusion, and Aspas could brace Shirin and ask about the fire opal, and it's meaning. Shirin related the tale, along with Ali's disclaimer, leading Aspas to ask "...do you know if the Emperor will sanction it?", only for Shirin to blink and smile "Yes... Isky and I have talked on this, my hand is not needed for an affair of State, and I may choose among those suitable, which Ali fortunately qualifies as."...the two continued chatting, with Shirin asking about Aspas and Wiktor and that the spark kindled in Gilan seemed to have endured this long, with their discussions touching on longer term considerations. The two reminisced on how their paths in life had diverged. The High Families each sent their 2nd Son and 2nd Daughter to the capital, to be raised among the court, and Shirin and Aspas had been of close in age. While Shirin teased that Aspas could have joined the Cavalry, Aspas pointed out that she was fine boned, and not as athletic as Shirin, and her frame would not have stood the rigors of general training, so Aspas would have been sent back to National Service long before she could have competed for a Cavalry spot. Instead she wound up assigned to assist at the Academy of Gondishapur, which among other titles liked to claim the title of oldest teaching hospital in the world, which became her calling. Now the two of them were considering their potential lives in foreign societies far from home. For Shirin this was simply a shift from her girlhood expectation of marriage into the Norse Royals, but for Aspas, the prospect of a distant marriage had until recently seemed unlikely. They had both perused the briefing materials and had several months of tutoring on the language and customs of their prospective futures, but it still seemed strange to be at the precipice that occurrence.

The plane ride was only four hours long and fairly comfortable. The Aztec's clever use of dampening liners meant while the fuselage mounted engine transmitted noise and vibration to the passenger compartment, it was greatly reduced, and one could hold a conversation quite credibly. Leaving San Diego, the countryside below quickly turned from the plains and hills behind San Diego to mountains cloaked in pines, growing progressively drier and verging on desert. Green ribbons marked the creeks and scattered pines the uplands. For the Parthians, this was unremarkable, as the region East of the city of Yazd was the Dasht-e Kavir sand desert, and many of the lands around it were similar to those below the windows. These regions demanded their people cooperate to manage them, but could be made to bloom.

Disembarking the Parthians were warmly greeted with the reception. The Eagle guards looked grim and imposing, but the motorcycle riding Queen Fatima's Light Cavalry drew the professional eye of not only Shirin, but the her four Guardians. Seeking new and better ways of doing things was of great interest and while motorcycles had been adopted for couriers and were being adopted for some Dragoon (mobile infantry) units, the Parthian light cavalry had so far continued it's reliance on the horse. Shirin, elbowed by one of her erstwhile guardians, took the opportunity to inquire of Ali as to the particulars of the motorcycles and if the unit was ceremonial or standard equipment for a type of Aztec formation.

The villa was lovely. The central courtyard reminded them of Parthia, with a lovingly tended garden creating an oasis in the center. They complimented the rich panoply of colors the stylized and fantastical murals presented, and Aspas pointed out the pragmatic touch of tiled windowsills, providing not only contrast and easy cleaning, but protecting the underlying material and guarding the edges of the portals- an area subject to wear...while a lovely place to let a pie cool...time of year depending.
Getting settled in their rooms, they prepared for the evenings festivities.

Ali explains to Shirin that the motorcycle platoon is one of four in the scout company, but the only one on motorcycles.  They're excellent on the road or mostly flat ground,  with the sidecars able to mount machine guns for high speed recon and support.   However, horses still make up a third of the brigade, their utility in broken terrain is undeniable.   He notes that they will be having a demonstration tomorrow.

The dinner is elegant but light, featuring mostly local cuisine, and a small affair of just the main parties, to give some respite from the numbers of minor nobles even now pouring into Flagstaffs hotel and other houses there.

In the morning, the card are waiting for aspas and Wiktor.  But instead of a motorcar, an open topped armored car, a command vehicle for a company of mechanized Cavalry, awaits for Shirin and Ali, the former having some small duties to observe Aztec Cavalry doctrine.  "I figured you'd like to see how a company commander rides into battle" he says as they get into the armored box, a machine gun on a pintle up by the driver. 

Reaching the open land near the base, Shirin and the other guests are treated to a demonstration of the armored cars and motorcycles in action,  deploying and then displacing their mounted infantry with the turreted armored cars in support.   Deployment of a mounted mortar team is also demonstrated, with a concluding demonstration of the new rocket car, six rockets roaring off the side racks, five of them impacting a half mile away with one going wild and over the target....their burst covering a hundred meters in fire and shrapnel.

Ali escorts Shirin as Sgt Major Metzli details each vehicle and how it is used by the Cavalry.

"I'm not sure whether I love it or hate it," Wiktor said of the Aztec rocket-car.

"I suspect that depends on whether the rockets are going away or coming toward you," Aspas said.

Wiktor nodded.

"They seem a bit unpredictable," Jadwiga observed.

"A bit, yes," her husband agreed. 

"You've never mentioned having them in your unit," she added.

"We never have had them in our unit," Jan shrugged.

"This is fairly new and advanced hardware," Wiktor added.  "To be honest, I'm a little surprised we're seeing it, but I assume the Aztecs don't mind us knowing about it."

"The gathering is about making friendships and deepening relationships, Wik," Aspas noted, her dark eyes twinkling amidst her deadpan face.

"Yes it is," he agreed, not having settled on an acceptable nickname for her just yet.  As didn't work, Asp sounded a bit dangerous.  "I didn't think we didn't anything like this when we hosted you."

"We saw your ships," Aspas noted.  "They weren't shooting off rockets or running these drills, but it was still modern hardware on display."

"Speaking of hardware on display, Princess Shirin's ring certainly is pretty," Jadwiga said.

Both men stared at her.

"Very much so, yes," Aspas agreed.

"Is it a gift from Prince Ali?"

"It is."

Jadwiga smiled.  "How lovely.  Does this mean...?"

"It seems that way - but nothing has been officially announced," Aspas said.

"That, uh, wasn't very subtle, Dear," Jan interjected.

"It's fine, Kapitan, I did much the same to Shirin when I saw the ring the first time," Aspas replied.  "Women notice these things."

"I was saying exactly that earlier," Jadwiga grinned.  "I was saying that I wondered if I was going to see a new ring on your finger at some point soon."

The two men stared at her again.

"Well..." Aspas hesitated.  "There is..."

"There's...uh...something we're still working out," Wiktor interjected. 

"I see," Jadwiga nodded.  "Please do let us know if we can be of assistance in that regard.  You would make a lovely couple, you know."

"Thanks?" Wiktor replied.

Sgt. Maj. Metzli responds to Wiktor's question, walking up to him with a limp betraying her own bullet wound, a Roman rifle, 15 years ago. "The rockets are new.  Currently we have thr only operational battery.  They are a way to bring the firepower of relatively heavy, if short ranged, artillery to a unit that can't easily deploy field guns without sacrificing mobility"

She notes the other vehicles "The open armored car is becoming the standard for battlefield headquarters and for transporting small numbers of dismounted Cavalry.  They're a solid if simple vehicle.  The other armored car, with with 12mm machine gun, that is our current primary method of fighting other armored cars.  Though there is much rumor of a vehicle armed with the navy's 30mm cannon being in the works."

October 22nd, 1928

With observances of the variety of religious belief completed over the weekend, and continued feasting, including a rotating number of local dignitaries, the weekend is a relaxed affair.  Some of the locals are nobility, but the Parthian and Vilnius especially delegations are treated to quite a number of more 'flavorful' dignitaries than they may have been used to.  An assortment of tribal chiefs from the numerous tribes amalgamated into the Sultanate, along with an equal number of Aztec and even some transplant Roman ranchers, the openness of the great plains being a melting pot of sparsely populated communities.  Ali greets quite a few of them personally, having spent time hunting on their ranches or doing his official duties as Prince and advising the territorial governor and being the mouthpiece of the Sultan in this territory.  It is quite obvious to anyone that Ali is most at home either amongst this eclectic bunch, or amongst warriors and most especially pilots, he is rather formal and cold with the more traditional nobility that come to the Villa for one of the dinners.  Several local Navajo tribal dances are also performed in the evening, a display of traditional dress and ceremony for the assembled guests. 

Late in the brisk morning of the 22nd, the party is ahorse, riding slowly up from the scrub towards the tree lined rises that lead to the mountains.  Along with Shirin's guards and Wiktor's party, there are a number of Queen Fatima's Light Cavalry equally ahorse.  But these are nothing more than window dressing, as the Sultan's Rangers, Apache and other tribals, lead the party.  Their leader, a grizzled former War Chief named Mangas, explains that they are a primary force for enforcing law and dealing with the occasional band of rogues, mostly Comanche.  He chuckles, noting that the Comanche have little in the way of arms, but are wily and hard to hunt down when they operate in small bands.  Mostly they are a minor nuisance, stealing cattle like common criminals.  The Rangers also happen to be the ones most intimately familiar with the game of the region, and guide the party to where a herd of mule deer is grazing near a stream.  "Make sure you leave at least one good buck" Mangas says to Wiktor, noting that the herd is in the rut and they always leave at least one buck to ensure the herd continues to replenish. 

As some of the party begin lining up their shots, one of the Rangers turns as if he hears something to the left.....

Buuuurrrrrppp!

Fires a machine gun, sweeping across the party as they dive to the ground, horses scattering as they gallop away in terror.  The fire is terrifying, but high, as only that singular Ranger goes down, poleaxed by bullets. 

"Contact Left, Contact Left" the troopers shout, dashing forward onto line as Ali covers Shirin with his body, hunting rifle searching for a target, any target.  The other Rangers have seemingly disappeared, vanished without a trace into the grass and brush.

Buuuurrrrrrppp!

Another burst rakes the clearing, again starting about the appropriate height before going uselessly high.  A few of the cavalrywomen fire back with their carbines, seeking to suppress the unseen enemy. 

Buuuurrrrpppp!

A third burst rips off, taking chunks out of trees but doing little else.  The machine gun goes silent, And then everyone hears whooping as mounted warriors descend on the group, firing pistols and rifles as they burst from the treeline into the clearing..........

"Oof!" Jadwiga exclaimed as her husband tackled her to the ground.  Wiktor was already there, as was Aspas, and for a moment, they just concentrated on staying there, low and small.

"Spierdalaj, what is this?" Jan growled as the Aztecs shouted and dispersed into cover.

"Bandits?  Everybody okay?" Wiktor barked.

"Fine!" Aspas murmured.

"Yes," Jadwiga confirmed. 

A second burst of machine-gun rattled overhead.  "Shitty aim or it's suppressive, not sure which," Jan said. 

"If I can get to that ranger, I can-" Aspas started.

"Not yet," Wiktor said.  "Movement will draw fire.  Let the rangers find the source first."

The first Aztecs began shooting back.  Aspas stayed put. 

"Can't tell if that's aimed or blind," Jan grumbled.  "Just like being in the jungle."

"Absent the jungle," Wiktor muttered.  A third burst of fire chewed into the trees.  "Right, let's move-"

Somewhere not far away, men shouted and horse hooves thundered.  Jan pushed himself up to a crouch, rifle raised, and Wiktor followed.  Jadwiga scurried forward, undid the flap on her husband's side holster, and drew his revolver.

"Centre of mass, dear," Jan muttered.

"Dead horses are good, too," Wiktor added, working the action of his rifle.  "Good cover."

"Understood," she replied, drawing back the pistol's hammer. 

A staccato of fire breaks out from the shemagh-wrapped troopers of QFLC, their carbines barking as they rise to a better kneeling position and begin taking on the charging braves, shielding the group as best they can with their handful of cavalrywomen.  Two of them go down in the exchange of fire as they empty a few saddles of the onrushing Comanche.  Other rifles crack, and more saddles empty or horses go down, the Apache Rangers living up to their legendary status as stealthy warriors afoot.  Yet still they rush, better than fifty horsemen closing quickly on the small party as Ali fires his first round, still trying to shield Shirin from the sudden foes......

Princess Shirin had been enjoying the expedition a great deal. Matters like the embrace of mechanization in differing ways sparked professional interest. Meeting the various chiefs and peoples was illuminating and a source of discussion between Aspas and herself, as providing a national identity and commonality were   issues Parthia had been diligently working on as well, but the myriad of facets humanity presented were fascinating. Both also indulged in the time to 'get to know' that the trip entailed.  Shirin positively embraced the riding, as did her guardians, a different one of which traveled near her  each day. Lady Aspas had of course been raised in the 'traditional' pursuits, and so was quite comfortable horseback, but she worried some for Wiktor, as the injured muscle was tested by posting as he rode.

The hunt that morning had been proceeding well, lovely country, and the guides assured them there were some deer ahead, and Shirin was looking forward to fresh venison for their repast. They had dismounted, tying their reins to some small trees, and crept forward, and securing their dinner awaited.

All other concerns were suddenly set aside as the stattaco sounds demanded attention.   The Parthian Princess and her ceremonial Guardian for the day both had been on the receiving end of rifle and machine gun fire before, though those prior occasions had been the light cavalry of the Golden Horde.  The sound these machineguns and rifles made was distinctly different, but still were...unwelcome. For Lady Aspas having someone shoot at her was somewhat terrifying, and looked for Wiktor and took shelter with him, clutching her rifle and looking to her companions for inspirations, and trying to figure some means of reaching the downed Aztecs safely. 

For Shirin the first instinct was to move from where she was, and someone might be aiming at, to somewhere slightly different, tugging Ali with her, trying to ensure he was safe.  Instead, both Ali and her guardian seemed to be intent on shielding her. Shoeing the away and scanning the field to discern where the fire was coming from, she was relieved that they did not seem to be in a prepared crossfire, though they might soon be flanked. The Aztec soldiers were engaging with accurate fire, and were not hers to command, besides  her command of Aztec was far to limited to try.  Tracking an enemy rider, her round left him slumping in his saddle and turning in retreat. Tapping her guardian, and beckoning to their compatriots, they alternated firing and and moving, seeking better cover for the small party, as she rather felt Ali might be the target, while her guardian just wanted her out of harms way.

"At least a troop's worth," Jan Blaszczak growled, taking a shot that caught a rider low on the side.

"Reloading...," Wiktor called, ducking down.

"Here!" Aspas said, thrusting her own rifle toward him.  "I'll do it."

They traded rifles, and the Parthian noblewoman reached for the ammunition pouch she'd been handed at the beginning of the excursion.  Wiktor took a moment to verify the new rifle was loaded and then popped up just long enough to acquire a new target and take a shot.

"How you doing, Dear?" Jan called, raising his voice to be heard over the chaos.

"Rather alarmed, Dear," Jadwiga reported. 

"We'll be okay.  Just an old-fashioned irregular cavalry attack, happens all the time," Wiktor said.  "They're almost here:  Move to avoid horses if you have to, but stay low."  He rose just enough to spot and shoot again, but this shot was wide. 

"How's you're leg?" Jan asked.

"It's wonderful," Wiktor replied.

"I've got one round left.  Aspas, where you at?"

Aspas nudged another bullet into the rifle's tubular magazine.  "R...ready."

Jan popped up, fire the last round, and dropped down again as a bullet punched through the broad rim of his hat.  "A machine gun of our own would help right now," he snarled as he traded rifles with Aspas.

Bullets continue cracking all around as everyone is stuck in to the ongoing battle.  Mangas leaps from a patch of grass, grasping a Comanche and dragging him off his horse before his tomahawk rises and falls several times in quick succession.  The QFLC troopers draw pistols and scimitars as the Comanches are upon them, rapidly firing as they cut and parry against those Comanche armed only with spear or tomahawk.

The entire scene is one of pandemonium, Troopers, Rangers, and Dignitaries forming small knots as the Comanche war party rides through.  Surprisingly, Prince Wiktor feels a spear shaft rap him on the head, and sees a Comanche galloping away with his spear held high, having 'counted coup' in the middle of the fight.

Ali turns, covering Shirin's back in the swirling melee, blocking a blow with his rifle before dragging the rider off and butt-stroking him into submission.  Shirin and her protector knock several from their saddles with calm rifle fire. 

And then, it's over, the last of the Comanche galloping into the trees.  Leaving a dozen of their number, and four Aztecs, laying on the field.  The Rangers begin finishing them off until Mangas barks something in Apache, and the rangers stop their grisly work and begin dragging those Comanches who haven't expired into a group, stripping them of weapons.  A few quick hand motions, and two Rangers take off into the woods afoot, returning a few minutes and gunshots later with an unusual machine gun with a pan magazine.

Upon seeing the machine gun, Ali's whole face darkens.  "Mayan" he spits, checking the gun to find that the weapon had jammed and still had half a magazine remaining.  "Nobody taught the savages how to maintain it.  But this is a Mayan machine gun, and by the condition it hasn't been in the field for years."  His jaw clenches in a rage.  Ali turns to Mangas.  "Send someone back to get cars for the wounded and the prisoners, if they survive."  'Yes, your highness' he says, snapping his fingers and a ranger grabs a Comanche horse and takes off at the gallop back towards Flagstaff.  "I will send rangers to track these bandits and bring them to justice", he says, Ali replying with a curt nod, the look on his face one of abject rage.

Two hours later, a motorcycle is heard in the distance, as a platoon of mechanized cavalry races down the trail, gunners hanging on in the back of their cars and two trucks, engines straining to keep up.....

Shirin had noted the greenery marking the creek banks behind them and brought it to Ali's attention. They led the leapfrog withdrawal to the creekside.  Descending the broad swale the creek meandered through  allowed the embattled party to drop below the beaten zone the distant machine guns could command. The shallow creek lacked incised banks, so they sheltered behind the trees along the edge.  The swale also shortened the sightlines and forced the Comanches to close in.  Some managed to creep close  under cover, and when fire slackened as ammo ran short, they made charges at the party. 

As the raiders suddenly broke off and retreated, Shirin found both her heavy revolvers slowly cooling in her hands, her empty rifle slung over her shoulder. The long barreled revolvers shared a cartridge with an older carbine and packed a ferocious punch.  She had put them to good use when the rifle rounds ran out, and had used one to drop the warrior charging Ali ... and at her with an adorned lance. Scanning the battlefield, she reloaded from clips and then slid them in their holsters and took stock of the situation. 

Listening to what Ali was saying, and she commented to him "If you do not mind my advice, I expect your raiders will fall back to where those machine guns can cover them, and they may set ambush for any direct pursuit. Feigned retreats are an excellent means of drawing a foe out.  I would suggest we throw out a picket while we collect both sides wounded, our dead, and police weapons. Aspas can stabilize who she can, Pyrasatis and I can help as well, we've had some training. After which we need to retreat to our mounts and break contact to shift to a better spot to treat wounded and await relief. "  She then strode forward and examined the last raider to charge her and Ali, said a prayer for the young man's warrior soul, closed his eyes, and claimed his lance and weapons for herself.

"Everybody is safe?  Jadwiga, you're bleeding," Aspas said as the firing died off.

"What?" Jan blurted, spinning about to gape at his wife.

"It's a minor thing.  A splinter of wood," Jadwiga declared, showing them all her left arm.  "It can wait."

Aspas nodded.  "I'm needed," she declared.

"Lead the way, but we'll travel as a group," Wiktor replied.  "Guns ready in case there's more coming, alright?"

Aspas grunted.  "Fair.  There, that one."

