The Tyndall Air Force Base is an expansive facility, and it handles all the information taken in by everything done militarily, and works to be a place of office for the leaders within the Republic. As well as leading the Republic's people. This is also the home of the Tyndall Jets, as it has an airport that maintains a large portion of the military. It serves as an information hub, allowing the President to be in-tune with the public as much as infrastructure allows.
Your military advisers suggest this for a standard layout for standing military equipment. 60,000 Infantry 30,000 Bombadier 30,000 Rocketeers 6,000 Trucks 3,000 Light Self-Propelled Artillery 3,000 Gunners 1,000 Light Tanks 1,500 IFVs 500 Monitors 300 Fighters 200 Shredders 200 F-22s 3,000 Battle Copters 1,000 T Copters 10 Freighters: They suggest 10 LMGs for air deterrence, 10 mortars for indirect support, and 10 RPGs for border defense. 2,000 Coast Defenders 1,500 Gulls 1,000 Minelayers 500 Listening Boats 800 Torpedoers 200 Echos (Electronic Monitoring) Water Cleanliness: Your people either gather or import clean water from the mountains, or draw it from lakes and rivers. It's not that big of a problem, though pollutants can be a problem at times. Percent of citizens with access to clean water: Most. There isn't a great water sewage system or water delivery system, but most poeple are capable of obtaining it. State of water distributional infrastructure: Poor. In the city it's existent, but outside of it, it's virtually unknown. Food Production Capabilities: Not so great. Fishing and hunting provides most of the food, but the region isn't that great for farming, so most of hte food is imported from east Georgia, which is unreliable. Food distributional infrastructure: Poor. Generlaly most food goes first to the military to keep them well fed, so food is expensive elsewhere. Percent of citizens living in poverty: 75%, there isn't a large middle class. Percent of citizens who are unemployed: 15%, mostly hunters and foragers. Percent of citizens capable of reading: 40%, literacy is in demand for the military, so a lot of people try to learn to read. Percent of citizens with high school degrees (or an equal): 25%, in the northern part of the country there isn't much need for en education Percent of citizens with college degrees (or an equal): 15%, a few collegiate types managed to make their way to the airbase during the Celestial War, and ended up teaching their successors what they knew. Percent of citizens capable of getting health care: Poor. Most hospitals are int he city, and there are few doctors in the north. Road infrastructure status: Somewhat decent. There is a main road that the military uses into the north, but outside of that, it's all local trails. Percent of children with access to school: 20%, very very few. Breakdown of Economy at present: Mapping services conducted by the military and the water trade are the biggest sources of income. Manufacturing capabilities: Enough to serve the military's needs, and provide some heavy equipment to the north, but not much else. Military Readiness: Moderate. The lack of good roads is a bit of a problem in the more rural areas, but air cover makes up for most of it. Military competency: Moderate-high. Your pilots are the best in the region. Number of scientists: More than most, due to the number of scientists that arrived and started teaching apprentices. Capacity of research department: Comparatively strong, as a result of the academics.
In the west, a fisherman returned with a gunshot wound and a nasty claw wound on his side. His family were shaken about it, and brought him into the city for medical care, and brought him to the doctors. Right now, they have been unable to negotiate payment, but the man is quite shaken about his ordeal. He keeps insisting that he speak with someone from the military, but refuses to talk to the doctors about it. Eventually, a doctor insisted on doing something about the scar wound, as it was obviously infected, and told the man’s family to worry about payment later. The man has refused anesthetic, and insists to speak with the authorities.
Taking a sip of his coffee, and inhaling the fumes to remember the days he had done this before a patrol run or an air show, and looked over the list of things he had on his table. "We have a problem with getting food to our people," he said, looking over everything a few extra times. He stroked his chin, and smiled. "We'll establish a farmland, and work on establishing a sharecropping system. If it's the soil that's the problem, see if we can't trade for a substantial amount of workable soil elsewhere. We'll use what tech we have to clean out some land, opening up for what we need. If Astrocorp is available, send a message their way to see if they can help. I also-" he was interrupted as a young Lieutenant came into the room, his military dress uniform as neatly organized as possible. "Sir, we have a problem, a man needs to see you. He's injured, refuses to see anyone non-military." Herman stood from his desk, uttered "take care of things for a bit," and made his way to this fisherman as soon as possible with a few of the NCOs who weren't occupied at the office. He found his way to the man, and quickly came to his aid. "How are you doing? What's wrong? Er, where are my manners? My name's Marcus Herman, I'm here to help. We're going to get you some medical help, is that okay?"
