Post

Region: Lazarus

The Czaslyudian Federal Republic of Cossack Peoples

"The Cossacks have sent an envoy, Commander" Ingrid Immhake looked at the seaman who had brought her these news. She had thought her role in this war might have been limited to steering the freighters to safety - which she had done with limited success, as two freighters and 37 crews had been lost - but alas it was not so. Reconnaissance footage had shown the Cossack advance while the three pashtuns were still on the Cossack site of the border. The South Sea Command had informed Ingrid of the threat, but had left her with little hope of timely reinforcements, now that the naval Battle of the Strait had been lost.

The gamble to send the freighters without sufficient escorts, in the hope of avoiding a war with the Compact, had been a mistake. Now the General Staff was scratching together whatever forces they could muster, but due to the enormous distance from the Imperium, only Raumwaffe spacecraft on a suborbital flight path could reach them within any useable timeframe. And until those arrived, the Merchant Mariners were on their own, while the enemy was evidently already on their doorstep.

"Bring him in", Ingrid replied. Minutes later, six Imperials armed with M22A2 carbines brought a fierce looking Kozak warrior with a white flag into her provisional container office.

Ingrid opened her arms in a welcoming gesture. "Willkommen auf Imperialem Grund und Boden. Sie sind hier um sich zu ergeben, nehme ich an? Ingrid smiled, but her face turned into a frown when she realized that the Cossack could not understand her. She herself did not speak any other languages than her mother tongue.

Thankfully, Brigadier General Rostov had made doubly sure that his words were to hit them; going so far as to call in the aid of a linguistics professor at a university in the outskirts of Nova Basan to help translate. The lieutenant, frowning at not understanding the woman, merely pulled a worn piece of paper from a flap on his uniform and, upon clearing his throat and tentatively glancing around to determine whether it was appropriate, began to read his message with minor difficulty in pronunciation.

"Die Forderungen von General Rostow lauten wie folgt: Wenn Sie als Zivilist anerkannt werden möchten, werden Sie einer vollständigen Durchsuchung unterzogen und militärische Ausrüstung, einschließlich Kämpfer, wird beschlagnahmt. Dann werden Sie unversehrt auf Ihren Weg geschickt.

Wenn Sie als Soldat anerkannt werden möchten, wird unsere Artillerie Ihre einzige Flucht versenken. Dann bringen wir Sie zusammen und schicken Sie auf den Weg zu einem Kriegsgefangenenlager, bis der Konflikt vorbei ist.

Wenn Sie sich in irgendeiner Weise widersetzen, werden wir Ihre einzigen Fluchtwege versenken und Sie in Kriegszeiten als Soldaten behandeln und Sie sofort und ohne Frage erschießen.

Wenn Sie versuchen, Flugzeuge abzunehmen oder weitere Luftunterstützung zu suchen, wird dies als Ihr Widerstand interpretiert. Wenn Sie versuchen, sich auf Ihre Schiffe einzulassen, wird dies entdeckt und als Widerstand interpretiert.

Wir sind zahlreicher als Sie und in einer viel besseren Position als Sie. Dieses Land ist dein Blut nicht wert.

Kommunikation beenden."

Pyotr offered the paper up for their examination with a proud smile on his face; he might not have pronounced everything correctly, but he did pronounce them somewhat.

Aigania, Steadfastness, Leonism, and Dernel

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