"The raider?" Jan asked, squinting at the squirming man on the ground a short ways off.

"Yes, him first.  I want to assess everybody and work out who most needs immediate care," Aspas said.

"The guy who was shooting at us?" Jan added.

"He's a casualty now," Aspas said firmly.

"Very well," Jan said.  "Let's go."

The Parthian Rangers were long range scouts and skirmishers. While they served throughout Parthia, most of their time was spent in the North. The Northern border with the Golden horde was ill-defined steppelands and both sides patrolled heavily, frequently clashing. Parthia took advantage of their warmer climes and earlier grasses to send Spring forays deep behind Horde lines, ensuring no new railroads or depots were building up foreshadowing a new war.  Avoiding combat was a goal on these missions, but they were a long way from home, and the Rangers had long been trained to treat injuries in the field. This included rigging litters or travois between or behind horses, as the case may be, allowing displacement to a new position.
   
As a result, when relief arrived slightly over two hours later, they were treated to the unusual sight of a blood spattered trio of Parthian women, as Doctor Aspas Surena had taken charge of treating the wounded of both sides and had been ordering around Princess Shirin and Sergeant Pyrasatis as her assistants.

As soon as the trucks arrive, troopers and medics leap out, rushing to the wounded and taking them from Dr. Aspas and the Parthians.  Loading them on the trucks for the drive back to the Fort, they begin tending to their more makeshift bandaging.  Some other troopers collect the dead, at first leaving the Comanche dead until a look from Dr. Aspas and a nod from Ali indicate otherwise. 

The armored cars disgorge their troopers, and form a perimeter while everything is settled.  Mangas organizes his Rangers, and after finally hunting up the horses, he looks at Ali.  "Your Highness, they have gone NorthEast.  Nothing but wide open plains there for a hundred miles.  We'll run them down."  Ali's face is implacable, but his eyes gleam darkly.  "Then after them" he says and the Apache nods simply before mounting up and taking off with his handful of Rangers.

Once everyone is loaded, the female troopers put all of the dignified persons in armored cars, putting plate steel betwixt them and any other attempts.  Ali is approached by the lieutenant.  "Your Highness, one of the Comanche had this on him" she says, producing a crude map of the Royal Villa.  Ali's face darkens even more, and he stalks over to a motorcycle, taking it from its rider.  "Get everyone back to the villa, and set a heavy guard" he says, roaring down the trail towards the Villa and Aerodrome, a couple of other bikes scrambling to catch up......

....Back at the Villa, when the column arrives, you find Eagle Warriors on guard, machine guns being set on pintles at the corners of the wall. 

One of the Officers asks about the prince, and a thumb points towards the aerodrome, where it appears an aircraft is being prepared,  with small objects being attached to the distant aircrafts wings.

Ali looks back at Shirin, as he's zipping up his sealskin flight jacket and clapping on his leather flight helmet and goggles.  "I've got time before dark, and the Comanches made the mistake of getting close."  He checks the handful of small bombs, really just light mortar shells, on a rack behind the fixed wheels.  "This was my old plane in the Mayan War", he notes taking a minute to show her his 'buzzard' as the mechanics load belts of ammunition into the paired machine guns.  Shirin can tell that Ali is still coldly furious, and his almost excessive response makes her certain his anger is focused on the Mayan backed Comanches shooting at her.  "You should stand clear" one of the mechanics tells her and ushers her away from the aircraft as a group-captain's streamer is affixed to the right wingtip and the other mechanic starts rotating the propeller into starting position.  "CONTACT" Ali shouts from the cockpit and the mechanic hauls on the prop before the engine sputters and then roars to life.  With barely enough time for everyone to get out of the way, Ali pushes the throttle all the way forward and the plane bounces down the airfield, lifting off well faster than any of the typical aircraft at Flagstaff Aerodrome.

For two hours, Shirin waits, watching the sky.  Finally, she spots a black dot that resolves itself into a single-engine aircraft.  As Ali's plane starts to make it's pass around the airfield, she sees it sputter and drop erratically, the engine noises cutting out, finally smacking into the airfield hard enough to collapse the landing gear and splinter the prop on impact.  Rushing to the stricken airplane, she can see erratic bullet-holes in the skin of the wings and fuselage.  Ali pushes himself up to get out of his old steed, only to have his leg give way as he tries to stand on the ground.  On his khaki trousers she can see the blood darkening the lower half of his leg.  "I'm sorry, it was stupid of me.  I guided the Apache Rangers, they'll run down what's left of them.  I surprised them with the first pass, but after I gave the Rangers guidance and went back, they were ready.  The fourth pass, they finally got me and the engine with a burst, I'm surprised it made it back here before it seized.  I couldn't let them get away.  It would encourage them to try again.  And they tried to kill my beloved, that could not be forgiven or forgotten."  Ali leans against the holed wing of his aircraft......

"How is she?" Wiktor asked.

"Passed out drunk," Jan replied as the two stood, drinks in hand, in the sitting room of their accommodations.

"Can't fault her for that," Wiktor muttered.  "She did well but God I'm sorry she went through that."

"...Yeah," his adjutant said, sipping at his tequila.  "Blech, this shit is horrible."

"It's...something," the prince agreed. 

"How's everybody else?"

"Last I saw of Aspas, she was still helping with the casualties.  Doubt I'll see her till tomorrow at best," Wiktor shrugged.  "I saw that Ali and Shirin were okay, but haven't seen or heard from either in hours."

"I would like to think those guys aren't stupid enough to try again, but..."

"Yeah, well, there's a lot more security here," Wiktor said.  "They'll either have to be a lot stealthier or bring a lot more firepower if they want a second go."

"Which we can't rule out," Jan replied.  "Alright, I'm going to pop out and see if I can find out what's been transmitted back home.  At the very least, the navy might want to reconsider its escort plans if there's genuine reason Maya's behind this."

"I'll keep an ear out in case Jadwiga rouses," Wiktor said. 

After her dear Ali's plane lept to the skies on his mission, Shirin watched the speck dwindle in the distance for some time. Shirin understood Ali's desire to make a difference for the people in his care. While she would have preferred her dashing Ali not to head back into danger, that was not the man she had chosen. She supposed if she could pilot a plane, she might do something similar. Certainly remaining behind and staring at the sky...which was now devoid of any spec of his plane...like a moonstruck calf...this did not suit her, and would not effect the time of his return, which would not be less than an hour. 

Already changed, with her face scrubbed of dirt, powder and blood, Shirin consulted her notes and spoke with her interpreter. Then she took it on herself...trailing her Guardians...to find the Commanding officer.  Using the interpreter, she made known her wish to visit the wounded, which he granted.  There she took several minutes with each of the Aztec wounded, attempting a badly accented statement in Aztec -   "You fought with honor. It was seen and noted. Thank you for the Royal Party. May you recover well." Beyond that opening line, she relied on the interpreter for a brief exchange of words. 

Checking the time, she was able to drop by Aspas's quarters only to find she was taking a nap.  Calling on Prince Wiktor, she found him and his adjunct both in passable spirits and trying the local ones.  A brief discussion found that Jan's wife had been shook up by the experience, but indeed none of them had taken any wounds. Shirin was pleased Wiktor was doing well, he really was enjoyable person to spend time around and seemed an overall fine person, plus Aspas seemed to have claimed him.

Finding even with the brief visits the time until Ali's potential return was winding down, she returned to the airstrip. There was still a wait, so she endured her interpreter patiently explaining just how she was mangling different Aztec words- they just did not have all the same sound elements.    The plane landed well, though she wasn't the best judge she knew that if it tried to hop down the runway like a bunny, that was a bad landing, but a smooth glide was a good one. This good auspice did not properly foreshadow the alarm she was to feel when Ali descends from the plane only to have his leg betray him and crumple to against the ladder. Ali mumbles a statement, but it's in Aztec, not Greek, his lower leg dark with blood.   

Shirin leapt into action, issuing commands relayed through her interpreter.  Aztec runners are sent for the commander and corpsmen. Shirin orders one of her guardians to go fetch Aspas, while the other one and she start checking the leg, finding to her great relief that there's no arterial spray, and then applying pressure to the wound.  For the second time in a day, her clothes wind up blood spattered.

Ali winces as he steps out of his room, the brigade surgeon behind him.  "Just a through and through " the surgeon says, in Greek to Shirin, "I recommend no intense activity for the next three weeks". 

"I'm sorry that my homelands enemies managed to ruin your first visit"  Ali apologizes.  He confers momentarily with a grizzled eagle warrior in hushed tones before stating "The Comanche have been run to ground, and the brigade is deployed around the villa.  My parent's train will arrive this evening and we'll use it to travel to Tenochtitlan.  It wasn't on the original itinerary, but it'll be the safest plan."

He turns to Shirin.  "Their guards tried to convince them to return immediately to Tenochtitlan, but mother insisted that she meet you."

"Hey...how're you doing?" Wiktor asked Aspas as she sprawled limply in a large, reclining chair.

"Exhausted," she answered after a moment.  Her chaperone, parked in another chair not far off, nodded.  "But my part is done."

"You saved a lot of lives today."

"Some.  Not all," she said, head rolling to the side to look at him.

"You couldn't save them all, Aspas," he said.

"I know.  It is a reality of the profession."  She reached out and he took her hand.  It smelled of soap and the chaperone looked mildly aghast as he stooped to kiss it.  "It is fortunate I have cleaned up," she added.

"Yeah, better that you did," he agreed.  "How are you doing about the battle itself?"

"It is a blur.  A loud, chaotic blur.  I feel I should apologize for not helping to shoot like Jadwiga did..."

"Don't you dare," Wiktor scolded.  "Reloading for us was just as important.  It meant we had fire at all times and it might've saved our lives."

"I thank you for saying so.  How is your head?  I'm sure that spear was meant to kill you..."

"Check for yourself," Wiktor said, releasing her hand and bending forward.  "I'm told he wasn't actually trying to kill me, just get bragging rights or something."

She tousled his hair, still dusty from the battle, and felt a slight bump atop his head.  "Wik, Wik, Wik.  You are injured again.  I feel you may require full-time medical observation, you simply cannot be trusted to remain healthy on your own."

"If you're willing, I'd ask that you be my permanent, personal physician," he said.

Her hand dipped down and gently poked his nose.  "I am willing to accept this responsibility if you are prepared to accept me as your exclusive rifle-reloader."

"I am," he confirmed, tilting his head up just enough to kiss the offensive finger.

"Then we have an agreement, the one matter aside."

"We'll sort it out," he said, sitting up straight once more.

"Yes we will," she agreed, and her head rolled back toward the chaperone.  "We are engaged now, if you are wondering..."

"I thought so but...wasn't sure, my lady," the younger woman nodded.  "Congratulations?"

"Thank you," Aspas said.  "Would you be willing to find wine or champagne for us?  I vow we shall behave in your absence."

"Of course, my lady," the chaperone nodded, rising.

"Anyway, I'm too weary to misbehave now," Aspas added.

Shirin is pleased when the surgeon seconds the initial evaluation. She had worried the bullet may have fragmented and parts remained within. Ali then consults with an elder soldier and announces the monarch's train is coming...and it sounds like they are on it....

"My dear, I will confess, we Parthians like to make our shooting ranges difficult with the expectation of misses, but the Aztec concept of a hunting trip...I no idea we were going to be playing the role of the hunted. It's...it's ever so novel. But...that second part... are you saying that I am to meet your mother in <slowing and carefully pronouncing> Tenochtitlan, ...or here fairly shortly ?  Since (gesturing to her clothing) I have managed to get blood on these clothes as well, I do need to change, and the formality of the event would matter.... I'm sure all Parthian formal attire appears a bit strange outside Parthia, but I'd feel better properly attired."

With that, Shirin left Ali to his minders and returned to her quarters, to be met with an Aspas who very much wanted to talk.

"This evening I'm afraid" Ali says.  "She will love you, I am certain".

Ali watches Shirin leave, then takes the proffered cane and makes his way to his own quarters.  The next several hours are a flurry of activity as flags and banners are raised, the brigade band set up, and cooks furiously prepare a feast.  The quarters directly beside Alis own are prepared for their majesties and inobtrusive guard posts are set well out from the perimeter wall, no chances being taken after the mornings fiasco. 

Ali steps out of his quarters in his dress whites, the cane he leans on the only indication that he's wounded, aside from the occasional wince as he makes his way around to the front to meet with his guests and receive the motorcade even now pulling into the drive.  The doors open and out steps the Sultan and Queen, to the announcement of "Their Majesties, Ali, Sultan of Aztecs, and Fatima,  Queen of Aztecs."   The Sultan is dressed simply in a suit suitable to travel, and the Queen is dressed in a simple if elegant green dress with lace cuffs and collar.  Both showing the lines and grey hairs of age as they're now in their early fifties, but neither yet showing the paunch which comes of too much good living without exercise.

"Father, Mother" Prince Ali says, "May I introduce Prince Wiktor of the Vilnius Union, Lady Aspas of Parthia,  and Princess Shirin of Parthia".  The queen eyes Shirin's finger momentarily.   "You mean Princess Shirin, your intended" She quips with a wry smile at Ali's momentary discomfiture.  The Sultan gives the queen a glance "oh, don't terrify the princess,  it's not as if you didn't know our son had procured the ring.  Or did I not see your secretary's signature procuring one of the crown jewels for official reasons?".  Queen Fatima's face appears shocked "If you mean to say that I ensured my future daughter in law would receive the ring she deserves in spite of my son's efforts to get it made in secret, of course I did", she says, smiling at Shirin.  "I have dinner prepared for all" Ali says, manfully gritting through the discomfort to escort them all inside.  Fatima walks beside Shirin,  saying in a low conspiratorial tone "the men think they are in charge.  But nothing ever really happens that us ladies don't know about"

"Your Majesties, a pleasure to see you.  My mother and my brother send their deepest regards," Wiktor said as he greeted the sultan and queen.  "I thank you for the hospitality shown to us on this journey."

Later, when he had the opportunity to speak without being overheard, Wiktor whispered to Ali, "If I'd known you were going to get shot in the leg, I'd have suggested matching canes.  Oh well, next time."

The Parthians had prepared for a formal introduction to the Monarchs of the Aztecs, and dressed in the traditional formal garb of their land.  An ornate robe, embroidered in gold and silver, reflecting the colors and honors of their station. A personal silken sash was placed over it, falling diagonally from shoulder to hip and was in the colors of their house, decorated with their Family (top) and Personal (bottom) marks of Honor and Distinction – though the meanings were lost outside Parthia. Beneath, they wore either finely crafted tunic and breeches for the men, or a short dress (at one time simply a longer tunic) and hose for the ladies. Throughout, fine silks and embroidery served as testimony to the craftsmenship and expense. While belt buckles and ceremonial scabbards filigreed gold, overall jewelry was restrained, but glistened from earrings, necklaces, and even some adorned fingers.   

Despite the finery, and the briefings on Aztec Court custom, Shirin was positive she was about to make some horrible faux paus, or still had some overlooked speckle of blood, or smelled of gunpowder or horse,  and meanwhile there was a large contingent of butterflies somehow lodged in her stomach. These were not typical feelings for her, and she envied Aspas, who looked like she had slipped into 'serene surgeon' mode... just how was the prospect of meeting Ali's parents for the first time proving to be more unsettling than being shot at?  Granted, she had been shot at several times, and this was the first, and will ever be the first time to make a good impression...

Thankfully, when presented to His and Her Majesty, none of the wild ways for her to embarrass herself came to pass, indeed Queen Fatima seemed well aware of Ali's gift, even if he father did not. As they turned to go to dinner, the Queen fell in beside her and made a gentle comment, which made Shirin felt quite relieved and a little bit welcomed, and so she ventured a reply "I'm still working on that particular skill, I think will achieve that.  There's a long history of Parthian women doing extraordinary things, so I have hope.  I will say, Ali has led us on an high unusual tour, quite innovative in fact."

"Indeed.  I think you will make a fine queen one day, if my sources do not deceive me.  Allah knows what you may yet accomplish, I managed to get these hidebound traditionalists at the Old City to accept women into the armed forces, the threat of Mayan Hordes and Roman Hordes also helped somewhat" she says, smiling.  "I must apologize, the Comanche interference was not something that my son had planned, we had believed them well reduced to a few bands of criminals that were being run down by the scouts."  The Queen Continues as they are all walking towards their seats, "Though I find it ironic that a hamfisted Mayan attempt at causing chaos is only serving to bring together three powers, two of which are on their very borders", nodding towards Aspas and Wiktor.

With the formalities concluded, the dinner was subdued in the large apartments given over to the Sultan and Queen, with soft music, and the whole party, including the Sultan and Queen, seated at a round table, an affectation that served to remove the formalities of rank at the larger tables in the great hall.  Much conversation was had by all, as the wars over the past two decades had served to mostly preclude the Sultan or Queen doing much in the way of travel, too many requirements or security risks.  Both were very interested in Wiktor's travels.  And while Shirin was heavily questioned, the effort to maintain a casual environment befitting a future daughter in law rather than the formalities of court was apparent. 

As their plans had been to do a quick tour, the train, and associated force guarding it, was ready to move out that afternoon.  As Ali helps Shirin up to the coach, he says "It is my house.  And I want to raise our family here.  The Rangers and Snake Warriors will establish law and order here, in what we call the 'Wild West' of Azteca, and it'll be a beautiful place to live, away from the confining bustle of the Old City."

The train trip is uneventful, lasting through the night and the next before arriving the following morning, faster than any other train as the line was cleared and they only needed to stop once for fuel and water.  Arriving at the station, the party is greeted by the usual officialdom of a Capital, various embassy officials and throngs of people behind stern-looking policemen, each trying to see the foreign princesses and princes, and the Royal Family.  The motorcade into the Old City is a veritable impromptu parade, some word being impossible to censor about the comings and goings.  In fact the papers were already speculating about a royal wedding, evidently sourced by some angered daughters of nobility that felt their chances of marrying the prince had been overshadowed by the Parthian Princess. 

Entering the Old City, passing through the tunnel-like gates of the old defensive wall, is entering into the administrative center of Azteca.  Only those with official business are permitted entry, and only a select number outside the royal family actually reside here.  It is the veritable beating heart of the Sun Kingdom, and its ancient heritage visible as pyramids sit beside stone office buildings for every ministry and service in the Sultanate.

Reaching the Palace, only the royals themselves are permitted entrance, with a single chaperone for Aspas and Shirin, as all non-Aztec functionaries are forbidden from entering the Sun Palace itself, the audience chambers being in an adjoining building.  "You are the first foreign guests to be here in at least a century" the Sultan says, "Welcome to my home".  The Sun Palace, once through the walls, is spacious and airy, with Aztec green and gold trimming alabaster white walls, and sweeping staircases and large hallways leading to the various apartments.  A veritable battalion of servants stands by, and one approaches the Sultan, speaking quietly for a moment.  He turns and says "I have some business to attend to.  Ali, if you would bring the Princess to my working chamber with you once she is properly settled in, we have some matters to discuss."

Wiktor was surprised but not entirely displeased to find himself alone as he wandered the Sun Palace.

It reminded him in a vague way of illustrations and photographs he'd seen of architecture in western Africa and Byzantium.  Light stone, murals of battles, hunts and celebrations painted onto woodwork, fine art, all fusing New World and Old World styles and cultures. 