“Sir, I-“ “We’ll work it out later,” another one of the assistants said. At the hospital, the man was grateful to see his President. “Mister President,” he wheezed. He winced as the doctor applied something to his wound, “Ah got urgent new from the east. Ah was out fishin’, a lil’ too close to N’ar’leans, Ah admit. While on my way back, Ah found a cave with a light in it. Ah thought someone may have taken up residence there, so I thought Ah’d check it out. Ah was armed, of course. Ah called out, and Ah heard the most unnatural slither. I swung about to see a fish-boy starin’ at me. It were a Deep One. There was a whole family ‘o them in that cave, their eggs were linin’ the cave. Ah were going to just run, when I heard a girl callin’ fer help. Ah spun about, but the biggest fish-man I could imagine were scowlin’ at me, and in as plain English as you or Ah are talkin’, he told me to leave. “Ah told him that Ah weren’t leavin’ a girl callin’ fer help, and he gave me this.” He motioned to his chest wound. “So Ah returned the favor with mah shotgun. I rushed into the cave to find the girl, who were screamin’ fer help. But they had guns.” He shook his head. “This weren’t twenty miles off our border, sir. They were real close. A whole family of them.”
Marcus would put his hand to his chin, deeply concerned. He wanted to just call in a bombing run, but a problem like this was a grave one that was far too delicate to get the jets called in. Perhaps a Helo for close-air support would be fine though... He realized his mind was wandering too hard, and shook his head. He took out his pen and paper, taking rough notes about it and putting his finger to his nose. "So you saw it full of Deep Ones..." He said, confirming it to himself. "This is a big problem. We need a few good men for this one. Especially if they have a human hostage. We'll get this taken care of as soon as possible, don't worry. You did a good job making it back as you need to. Don't worry about the expenses for medical treatment, it's on me. Can you show me about where it was on a map?" Marcus would nod to his NCOs after getting the location, and give one of them a scrap of paper ordering a scout run made by a few of the Tyndall jets who are on the closest patrol to that region. They will then be followed by a similar scouting run of a Helo, hoping to get a good location on the area to allow a proper sitrep.
The man pointed on a map. “Right there.” He nodded, and smiled at his family. “Make sure that they’re taken care of.” The man fell unconscious immediately, and the doctor seemed to go into panic mode. “He’s entered Lovecraftic Shock. His body is being taken over by Oldspawn microbes. This room is now quarantined. Your clothes will have to be burned. Get out, now.” After shoving them all out of the room, and being shoved into the shower and their clothes being taken, then replaced, they all started taking the chance to actually work on the issue. Almost nothing was known to the layman about proper medicine, but it was known that Oldspawn could infect people with strange diseases. The President had seen Lovecraftic shock before, and there was no reason to envy that man. It was a miracle he made it as long as he had. Lovecraftic shock was when the human body reacted to the Oldspawn infection, and it was nastily known for spreading the stuff. The doctor inside was taking a lot of risks with himself. “We can have three patrol boats in the area in an hour, thirty minutes if you’d like, sir. A submersible in two hours, forty five if you need,” a Naval adviser said. “We can have Helos in the area almost immediately,” an Air Force adviser objectors. “A ground force is the only way to be sure,” the Army adviser almost interrupted his Air Force counterpart. “Sir, maybe we’re jumping to conclusions here. For all we know that family has been there for years and this is the first time someone’s discovered it. We know that Deep Ones are intelligent, even compassionate. Perhaps going in guns ablazing isn’t the greatest idea. I mean, what if they wiped out a human farm because they’d captured one of them? There may be a diplomatic solution here,” one of the younger members of the Diplomatic corp pointed out.
