Liberators

Prologue: Beginning of Hostilities

Prologue: Beginning of Hostilities

The Government Building

Ibklask, Krakozhia

July 26, 2008

The two hundred Krakozhian and foreign journalists milling around the conference room were suddenly silenced upon a signal from the government assistants, who then ordered them to take their designated seats. The reporters waited patiently for the government official who would make tonight’s announcement, never knowing that it would lead to one of the biggest events in the small nation’s history.

Marshal Oleg Sergeyevich Dallutev walked out of a side room, into the conference room, and stepped onto a podium. He took a sip of water from a small plastic cup, cleared his throat, and spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “thank you all for coming here tonight. It is an honor to speak with all of you.

“The Krakozhian Central Committee has come to a decision regarding the Independent Republic of Rivymiyitevko.” The media had to strain their ears to hear the last words in the sentence. The Marshal spoke them so fast; it was as if he were muttering an unspeakable curse. Most Krakozhians had still not come around to the fact that their two far-flung provinces in the Arctic had declared independence, but since almost no one else knew about the islands, there was no international pressure for recognition. Their revolt may have been on the news, but in the wake of September 11, all attention was focused on a rebuilding America, even in Krakozhia.

“The Central Committee had decided to send a final diplomatic mission to Rivymiyitevko for negotiations. Secretary of Foreign Affairs Vladimir Ofinovic will lead the mission, which will include some of our nation’s best negotiators. The mission will cover a thirty-day period, after which the Central Committee will use the results to deliberate the next course of action. Whatever the results are, this will be the final Krakozhian diplomatic mission to Rivymiyitevko. That is all for tonight. Are there any questions?”

A multitude of hands rose to the air, but Dallutev pointed at a female reporter in the middle. “When you said ‘a course of action,’ do you mean a military action?” she asked.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that Krakozhia is preparing for war.”

A male American reporter was next to asking a question. “Marshal Dallutev, what is your opinion on the mission?”

“All I can say is that this can go either way.”

“Comrade Marshal, I don’t dare ask this, but if the mission fails, will the Central Committee consider an invasion?”

“If the mission fails,” said Dallutev, emphasizing the word if, “then an armed conflict could be the only option. That is all for tonight. Thank you.” The Marshal left the room in a flurry of flashing lights and shouted questions.

“Did you really have to say that?” asked foreign secretary Ofinovic. He was watching the press conference from a passageway that led from the side room into the Government Building, home of the Krakozhian Politburo and Central Committee.

“Come on, Vladimir,” said Dallutev, “everyone in Krakozhia knows we are poised to strike that island ever since the civil war ended.”

“Oleg, how can you be sure that Military Plan One will work? It is almost twenty years old, by God! How sure are we that it will work with both old and new weapons?”

“Vladimir, there are tactics that we use that have been in existence ever since man first fought each other. I have complete confidence in Military Plan One.”

Ibklask International Airport

That same time

“In all of my years in government service, I think that this is a futile gesture.”