His footsteps echoed as he explored, trailed at a respectful distance by a servant he assumed was there in case he needed something...cigars, refreshments, directions back to the starting point of this little trek.

He rolled over recent developments in his head.

He was engaged now.  Months of correspondence between governments had been leading to this point, but he and Aspas had made much of it moot.  There had been long stretches of his life where he'd doubted he'd ever get married, during which the chattering classes and the press had speculated somewhat ungraciously if he were not drawn to women or paradoxically too drawn to women to settle down for one in particular.  There had been relationships, mostly state-sanctioned, as the family had looked to marry him off to eligible noble-women within the Union, but they'd never really gone far.  He recognized, now, after spending time with Shirin and Aspas, that Union high society was behind the times.  Too preoccupied with raising its daughters to be wives and mothers rather than women who were equals and accomplished in their own right. 

Aspas was going to shake things up in Wilno.  She might not fit in well, and she might not make many true friends - she almost certainly wasn't going to become close to his sister-in-law - but she would shake things up.  And he'd have to support her in that.  And if they happened to have a daughter at some point, he'd have to support her in the same way.

That was the one thing the two of them hadn't resolved yet, despite the courtship and the engagement.  Aspas was somewhat younger than he and wanted to have two or three children.  He didn't really want any.  He didn't enjoy their company.  Maybe he was just too old to raise them, even if he'd have a battalion of help at his back to do it.  He didn't think his brother and sister-in-law were raising their children to be respectful, thoughtful, or - the case of his nephew - a future king. 

But he expected they'd end up with at least one child, if only by accident, and his mother and his sister-in-law and his sister would be thrilled and the press would run photographs and...

"Oy vey," he muttered, echoing the common refrain of a longtime color sergeant in his regiment in South Eryka.

"Your Highness?" the Aztec servant queried.

"Oh, nothing, sorry.  Just thinking," Wiktor said.  "Are there any weapon displays here, perchance?"

"Certainly, Your Highness," the servant nodded.  "This is a home of great warriors.  Come, I am honored to show you..."

Wiktor is led into a large room, with weapons displayed in cases.  Aztec weaponry depicting every era from before the voyage of Ibn Batutta with its obsidian blades, to the progression of iron weapons to the Flyssas Wiktor had seen worn routinely by officers and soldiers in Azteca.  Rows of the sorts of swords, rapiers, and sabers of his own history.  Cases of firearms from arquebuses through to the most modern rifles and light machine guns.  And cases of pistols from dueling pistols to an interesting double-barreled break action, to revolvers and to the variety of handguns in more common usage amongst the Sultanate's soldiery.

"Do you find yourself interested in anything your Highness?" rings out clear, and Wiktor sees an older gentleman, in an undress uniform with Sergeant Major insignia, standing behind him.  "We have lists for training in any of the martial arts, as well as with the blade.  And a pistol range in the next room" he says, pointing.  Eyeing Wiktor's leg, he suggests "Maybe your highness would like some pointers on using a cane to disarm an assailant?"

"That's not a bad idea," Wiktor chuckled.  "Perhaps I should shop around for a sword-cane."

The sergeant major walks up to a case, opens it, and pulls out a cane.  "Try this" he says.  Wiktor pushes a hidden catch and the cane twists slightly as he pulls, revealing a dagger blade approximately 20cm in length. "If you are drawing in self defense, the fight will be close.  Better to have a short blade that you can access quickly. "  He shows Wiktor how to use the dagger for short stabs, as well as a series of arm locks the cane is useful for.  "If your highness would like, I can have the armorer make one for you?"

Impressed, Wiktor nodded.  "I'd be honored.  Thank you."

The sergeant major eyes Wiktor's clothing.  "Silver, with an Ipe wood shaft.  Simple and subdued but quality."

Ali leads Shirin into the Sultans office.  A stream of officials and clerks are coming and going,  for here is where the Sultan does business, an absolute monarch and master of his domain.   He is currently poring over a design for a Razee, a large cruiser of some sort as Shirin can see, a naval officer from the bureau of construction and repair explaining the differences between this design and the preceding R class and Uhlan classes.   "As you can see, your Majesty, the 240mm turrets are maintained from the uhlan class, but with heavier armor and another turret for twelve guns in total."  The sultan turns and acknowledges Ali and Shirin, raising his hand to pause the officer.  "Princess Shirin, I wish to hear you speak your mind.   What is your opinion of our kingdom?  What changes would you make?"

The conversation with the Queen had left Shirin feeling welcomed and more confident. Overall it had been somewhat upsetting to find her self so terribly nervous about her Ali's parents and their reception of this strange looking foreign princess with her strange ways. Being unsure of oneself was not a something she was overly used to.  Still, the Queens words hinted at a progressive and traditionalist clash behind the scenes, something to keep in mind.

The subdued dinner had been pleasant, the music a softer style of what had played on board the carrier not so long ago. There had been pleasant inquiries on a wide varity of topics, mostly directed towards Prince Wiktor and Princes Shirin, and while the former was ask about his travels, Shirin fielded a wide variety of questions, something for which her upbringing prepared her well.

That afternoon, as Ali escorts Shirin to the train coach, he casually mentions that this lovely house was where he wished to abide, far from the capital, and raise their family. As one could expect,  Shirin found herself alone with Aspas, each with news of import for the other.  Shirin and Aspas had spent much of their waking hours on the train trip discussing their chosen partners and their respective engagements and futures and what that would mean for them.  Shirin disclosed to Aspas that her brother the Emperor had already given informal permission to make her own decision on this matter, so she could follow her heart.  For Aspas, as a member of the mighty Surena Family, her hand had long been sought by the upper echelons of Nobility. A future which included marriage to one of the Seven Great Families, or the Old Kingdoms, or the Royal states of India seemed a foregone conclusion, but had long been the expectation of a stale arranged marriage.  Aspas had been delighted to find that her unexpected bond with Wiktor changed that future, as a princely match to the Royal House of Wilno
was decidedly viewed as suitably prestigious and honorable to the head of the Surena Clan.
So the two of them spent most of the train trip talking alternately about the countryside passing by, the experiences here, and  about their respective dreams and futures, including  their expectations in their future homes – a matter which had happily been better clarified for Shirin. 

The two women watched the passage of the city outskirts for some time, as the Aztec Capital had long been one of the world's gem's a large and well watered city in the middle of Empire. Once entering the Capital, the procession became a more formal one, with the outlander royalty transferring from the train and  paraded via a motorcade and taken through the impressive old walls of fitted stone, which swept past as they entered the old city and continued to the Palace. The buildings became more imposing and reflected a mixture of wealth and grandeur and the grand pyramids and temples of the early Aztec Empire.

After settling in to her chambers at the Palace; Prince Ali escorts Princess Shirin to the working chamber, to be questioned by Sultan Ali himself, and she finds herself at a bit of a loss when asked what changes she would make... he certainly did not mean the cruiser, for that was far from her field....

"Your Majesty, I have seen only a slice of Azteca so far, and have found it somewhat lovely in a different manner than I am accustomed to. I love the murals and riot of colors, and quite enjoyed the ball. Much of the countryside I have seen reminds me of the South Eastern portions of the Parthian Plateau..  I will concede the little exchange with the Comanche raiders and it's aftermath has distracted me since. The Queen's guard acquitted itself well, and I was gratified my ...recommendations... at the time were accepted by the Prince. Like prior skirmishes I find I review the events in my head repeatedly, seeking a better resolution, but that will fade with time.

Your Majesty, My heart and head have chosen your son, Prince Ali.  I am aware that this course will mean I will have to embrace a different culture and way of life.  Our conversations, correspondence, my tutors and reading help inform me as to the choice I am making. As it is I that come to Azteca, so it most certainly be terribly presumptuous to dictate change, and given human nature I expect such an attempt would rouse terrible resentment. I trust your son, and I trust a niche will be found for me. Ali has shown me the home he has selected and I look forward to a new life there.

As to what I myself can offer, I suppose at best I may illustrate alternatives,but secondary to being a suitable match for your Son. Parthia has long been surrounded by cultured and powerful states of the Greeks, Indians and Chinese, which has provided our nation insights into different ways and we have both contributed to them and in return adopted those facets of their societies we find of use. 

I certainly do not deny that I am used to other ways, and I do have mild concern about the status and expectations for the fairer sex, but I have researched and asked questions and believe I have reasonable understanding of your Society in this regard, and accept that .   Parthia has long had ways now peculiar to our nation, but  seeking and embracing knowledge is held in high regard. In our nation is has long been accepted that the exceptional are more capable than the average, regardless of if they were born son or daughter. To do so we have embraced ideas from the Chinese and Greeks of testing and civil service, so that merit can rise.  The success of nobility in both that field and the military demonstrate their bloodlines exceptional nature.  Embracing the bright and talented, regardless of circumstances of birth and a willingness to  but adopt new ideas ideas on seeking and growing such talent where it occurs in the more common folk has made our nation far stronger and more resilient.  The ideas, grown at home, and taken from abroad, aid this.  To this day,  windtowers cool our buildings , the underground aqueducts we call quanats serve our fields and cities... even at the deserts edge... our yachels provide ice in the desert – all are ancient science that still help a modern Parthia thrive, but seem limited to our former borders as others beyond them have not embraced them.  We certainly have our ancient ways, for example our historians believe our Scythian ancestors seem to have given rise to  Greek tales marveling of female warriors known as Amazons. Clever and capable women are a feature of our history we do not see greatly reflected in the grand states around us, which we consider to our benefit.

Your Majesty, please rest assured I am not seeking your Son's hand to dictate change to him. It is my hope and expectation we will cherish each other, and he and I will thrive in his chosen home in your 'wild west',  while we walk life's paths together."

The Sultan listens to all of Princess Shirin's words carefully, with a severe eye.  Then he spends a few moments in thought, fingers steepled, before he speaks.  "Civil service examinations.  That is quite the useful concept, I will have someone explore that possibility."  He smiles broadly.  "I wanted to see how you acted under pressure.  I had heard that you kept your head under fire, but court can be a completely different sort of battlefield.  And while my son would like to spend forever in the cockpit of a plane or in wide open spaces, he will have to stand here one day, as will you and your children and their children."  He stands up and begins to pace while talking.   "The Aztec people are an old people, but the Sultanate is relatively new.  My people have a long history, and much of it is bloody.  Islam tempered the fires, and after the civil wars the Sultanate rose and my fathers turned it into a functional society.  My own reign has been one of advancements, triumphs, and losses.  The threat of Rome drove even our hardliners to grudgingly allow women to join, and they have performed most admirable service.  The determined stand in the Caicos preserved our strategy of the Outer Gates and shocked Rome and a few other powers enough for diplomacy to later solve our issues.  Unfortunately the Mayans are an eternal threat it seems, but maybe in your time they will be less of a threat."  Sultan Ali the 8th considered the Princess.  "I concur with my son's opinion, you will make a fine Queen some day."  He turns to the Prince, "You have my blessing, go to her King and obtain his and our ministers will make the necessary arrangements, you are hereby on leave until you have performed your duties as Crown Prince."  He smiles "And since you are forbidden to fly until you have performed those duties, I know you will do so with great haste". 

Turning back to Princess Shirin, "I am glad that Allah has seen fit to bring a fine Princess to this kingdom."  He looks down at the ship plans on his desk, and chuckles.  "An engagement gift" he says, taking a pen and writing Princess Royal on the plans before handing them to the naval officer.  "I look forward to meeting the rest of your family, as you will ours". 

The evening is another quiet meal, with only a few senior officials and their wives dining with the Royal Family and their guests as plans are made for departure to Acapulco and on to home.  Prince Ali explains that he will have to wait a couple of months as arrangements are cabled back and forth for an official audience in Parthia, and travel arrangements for his impending departure, as there is a likelihood that a Royal Wedding would occur in Parthia depending upon the wishes and negotiations of the respective royal families.

In the morning, as Prince Wiktor's luggage is being packed for departure, the palace butler walks up with a case.  "I believe you are forgetting an item" he says, setting the case on the counter.  Inside is a simply but well crafted silver and walnut cane......

"I can't forget to pack what I don't yet have," Wiktor replied. 

He opened the case, whistling at the cane in appreciation.  "Very nice.  And fast, if this was truly done overnight."  He set his own cane aside and tried out this new one.  It worked fine.  Perhaps a tad longer than he'd have preferred.

He felt about for the catch and watched the narrow blade slide out.  "Very nice.  But I repeat myself."  He turned and lifted the cane to should height, jabbing at thin air as if he was wielding a shortsword. 

"I'm much obliged, Sergeant Major, and would be pleased to pay for this - but if that is not acceptable, then kindly tell me whom I should send a token of my appreciation once I've returned home to select one."

"It is a gift of the Crown, there is no expense" is the simple reply before the Sgt. Major retires.  Wiktor notices the damascus waves on the short blade, and the care taken in its construction despite the very short notice.  Though with a 'blade culture' that still allows judicial combat, skilled blademakers were almost guaranteed to exist in a major city.

The evening included a much larger dinner than the previous ones, with over a hundred of the Aztec Nobility and senior officials present.  The subject of most of their conversations changed immediately upon the announcement of "His Royal Highness, Ali, Crown Prince of Aztecs, with Her Royal Highness, Shirin, Princess of Parthia".  The specific use of the word 'With' as opposed to the more typical 'And' expressing what was later buzzing in the room, that Shirin and Ali were affianced.  For those nobility and officials who were happy for the couple, it was an occasion to celebrate and to congratulate, and toasts of tequila flowed freely throughout the night.  For those nobility who had hoped to tie their own families to the throne, it was a disappointment, and the expressions on a few faces noted those who would not be wishing the couple well.  And for those who were in the Queen's or Sultan's inner circle, it was confirmation, with conversations turned towards planning a royal wedding.  The senior diplomats immediately began discussing what gifts and addresses should be made to the Parthian Court.

"That is, uh, quite the coin," Jan observed after the parting ceremonies had concluded and the Union contingent were walking along the pier to Bug

"It must weight a tonne," Jadwiga added.

"It's not that heavy," Wiktor said of the hand-sized, solid gold disk he'd been gifted by the Sultan, "But it is heavy.  It's basically a key to the Sultanate.  I show it and I'm in."

"Nice.  Not very handy, but nice," Jan said.

"And a new cane?" Jadwiga noted.

"Weaponized.  Apparently put together overnight for me after an old veteran showed me a few moves," Wiktor confirmed, now using this new implement to help walk.

"Gun?" Jadwiga queried.

"Blade.  How would I aim a gun like this?"

"I don't know," she said.  "So a key, a cane, and a bride.  You've made out like a bandit, you know."

The prince nodded.  "I won't disagree."

"Is there a date?"

"Spring.  Probably May," he shrugged.  "The households will work out the details.  My job at this point is pretty much just to show up and say that I do."

"And the honeymoon?"

"Easy, dear," Jan chuckled.

"Don't know.  The Sultan offered to host somewhere in one of their colonies but I'm thinking I'd like to stay close to home.  Maybe just cruise the Baltic," Wiktor said.  "We'll see."

"There's a lot of ships here all of a sudden," Jadwiga noted, pointing towards a nearby battleship.

"Our hosts have suddenly remembered that there are significant and large scale naval exercises taking place right now," her husband mused. 

"You'd think they would not have forgot...oh," Jadwiga said. 

"Yes," Wiktor nodded.  "Exactly."

"Well that's nice of them," she ventured.

"It is but at the same time, maybe it sends a message that we need their protection in the Pacific.  Remember they conveniently turned up after the incident with the World Cruise, too," Wiktor replied.  "This is exactly the kind of fuss I wanted to avoid this whole trip, but they have their orders and I understand from Kontradmiral Cech that he in turn has orders to steam in their company until we reach the canal zone."

They arrived at the gangway to their ride home and Bug's band struck up the national anthem.  "How's your leg holding up?" Jan asked over the music.

Wiktor looked down at his leg, recalling what it had been like in the days after he'd been shot.  "It's getting better.  I'll need it for embarkation but I guarantee I'm walking down the cathedral aisle without it."

Vice Admiral Tariq looked out from the aft bridge railing, at the Vilnius ship.  "Somewhat different in design to ours" the Officer of the Deck says, idly.  "Different yes.  Built for a  Northern climate with violent seas and cold winters", is the reply.  "But like us, caught between multiple foes".  "Indeed, but times have changed.  Rome is a friendly neutral, and the Sultanate and Parthia do appear to be entering into the oldest alliance of royal houses.  Times have become very interesting indeed, since I was the captain of a small old cruiser."

Steaming in column, the ships reached the Canal Zone, the flagship, HMS Victory turning and firing saluting charges from her outboard secondaries before the 2nd Fleet turns in succession, steaming North.

The Parthian Embassy was an expected location for the Princess Royal to visit, but the circumstances were not quite as expected.  The welcome glad tidings of the engagement were sent speeding through the global undersea cable network to Parthia and Iskandar, King of Kings. The second cable used snaked along the Caribbean coast through Trinadad and south to Ria De Janerio. The third message flew up a mere branch line up the seacoast, connecting to the Parthian lands of Kalifern. Part of the message was then relayed inland, over the grand mountain range, to the Satrapy of Kutsinduka and the burgeoning city by the Great Salt Lake.  While the lands of the Northwest had been divided among many peoples

The spread of Aztec and Pueblo agricultural practices had centuries before led to the peoples of Kalifern to settle in small villages surrounded by tended fields and further lands for gathering. But between the great mountain ranges of the Merican West, the 'Great Basin', the lands were too arid to support this, and so the peoples tended to either clustered in small towns by the rivers or continued their semi nomadic ways, but most considered themselves some form of Shoshone people, except those who had pushed to the Southeast and chosen a new name, becoming the  Comanche. 

Smallpox and other great plagues were very late coming across the deserts to the south-as its carriers failed to make such a journey- and had not descended on these lands until the early 1800s, when steamers, and early rail systems cut travel times.  The resulting depopulation left great empty spaces. 
Here, the Parthians had negotiated for space for their towns and applied the lessons hard won in their South East, to make previously arid areas bloom and prosper.   

The Comanche though, they had separated from the rest, become another people with new ways, and new allies.  The Cable from the Princess Royal, in her function as Heir, and holding delegated authority, was quite explicit that the Apaches were to be considered as a potential Foe, and the Shoshone were to be asked to assist in locating and expelling them, as well as active cooperation with the Aztec border guards.   That order would be acted on by the Satrap immediately, on the Heirs authority, while Parthian Officialdom slowly ground through the process of evaluating and recommending to it's political masters, and then, if authorized, the slow process of implementing.

The departure from Acapulco was a formal affair, with the Aztec 2nd fleet's training exercise by pure happenstance allowing them to serve as advance guard.

A procession down to the harbor, a formal if moist eyed departure by Aspas and Shirin to their beloved.   It was a fine clear evening several hours before sunset, the ships coming up to steam and leaving the bucolic harbor behind. The Parthian squadron took up position in the rear, following the Wilno ships out to sea. Once clear of the harbor, there was a mild surprise among the sailors above deck when, instead of turning North and putting the sun behind them to head for Peris Bay,  the squadron put the sun off the starboard bow as it followed the Aztec and Wilnos force to the South East, with the formation increasing speed to 18knots for the 1700nm journey to the Canal.   The Palang & Babr class "corvettes" or "oceanic" destroyers had been designed for long distance Pacific travel, which also meant they could sustain 22knots for 2100nm, allowing them to move ahead of the joint force, and then drift, using their hydrophones to listen for submarine threats – or even the screws of heavy warships over the horizon.  The Avia Aristarbara also served in it's intended role. While half the airgroup was absent, the remaining planes allowed for a scout to be placed airborne each morning and evening, wile the fighters sat ready for scramble.  In the event, the journey was uneventful, but a useful exercise. 