"You're right," Marcus shook his head, taking a swig of water to help him get his mind running. "We should send some patrol boats, with helo support. We don't want spook the Deep Ones, but at the same time if they turn out to be hostile we don't want to have men totally unarmed or scared. Facing Deep Ones is a bit of a scary thing, even for me. Tell the men there to be fully aware of the fact that we're talking diplomacy here, and that the helos will be watching over them in case anything goes wrong. If asked, the men are ordered to elaborate on exactly why there are Tyndall helos overhead: we don't want talks to be anything more than civil." He scratched his head, trying to think of a man who was capable of going in as was needed for the interests of Tyndall.
Each of the commanders seemed both pleased and displeased. Pleased that they were being sent, but displeased that they weren’t being the one sent. The three Branches had always been like that. The Air Force had a special place in everyone’s heart, so the other two branches were always competing for the same kind of attention. “I believe this is the right decision, sir. I think after what happened to them, they’ll understand what’s going on, so they won’t be caught completely off guard when we go in to talk,” the junior ambassador said, “If there’s nobody else you’d prefer to send, I’d like to volunteer. It was my idea, I’d like to se through it to the end. But I don’t want to go in alone, either.”
"I know of a man. Just took me some time to think. Sergeant David Barbour, he'll do for this job. We'll need you here to be sure we can get that diplomat suited up. I'm having a hard time remembering his name for some reason... Either way, we'll need you here to get him prepped up if it's needed for him to be." Marcus would take another drink of water, not really thinking entirely how precious the thing was. It was a bit of a blessing that his people were able to get it from the local sources, but he tried not to think of it like that. 'Blessings' had become a scary thing after the Celestial War, he knew it. Well, Gods or God, Marcus knew he had his own Angels.
The Diplomat’s name was Atari Wilkinson. He claims he was named after the Atari video game machine he was born under. Literally. His mother had figured that in this world, traditional names mean little, since most of them are connected to the Bible in one way or another anyway. Atari seems comfortable with the weapons and the armor he’d been given. Having grown up near the Wilds, it’s not surprising. He wasn’t a soldier, but he’d seen combat. He looked to Barbour, his escort, and nodded. It was going to be hot, more than likely, when they entered the Deep One’s cave. And sure enough, the Deep Ones were firing off RPGs and giving the boats small arms fire when the Tyndall Navy and Air Force arrived, but they weren’t particularly good shots. “This is your boat, Lieutenant. I trust you to bring us in without having to open fire,” Atari said to the Speedboat’s commander. ((From this point on, control Atari.))
"Don't worry, we'll get this under control. I don't really want to shoot them, but if they get a good hit in on somebody we may have to." Barbour spoke. He'd reach down, patting Atari on the shoulder. Atari would nod and take a megaphone handed from Barbour. He cleared his throat, and kicked it on. Ignoring the normal feedback, he angled it so his voice would project down the tunnels. "Attention Deep Ones, we are of the Republic of Tyndall, and we are here in peace. We only wish to talk on friendly terms, due to a lead we were given on an abduction. We do not wish to cause harm, and will not harm you if you are hospitable and let us talk. We wish to peacefully find out what's happening in an environment of neutrality and peace. The soldiers with me will only fire in retaliation, if you understand please indicate such." David would order his men to stop firing the moment the Deep Ones stopped letting out small arms and RPG fire.
A few more shots rang out, but they could hear the tell-tale clicks and shrieks of the Deep One’s language. Another rocket was fired at a helicopter that got too close, sending a clear message that they were not welcome at this cove. But as Atari’s speedboat approached, there was no more gunfire, and the Deep Ones showed themselves, keeping their guns trained on everything, including the speedboat. They could see a massive, nearly eight foot long, Deep One, who was nursing a gut wound, likely the one that tried to kill the fisherman. But he was merely watching. A smaller but no less mean looking Deep One approached, with his neck-fins showing, a sign of hostility and anger, or at least passion. “What do you want, human?” he growled, “You humans are not welcome here.” “Please! Get me out of here!” a young woman’s voice called out. The Deep One hissed orders, and they heard the woman scream as she was dragged deeper into the cave.
