MacNealy Air Force Base — January 1, 2019
All right, settle down! I know we all have a ton of questions that need answering, and we will get to them as quickly as we can, but I need people to settle down! Right, are we all good? Then let’s begin.
As you’re all no doubt aware, two days ago a massive hurricane somehow managed to envelop the entire Federation and effectively cut off all communications with the rest of the outside world. We’ve received unconfirmed reports of some kind of natural disaster along Osea’s eastern and southern borders, and for some reason we’re also picking up Selatapuran distress calls several kilometers east of Basset Space Center. However, that’s not why you’ve all been assembled here.
Your mission will be to cross the Ceres Ocean and attempt to reestablish radio contact with Yuktobania. You’ll be passing by the old base at Sand Island first before heading towards Murska, where the Yukes will hopefully be able to pick us up on their radar and figure out how to get a more permanent form of long-distance communication back up and running. Alternatively, we’ll also be investigating as to whether the disaster that just struck us also affected them.
We may be unofficially in a state of emergency, but we’re not in a war with anyone just yet. Therefore, you are to maintain trigger discipline at all times and not to fire at any unknown signatures unless they start shooting at us! Osea and Yuktobania have had a good thing going since the Circum-Pacific War ended, and it would be a waste if we threw all that away over some kind of miscommunication. This is a humanitarian mission, not a military one.
That should be all that you need to know; get to your planes as soon as you can!
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[UNKNOWN] — January 1, 2019
“Uhhhh…Wiseman, that coast we’re seeing…that isn’t Yuktobania, is it?”
Cyclops One looked down at the mountainous coastline, observing with slight confusion the castle and surrounding villages below. “Hmm. Long Caster, are you sure your radar’s working properly? This place looks more Verusan than anywhere in Yuktobania I’ve been to.”
“I’ve double-checked my instruments, Wiseman, and the fact that only half of our sensors are working right now could be making some slight discrepancies, but I’m fairly certain this is accurate—we should be roughly four hundred kilometers south of the Pobeda Peninsula.” The AWACS operator frowned, pushing his plate to the side and peering closer at his display. “What the hell is this place?”
“We could be near Tigre Port—maybe we’re slightly off course from what your instruments are telling us,” Cyclops Four volunteered. “At this point, though, we’d have the coast guard radioing us—maybe the disaster affected their ability to communicate?”
“If that were the case, Húxiān, why am I not seeing any modern infrastructure? And why am I seeing a dragon of all things at twelve o’clock—”
“Wiseman, evade!”
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“Sixth Wyvern Squadron to Control! We nearly had a mid-air collision with one of the unknown objects!”
Marl Patima slowly felt the blood flow back into his veins after the black object barely managed to swerve out of the way, a surge of wind nearly sending him and his wyvern spiraling out of control. Even as the knight grabbed desperately to his reins in an attempt to keep up with the foreign birds, the split-second sight of the craft up close continued to sear itself into his mind—clearly, it was a mechanical object of some kind belonging to an unknown nation. The figure within was a clear sign of that, as was the unusual flag on its tail—blue and white, with six—no, seven stars in a circle.
Who were these intruders? And what did they want with Qua-Toyne?
The knight quickly looked towards the objects as they slowly disappeared over the horizon, trying to figure out where they were headed—
“Sixth Wyvern Squadron to Control, be advised: we can’t keep up with the unknown objects! They’re flying faster and higher than we can achieve, and they’re headed towards Maihark!”
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“That definitely does not corroborate with anything in Verusa or Yuktobania, Wiseman.”
The LRSSG squadron leader nodded. “Affirmative. It looks like we’re dealing with an unknown third party somewhere in the middle of the Ceres Ocean—their ships look like Emmerian schooners, the towns like something out of the old Stovie fairy tales.”
“I think our presence might be causing a bit of stir amongst the locals,” Lanza observed. “Look down at the castle walls!”
“They’re deploying their defensive measures, but I don’t see any AA units or SAM sites. Should we try to communicate with them?”
“Hang on, let me try,” Long Caster responded, quickly leaning towards his microphone. “This is AWACS Long Caster of the Osean Long Range Strategic Strike Group. Does anyone copy, over? I say again, this is AWACS Long Caster of the Osean Long Range Strategic Strike Group to all radio signatures, does anyone copy?”
“Hey, does anyone have a camera? Might be useful to take some shots for HQ to analyze when we get back.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Already on it.” Cyclops Four’s camera could be heard clicking over the radio.
“…this is the Headquarters of the Qua-Toyne Principality to the AWACS Long Caster, we receive your transmission. You are currently within our airspace and above our cities. State your intention within our lands immediately or we will consider you to be hostile!”
Lanza frowned. “Damn, straight to the point. Definitely haven’t heard of a Qua-Toyne before, though. What are we doing, Wiseman?”
“Play it cool, don’t shoot until I say so—for all we know, Yuktobania might be going through some kind of civil war and we wouldn’t even know. Let’s head back to base and report our findings, and let the diplomats figure things out afterwards. Long Caster?”
“Roger. Long Caster to Qua-Toyne, our aircraft was performing reconnaissance after a natural disaster on our homeland knocked out our sensors, and we seemed to have gotten off course of our original destination. We’ll be heading out of your airspace as soon as possible and apologize for the intrusion.”