The transit of the canal marked a first for the Parthian Navy, and Royal Family.  This occasioned a second 'goodbye' between Wiktor and Aspas, while Shirin had to content herself with sending the letters written on the trip to her dear Ali.  Over the course of the courtship, she had written dozens, and had noted her penmanship had returned to form, only now she could depart the pure Greek and add lines in Aztec, to suit her future home.

January 1929.....The West

It was cold.  Bitterly, biting, cold.  But they had done it.  With the aid of the snow and cold forcing the Comanche into the canyons and valleys, the Apache Rangers had tracked them.  And with a lot of work, and grumbling, the heavily wrapped Snake Warriors and QFLC had made it.  Sgt. Major Metzli turned to her counterpart as they sat on the bumper of one of the armored trucks while the artillery set up.  "No way we were going to be denied this.  Not after they tried to kill the Prince on our watch."  The larger, male, Sgt. Major nodded, his taciturn mood an artifact of the sleet peppering his scarf-wrapped face. 

No one in their right mind would execute a military campaign in the winter, but with the improvements to logistics it was technically possible, and with the sheer rage and the solemn issuance of a 'Writ of Execution' from Tenochtitlan, the two brigades had engaged in their grim task.  There had been a few skirmishes with the Apache Scouts, but the Comanche must have known what they had courted, and they had made every effort to evade.  However, between the Apache Scouts and their Shoshone counterparts working for the Parthians, the Comanche had been prevented from crossing into Parthian lands by the Great Salt Lake, and finally they were holed up in this canyon complex to the South, named after a Christian explorer who had found it and called it Zion.  With a river running through it and some grazing and game, the Comanche could in theory wait out the whole winter in there, and when the upper passes cleared try to make good an escape.  As it stood, only a bighorn sheep could exit the valley except through this single exit that was clear of snow, the impassability of the others had been confirmed by the Scouts of both nations. 

The mortars were arrayed, the rockets were arranged, and the field guns were set.  Carbines were loaded, pistols were checked, scimitars were nervously fingered in their scabbards as the dismounted troops prepared for a hard fight in the canyons.  Field hospitals were already being set up along with a full headquarters, there was no leaving this desolate place until the Comanches surrendered or were eradicated.  Throughout the evening the men and women worked, and then posts were held throughout the night.

In the morning, the weather cleared.  The drone of an aircraft was heard, and a Royal Aztec Navy marked Blackburn began orbiting the valley, the officers in the aircraft able to spot targets for artillery and relay the information to the wireless in the command tent.  After an hour of preparation, the big guns began firing, striking the likely camps with shellfire and scattering the Comanche horses.  The Comanche defenders near the mouth of the valley felt the wrath of the first rocket artillery fired in anger, the big slow-flying rockets able to bring much more explosive to bear in a cacophony of explosions that ripped up and down the valley.  Then it was the turn of the infantry.  Supported by mortars, the dismounted cavalry advanced with their armored cars functioning as mobile pillboxes, machine guns lashing any point of fire with tracers.

For nine hours the full wrath of modern warfare hammered at what had been called the finest light cavalry of the Great Plains.  Anything that tried to move was spotted and eventually shelled.  Any position that shot at a trooper was hammered with mortars and machine guns.  Finally, in the evening, as the inexorable advance began to pause for the night, the rockets being moved up to restart the events the next morning.....a bloodied Comanche came forward.  With a white flag. 

..............

In the weeks that followed the Comanche that surrendered were marched South into Apache Lands, the men that had survived the campaign into prison camps until they could be vetted and the women and children into reservations, to be turned into Aztecs, their language forbidden, their names written in annals only as a people destroyed for their treason, and their ancient enemies the Apache their caretakers as the power of the vast Comanche Nation was broken forever because they had dared to join the Mayans in their schemes. 


---------------

Meanwhile, in Veracruz, Tenochtitlan, and throughout Azteca, construction and remodeling was progressing apace.  This was the first Royal Wedding to a foreign royal, yet another sign that the nation was growing up in the eyes of the international community.  While some Imams were incredulous that the Crown Prince had chosen to join with a non-believer, others were quick to remind that the Parthians were considered 'People of the Book' and held to the same religious freedoms that the Sultanate allowed and had resulted in such advances as the Amalgamation with the Apache and improved relations with many nations. 

The palace was prepared and the exterior repainted.  Thousands of workers made small repairs to the parade route, ensuring all of the roads would be immaculate and building the stands for the dignitaries and the Royal Family to watch the Procession from the Grand Mosque to the Palace.  Tens of thousands of tasks to be done in the intervening year between the engagement and the wedding.

March, 1929,

With the pending nuptials approaching, and the wedding of Wiktor and Aspas also rapidly approaching, fast cables carried correspondence around the globe betwixt Ali and Shirin.  Having heard of the campaign that ultimately conquered and captured the Comanche, Shirin cautions Ali to not be rash in dealing with them, it was not the whole people that shot at them, but a part of them riled up by Mayan agents.  Ali relents, and after speaking with the Sultan, travels into Apache lands to the main camp housing the Comanches.  Once there, an old man, a medicine man of some distinction but not part of the assassination plot, is brought before him.  Ali details his terms, the Comanche will be granted a reservation on a portion of their old range, under the watchful eye of the Aztecs and Apaches.  The women, children, and old will be released once the spring rains come.  In return, they must give up all those who directly participated in the plot to murder the Crown Prince and his Princess Royal.  And every boy, when he reaches his majority, must surrender himself to the Sultan for service for ten years. The old man reluctantly agrees, and Ali tells him at the end "Shirin, the Princess Royal, asked me not to kill all of you, and so your lives are spared for my beloved". 

A thorough investigation is undertaken, without any of the shortcuts that sometimes plague frontier investigations, like torture.  Eventually a series of minor merchants, all seemingly subverted to one degree or the other, had been paid to convey several crates of weapons and ammunition, along with a Mayan agent, into the interior of Arizona, to Comanche lands......

Chichan was exhausted.  Never large by anyone's standards, he was decidedly thin after having evaded the Apache through the brush for weeks, finally getting out of the desert and to civilization, and hopefully his way back to the People's Republic.  Sneaking into the shop near the railroad station, he rustles around until he finds the lantern, lighting it.  And sitting there....are two Aztec inspectors, pistols leveled at him. 

Three weeks later, Chichan is let out of the back of the truck, his ever present guard right behind him as the diminuitive agent is led towards the narrow footbridge between Oaxaca and the PRM.  "Here" is the only word said, and a sack is tossed to him.  "Walk" is said, and he walks out onto and across the bridge, met by his own soldiers as he reaches the other side.  Taken to a People's Internal Security station, the sack is opened.  Inside, are the heads of Chichan's agents that he had developed in Azteca.  And a letter.......


People's Republic of Maya,

I have been aware of your activities for some time.  But your poorly executed attempt to kill the Crown Prince and royalty of two other great powers, is beyond the pale.  You will desist from these actions.  Should you make any further attempts, you will have brought down the whole world upon your heads, and it will not stop until there is nothing afloat with the Mayan flag.  Your cities and means of production will be destroyed.  Your aircraft that you held us with years ago are now obsolete, and no power will sell modern ones to you.  You well know that hundreds more aircraft have been produced in the Sultanate, and this does not count the power of the combined world.  You will be left alone to wallow in your utopia, leave the world alone.

Ali

May 1st, 1929,

HMS Sol gleamed in the sunlight as the tugs pushed her away from the pier and into the channel.  A ship so new to the fleet her dockyard paint had not yet been chipped.  Fresh from a quick shakedown cruise, a deep rumble softly echoed from her lone funnel as each of her five engine compartments, containing four of the big twenty-four cylinder marine diesels producing a bit more than two thousand horsepower apiece fired up, generating just over forty-two thousand shaft horsepower at the redline.  Power busses were checked, and breakers closed, sending current to the four big electric motors aft, and with the water churning to froth behind her, nearly eight thousand tons of Royal Yacht accelerated rapidly to twenty-five knots.

In the bridge, Commander Zoraya stood there, supervising the evolution as her first 'large' command smoothly exited the harbor and set course to cross the Gulf.  This ship would not use the Yucatan Straits, the chance that the Mayans would seize the opportunity too great to ignore.  Beside her stood her primary passenger, technically her senior both in rank and in station, and she was immensely uncomfortable.  Speaking in a low tone, she says "Your Highness, you should be in command, you outrank me and it's proper for the royal to be the titular captain of this ship".  He chuckles a reply "I am an aviator barely qualified in surface command, while you are an experienced combat commander, Captain.  You know more about this ship than I ever will, it'll suffice for me to be a watchstander, I need the experience on my record after all."  Moving on from the rank structure, he continues "How fast will she go Captain?"  "Twenty-seven knots, and maybe a touch more in the right conditions.  With our fuel, we can do twenty five all the way to the port, though it'll be cutting our fuel close, about five hundred nautical miles left in the tanks when we arrive.  We could do twenty halfway around the world."  "Good, I think we should try to set the record then, if you believe we can do it."  Commander Zoraya smiles slightly "Anxious to get to something?  Or someone?"  Ali grins back "Maybe a little."

Hours later, the clear waters of the Azteca Gulf coam off the sharp prow of Sol as she cuts through the water, engine bank thrumming.  Just over 10 days to the Union.

April, 1930, Veracruz

The City is abuzz, both with hosting the first fleet review since the Coronation nearly twenty years ago, and the site where the numbers of ships would arrive to bring royal guests from numerous kingdoms for the wedding of Princess Shirin of Parthia to Crown Prince Ali.  Crews work on the roads and boulevards, making any repairs they can find and generally beautifying the city streets.  Hoteliers have their own crews making last minute renovations, preparing for the thousands of guests expected to attend the review.  Every venue in the city is booked, and the roads and rail lines are packed with all sorts of foodstuffs and items being shipped in from throughout the Sultanate, as pride and profit drive every restaurant and shop to be ready for the economic impact of this much royalty in one place.  Police prepare barricades for the parades, while investigators run down leads on any possible threat to eliminate it quickly and quietly.  And in the harbor, the painting of the ships is underway, sailors replacing worn pieces of decking and prepping brightwork as others are assembling the stands for the guests to view the fleet.

Tis my cue to post a cruise, eh?

Quote from: The Rock Doctor on January 11, 2024, 02:48:42 PM
Tis my cue to post a cruise, eh?

Just teeing it up.  Some will do more than others.   Obviously all nations are welcome to attend.

Quote from: TacCovert4 on January 11, 2024, 05:10:08 PM

Quote from: The Rock Doctor on January 11, 2024, 02:48:42 PM
Tis my cue to post a cruise, eh?

Just teeing it up.  Some will do more than others.   Obviously all nations are welcome to attend.

Remind me if there's a specific day?

Quote from: The Rock Doctor on January 11, 2024, 05:13:24 PM

Quote from: TacCovert4 on January 11, 2024, 05:10:08 PM

Quote from: The Rock Doctor on January 11, 2024, 02:48:42 PM
Tis my cue to post a cruise, eh?

Just teeing it up.  Some will do more than others.   Obviously all nations are welcome to attend.

Remind me if there's a specific day?

The wedding week will be the 19th through the 22nd, avoiding all holy days.  The wedding itself will be on tuesday the 20th, the fleet reviewed by the royal family on the 21st and departure on the 22nd.  Arrival the week before is obviously preferred.

Quote...The City is abuzz, both with hosting the first fleet review since the Coronation nearly twenty years ago, and the site where the numbers of ships would arrive to bring royal guests from numerous kingdoms for the wedding of Princess Shirin of Parthia to Crown Prince Ali...

Where the Parthian ships pass,
by Suez, Gibraltar & Atlantic or by the Solomons and Pacific?

Quote from: Jefgte on January 12, 2024, 12:33:27 AM

Quote...The City is abuzz, both with hosting the first fleet review since the Coronation nearly twenty years ago, and the site where the numbers of ships would arrive to bring royal guests from numerous kingdoms for the wedding of Princess Shirin of Parthia to Crown Prince Ali...

Where the Parthian ships pass,
by Suez, Gibraltar & Atlantic or by the Solomons and Pacific?

Not sure, that's up to Kirk.

April 20th, 1930

With the sponsorship of the Crown Prince getting the ear of the Sultan,  a periodical magazine is started.  Under the AEGIS of the Royal Aztec Navy Institute, the professional development college of the Navy, "Proceedings" is begun.   Filled with essays and discussions from all ranks throughout the naval service, it holds two unique features by royal decree.  Any published article cannot be used against the author's professional career, and no one may be challenged to a duel over a published article. The expressed intent is to find hidden gems within the navy and encourage development to prevent the single-minded focuses that had led to naval reverses.

April 31st, 1930

Command Chief Warrant Officer Al Salem looked at the new ship.  "It is pretty, and has a lot of new capabilities.  But I'm not sure about this lack of serious minelaying ability."  "I agree sir, I guess they're going to build something else for that, and we're to pick up a lot of anti-submarine rates?" his CWO replied.  "That is what Fleet is sending.  We're about to see a lot of changes."

The MS-28 Offshore Patrol Vessel was the replacement for the MS-1 Minesweeping Patrol Vessel.  Similarly sized, the new ships eschewed the coal fired boilers for marine diesels, and had a more significant and serious armament package to the old ship.  But aside from the minesweeping gear, the ship was redesigned.  More range, more armament, and more technical equipment for fending submarines off of convoys.  The ship was no longer simply a coastal patrol minesweeper, it was now a small trans-Atlantic escort. 

With the new ships were coming other changes.  The MS-1 community had always been a bit insular.  As they were specialists, there were very few officers, most of them being squadron commanders or higher level staff officers in charge of the entire MS-1 force, while these small ships with their crews numbering as little as 50 men at times were commanded by Warrant Officers, long service personnel who were specialists in their roles.  Now, with the ASW and surface gunnery capabilites of the new ships, they were considered an excellent training ground for junior officers destined for later roles in Destroyers or Cruisers.  The MTB-GTB and Submarine communities already had their tracks, but with the MTB-GTB track beginning to dry up as ships got older and weren't replaced, the OPV-Big Hull track was apparently the new one being formed.  The sixty crew aboard the new OPV would still be commanded by a Command Chief Warrant Officer, but under him would be a number of midshipmen on their final summer before graduation, or ensigns on their first tour before going to additional schools to prepare them for roles aboard the fleet's larger warships.  Partly because the skippers of these vessels were very senior, averaging twenty years of service, and partly because the OPV, like the MS fleet before it, was one of the fleet elements that stayed near constantly at sea, in short tours of typically two weeks, with maintenance in between, while the larger fleet ships would spend months in port betwixt cruises.

April 16th, 1930

"They did WHAT!" the Sultan said, listening to the briefing of the Union's arrival at Veracruz. 

"The Mayans attempted to interfere, there was some contact between a Mayan Cruiser and one of the Union's ships.  Based on the scuttlebutt, there's some damage to the ship, probably both ships." the Commander doing the briefing replied.

"Your Majesty, the Diplomatic Corps has naturally condemned the Mayan's reckless action in the strongest language.  The Mayans are claiming that the Union ship ran into them while they were peacefully sailing in their exclusive economic waters."  Minister Abidi said from his chair.

"Admiral, what are my options?" the Sultan asks the First Sea Lord.

"Your Majesty, we could ignore it, after all, the Union is capable of condemning the action.  We could also step up patrols in the area."

"No, a handful more ships would encourage the Mayans to reciprocate in escalation.  They want attention.  How soon could you put a strong squadron to sea if we needed it?"

"Twenty-Four Hours, your Majesty.  The 1st Fleet is all manned for the fleet review, we'd only need to cut orders."

"Then I believe we have a course of action.  We'll do a training exercise for the benefit of 1st Fleet and our guests.  The Mayan war was when we were nearly at our weakest in both hulls and strength, with a lot of those hulls being crash programs from the Caicos War.  Today, we've bulked up our fleet with modern ships they cannot match, and are far closer to parity of numbers as well.  Send 1st Fleet out, through the Yucatan Strait, and back again.  Remind the Mayans that we can, and give them no time to scramble their own strong squadron in response."

"As you wish your Majesty"

-----Night of the 16th, Veracruz:

Boilers light off throughout 1st Fleet's Anchorage as small boats rush to and fro, bringing the last sailors and officers to their ships.  By dawn on the 17th, everyone in the Union Fleet is treated to the sight of 1st Battle Squadron, HMS Sublimis, Monarch, Majestic, Magnificent, and Mainstay, steaming out of the roads in column, ships polished and painted for the review.  Flanking them are sixteen destroyers, and ten large torpedo boats in their own division columns.  Leading the Battleships was HMS Eagle, command ship for the Destroyer Divisions.  Already at sea, the ships of 3rd and 4th Cruiser Squadrons, the powerful frigates, led by the Flagship razee HMS Uhlan, form up with another 8 Destroyers, and the carrier HMS Martinique, steaming for the Yucatan.

April 25th, 1930

The fleet steams back into the roads of Veracruz, the Battle Squadrons flanked by the large torpedo boats and Destroyers.  HMS Martinique and the 4th Cruiser Squadron's Weapon class cruisers led by HMS Uhlan remain in the Caribbean and Gulf, providing a presence patrol. 

"Did the Mayans respond?"

"Sire, they sent a few aircraft up that were intercepted and turned back, older types from the last war.  One cruiser that attempted to shadow, probably the same one that brushed the Union ship, was thoroughly bullied by Uhlan and a pair of Lakes that forced it to turn away just after it got a good visual of the fleet arrayed in battle formation.  No other Mayan ships came out after that."

"Good.  I'm not courting a restart of the war.  But the Mayans needed to see that their antics around Veracruz a few years ago have put certain things in place.  They should take some time to reflect on the changes, that First Fleet is a much more powerful formation built to take out their own fleet in direct action, and that we can scramble it into the straits on such short notice.  Let's get through the wedding before we have to contend with Mayan stupidity again"

"Allah Willing, Sire"

May 17th, 1930

Crown Prince Ali steps onto the fantail of HMS Martinique, where he is 'technically' the CAG, although his deputy CAG is another Commander deemed fully competent to step into the role in just a few days on a permanent basis.  He turns to the sailor on watch.  "Any sign?"

"None sir" the seaman replies.  "I'm sure the Captain will tell you if there's been any word"

Ali smiles.  "Of course he will.  And I can just pull the communications logs and see their progress.  But it's like when you're steaming back into port and hoping to see your sweetheart on the pier.  It's still nice to just look sometimes."

Ali steps off the fantail to go about his morning routine.  And order up a Falcon flight for him and some of the new pilots with some dummy bombs for the range.  This concept of making bombing attacks while in a dive for more accuracy was looking promising and could be a real winner in battle when the enemy has fighter coverage that can make short work of slow and low torpedo planes.  After that.... maybe a bit of scouting off the coast  before landing. 