"We are here investigating an attack on one of our citizens. He reported a woman screaming, to which we now have a confirmed report of. We are here to investigate exactly who she is, and why you have such an interest in her. We don't want to call in air support, which I'm sure you're well aware we've got a substantial amount of. We want this situation resolved peacefully, and without more bloodshed. It is bad enough one of yours killed one of ours." Atari spoke flatly. David Barbour looked to the one with the stomach wound, eyeing him up. These things weren't pleasant to look at. But that's why he signed up: to stop things like what was happening from doing just that. "And if we humans are not allowed here, then why is she in the depths of your cave? Is she a hostage? Is she a citizen of the Republic of Tyndall?" Atari added. He made sure to throw his voice down the cave to try and get her attention. Barbour adjusted a strap on his rifle, but he kept one hand up to show he was just fidgeting. He was waiting for her to scream "Go Dance With the Angels!" to signal she was one of theirs. If she was a citizen and was being held against her will by the Deep Ones, they'd be in some deep shit.
“She is my brother’s mate,” the Deep One growled, “Whether she is one of your ‘citizens’ or not is irrelevant. She is carrying his children. You have no claim on her.” A female Deep One put her hand on his shoulder, and he relaxed a bit. He looked back to the two humans, and then out to the sea, where Tyndall speedboats and helicopters were still patrolling. “She is from north of New Orleans. She is not one of your citizens,” he assured them, “I am sorry for the death of your friend. But he was a threat to our family. He did not leave when he told him to. We protected our nest. That is all. You have no business here, humans.” That was all fine and dandy, but Atari knew that the presence of a family of Deep Ones would inevitably lead to conflicts later on, even if the Deep Ones were not the antagonists.
"We may not have business with you here, per se. However, it is in our interests to ask why exactly you're so far from New Orleans. I must ask on behalf of my superiors exactly why a Deep One family is so close to our borders. I personally don't have qualms with Oldspawn, but my superiors could see it as a problem with you living so close. Our people aren't as willing to accept to Oldspawn as I am, and with the settlement in New Orleans this could easily be seen as a security compromise." As the Oldspawn relaxed, so did Barbour. He didn't like the idea of leaving a woman who was essentially raped with these Old Spawn, but there was a time for shooting and a time for talking. He accepted that the young Lieutenant more or less had the say right now, and the Diplomatic Corpsman wanted peace. He maintained a neutral eye-contact with the Oldspawn, hoping to indicate he was paying his full attention to the... 'Man' across from him.
“Not all Oldspawn and Deep Ones live in New Orleans or Dominica,” he said, “But my father, the one nursing the shotgun wound, did come from New Orleans. He mated with a human, and I was born, and he did not believe that the arrangement of treating humans as cattle and breed-stock was right if the humans were to bear his children. So he left. He would not fight the Mind, but he would have no part in the suffering. We have had many homes. Some of our Clan returned to New Orleans or went to Dominica for the conditions. But this cave, we have our eggs laid here. It is our homes. Until now, we have been undisturbed for over a year. Our younglings will hatch, and we will raise them. And they will go to other Clans, and some of them will die. Some of them, likely, by the guns of your soldiers. But we have chosen to live outside the city, and so we have chosen to live with those risks. One of our oldest memories is an American soldier leaving our ancestor alone, for that reason. We have the right to live, and we have the right to live here. You have no claim here.” Most Oldspawn have some form of ancestral memory, so it’s not surprising that he would be able to remember that sort of thing. A Deep One emerged, looking nervous and skittish. He kept his distance from the humans, and whispered in the other one’s ear. “My brother has asked me to allow you to see the woman. This is a bad idea. But she is the mother of my nieces and nephews, she is entitled to the request.”