“Copy. We’ll be observing your craft as they leave the airspace, just as a precaution.”
“Roger, out.”
Lanza shook his head in amusement. “Dragons, and now nations out of nowhere. What the hell did we just get ourselves into, Wiseman?”
“Something a whole lot different than we’re used to, that’s for sure.”
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Bright Hill — January 4, 2019
“Qua-Toyne?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Vice Chairman Edwards replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “The name doesn’t corroborate with any known locations, individuals, movements, or…well, anything or significance anywhere within Yuktobania or even anywhere else on Earth. That said, the information and intelligence picked up by the LRSSG has been verified by our experts as legitimate, so we are definitely looking at an unknown nation that we know next to nothing about where Yuktobania was supposed to be.”
President Bartlett sighed in frustration. “How about the situation with Selatapura?”
“From our readings, it appears the nation somehow managed to transfer itself from Usea to the western coast of Osea, right between Bassett and Shannon on the edge of Forster Bay. Basically, the entire city-state’s been transformed into an island nation complete with the port, city center, financial district, and the space elevator itself—all intact and functional. We’re in the process of reestablishing permanent communications with them and providing aid where necessary.”
“So…what exactly are we looking at? What about these stories I’m hearing about our border with Belka and Sapin being a coast and Perbla just vanishing?”
Edwards grimaced. “Mr. President, I think we might be looking at some kind of nationwide transference.”
“…tell me you’re pulling my leg.”
“Mr. President, none of our satellites are operational, none of the nations we know of appear to exist except for one—which somehow managed to travel over an entire third of the planet without…well, any kind of consequences—and we’re dealing with creatures straight out of an Emmerian bedtime story! I…we can’t think of any other possible explanation for it—”
“Mr. President?”
The grizzled veteran turned to the door in irritation. “Yes, Clements, what is it?”
“We just established contact with Pilgrim One—apparently, Captain Nagase somehow ended up right over the planet when the disaster happened. She and her crew are unharmed, and are ready to head back to the ISEV at your command.”
“Copy, make it happen. Give Kei my regards.” Turning back to Edwards, the president shook his head. “What about our overseas assets? Did we lose our guys in the IUN?”
“Surprisingly, all of our IUN boys somehow managed to find themselves in Fort Grays and Comona—the two island chains are now roughly a few hundred kilometers off the coast of Redmill and Bana City. Everyone’s been accounted for from all departments, and we’re currently figuring out what exactly to do with them now that their objectives are…well, pretty much gone.”
“Everything and everyone?”
“Yep.”
“So our nation, our people, and our military resources—and the space elevator of all things—all got sent here for some reason, and we have yet to figure out how and why.”
“That would be the case, Mr. President—”
“Er, Mr. President?”
“Clements? You again? What is it this time?”
The Brigadier General quickly pushed his way into the room, hurriedly reaching for the projector currently displaying all of the data regarding the current phenomenon. “We just received an image taken from the cockpit of Pilgrim One—you’re going to want to take a look at this, sir.”
Edwards gasped as a new photograph appeared on the board. “My god…”
The continent of Osea remained as intact as ever, but where Sapin, Ustio, and Belka used to be blue reigned as far as the eye could see. A large continent dominated the western reaches of the Ceres Ocean, with a series of smaller islands along its southern shores. For all intents and purposes, it was clear that what once was Verusa and Anea and every nation within it had quite simply ceased to exist.
President Bartlett simply sighed. “Yep, it’s a goddamned transference, isn’t it?”
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Osean Broadcast Corporation — February 13, 2019/1639
The Osean Federation, Selatapura, the Qua-Toyne Principality, and the Kingdom of Quila signed a formal agreement today at the port of Maihark, officially establishing diplomatic and economic ties between the four nations. This is the first major diplomatic agreement that Osea and Selatapura have taken since the New Year’s phenomenon that displaced both nations from our original reality.
In addition to setting up communications and trade between the four nations, Qua-Toyne agreed to export food and livestock to Osea and Selatapura in return for the technology required to meet and maintain the expected high demand. The Kingdom of Quila also agreed to allow Osean companies into their territories in order to extract natural resources believed to exist within the region, in return for a share of the profits; Neucom Incorporated, General Resource Limited, and Gründer Industries have already submitted proposals for operations to begin as soon as next month.
Leading the Osean and Selatapuran delegates was former President Harling, who met with Qua-Toyne’s Prime Minister Kanata and Quila’s King Gur’mach in an exchange of greetings and invitations to visit each other’s nations. Known for his pivotal role in ending the Circum-Pacific War and his humanitarian efforts in Usea following the Ulysses Disaster and the subsequent Continental War, the former President was viewed by many in Bright Hill as the ideal ambassador for Osea’s continuing policy of encouraging and fostering peace and cooperation amongst all peoples, both in our own world and in this new one.
In other news, bipartisan calls for the state of Selatapura itself to formally join the Osean Federation have increased among members of the nation-state’s Parliament, who stressed the need for closer ties and security in the face of a highly uncertain future and their pivotal role as the caretakers of the International Space Elevator—