Sgt. Major Metzli leans on her cane in Veracruz, staring at the formation before her.  "Alright Ladies!" she barks, "Her Highness will be here in just a few days.  She's not some wallflower princess, she's seen the elephant.  So you'd better look sharp and know what you're doing.  Here are your new swords, these are Parthian-pattern Cavalry Sabers, made especially for the Princess Royal's Own."  Each of the cavalrywomen take their Pulwar and it's paired Pesh-Kabz and attach them, replacing their scimitars.  Sgt. Major Metzli, and the young Captain Kenji inspect each of the cavalrywomen, taking special care to ensure that each of the new accoutrements designed special with this uniform to blend Parthian and Aztec styles,  are in their proper places.

OOC:  This might be the largest concentration of aircraft carriers in one place to date.  Ali should be delighted!

OOC:  He's probably going to tour.....as well as look at a variety of options of aircraft and aircraft handling.....the Sultanate has been pushing hard on its aircraft techs.....so it's got current top of the line aviation

{Aboard HMS Zealand}

"Sir, Parthian Fleet sighted clearing the Strait!" the yeoman says, passing the message from the flying boat that was on patrol in anticipation of the Parthian delegation, and their new princess, arriving.  Ali's heart begins beating fast and the captain simply nods at him, giving him clearance to go to the ready rooms and get dressed rather than remain on the bridge. 

HMS Zealand turns into the wind, stack pouring smoke as her turbines bring her up to her top speed of 29 knots.  On her deck, biplanes sputter to life as they come off the aft elevator, warming their engines up in preparation.  In the point position is a flight of Falcons, and Ali steps across the deck, clambering into the cockpit of the warmed-up bird.  As the yellow-attired flagman motions, then turns, salutes, and points down the deck, Ali returns his salute before running the radial engine to full power, the unladen aircraft leaping into the air, winging off to the East.

(from Parthian thread)... The next two days were uneventful. Once past the strait, the force continued into the night, before swinging Southwest, keeping well off the Mayan Yucatan.  The nighttime leg once again at 14 knts, followed by an increase to 16knots during the daytime, to adjust the arrival time at Veracruz to mid afternoon.

Prince Ali's mixed force of fighters and prototype dive bombers from the HMS Zealand  was the first to encounter the Parthian scout-bombers. As arranged this allowed the Zealand's and her cruisers to fall in with the Asbara armored cruisers and provide a vanguard for the fleet, leading them to Veracruz.

The Parthian fleet swept down the Gulf of Azteca,  echeloned in front were the four armored cruisers, the carrier-cruiser, and with the two cruisers making the trailing edge towards the Mayan coast. The battleships in oblique order and their liners and fleet support vessels formed the centerpiece of the sentry cruisers and were trailed by the fighter and seaplane carriers. Corvettes moved around and in front of the formation, sprinting and drifting. Search aircraft fanned in front and long the southern flank.

The arrival of Princess Shirin and the Parthian fleet at Veracruz was an occasion of great excitement for the people. Led by the Aztec Squadron with the Zealand , the 42 vessels of the Fleet slowly made their way past the breakwaters. Excited children watched the Parthian assemblage, slip past, featuring ships of all sizes from battleships and armored cruisers down to corvettes. They guessed if the Princess was on one of the passenger liners, a lean armored cruiser, one of the flattops, but many guessed correctly she would be on one of the great battleships. While the turbo-electric drive on the battleships allowed the propellers to be used to assist fine turns and docking, in a foreign port it was polite to let the tugs finish the procedure. By time that labor had been finished, motor launches from an trailing liner had delivered the first of the veteran troops of Imperial Guard Immortals  ashore. Meeting with their Aztec minders, their Gray & Green ranks were in position when the gangplanks came down on Vazya and Vidyudabhi .  Preceded their on-board contingent of guards, Immortals  for the Emperor, and Rangers for the Princess, the Royals disembarked on schedule, to be greeted by the Aztec welcoming party. 

As the pair of Parthian Flagships docked, the touring car sped through the streets of Veracruz, the pair of Eagle Warriors in the front violently motioning as they ordered people out of the way and barricades opened.  As the fleet had steamed into Veracruz, Ali had landed at the aerodrome, being conveyed by the Zealand's radio spotting aircraft, which could double for 'carrier onboard delivery'.  One of two aboard the carriers, the Blackburn Aviation Blackburn was an ungainly plane, but its relatively spacious cabin afforded the ability to use telescopes and charts and a radio....or for one prince to use a mirror as he quickly dressed in his whites, gold wings with the CAG wreath atop his double row of medals from the Mayan War.

Fortunately, the car arrived with some minutes to spare, and as the Parthians began their disembarkation, Ali stepped up beside the Sultan and Queen to greet them under the awning specially prepared for the occasion.  Cheers erupted throughout the city at the arrival of their new Princess, and not a few ship captains looked at their XOs in the harbor at the might of the fleet present.  While many nations had sent ships for the review, only a fool in Maya, or even Rome, could ignore the near congruent fleet speeds and maneuverabilities and armor of the RAN's battle line and the Parthian Squadron, that like the Prince and Princess, the two seemed almost made for one another.  And that Parthia had more than two squadrons of the size that had just arrived.  The Sultanate was proud, but also well aware that it was the junior partner, the major regional power stepping onto the world stage.

The Eagle Warriors matched their Immortal counterparts, and a literal cordon of soldiers lined the path from the gangplank to the reception, as the two royal families formally met for the first time, Emperor Iskandar and Sultan Ali the 8th acknowledging one another formally before Ali invited him formally into the Sultanate as a "Friend and soon to be part of the Family".  Along with the reception, Iskandar is shown the preparations even now underway in Drydock 1 at Veracruz, and the plans and model of HMS Royal Sovereign, the first of her type in Aztec Service.  All-Forward armament of two quad turrets mounting the brand new 450mm/45 gun, heavy armor, and a top speed of thirty knots, she would be the pride of the revitalized Aztec Navy moving forward into an era of fast battleships able to match the best Rome has to offer.

After the afternoon's reception, all parties retire briefly before the evenings' festivities, principally the ball, or rather balls, as various squadrons and ships, mercantile interests, and even bureaucrats also host their own balls at every hotel and night spot to be found in the city.  But none would be quite as splendid as the Royal Ball itself, with the head table a vast affair, bedecked with service of the finest delicacies in the Sultanate, and the finest tequilas and various cocktails mixed with fruits and even crushed ice.  Drill demonstrations by each of the warrior societies, a matching demonstration by the Immortals own drill team, dance troupes, and toasts from various dignitaries all preceded the toasts/speeches everyone present were awaiting.

Ali, Sultan of Aztecs, stood, the room hushing as he took the moment to straighten his jacket, giving everyone time to settle down.  "I have three daughters, and have hosted two of their weddings, and Allah willing I will see the third find he whom she is meant for.  But I was blessed with only one son, my first and heir.  Ninth of my name, he has grown into an officer and a gentleman, a decorated veteran of war and learned governor of Arizona province.  But as Allah spoke when he brought man into the world, it is not good for him to be alone.  My son has indeed found a companion, his equal and counterpart, and I am proud to introduce her as the soon to be Princess Royal of the Sultanate, in addition to her own title as Princess of Parthia.  We welcome her to her new home with open arms and hearts, and welcome the ideas and ideals she brings to us from Parthia.  And so, a Toast.  To Emperor Iskandar of Parthia, for being willing to part with such intelligence and beauty, and to the Princess Royal and Crown Prince."

Drinks flowed, followed by dancing late into the evening.

QuoteAll-Forward armament of two quad turrets mounting the brand new 450mm/45 gun, heavy armor, and a top speed of thirty knots,

An absolute unit, as the kids would say.

17 May 1930

"I feel like we've done nothing but climb," Gunther III Vasa remarked as he watched the scenery unfold along the railway. 

"There's a ways to go," Wiktor replied.  "The centre of the country's on quite a plateau.  Couple thousand metres above sea level, I think."

"You will feel the difference in air pressure in Tenochtitlan," Aspas chimed in.  "Moderate yourself accordingly."

"What does that mean?" Prince Piotr asked his mother.

"Perhaps you should ask Lady Aspas," Christine replied.

Piotr looked doubtful, but repeated the question.

Aspas smiled, although Wiktor sensed it was probably a fake smile.  "It means, Piotr, that we will tire sooner from physical activity such as dancing, so it is wise to rest more frequently than we normally would."

"I didn't want to dance anyway," Piotr noted.

"Very well," Aspas said.

"You'll have to dance a few times, Piotr, it's expected of all of us," Christine noted.

"Maybe your future wife will be one of your dance partners," Queen Sophie added.

Piotr looked like he might be ill. 

"Dancing is a wonderful sport, Piotr.  You can be good at it when you want to be," Christine sighed.  "Just watch your father and I when we take the floor; he is a natural."

"Unlike your uncle Wiktor," Gunther said.

"Uncle Wiktor didn't find a lot of formal balls in the jungles of South Eryka," Uncle Wiktor said.

"Watch Mom and Dad, Piotr.  You need to dance well to be king," Princess Edyta said, "Otherwise the people will overthrow you and become anarchists."

"No they won't," Piotr said.  "Besides, I'll be on my flagship.  A big one with a lot of guns.  Like the Parthians have."

"You can't be king and battleship captain at the same time, son, that's not how it works," Gunther chided.

"I'll be king," Piotr declared.  "I'll do what I want."

For Iskandar, the City tour had been  interesting, Shirin had spoke of the vibrant Aztec use of colored murals, and Iskandar had a feeling that 'Aztec look' might soon be a fad that swept the fashionable houses. The shipyards were also of interest, from design studies his  navy had done he could appreciate the final size resulting, and the sheer undertaking that involved, but given the structure of the Roman fleet, there were decided advantages.

The Royal Ball was a grand, and slightly strange event for Iskandar.  As Shahansah, he had ever been the host, bringing forth Parthian displays, so to be the guest was a pleasant change.  The drill teams and dance troupes made interesting contrasts in styles.  The meal was a grand one, offering dishes featuring ingredients rarely available in Parthia, making a delightful palette. Tequila was as hoped- very interesting- Iskandar had been looking forward to trying some ever since his briefings on the Sultanate's culture had discussed it.  According to his sources the best version of the liquor came from the blue agave, which was known to thrive on volcanic soils near it's namesake town. He had been expecting, well not wine, perhaps more like an anise-based Aragh.

The Sultan's toast was welcome and well spoken, and Iskandar had worked hard to reply in the Aztec tongue.

"We are honored by your words. My little sister is precious to me, and she has blossomed into a remarkable young lady. Crown Prince Ali is also a remarkable man of great skill and dash. Each is capable of great things in their own right, but together they make each other better. Bittersweet though her absence will be, it is worth it knowing her happiness with Crown Prince Ali."

....Drinks flowed, followed by dancing late into the evening.

May 17th, 1930

The trains leave one after the other, first the trains carrying the various royal parties, then a seemingly endless stream of trains filled with nobles, merchants, and others en route to Tenochtitlan for the wedding.  Hours later, the first trains arrive to a celebration, bands playing and gold and green bunting everywhere.  The Aztec and Parthian flags side by side as the trains stop and the royal parties disembark to great fanfare.  Throngs of well-wishers behind barricades with knots of stern looking policemen standing there with large riot batons, and further back a thin skirmish line of Eagle Warriors, equally stern, with swords and stocked pistols.   The royal parties get into the line of touring cars before driving through the massive stone and brick walls surrounding the old city, the large decorated steel gates braced open.  Looking up at 15 meters of wall, in places pocked with cannonball divots, it is obvious to anyone that the horrors of the civil war centuries ago had been awful to necessitate such measures.

Inside the old city, the network of causeways and bridges give the impression of the Palace and other associated buildings literally rising out of the water of the lake itself.  It's obvious that the construction of the wall regularized the lake and gave it an even shore, and from the inside the walls are a ring of offices and barracks with a ring road like the rim of a wheel with the Palace as its hub, the main causeways lined with gardens and other beautifying features belying their obvious martial utility.  The Foreign Ministry official attached to Emperor Iskandar's party tells him that the stone for the face of the outer walls came from razing the original pyramidal temples where human sacrifices were made down to their foundations and repurposing those foundations for the various buildings surrounding the Palace itself.

Arriving at the palace, the royal parties disembark, Emperor Iskandar and Princess Shirin being shown to the guest wing of the palace which has wholly been turned over to their use for their time as the family of the bride, and the Vilnius Party being shown to their quarters in the main residential wing.  To the annoyance of some, Prince Wiktor and Lady Aspas are shown an incredible amount of deference, second only to, and barely to Gunter III Vasa.

Outside the Palace, the members of Princess Shirin's Own, Parthian and Aztec, meet for the first time in person, each sizing up the other as soldiers do as the platoon-sized guard force begins to amalgamate under the watchful eye of Sgt. Major Metzli. 

Later in the evening, the various royals and high foreign nobility, along with select Aztec nobility, dine on the palace verandah, a much smaller and more intimate affair giving the assembled dignitaries the ability to speak more freely and without social requirements for speeches and toasts.  With the number of heads of state present, even the obligatory toast to the Sultan is declined by Sultan Ali. 

After dinner, the court musicians shift into popular dance songs from all over, and some of the nobility take to the flagstones under the stars.  Ali and Shirin rise and take to the floor, his charcoal grey coat and trousers with white tie complimenting the bright gold of her flowing dress as they turn around the floor.  Seated demurely, watching her brother and sisters, is Anacaona, the youngest of the Aztec Princesses, in a brilliant green dress with a white gold and diamond necklace accentuating her long black curls and active, dark eyes. 

The band struck up a slower, stately tune and Piotr rose.  Dressed in white, with a blue and black sash and accents of gold, he drew attention as he strode toward the Aztec seating area.  Several younger women watched with great interest, wondering if the tall, lean youth was coming to seek their company, but they were quickly disappointed.  Oblivious to their attention, Piotr bowed to Princess Anacoana.  "Your Highness, may I have this dance?"

She smiled.  "Your Highness, I would be delighted."

She held out her hand and he took it, gently helping her to her feet.  Servants slipped out of their path.  Dancing couples swirled and swooped around them as they reached the dance floor.

He turned and placed his right hand above her left hip, and took her right hand in his left, beginning to lead.  His movements were crisp and consistent, and she flashed a quick grin as one of her older sisters and a partner crossed behind the Polish Prince.  "You dance very well," she remarked.

"I've been studying since I was four," Piotr replied.  "My instructors were always commenting on how quickly I mastered the basics.  In fact..."


*****


"What a lovely girl," Princess Marie remarked in Old Swedish.  "They'd make a nice couple.  And really, the Aztecs are A-list now."

"She's definitely striking.  I love her hair," Queen Christine agreed. 

"Her hair is spectacular.  All the daughters have it," Marie nodded.  "Admit it, you'd love a grand-daughter with curls like that."

"Well, yes, but I'd prefer a grandson, obviously," Christine said.  "Still, he's only fourteen.  Too early to be thinking seriously about matchmaking anyway."

"Especially with her," Princess Edyta noted. 

"Why?  What's wrong with her?" her mother asked.

"Oh, nothing, probably," Edyta said.  "But look at her, Mother.  Her enthusiasm is visibly waning with every passing second."

"She's smiling."

"She's forcing herself to smile," Edyta retorted.  "Look at him.  His mouth hasn't stopped moving the entire time they've been dancing.  She probably already knows about the stag he shot last winter, his test scores in mathematics, and his thoughts on battleship architecture.  Oh, and that he'll be king."

"Really, Edyta?  Really?  Why are you always so hard on your brother?" Christine lamented.

"Somebody has to be," Edyta observed.

Princess Anacaona turned the floor with Prince Piotr, but what had started as an anticipated moment to dance with the relatively handsome foreigner, was quickly becoming an exercise in the patience and bearing that her tutors had impressed upon her.  As Piotr droned on about his accomplishments, his skills, and everything about himself without so much as a moment to breathe betwixt the barrage, Anacaona wondered to herself *why is he so different than Prince Wiktor, Wik was polite and kind and acted genuinely interested when he was here last, even though he is more than twice my age*.  Anacaona continues her steps, one two three one two three, with one furtive glance at Wiktor and Aspas momentarily expressing her growing sense of exasperation with her dance partner's braggadocio.

".......and that's why I was only awarded for my horseback riding, they did not think it was right to give medals to the future king of course but I had...." Piotr says

"Horseback Riding?" Anacaona interrupts.  "I love horseback riding."

"Wonderful" Piotr continues "I can show you a few things if you would like"

Anacaona gives a momentarily mischevious smirk towards Wiktor and Aspas.  "I would love that.  Some of us are going in the morning after breakfast and prayers, to the training lists, if you have the time of course" she replies.

"Sure, that sounds nice," Piotr agreed.  The music swelled to a crescendo and he went for the big finish, a deep dip that didn't seem to alarm Anacaona even with her hair brushing against the floor.  He brought her back up again, hearing a bit of faint applause he assumed was directed their way.  "Have your staff tell my staff when and where and I'll be there."

He walked her back to her seat, bowed as she curtseyed, and made a quick scan of the others present before turning back to rejoin his family.

"You looked magnificent out there," his grandmother remarked, breathing heavily after a spin around the floor with a Byzantine flag officer. 

"Thanks, Grandmother."

"Very nimble moves, young man," Marie added.

"Thanks, Auntie," Piotr said.  "She invited me to go out riding with her tomorrow."

"How lovely.  Perhaps you can show her a few things!" Christine suggested.

"Well, it depends on how good she is, right?" Piotr replied.  "Where's Edyta?"

"Oh, she's heading out to the floor now.  See, there.  A little fellow from Zealand, I think, asked her," Christine replied.

Piotr chuckled.  "He's just a kid."

"Nine or ten," Marie nodded.  "But he came up and introduced himself and asked very nicely, and your sister said yes."

The crown prince shrugged.  "Where's Father?"

"I'm not sure," Christine replied.  "Why?"

"Just curious, that's all.  Uncle and Lady Aspas are still dancing?"

"Well, they're newlyweds, Piotr.  You'll understand in time," Sophie said.

"Okay," Piotr said. 


*****


"I thought we were supposed to take it easy while we're acclimatizing," Wiktor murmured into his wife's ear.

"I am not tiring yet.  Are you?" Aspas asked.

"No, I'm fine."

"Then we should continue dancing until we are."

Wiktor grunted.  "The evening's young, Doctor.  Pace yourself."

"Yes, Your Highness," she said.  "Ali's young sister was giving us a peculiar look during the last number."

"Was it silent plea for rescue from Piotr?"

"Wiktor!  You slight your own flesh and blood," Aspas chided.  "No, it was the look of a young woman with a mind of her own."

"Nice," Wiktor said.  "I like those kinds of women."

"How fortunate for me."

"I don't mean like that."

"How fortunate for me," Aspas repeated.

"I'm going to shut up and focus on dancing," Wiktor said.

"How fortunate for me."

May 18th, 1930

As the heads of state from three nations and high level officials and bureaucrats from a half-dozen more get down to the business of the nigh endless meetings that always accompany such occasions, for the other guests there are numerous diversions laid in, from a fair of the various export goods of the Sultanate, to plays and concerts, to amusements for the children and young at heart.  One of these diversions is the openly available Lists at the Royal Stables, and gamekeepers standing by in the event a party wished to plan a ride further afield for a hunt. 