"I see. That is understandable. Much in the same way not all of mankind lives in Tyndall, not all Oldspawn and Deep Ones live in New Orleans. That makes perfect sense." He took in the other's words, nodding as needed. He wanted to learn, but wasn't eager enough to put himself into their shoes. "We don't want unnecessary bloodshed, and under the ideal that you have the right to live we will strive to keep relations peaceful. However, we will expect the same treatment in return." After the conversation, and the skittish Deep One emerged Atari cocked his head. Upon hearing the leader's translation, he nodded. "We are more than willing to see her. I will have to ask that our men be allowed to keep their guns on them, to keep them calm. Unless of course she is coming up here to see us." At this notion, Barbour ordered the men to remain calm and holster their weapons. He bit his lip somewhat, not entirely sure what to expect of the woman who was carrying the children of Oldspawn or Deep Ones. He was somewhat terrified, to be quite honest. He knew some were kept up differently than others, and that one nation in the pre-War times had even managed to set up birthing pods and the like. He gulped somewhat.
“I am glad to hear it, but your promises give me know hope. I am familiar with American history, and its ‘reservations’ for the Native people,” he said, “Though you may not be the United States, you are no less their successors.” He looked to the soldiers, and his fins twitched with annoyance. “You may keep your weapons. But only two may enter. Two more may stand outside the inner cave’s entrance if that makes you feel better, but I don’t want your human bacteria getting on the children or our elderly. It causes weird mutations without a proper immunity.” He led them inside, and they found the true extent of the caves. There must be at least three hundred Deep Ones living here. They even had several vehicles in the cave, including trucks, which meant that there must be an entrance to the ground above. There were about a dozen more humans, but they weren’t being held against their will, it seemed; it looked as if they were keeping the vehicles maintained. They were probably locals, or mercenaries that the Deep Ones had come to trust. From their expressions, they seemed on edge. They were brought to a cave-room where an iron door had been improvised. Inside, what they found was nothing short of a room fit for a queen, with magnificently drawn walls, expertly crafted furniture and all kinds of fineries. There was a massive bookcase, filled with books; the number and value of books would go for hundreds of thousands in the Republic. On the bed were chains and shackles. The woman, in a very fine dress, quite pregnant, shuddered as the Deep Ones entered. The Deep One Atari had been speaking with grabbed Atari’s arm as soon as he stepped in. “I hope you appreciate by looking at this room the lengths and expense we’ve gone through to make this woman comfortable.” He let go of Atari’s arm, and took a position in the corner, trying to keep his brother calm. “Jackson’s Soul, thank ye fer comin’! Ye got te get me outta here!” she said to Atari and the Lieutenant, “They’ve bin keepin’ me here aginst mah will. The thin one, over there…I’m carryin’ his monsters aginst mah will! Ah know yer Republic is full of good, honest folk, would ye please take me in? Mah father was, or is, if he’s still alive, a wealthy man, he’ll be able to purchase land fer me to be comfortable in. If not, then his land is rightfully mine, and I kin convince them to work with ye ifen you reach Louisiana. I just want out of the grips of these monsters!” The woman’s words seemed to agitate the younger Deep One, the father of the woman’s children.
"Now ma'am, don't call them monsters with such prejudice. We're in their home, and I'd rather not piss them off. Bad manners, plus they have some evolutionary advantages I don't have." Atari smiled weakly, knowing her plight. It was a scary predicament for her to be in, for sure. He turned to the more composed Deep One, not wishing to scare the smaller one into a panic. That would cause a scene most unpleasant. David however, kept a watchful eye on the youthful one. He understood that if the shifty one were given too much comfort it would easily just order him and Atari executed. That wouldn't be good at all. "I can admire the efforts to make her comfortable, as we all want to do with an expecting mother. However, it just doesn't seem like it's her will to be the mother of your children. Even if she is to bear them, she was far from willing to do so and could cause an adverse effect on them once they are born. I know your culture enough to know that you are very family-oriented, which is an admirable trait to be sure. However, wouldn't a family with an unwilling mother be a troublesome endeavor? If she were to be allowed to leave once she has the children and return to her life back in Louisiana, would that be acceptable?" He looked to her with a reassuring glance, hoping that the woman could be content with Atari's efforts to at least promise her freedom. Bearing Deep One young or not, the Tyndall Republic didn't have much in the way of power here. He didn't want to threaten an extradition order, because that could be misinterpreted the wrong way. The death of a Tyndall citizen though, was a big deal. They didn't seem to know it, but they were in a bit of trouble themselves.