Princess Anacaona steps out of her car, walking purposefully towards a groom leading a black and white speckled pony.  Far unlike last night's dress, she is in a short tunic in red, broad flowing white trousers cinched at the waist and a red and white shemagh tied around her neck and over her hair, black riding boots complete the ensemble.  She takes the reins and looks at Prince Piotr as he strides up with a number of his family in tow.  "This is Starfire, he's my favorite horse" she says with a smile as she turns to the groom.  "Please go saddle another for Prince Piotr" she says, turning back to Piotr to say "You did plan on taking your turn at the course, or have you changed your mind?"

Reaching the gate past the stands, Piotr can see several marshals replacing small wicker targets onto stands along a circuitous route inside the racetrack portion of the downs.  At a swing of a green flag, a rider in similar dress to Anacaona spurs her horse to the gallop, steering with her knees as she strikes out with scimitar, targets flying off their stands with each stroke. 

"What's wrong with Piotr?" King Gunther III Vasa asked as he returned to the family's guest quarters. 

His son was sulking in a corner, eating popcorn and staring at - possibly even reading - a textbook on the history of Europe.

"He's upset because the Sultan's girl embarrassed him earlier," Queen Christine replied.  "How were your meetings?"

"Okay, I suppose.  Lots of different subjects.  Embarrassed how?"

"She invited him to ride and he thought she wanted him to teach her, but it turned out she wanted to show off her skills at cavalry stuff and surprised him with some local games he's obviously never tried before," his wife explained. 

"She didn't ask him to teach her, he just assumed it," Princess Edyta chirped.

"For Heaven's sake, Edyta, stop antagonizing your poor brother," Christine sighed.  "Just keep on with your schoolwork."

Edyta shrugged. 

"That sounds more like he embarrassed himself," Prince Wiktor said as he leaned against a wall.

"Well that's not fair at all!" Christine protested.  "She's a girl!  What was he to expect?"

"The athletic skill and competitiveness of her brother was clear to all when he visited Wilno.  The European perspective on gender does not apply here; their women fight as cavalry.  Wiktor and I described, multiple times and in detail, how they fought to defend us from the bandits," Lady Aspas said.  "I am not sure how one could see and hear these things and not assume that the Sultan's daughter would follow in her brother's footsteps."

"I wasn't paying attention," Piotr grumbled, not looking up from the book.

Aspas considered this.  "That is very plausible."

"Embarrassed or not, we are still very much on a working trip," Gunther said.  "There will be more social events, more riding, more dancing, and so on.  Whether you like it or not, Son, you'll have to be polite and civil with...uh...Anacaona, was it?  You can expect you'll have to dance with her at least once after the wedding.  We will not have relations between the Union and the Sultanate disrupted because you're in a mood."

"Whatever," Piotr said.

Gunther marched over and plucked the book out of his son's hands before crouching in front of him.  "Piotr, I'm tired of your attitude.  It's disrespectful, unbecoming, and frankly not befitting an heir to the throne."

"But I am the heir to the throne," Piotr said. 

"For now," Gunther said, and the boy's eyes widened.  "God willing, I'll be sitting on that throne for another twenty to thirty years.  A lot can happen in that time.  The Union could become a republic, for an example, or it could change the laws of succession.  They might adopt absolute primogeniture, in which case your sister would succeed me.  They might adopt agnatic seniority, in which case your Uncle Wiktor would succeed me.  They might even let me select an heir, in which case I might choose either of them or your little brother or your cousin John."

Piotr blinked.

"If you keep up with this I will be king nonsense, I will ask the Prime Minister to change the law to keep you off the throne," Gunther concluded.  "Your choice."

"Gunther!" Christine protested.

"Really, Gunther?," Queen Sophie protested.

"Yes, Mother:  Really," Gunther snapped.  "Like I said, Piotr:  Your choice.  Let me know what you decide."

The Parthian Royal Party, Iskandar, Shirin and Isais, as well as Iskandar's wife Zenobia, found the climate and people of Tenochtitlan quite welcoming. The high altitude of 2200m did not discomfort them unduly as the Parthian capital of Isfarhan was at 1800m itself, while the temperature was only slightly cooler.  With such gorgeous weather, the opportunity to avail themselves of the various diversions was met with delight.  Iskandar and Zenobia declared for the hunt. For Aunt Asais, the advancing years had robbed riding the hunt of some of it's pleasures and so she prevailed on Princess Shirin to accompany her to the bazaar of export goods, followed by a play. For the active Shirin, she first wrung an accession from the others that on the morning they would trade companions as she very much wanted to go for a ride. 

For Iskandar and Zenobia, the hunt was a fun jaunt together. The Royal marriage had meant the leading families sent representatives and number of these did of course choose to follow the Emperor, and there was the obligatory Lance of personal guards from the Immortals, superflous in the face of the Aztec security... but there was still a lovely freedom to be gallivanting around the immense mountain valley so far from delegations and petitioners and the never ending stream of folks who sought the Emperor's attention. The Aztec hosts were courteous and knowledgeable.

To her chagrin and relief, Princess Shirin found her time with her elderly aunt far more interesting that expected. Isais had been an Heir since she reached majority, and had traveled extensively on Parthia's behalf. To their pleasant surprise, Princess Chandraprava joined them, as did several other prominent ladies.  A Lance of Shirin's Ranger associates took their place of honor as guards, supplementing their Aztec escorts.  The guides were invaluable, though the party had some difficulty moving through the curious crowds.    Auntie's knowledge of foreign spices, foods and goods was extraordinary and her commentary on the Sultanates export goods potential markets was actually quiet interesting. The theater play later was a rather different circumstance, as Shirin had worked hard to be passable at the Aztec language and attempted to translate to her hard of hearing Aunt.  This led to sharp looks from those around them, but the outsiders and Princess were already attracting more than their share of attention simply by attending. Overall the excursion was a success in calming nerves and distracting.



*commentary on Rocky's post – part of Designing Parthia was trying to come up with plausible reasons a strong Monarchy could generate good leaders and a strong line of succession for millennia. That moved me away from both free-for alls (historic Parthian/Sassanid), and also primogeniture and simple hereditary and towards pre-selecting replaceable heirs who then have to stand questions from the 'Houses'. Ironically the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth had an elected Monarch, which led to folks buying the crown, including the Grand Duke of Saxony & Warsaw.

May 19th, 1930

After the more relaxed afternoon and evening of the 18th with no particular major engagements or balls, to give the visiting royals a chance to rest and not feel like aquarium fish, the 19th started off with rehearsals.  The ballroom at the palace was arrayed with light wooden frames to show the various boxes at the Grand Mosque for the dignitaries and visiting royals, and the layout of the mosque for the benefit of everyone in the wedding to come.  For what felt like an eternity, but in reality only about two hours, those needed to participate in the wedding ceremony were shuffled back and forth through the motions of where to stand, where to sit.  While the full speeches were not given, the timing for the Sultan's address, the Emperor's Address, and the Vows and Blessing of the Marriage were demonstrated, and Shirin was given a preview of the relatively short ceremony of vestiture of title as Princess Royal, for the Sultanate does not have 'Consorts'.  With the various protocol experts finally satisfied that everyone was ready for the wedding, the parties all went back and changed for the feast.

Another relatively small affair, the night's feast and dancing soiree was once again laid in on the palace grounds, the main courses being a whitetail deer and two peccaries shot by Emperor Iskandar and his hunting party the day previous, prepared by the palace chefs.  Out of respect for the respite of the royal families present, only a handful of officers and nobles were invited, keeping the size of the party to a relatively cozy hundred or so.  A peccary, shot by the Emperor himself, being carved fresh off the grate where it had roasted the entire day over a low fire made for a talking point and centerpiece of the spread of foods from throughout the Sultanate and its holdings. 

Unlike the previous engagements where the various royal and high noble parties had their own tables and seating arrangements, the couples were encouraged to select their own seating and mingle in a much more relaxed atmosphere.  Ali and Shirin sat at Emperor Iskandar's table, Ali looking quite reserved sitting across from the Emperor, as of tomorrow his father in law.  "Your Majesty, I do hope you enjoy the air show tomorrow, my old squadron will be doing demonstrations after the wedding as part of the reception's entertainment"

Princess Anacaona, in a cream colored gown, walks over to King Gunter III Vasa's table.  In the back of her mind she can still hear her mother's chiding last night; "A princess of the Sultanate should behave more like a lady and less like a frontier cavalry trooper!  You will not go off embarrassing this family, or the heir apparent to one of our important trading partners!" rung in her ears.  Her shawl is of a blue that one could call a suspiciously Vilnius hue.  "Is this seat taken?" she asks Prince Piotr.   

Quote from: TacCovert4 on February 14, 2024, 06:55:03 AM
May 19th, 1930

Princess Anacaona, in a cream colored gown, walks over to King Gunter III Vasa's table.  In the back of her mind she can still hear her mother's chiding last night; "A princess of the Sultanate should behave more like a lady and less like a frontier cavalry trooper!  You will not go off embarrassing this family, or the heir apparent to one of our important trading partners!" rung in her ears.  Her shawl is of a blue that one could call a suspiciously Vilnius hue.  "Is this seat taken?" she asks Prince Piotr.   

"...No, it isn't," Piotr replied.  Feeling the weight of his father's gaze on him, he added, "Please."  And then stood to seat her like a gentleman would.

"Good evening, Dear," Queen Sophie said.

"Your Highness," Queen Christine said.

"Lovely of you to come join us.  I understand you had a lovely time at the stables," Princess Edyta gushed.

Princess Anacaona gives a look of excitement, followed instantly by one of embarrassment and then her mien settles again.  "It was a lovely time.  Prince Piotr did quite well for his first turn at the skill at arms course, and on a borrowed horse no less" she says, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

Edyta looks to say something else, but flashes of stern looks from both Queens cause her to studiously observe her plate as their first course is set. 

"Your Majesty" she says, looking at Queen Sophie "I am led to believe this is your first trip to our part of the world.  How are you enjoying it?".

Giving her a moment to formulate a response, she turns to Piotr.  "And aside from my brother and his flying friends visiting, I believe this is your first experience with Aztecs.  I assure you, we are not all as, erm, vigorously confident as my brother, though as you saw yesterday our culture encourages the martial pursuits amongst both sexes, a curse of being too long surrounded by enemies instead of allies." she says demurely.

Quote from: TacCovert4 on February 15, 2024, 07:52:24 AM
"Your Majesty" she says, looking at Queen Sophie "I am led to believe this is your first trip to our part of the world.  How are you enjoying it?".

Giving her a moment to formulate a response, she turns to Piotr.  "And aside from my brother and his flying friends visiting, I believe this is your first experience with Aztecs.  I assure you, we are not all as, erm, vigorously confident as my brother, though as you saw yesterday our culture encourages the martial pursuits amongst both sexes, a curse of being too long surrounded by enemies instead of allies." she says demurely.

"It's been very nice," Sophie replied.  "I confess I am tiring quickly each day, but I was warned that it might be the case at this altitude."

Aspas did not comment.

"This is a first for all of us," Piotr said.  "Except Uncle.  Oh, and Father.  I keep forgetting about that cruise so long ago."

"I still regret that we were unable to complete it with your father," Christine pronounced.

"You've certainly had more trouble with your neighbours over the past few decades than we, but we do have the Horde on our eastern flank.  Eventually they'll rouse themselves and get up to trouble once again," Wiktor said to the princess.  "At that point, we might find it necessary to reframe our own view of female roles in society.  What do you think, Piotr?"

"Maybe?" the crown prince replied.

Iskandar had been finding the novelty of not being the center of attention rather refreshing, as it had been decades since he took the throne. The seating of his Sister and her betrothed was a touch by the Sultan that he noted and appreciated.  The arrangement allowed for an informal mingling, and Iskandar and Zenobia took advantage. Iskandar's elderly Aunt Isais drifted away to spend time with various other parties.  Zenobia was the one that pointed out that throughout the time here eddies of Parthian noble representatives first stopped to great Iskandar, before excusing themselves and being sure to pay their respects to the varied Houses assembled here. The lack of Deccan representatives was unfortunate, but the confederation had difficulties acting as a group.  Perhaps trade with Laksmanavati and Rajasthan would improve, though the economics of long oceanic travel made stimulating trade with Wilno and the Norse more difficult.

While some spices had crossed between continents long long ago, the style of seasoning on the dishes was pleasantly different than home, and Iskandar was intrigued by the results that would come from sending some cooks across the oceans to study and adopt some culinary choices. The venison was tasty, but all of them were more intrigued by the non-pig, the "Peccary", which did prove to be delicious.

Enjoying their repast with Ali and Shirin,  for Zenobia and Iskandar, it was an opportunity to gently
interrogate him one last time just before the wedding, a conversation which eventually turned to Ali's passion, aeronautics.  Responding to his question, Iskandar allowed himself to muse :

"Actually I'm rather intrigued. There are no currently aerial teams in Parthia, though the military does practice similar.  In the first decade of my reign there were traveling performers did daredevil stunts at festivals, such as you saw at Resht, but several died in crashes, and one shed its wings and plowed into the crowd with dire consequences, after which the House passed a bill to ban such. In recent years, other nations have formed aerial military drill teams, but I have yet to have occasion to witness one, so it will be novel. Perhaps it is something that should be introduced in Parthia as well.  When I agreed to allow the Navy to establish the Naval Air Service, one of my hopes was that the Army Air Service and Naval Air Service would...encourage each other.. to better performance.  We route all the initial pilot candidates through the same school, but they return to their own branches afterwards, with no further interaction. Would you consider a National Aeronautic Troop with competitive slots for both Army and Naval services, or competing Lances to be the best model to encourage innovation and improvement?"

Princess Anacaona replied "I am sorry that the climate has not yet agreed with you, your majesty.  I am sure you are eager to get back down on the coastal plain for the fleet review then.  That should only be a couple of days from now."

Turning towards Wiktor and Piotr, she smiled.  "If they are indeed as numerous and vicious in battle as my tutor's books seem to believe, I could see a situation where the Union might need to draw upon its full strength in a war.  There are doubtless any number of young ladies who would serve if given the opportunity.  Of course certain considerations have to be made, such as leaves of absence to have and wean children, but we have found that it not only gives the Sultanate more people in uniform for emergencies, it fosters a general sense of national pride across the entire Sultanate.  Fathers who were not blessed with sons do not consider themselves second class, for their daughters can achieve and inherit."

She continues, "But of course, Prince Wiktor, certain social proprieties should be observed, even if both parties consider themselves equals.  For instance, if Prince Piotr would like to dance, he has but to ask"

Ali mulls over the Emperor's question for a moment before responding.  "I believe that if you have multiple services, then each should have its own demonstration team.  To clarify what the demonstration will be, or rather what it will not be, it will not be a 'barnstorming' if you will of highly irregular and dangerous maneuvers flown by nigh suicidal daredevils.  Rather, it will be a demonstration of formation flying and maneuvers used by actual combat aircraft, only performed with the high polish of an incredibly well-drilled squadron."  He continues, "We did much the same as you did, separating the Royal Naval Air Service from the Royal Air Force.  Iron sharpens iron as it were, and the needs of the purely land-based air force differ too drastically from a maritime air force.  For instance, the RAF has no need for a carrier aircraft, while the Navy needs any of its non-floatplane single-engine aircraft to be carrier capable.  The Navy needs long range above all else in its patrol aircraft, while the Air Force itself can sacrifice range for bomb load in a bombing aircraft.  One other thing is that we are currently testing a bomber that deploys its bomb in a steep dive, and can double as a fighter.  This is an aircraft the Air Force simply doesn't need, having bombers and fighters and land bases which can hold dozens of squadrons."

Seeing some others at the table were not grasping his meaning, Ali continues a bit more boldly.  "A Ground aviator and a naval aviator both have to navigate, fly, etc.  And both services need photo recce.  In air combat both sides are going to put up fighters.  But past this their roles can diverge greatly.  An Air Force fighter pilot might get word from a forward observer and then take off and get to altitude to intercept.  A naval aviator might get a quarter of that warning to launch into the air and intercept an incoming threat.  An Air Force bomber squadron is primarily concerned with engaging fixed targets like rail infrastructure, supply dumps, and so on.  A Naval squadron, they have to know how to attack a battleship, a carrier, a cruiser, as well as land targets.  And their primary targets are moving and maneuvering actively to avoid being hit.  It is a completely different method of warfare, and I have done both.  So two services make the most sense, as you would not want the skillset of a highly practiced bomber pilot who level bombs from five thousand feet to be wasted on low level torpedo bombing in a squadron command, and equally you do not want a torpedo bomber pilot becoming commander of a strategic squadron when he gets promoted."

Quote from: TacCovert4 on February 17, 2024, 05:49:15 PM
Princess Anacaona replied "I am sorry that the climate has not yet agreed with you, your majesty.  I am sure you are eager to get back down on the coastal plain for the fleet review then.  That should only be a couple of days from now."

Turning towards Wiktor and Piotr, she smiled.  "If they are indeed as numerous and vicious in battle as my tutor's books seem to believe, I could see a situation where the Union might need to draw upon its full strength in a war.  There are doubtless any number of young ladies who would serve if given the opportunity.  Of course certain considerations have to be made, such as leaves of absence to have and wean children, but we have found that it not only gives the Sultanate more people in uniform for emergencies, it fosters a general sense of national pride across the entire Sultanate.  Fathers who were not blessed with sons do not consider themselves second class, for their daughters can achieve and inherit."

She continues, "But of course, Prince Wiktor, certain social proprieties should be observed, even if both parties consider themselves equals.  For instance, if Prince Piotr would like to dance, he has but to ask"

"I do enjoy a good review," Sophie nodded.  "All the ships beautifully painted and polished, all the sailors in their dress whites.  It sets the heart a-flutter, I dare say."

Wiktor and Gunther's eyebrows rose.

Sophie cleared her throat.  "Piotr, dear, perhaps you should ask the lady to dance?"

Piotr looked to his grandmother, then his father, then to Anacaona.  "Would you like to dance?" he asked.

"Well your Majesty, you should enjoy tomorrow, with all of my brother's fellow officers in their dress uniforms." Anacaona says with a smile.  "Why, prince Piotr, of course I would love to dance."

Anacaona takes the proffered hand, and then sweeps Piotr onto the floor into a waltz.  "I hear you like battleships?" She asks, rhetorically,  "father is building a new fast one, almost sixty thousand tons.  I can take you to the dock it's being built in if you like?"

"Of course I like battleships," Piotr said, as if there was some fourteen year-old boy who wouldn't like battleships.  Aeroplane fans, perhaps, but they were stupid.  "Sixty thousand tonnes?  Are you...that seems large.  Is that full load?  I would be interested, yes."


*****

"That was quite the little charm offensive," Sophie mused as the Vasas watched Piotr and Anacaona* move around the floor.

"He's always been good with the waltz," Christine said approvingly. 

"I meant the princess, Dear."

"Oh, I know, I'm just saying Piotr mastered the waltz early and it shows," Christine said.

"I don't know if she likes him or if she's carrying out her own instructions to play nice," Gunther remarked.

"Probably yes," Aspas said.

"I don't know whether it's the same with him," Gunther added.

"He's playing nice, mostly," Sophie said.  "He may warm up to her, we'll see.  Do we know how old she is?"

"We are not worrying about matchmaking right now, Mother," Gunther said. 

"Worrying is not the same as wondering," Sophie chided.  "She's royal, she has status, she's well-educated and pretty.  The only issue is her religion, and even that can be worked around."

"...Quite," Wiktor said.

Aspas did not comment.

"Edyta, you've not danced for some time," Christine said.

"If somebody asks, I'll dance," the princess shrugged.  "I'm not on a mission, Mother."



*Apologies in advance for when I inevitably spell it Anaconda.

Quote from: TacCovert4 on February 17, 2024, 05:56:52 PM
Ali mulls over the Emperor's question for a moment before responding.  ..

Iskandar considered Ali's comments.
"Interesting, the debates among the various  services regarding a separate air arm for the Navy were quite bitter, but it was interviews with lead pilots that influenced me the most, they were most certain, as are you. However, unlike yourself, they do not have the opportunity to switch between Services after basic pilot training.   Everyone, from lowest to highest, starts in the same National Service, those who demonstrate  sufficient physical and mental qualities can choose military service, go through basic training, and move to their more specialized schools, which is the last those who wish to be pilots and
aircrew train as one. Afterwards their services administer the training for their specialized craft. Again, much as you elaborate, there are a disturbing number of air frames relying on various engines for the various specialties, as apparently the Navy needs stronger planes, and they require replacement at a rate the finance minister finds most disconcerting. There is a side benefit as it keeps multiple manufactures innovating. We are taught to embrace knowledge and the new, for it brings choices ...<smiles at Ali>, 

But it is the Aerial teams you describe that  we all of shall enjoy.  That is certainly nothing we have seen the like of, and I expect that there may come a time in the near future that Parthia will host it's own teams. <Looking to Zenobia>, I expect we shall have a conversation later as to be the best path to the result, Imperial decrees can seem arbitrary, this seems best to have the services clamor for...
at which time Zenobia chimes in "Perhaps if we ensure the official chronicles of these days are widely circulated?" ... both Iskandar and Shirin smile and Iskandar replies "Ah, green eyed envy will rise to the task".

Princess Anacaona smiles at his response.  "That is the light tonnage."  She chuckles "Yes I'm familiar with naval terminology.  After all, Father served on HMS Tenochtitlan before he took the throne.  My brother loves aeroplanes.  I'm going to be the first captain of a battleship from the family."  Piotr looks at her in shock.  "I thought you were training for the cavalry".  Anacaona makes a little 'pfft' motion with her fingers.  "Horseback riding is something every noblewoman knows how to do, and most of us can do the skill at arms course.  I have my choices of university or the academy in two years.  I've chosen the Naval Academy at Veracruz."  They continue to dance, Piotr learning that Anacaona fell in love with the big guns when her father took her on a short sail aboard HMS Monarch several years ago, watching gunnery practice with the 360mm guns from the flag bridge. 

At the Parthian table, Ali concurs with Zenobia's thoughts.  "There are a number of Parthian pilots who will be in attendance for the fleet review if nothing else.  And there will be air demonstrations with that review.  I believe you will be delighted to your own air demonstration before the year is out.  I would not be surprised if one is not put on when Shirin and I make it to Parthia on our honeymoon cruise.  But yes, there are vast differences between land and carrier aircraft.  And we have even found that flying boats and floatplanes can be far more efficiently used by officers who specialize in their employment.  The new flying boats coming into service soon will be replacing the Cuckoo for coastal defense torpedo bomber.  Far better utility, two torpedoes or depth charges, just an all around better coastal patrol aircraft."

May 20th, 1930

The morning broke clear, with just a few high clouds glowing red as the sun rose over Tenochtitlan. 

In the palace, indeed the entire Old City, the air was abuzz, as if a hive of bees were busily making honey.  Hundreds, thousands of servants, workers, soldiers, and functionaries rushed about as the final preparations were made, and every conceivable contingency prepared for. 

Ali was hurriedly rushed out of his quarters as soon as he had breakfast and dressed in his finest dress whites, with all of his medals, and his royal sash with its own adornments, had been donned.  His promises to not set foot in the Parthian wing of the palace, lest he accidentally view the bride, fell on deaf ears as he was rushed into a car and driven to the Mosque along with his groomsmen.  Outside, the crowds were already thronging to the barricades, with what had to be an entire brigade of Eagle Warriors stern gazes maintaining a sense of propriety from the well-wishers eager to see the heir apparent's wedding. 

Extending from the front of the Mosque, the grand boulevard, every tree and bush neatly trimmed, extended for miles to the Old City, the square filling as the variety of units participating in the parade formed up, regimental colors and bands at the ready.  Snake Warriors and Queen Fatima's Light Cavalry ahorse.  Eagle, Jaguar, and Seal Warriors in their own distinctive uniforms and baldrics afoot.  Falcon Warriors, the society that blends both the RAF and RNAS as a professional organization under the falcon wings of pilothood, in their variety of dress uniforms, swords ready to make the arch for the happy couple as they exit to their own carriage.  The Apache Rangers were also present in a place of honor, their service to the couple honored by their position as an honor guard around the golden carriage, their uniforms festooned with ceremonial items and headdress for the occasion.  Carriages for the Parthian and Aztec monarchs in places of honor, carriages for other visiting monarchs, and a few other ranking nobles and guests. 

The other notables, ushered by staff, get into cars for the drive to the Mosque, Shirin's car one with windows covered by curtains to veil the bride from the ever-curious onlookers (prepped for Kirk)

"Unfortunately, it is not our lot to have quiet weddings in quiet places like Arizona" Ali says to Wiktor as they wait for the proceedings to begin.  "You and I have different definitions of Arizona being quiet, I recall quite a day of gunfire" Wiktor jokes back.  Ali smiles, both men instinctively touching their legs that had taken bullets over the past few years.  "You do have a point.  I have made changes.  And with that particular ring of traitors run to ground, Arizona is going to be a wonderful place to raise a family.  You and Aspas must come join us once we've settled in"

"We'll absolutely come and visit.  It's always good to get out this way," Wiktor said to Ali.  "I'm happy for you two.  You're going to be an amazing couple."

Ali grinned.  "Thank you.  I have to admit, in the early days, I wondered if we would be competing for Shurin's hand."

"I wondered that myself," Wiktor replied.  "And there was certainly family pressure along those lines.  Status aside, she's a hell of a woman.  But the universe had other plans - and just as well, really, because how in the hell would I compete with a barnstormer like you?"

"Bah, you could learn to fly easily enough.  In fact, I could requisition a trainer and get you started when you come visit," Ali suggested.

Wiktor grimaced.  "Gonna have to get clearance from my personal physician before I can take you up on that."

"Would she have a strong opinion on that?"

"She might.  I can't say it's ever come up in conversation, and she knows that military service has its risks, but she might not consider flying lessons to be a necessary risk."

"I can work up a few arguments in favor," Ali said.  "Are you happy, the two of you?"

"We are," Wiktor said.  "I've had it easier than her, but she's getting used to things.  Family's still a challenge but we get space and now that I'm cleared to return to duty maybe we'll even deploy somewhere away from my dear kin."

Ali smiled.  "Any preferences?"

"Africa sounds interesting," Wiktor said.  "Oh, by the way, your little sister has offered my nephew a visit to wherever you guys are building a sixty thousand tonne battleship.  Maybe that's already been approved by your father or the navy or maybe she's really got the authority to do that - Piotr wouldn't - but I was curious to know if you knew.  Plus that's a really damned big battleship and I'm sure my own navy is dying to know more."

"Good Hunting in Africa I hear" Ali replies.  He looks at Wik quizzically at the mention of the ship.  "Either she sees something in Piotr, or mother's scolding after she invited him to ride with a half-dozen medal-winning troopers was taken to heart." he smiles, indicating that yes he knew his little sister had taken the opportunity to bruise the princeling's ego.  "But you know how women are Wik, they have far more control of situations than they let us believe.  I'm not sure if the battleship tour was approved, but she won't reveal any national secrets certainly.  Royal Sovereign is merely a builder's model at the constructor's office, and a collection of steel and blocks in the empty drydock.  The barrels for the 450s are complete, so he can enjoy those, he could even crawl inside.  While I appreciate the concept, and my sister is absolutely beside herself ever since being aboard Monarch when she was doing gunnery practice, I believe the 360s are sufficient and these new guns are a bit of a consolation prize for the battleship faction in the navy.  But then I might be biased."

The two carriages with the Parthian party arrived with fanfare. Attendants lining the walking path scattered flowers across the path as they arrived.  The golden filigreed doors of the lead carriage door parted as the door glided open. Shahahan Iskandar, bearer of far to many titles, was first to descend, resplendent in his richly embroidered robes of state. On his head he ware a the deep purple rounded miter cap  which formed the foundation for the Parthian crown. Adorning his brow was the sunburst crest on a golden crown formed by four tiers of diadems embellished by pearls and bands of scallops, while the eight solar rays of the sunburst were resplendent with jewels.  Queen Zenobia was next to alight, and the two then awaited the opening of the second carriage. The doors to the second carriage parted, and the stairs came down, allowing Princess Isais Arshakuni to alight, Aunt to the Bride and matron of honor, she like the other two was dressed in formal silken robes of state with her personal honor sash, worn over the her matrons gown.  The grand entrance was next, for the Bride, Princess Shirin Arshakuni of House Arascid, depended from the carriage. Each wore pinned to their shoulders the traditional wedding motif of a spray of flowers, and each held a bouquet.

A tall conical headdress, wreathed in a gauzy veil wound around it was atop her head. A crenelated diadem sat at it's base, adorned with polished jewels and from the rear dangled silken ribbons. The traditional robe and sash were tokens in diaphanous layers of silk, layered over a shimmering petal-like gown of vibrant colors. In accordance with Parthian traditions, the differing layers were dyed in brilliant colors, in her case, the the petals of the gown in white and yellow, piped in red, with a deep green underlayment, the colors paying tribute to the Aztec palette.  Bracelets of of jewels adorned her wrists, while a honor dagger in a golden sheath dangled from a filigreed golden belt. One hand clutching her own bouquet, the other hiked the hem of her skirt, exposing her creamy hose as she carefully took the steps out of the carriage and onto the pavement. From there, the ensemble skimmed the pavement, revealing only a peek at her golden sandals as she confidently strode forward on the petals. The Shahahan and his Queen led the way, with Shirin and finally Isais trailing, proceeding to the site fo the Aghd (ceremony). Inside, the witnesses of the Seven Families awaited inside, the elderly leaders of the Seven or their prime heirs would bear witness to the royal wedding.

May 20th,

The ceremony was everything that it was supposed to be.  Which is to say half an hour longer than it should be, Ali thinks to himself as the final visiting dignitary files out, making room for the procession to begin.  Horses take off with a clip clop clip clop, various mounted and dismounted honor guards in formation around the carriages.

Entering the parade route, the city erupts into cheers, flowers and laurels being thrown into the street before the Royal couple's carriage as it proceeds the kilometers to the Palace.  Ali waves at the crowd as he knows he must.  But his mind is elsewhere, on his wife, anticipating a nice long honeymoon touring the colonies.  A slowly increasing droning begins to overwhelm the crowd, and squadron after squadron of aircraft from both air services fly down the parade route in formation, dipping their wings in unison in salute.

Beside him, resplendent in her ceremonial dress, Shirin, Princess Royal of Aztecs, does a much more genuine job of waving delightedly at the crowd as they proceed to the palace reception.

Arriving, the reception is in full swing, the crowd of Aztec and visiting nobility in knots of conversation, some around the bars, some around the tables of hours'd'ouvers laid out in anticipation of the arrival of the Royal Couple.  For the first time in his life, Ali waits, as the Emperor and Empress of Parthia are announced, followed by the Sultan and Queen of Aztecs.  Finally he and Shirin step up as the palace seneschal announces "Ali, Crown Prince, and Shirin, Princess Royal of Aztecs" to cheers of the guests as they walk onto the flagstones.

Princess Anacaona glides across the flagstones, mumbling to herself "Yes MOM, I'll go change.  The formal robes I wore for the wedding weren't diplomatically appropriate" she growls, aping Queen Fatima's voice as she regains her bearing.  She walks up to the knot of Vilnius nobility, curtseying in her royal blue ball gown with Aztec Gold accents all over the satin fabric.  "Your Highness" she says to Piotr, "How have you found the reception?"

"The air show was interesting.  Do we have aircraft like that?" Queen Sophie asked.

"I'm sure you've been to air shows back home, Mother," Wiktor said.

"I'm sure I haven't."

"We do have them," Gunther confirmed.  "There's bound to be one at the capital this summer.  I'll have you included in whatever event we're asked to do."

"You could watch with Gunther while I mind the little one at home," Queen Christine smiled.

"Would the Aztecs send some aviators?" Sophie asked.

"It might be short notice for this year," Wiktor suggested.  "But I can put a bug in Ali's ear if..."

"No, no, don't bother the man on the eve of his honeymoon," Sophie waved dismissively.  "I was just wondering whether it's an international event we would have or strictly domestic."

"I don't truthfully know," Gunther said.

Wiktor shrugged.

"Don't look at me, I don't like planes," Prince Piotr said.

"No, but speaking of liking..." his mother intoned.

Quote from: TacCovert4 on March 15, 2024, 08:37:18 AM
Princess Anacaona glides across the flagstones, mumbling to herself "Yes MOM, I'll go change.  The formal robes I wore for the wedding weren't diplomatically appropriate" she growls, aping Queen Fatima's voice as she regains her bearing.  She walks up to the knot of Vilnius nobility, curtseying in her royal blue ball gown with Aztec Gold accents all over the satin fabric.  "Your Highness" she says to Piotr, "How have you found the reception?"

"It has been very pleasant so far, Your Highness," Piotr said stiffly.  "The wedding was very nice and the fly-over was much appreciated by my grandmother."

Sophie nodded in confirmation.

"I see you have changed attire.  It is a very pretty dress," the crown prince said, still stuck in the same suit he'd started the day with, tiny splotches of dampness beginning to appear in the arm pits.

"It is," Christine repeated.  "I do like it."

"Sit, Dear," Sophie commanded the princess, patting the chair beside her.  "It has been a joyful but long day.  Tell us what you thought of it all.  Are you looking forward to the day when you're the bride at such an event?"

The color left Piotr's face.

"Yes, dear, do tell," his sister agreed, reaching over to pat the other side of the empty chair.

Anacaona smiles, sitting down in the offered chair.  "Oh this was my first international affair.  I've been a bridesmaid twice, in both of my sisters' weddings, but they married members of the Aztec nobility, so it was a state affair but nothing on this scale.  It does make me grateful that my tutors made me study languages so heavily, very few of the nobility speak Aztec."

Anacaona notices Piotr's aghast look, and smiles.  "Queen Sophie, I think it will be quite some time before it is my turn to enter into marriage.  I have the naval academy, and then there is finding the right man.  It is unlikely that I will get as lucky as Ali and wind up finding love while attending a function in Vilnius after all.  Allah does work in mysterious ways, however", she smiles.  "Prince Piotr, are you looking forward to the fleet review?  It should be quite the affair, as many nations as sent large squadrons to Veracruz.  And I did promise that tour, father was only somewhat cross with me, he said we could go to Drydock One as long as we took someone from the naval staff as escort."

"Yes, Your Highness, I am looking forward to the review.  I want to take some photographs and notes of the capital ships present, as part of my studies and thinking on future battleship design," Piotr replied.  "I am also interested in the tour, but may need to inquire about a chaperone..."

"Oh that's fine, Dear, Wiktor can do that," Queen Sophie said.

Wiktor blinked.  "Yes, Mother, I can do that," he replied.  "I had no other plans, of course."

"None whatsoever," Aspas said in a flat voice.

"There we go," Sophie said.  "I think it's safe to say Piotr is similarly more focused on his own future naval career than on marriage or his royal duties, but God willing Gunther will be healthy and continue to rule for many years to come."

"Your words to God's ears," Christine nodded.

Anacaona nods.  "Of course your Highness, I'm sure a chaperone should be no trouble at all.  Color Sergeant Mohammed would be more than happy to chaperone."  She rolls her eyes slightly, indicating a grizzled Eagle Warrior with iron grey hair standing against the wall like a statue.  "Mother often sends him with me, she thinks I will get into trouble".

She smiles at Queen Christine.  "That I am certain.  King Gunter is younger than Father, and he took the Sun Throne before I was born."

Looking back at Piotr, but only halfway, to indicate that it's also towards the two Queens, Anacaona asks.  "Piotr, would you like to take the royal train back to Veracruz?  I know you probably have too many family commitments, but Mother, erm, Queen Fatima did tell me I could ask."  Her tone indicates that while she's not hoping he'll decline, the invitation was probably not her idea.

Meanwhile, Ali and Shirin sweep across the dance floor (cue Beauty and the Beast number), dancing alone as the reception watches the new royal couple.  Finishing the dance, they walk back to their head table.  "Are you enjoying the reception, my wife?" Ali asks with a smirk.  "I am, husband" she replies with the same smirk as they sit down, servants bringing them dishes and drinks. 

Quote from: TacCovert4 on March 16, 2024, 12:11:26 PM
Anacaona nods.  "Of course your Highness, I'm sure a chaperone should be no trouble at all.  Color Sergeant Mohammed would be more than happy to chaperone."  She rolls her eyes slightly, indicating a grizzled Eagle Warrior with iron grey hair standing against the wall like a statue.  "Mother often sends him with me, she thinks I will get into trouble".

She smiles at Queen Christine.  "That I am certain.  King Gunter is younger than Father, and he took the Sun Throne before I was born."

Looking back at Piotr, but only halfway, to indicate that it's also towards the two Queens, Anacaona asks.  "Piotr, would you like to take the royal train back to Veracruz?  I know you probably have too many family commitments, but Mother, erm, Queen Fatima did tell me I could ask."  Her tone indicates that while she's not hoping he'll decline, the invitation was probably not her idea.

"I'm sure-" Sophie began...

...as Christine said, "That would-"

"Sure," Piotr replied.  "If that's acceptable to everybody?"

His grandmother looked to his mother, who looked to her husband.  "If you'd like to, that's acceptable," Gunther said. 

Sophie nodded and Christine smiled.

"I assume the staff will work out where and when I need to be ready," Piotr said to Anacaona.  "It looks like your brother and the princess have finished their dance.  Would you care to take the floor when it opens up to the rest of us?"

Anacaona gives Piotr a genuine smile, as if he's finally made his own decision and she's impressed a little.  "Why of course your highness, I would love to".  She lets Piotr take her hand and they walk onto the floor as the next dance begins.

Meanwhile the Sultan and Emperor are talking quietly as the reception continues.  Mostly small talk, but the Sultan says "I appreciate your promised dowry,  I will tell my finance minister to focus on improving our pacific holdings.  With free trade between our nations we could achieve a dominant position in pacific commerce".

Quote from: TacCovert4 on March 17, 2024, 07:31:17 PMAnacaona gives Piotr a genuine smile, as if he's finally made his own decision and she's impressed a little.  "Why of course your highness, I would love to".  She lets Piotr take her hand and they walk onto the floor as the next dance begins.

"They would make a lovely couple," Queen Sophie mused, watching the teens dance.

"Poor girl," Edyta shrugged.

"Oh stop," Christine exclaimed.  "It's clear that our words had an effect.  I'm proud of him for taking the initiative right there."

"He likes her, Christine," Sophie declared.

"Perhaps he just wants four minutes away from us," Wiktor suggested.

Watching the Vilnius Prince and her daughter take the dance floor, Queen Fatima smiled to herself.  "I told her the dress would help.  Now to get her to get her mind off of that silly obsession with being a battleship gunnery officer." she thinks to herself.

Piotr and Anacaona sweep the floor, Piotr showing off his dancing skills without bragging, this time, as Anacaona lets him take the lead. She says to him, in hushed tones "I know our families are trying to set us up.  But if you want to marry me, you're going to have to hit a target at thirty kilometers", she says with a smile.

"I am fairly certain they are, yes," Piotr nodded. He paused to digest her follow-up statement.  "I...very well, your challenge is noted.  A modern day quest of sorts, but with rangefinder and naval gun rather than horse and sword."
 

She smiles.  "Yes, a quest.  One that you should find both challenging and stimulating.  And one that will let the both of us do what we want, which is command a battleship, or at least its gunnery department.  And my challenge should stymie your family's efforts to set us up.  If you complete it, it's because Piotr wants to, not diplomacy or royal meddling."  She continues to dance with him as the song changes to a slow waltz, dancing far enough away for decorum, but close enough that the onlooking mothers should continue to get ideas, almost as if they're conspiring against their conspiratorial matriarchs......

Shirin had floated through the ceremony, her stomach aflutter and her head in the heavens as she spoke her vows to her Ali.  The well practiced ceremony moved smoothly along, but there was still a sense of relief to have finally passed that point. A sense of exhilaration filled her as they, as a pair, moved to the reception ceremony.  They were the center of attention and expected to  participate in a series of formal events, with a long line of well wishers.  The dancing with her Ali became blissful islands of calm where they could glide through dances as one.

Aunt Isias was swathed in silken layers laden with meaning and wrought with great craftsmanship, which fortunately did not make them overly hot, nor heavy. The comparison with the other nations concepts of formal wear was something she could very comfortably do from her remarkably comfortable seat. The day was dazzling and she could bask in the warmth of the day, appreciate the dazzling array of formal wear, and watch as her late little brother's youngest daughter bore a radiant smile as she danced in the arms of her prince, and now husband. As Eldest of the Blood, she would not have passed on the trip, though it was fortunate she did not suffer Sanatruck's limitations. The happy couple finished their dance and they returned to the head table with coy looks at each other and mutual smirks.

Isias cast her gaze across the assemblage of the gilded, with distinguished guests from far nations, from Europe and Asia, the Indian subcontinent and the Mericas. A question from her seatmate, Lady Atossa of House Spandiyadh, led to Isias pointing out Shirin's friend Aspas among the Wilno Royals. Not all the Seven Princely Houses had been able to send their Head of House, but most had. Like Isias, Lady Atossa was a widow, having outlived her husband. An elderly lady, jet hair streaked with silver, green eyes sparkling with life, the former Satrap now led her House.  Perhaps if the two ladies were younger, they would be more interested in mixing, but after paying their respects to the Sultan, the Emperor, and the new Couple, they had sought seats to engage in people watching and commenting on the merits of various elements of style, and if perhaps they would be popular if introduced to home. The two bantered back and forth also guessing what differing couples were discussing.  Several of the other House Heads seemed interested in making acquaintances with future contacts. Chihor Suren, head of that ancient and august House, made a point to visit with Aspas and Wicktor, her of course previously being one of his potential successors.

Iskandar and Zenobia, as befitting the Parthian Royal, were seated with the Aztec Royals and discussed various topics with them ranging from the happy couple to a potential rail link between Kalifern and Azteca to connect the fertile valley to the Aztec port.  The territories of the two nations abutted each other extensively, and relations had been good, so there was potential to explore more.  The Parthian way was to build the infrastructure the future would need, with 'the Builder' being an prized epitaph to be remembered by.  In recognition of that, Iskandar had offered a substantial dowry, as he was desirous of honoring Shirin's new life in Azteca, and hoped the funds would spur building for Her and Ali's future and associate her presence with additional prosperity. There was hope on his part that the bonds wrought this day would lead to future glad partnerships, but the priority was ensuring his dear "little pest" sister was happily married and provided for.

The reception, like the ceremony, passed without a hitch.  Looking forward, the air show had been fabulous, and Iskandar was looking forward to the fleet review to come, a sentiment Zenobia shared.

May 21st, 1920

While the reception had gone on quite late in the evening, the trains had been loaded, and one by one the royal parties and dignitaries, in reverse order of importance, had arrived at the station and boarded the series of trains en route to Veracruz.  The lower nobility and merchant classes and officers that wished to attend in Veracruz had taken special early express trains, leaving well before dawn, while the notables and their parties were able to have a light breakfast at the palace before their own imminent departures.  In the last car of the last train, Ali and Shirin had been in the place of honor for boarding, and the royal coach normally reserved for the Sultan or Queen was theirs and theirs alone for this journey, the Sultan and Queen happily confining themselves to the other portions of their segment of this train.  Queen Fatima in particular had tut-tutted anyone attempting to bother the newlyweds, implying that they were personally insulting her desire for a grandchild before her dotage if anyone attempted to enter that car unbidden, though at that moment the newlyweds were quite happily reclining on the open rear deck, watching the countryside pass.

However, this lack of attention directed at Ali and Shirin meant that Prince Piotr found himself quite the center of attention.  Sultan Ali kept to a book, though he did tell a sea story or two about his time as XO aboard HMS Tenochtitlan before he ascended to the throne.  Queen Fatima, on the other hand, was far more interested in the young man. 

"I hear that you are interested in the Navy?  Anacaona loves the sea as well, she is always asking her father to let her sail out on training cruises, though of course I always worry that he is going to acquiesce to her demands."  she says.  "Though she will be going to the naval academy, so I guess I am to have two of my children forever at sea.  What do you want to do in your navy, Piotr?"

Quote from: TacCovert4 on March 27, 2024, 02:33:02 PMMay 21st, 1920

However, this lack of attention directed at Ali and Shirin meant that Prince Piotr found himself quite the center of attention.  Sultan Ali kept to a book, though he did tell a sea story or two about his time as XO aboard HMS Tenochtitlan before he ascended to the throne.  Queen Fatima, on the other hand, was far more interested in the young man. 

"I hear that you are interested in the Navy?  Anacaona loves the sea as well, she is always asking her father to let her sail out on training cruises, though of course I always worry that he is going to acquiesce to her demands."  she says.  "Though she will be going to the naval academy, so I guess I am to have two of my children forever at sea.  What do you want to do in your navy, Piotr?"

It was obvious...in retrospect, given the grilling his own family had subjected Anacaona to...that this sort of conversation was going to happen.  Fortunately for himself, Piotr was not unprepared.  "Yes, Your Highness, that is correct.  I'm aware that my parents have...discussed...the matter on a few occasions because tradition has been that the men of my family serve in the army.  The navy has, until recently, been considered a junior service unsuited for potential heirs.  In high society, that is still generally the case."

He shrugged.  "Assuming they decide in my favor, I would be enrolled in the Royal Naval Academy at Klaipeda in the fall of next year and work towards becoming a podchorazy...a student officer.  There would be onshore training, coastal waters training, and one or more cruises before I graduate and am promoted to podporucznik marynarki...er, ensign.  My career goal is to command a battleship, which will take a fair bit of time to accomplish."

"Ahh, wonderful, you share such a common interest.  I find battleships fascinating, I sailed to Rome on one for their Empress's Coronation, it was surprisingly cramped and busy despite its size." Queen Fatima says.  "Ali tells me that Anacaona is going to take you to tour the drydock they're beginning construction of, what was the name of that one dear..."

she trails off, the Sultan looking up from his journal, a collection of treatises by various diplomats... "Royal Sovereign dearest, the first of its kind in the western hemisphere, thirty knots and with four hundred fifty millimeter guns" he injects before going back to his book. 

"And I'm going to command one of them one day" Anacaona adds, to a look of chagrin on the Queen's face.

"Commanding a battleship, Prince Piotr, I'm sure will take some time.  How does your family consider that will co-exist alongside your other duties, such as state functions, royal duties, getting married?"  The queen casually mentions.

"Actually mother, how to balance those things is something we talked about last night.  Of course Piotr has his own choices to make, but one option was discussed." Anacaona interrupts, trying to take things off of track and mollify her mother at the same time.

Quote from: TacCovert4 on March 27, 2024, 09:42:13 PM"Ahh, wonderful, you share such a common interest.  I find battleships fascinating, I sailed to Rome on one for their Empress's Coronation, it was surprisingly cramped and busy despite its size." Queen Fatima says.  "Ali tells me that Anacaona is going to take you to tour the drydock they're beginning construction of, what was the name of that one dear..."

she trails off, the Sultan looking up from his journal, a collection of treatises by various diplomats... "Royal Sovereign dearest, the first of its kind in the western hemisphere, thirty knots and with four hundred fifty millimeter guns" he injects before going back to his book. 

"And I'm going to command one of them one day" Anacaona adds, to a look of chagrin on the Queen's face.

"Commanding a battleship, Prince Piotr, I'm sure will take some time.  How does your family consider that will co-exist alongside your other duties, such as state functions, royal duties, getting married?"  The queen casually mentions.

"Actually mother, how to balance those things is something we talked about last night.  Of course Piotr has his own choices to make, but one option was discussed." Anacaona interrupts, trying to take things off of track and mollify her mother at the same time.

Piotr was of course intrigued at the layout of the battleship, but figured both that he'd find out soon enough and that it wasn't proper to quiz a sultan about such things.  "Your Majesty, that's still unclear.  My father served until my grandfather's accident, and my uncle Wiktor still serves...although he's been based at army headquarters since his injury.  So I could be in the navy for a long time.  Even the quarter century or so it would take to achieve a command such as I desire. 

"Whether my father lives that long is impossible to say," he added after a moment.  "And what it means for duties or marriage, I don't know.  I've not considered it very much, although the princess is correct that we did discuss an option.  I suspect it will be something to contemplate on the voyage home." 

"Oh?" Queen Fatima says, eyebrow raised as she turned on her daughter.  "And what might that option be?"

Princess Anacaona looks back at her mother, with a look that butter wouldn't melt in her mouth "I told him that if he wanted my hand, he had to hit a target at thirty kilometers".  The look on the Queen's face was one of shock, mixed with not a little outrage, but before she could turn on her daughter, Sultan Ali guffawed and set down his journal.  "Thirty Kilometers is no mean feat, even the best optics on the best day today would struggle to get close at anything approaching that range.  When I was a young officer getting my own gunnery certification, some of our ships would struggle much beyond three kilometers." 

He turns towards his daughter and Piotr "Indeed, it sounds like a worthy quest, for a worthy prize.  Of course it also just happens to give the both of you what you want, which is a chance to explore your careers without incessant attempts to arrange meetings with potential suitors or wives.  The two of you will go far in royal politics with nimble minds like that".  With that, the Queen merely harumphed and found her own book to read, leaving the two 'conspirators' in peace as the countryside ticked steadily by.

Finally, apparently free of awkward conversation inflicted by heads of states, Piotr dug through his travel bag and produced a boxed game set of Copenhagen.  "One side plays the Union forces staging the landings at Copenhagen, and the other side is obviously the Danes," he explained to Anacaona.  "Traditionally the players play twice, and see who does better at both sides of the campaign.  Interested?" 

"Oh wonderful!" she says, directing a servant to clear a table to play.  Sultan Ali chuckles to himself and goes back to reading, and Queen Fatima finds a book for herself as well. 

The train winds its way to Veracruz, Ali and Shirin enjoying the respite as they sit on the back deck of their car, sipping tea as the kilometers quietly rattle by until they arrive at the Port City.  "Shall we dearest?" Ali says, and the two go inside and change for yet another royal entrance on the way to the viewing platform for the fleet review. 

Meanwhile, Anacaona, Piotr, and their chaperone make a quiet exit from the other side of the train, headed to a waiting car.  "I do hope they have the guns there already, well, the barrels at least, I got to see them forging the blanks for them" she says as they get into the car en route to Drydock Number One.

Quote from: TacCovert4 on April 10, 2024, 10:48:42 PM"Oh wonderful!" she says, directing a servant to clear a table to play.  Sultan Ali chuckles to himself and goes back to reading, and Queen Fatima finds a book for herself as well. 

The train winds its way to Veracruz, Ali and Shirin enjoying the respite as they sit on the back deck of their car, sipping tea as the kilometers quietly rattle by until they arrive at the Port City.  "Shall we dearest?" Ali says, and the two go inside and change for yet another royal entrance on the way to the viewing platform for the fleet review. 

Meanwhile, Anacaona, Piotr, and their chaperone make a quiet exit from the other side of the train, headed to a waiting car.  "I do hope they have the guns there already, well, the barrels at least, I got to see them forging the blanks for them" she says as they get into the car en route to Drydock Number One.

"You have a lot more access to these matters than I do," Piotr remarked.  "I get to go to some of the keel-laying events and launches and commissionings...and the reviews and occasionally a target shoot...but I don't get to just take a car and go visit whenever I want."

"It's not whenever I want.  I do have to give advanced notice so arrangements can be made," Anacaona replied.

The car collected a solitary escort on its way out of the station, another sedan with four not-exactly-nondescript men  inside.  The security vehicle led the way through the city, garnering little attention from pedestrians and other drivers beyond recognition that there was a convoy of some sort and one of the passengers was a foreign boy. "Do you have problems with the press here?" Piotr inquired.  "They can be very intrusive back home.  There are times I feel like we're just a source of entertainment for people."

"Not really, but my family has more power than yours, so..." Anacaona started, then paused.  "I don't mean that in an offensive way."

"That's fine, you're right," Piotr shrugged.

They were admitted to the shipyard with little fuss, the sentry saluting Anacaona out of recognition and Piotr as a sensible precaution.  They continued along until they reached a larger drydock than Piotr had seen at home and disembarked.

The foreman greeted them enthusiastically...in Aztec...and Anacaona translated.  "He's happy to see me again and welcomes you and we're welcome to follow him over there."

"Please express my appreciation for his time," Piotr nodded.

The princess did so, and the foreman led the two teens and their chaperone to an office at the edge of the dock, where they were issued hard hats and steel-toed boots.  "They're a bit loose," Piotr noted of the boots.

"I had to guess your size," Anacaona said.  "Better too large than too small."

The foreman led the little party down a series of stairs that left the chaperone a little bit winded and then they were crossing the wide deck towards piles of steel and other components.  "The Royal Sovereign hasn't actually been laid down yet.  This is just marshalling of some of the long-lead time components and positioning of keel blocks and so on," Anacaona summarized.  "And the guns are here!"

"Nice!" Piotr grinned.

"They'll be the biggest, most powerful guns afloat when the ship is completed," Anacaona said.  "Although I understand you have one on a monitor?"

"Yes.  I'm not sure if that counts," said Piotr, who had not been briefed on his navy's ongoing 500mm/45 project.

"I'm not sure either.  We'll have more of them, though."

"That's true.  I think we're sticking to 400mm for the time being..."

"Nothing wrong with 400mm.  We only have three ships with those" she says, pointing towards a more distant drydock where HMS Conqueror is getting a number of finishing touches. "Counting Conqueror.  Most of our fleet is either the 360mm or the 280mm.  And I don't think the Implacables are going to be scrapped anytime soon, we lost too much of our fleet at Ironclad Bay to scrap any capital ships for a while yet"

The two of them, with their chaperones at a respectful distance, walk the floor of the drydock, the massive gates closed for now, keeping the waters of the bay out.  Piotr whistles as he notes the scale of the keel from where the keel blocks are being arrayed.  "She will be massive" he says as they walk from the bow block to the stern block.  "Very" Anacaona replies.  "Larger than anything in active service, and her advertised light displacement will out mass the Roman Empress Amelias by the weight of a cruiser."

The two of them enjoy their reverie away from the bustle of all of the repeat introductions and crowds and officialdom before heading back for the fleet review itself.

(To finish up the wedding storyline)

May 22nd, 1930, Veracruz

The assembled royal families tour and review the assembled fleets, commenting about the newest ships, the efforts to modernize and preserve the oldest ships, and how rapidly technology has changed over the past couple of decades.  For instance the idea that an aircraft carrier the size of a somewhat large cruiser could be considered in some circles to be the deadliest capital ship afloat, given the right circumstances, would have been ridiculous even a decade ago.  And ships like the Implacables, which were the height of Aztec technology fourteen years ago, were now downright diminuitive when compared to even their own companions, much less some of the Parthian monsters.  And even with the massive modernization program planned for them, only barely outside of completely obsolete.  This contrasted with the turn of the century, where ships could be almost state of the art for twenty years with only basic refitting of a few surface mounted systems and the occasional relined guns.

The culmination of the day was that evening, where after a final reception meal, Ali and Shirin boarded HMS Sol to much fanfare, her diesels quietly purring as she slipped out of harbor, en route for the island of Dominica on the first stop of the Royal Couple's honeymoon turned world tour.

July 1st, 1930

Ali took his wife's hand and helped her to the gangplank from the motor launch onto HMS Sol.  A month in seclusion in sunny Dominica was something straight from Allah, a month in which aside from a handful of servants from the ship, no one, not even the colonial governor, had disturbed their time on the beach.

"I wish we didn't have to go" Ali said, holding Shirin.  She laughs "We're on a voyage around the world dearest, we will have plenty of time on this holiday."  "Yes", he replies, "but now we bounce from colony to colony, being invited to dinners and attending receptions".  She smiles, "I know you would rather avoid it, but this is who you are too.  But now you have me to help you through those dreadful dinners and receptions."

Ali laughs, then Shirin cuts her eyes at him.  "And in the meantime, the Princess Royal would like to invite you to a private reception in the stateroom".

The two manage to keep their expressions and gait at least mostly neutral as they disappear through the doors into the massive royal suite aboard the cruiser-sized yacht, the door shutting as Sol begins knifing through the waters, headed South towards Terra del Fuego, and the roughest part of the voyage.

July 20th, Terra del Fuego

The last three days had been bitterly cold, the sealskin coats were a definite necessity here, as the cold winter winds and the rough southern sea had battered the shoreline.  HMS Penguin steamed out of the harbor, patrolling for stranded fishermen, and Sol was a strange sight, her finer lines out of place amongst the stout fishing vessels and merchants that plied these waters.  Even with that, the Cape colony was a valuable set of fishing ports, and a strategic position that guaranteed the two ocean mobility of the RAN, if the canal was not available. 

Even with the weather, Ali and Shirin had both enjoyed the less effete denizens of one of the Sultanate's most remote colonies.  The governor was hard-bitten and refreshingly blunt compared to most courtiers and officials, and the scions of the various fishing families were a polyglot of peoples.  Vilnius residents who never left, immigrants from the Northern Kingdom in search of fortune in new fishing grounds, and Aztec immigrants all mixing together.  In a piece of irony, one dinner guest was Comanche, now married to a Vilnius boat captain.  While Shirin had expected bitterness, the young lady seemed quite happy in her diaspora.  Maybe it was a chance to have something more than an eked out existence in the scrub plains?

Their duties to the crown completed, the newlyweds departed for the long open water stretch to Zealand.  Quietly, Sol's captain looked forward to reaching Christchurch, where a number of small maintenance items could be completed and the crew receive true shore leave at the naval base there.