Situation Room! IC

[Zid]

0500 Zulu time, June 22nd, Washington DC.

It is the middle of the night, but by some strange coincidence you are awake. The Iranian election is scoring the head news, but other news are also coming in. Several US cities are experiencing unrest and riots, due to the financial situation, but the latest days these riots have increased in frequency.

The strange and hot weather has made several states ban water use for irrigation, and the normal forest fire season in California is even worse than usual.

As the TV reporter babble on about strange signals that have been intercepted from an star system, the interview with a professor at Yale made earlier that day is shown. He says that the signals found is just normal signals from a pulsar, whatever that now may be, and that further investigation will show this.

"This just in", the reporter says. "The greater NYC area is experiencing a massive power outage. We are working as hard as we can to get in touch with our NYC office to give you an eyewitness report."

You are all in Washington, some of you sleeping in the white house, other in local hotels, and yet others in your own homes. Some of you have trouble sleeping, an uneasy feeling in the gut telling you something is wrong.

[alexeduardo]

Thomas Agran, the official Psichohistorian, sits at his small apartment in downtown D.C.
He is watching television, he has just woken up from an uneasy night. He hasn't been able to sleep properly, he has been constantly haunted by all the crazy developments around the world. All that chaos, all that fire. None of them could be predicted, but no one outside his office needs to know that. No one needs his panic.

He is watching as his years of algebra all go to hell. He switches the channel to Al-Jazeera. Hoping that at least Iran went according to plan.

[Zid]

Al-Jazeera has some good coverage of Iran, and actual reporters at location, more than most TV networks.

It seems that his calculations about a possibility of rising unrest in Iran is true. However, he has no idea how it will end. Both the possibility of a strengthened government, a new more westernedized democracy and the total failure of the state of Iran are real possiblities. Right now, doing nothing seems prudent. As is so often does.

[alexeduardo]

He switches back to american news channel "CNN". He sighs as he remembers how he told his people to focus on American possibilities.
He had only cared for his own homeland, and now one of the few middle-eastern democracies was gone.
He sighed, or at least, one of the few stable states.

He then started paying attention to the anchorwoman on screen.

[MrEdwardNigma]

There was a woman standing in a small kitchen. Out in the hallway there was the silent buzz of neon lights. The only other sounds were here voice and her fake nails tapping on the cupboard. The person she was talking to was not in the room but on the other end of a phone.

"No, no, Mr. Mallory, Mr. Rotok wants the readings now. Yes, I understand you are at home with your wife and children and it's 5 o' clock at night, but we really need these readings. It's a matter of state security"
She sighed clenching her hand over her eyes and slightly smudging her make-up.
"Yes, I realise it's always a matter of state security in our service, but this is why we do the job. We protect the people, no matter the cost. Yes, I know, Steve, I really do, but I'm sure Suzie will understand. She said that? Could you put her on? Yes, I'll wait..."
She'd slipped into first names, which was a desperate move when you were trying to get people to do something. She preferred to keep nice and diplomatic and businesslike, but the unit sometimes got so stressful she couldn't help but crack at the seems sometimes. Besides, she'd been up for a solid thirty-four hours, not counting that one hour siesta on the plane. That, in combination with the jetlag, was giving her trouble.
"Yes, hello Suzie, it's Rosemary. I know, darling, but he does get all those bonuses... Yes, the children... At least he doesn't actually see any action, Suzie. Your huspand is on the frontlines, defending this country, without ever being in any actual danger at all. He's a hero, but not the kind that dies stupidly because the other guy got a lucky shot. That's worth losing a few hours of sleep, isn't it? You can be proud of him. ...Okay, yeah, thanks. That'll be fine, I'll see Steve in a bit"
She hung up and looked at the microwave, where a stryrofoam bucket of soup was warming.
"Where - is - Stroganov!" a voice suddenly blared over the intercom. She pushed the button and said "On it's way, sir"
She popped open the microwave and took the piping hot bucket of "Stroganov Soup", which Bogbog insisted was a recipe from his grandmother's, but Rosemary knew he'd thought up himself when ordering an expensive beef Stroganov from one of the best restaurants in New York and deciding it'd be more efficient to put it through the blender and eat it with a straw.

She walked through the hallway, the tapping of her high heels on the tiled floor echoing off the walls, and managed to open the armoured door with great trouble. The room inside bathed in the light of 94 television screens.
"What art you doink here? You art supposed to be gettink the car!"
"The car, sir?"
She was used to these sudden changes of mind by now, but she had yet to learn to guess where exactly his mind would turn. As such, the car hadn't really been on her list of expectations.
"Yes! Ze automobile? Ze most common means for tranportation in Americha? Now, perchaps?"
"But why?"
"Zere is a citywide poweroutage. We art cheadink to ze powercentral to see what is wrong. I could call zem, but my interest has been peaked. And I would like to get a good look at ze area myself"
"A poweroutage? But all the lights are on! The TVs are still working, sir!"
Bogbog got up from his large leather couch in the centre of the room. He was wearing a checkered shirt, some denim pants, and a pointy hat that said "Dungeon Master". He shrugged and apologetically said "I was playink a game with my friends"
Rosemary sighed. She'd explained to him multiple times what a diplomatic nightmare it might be if it leaked that he played Dungeons and Dragons due to the game's lousy reputation. To this he'd only ever replied that he didn't play dungeons and dragons, but Criminals and Capers, a gamesystem he'd invented entirely on his own featuring physics he felt were more interesting. His games were legendarily unbeatable, and his gaming group would frequently quit on him, at which times Bogbog would invite some condemned criminals to play, offering them freedom in return. Of course, no criminal had ever survived long after being released on such terms. Lately he'd been playing a campaign with a professor in Arabic studies who'd been arrested for trying to blow up a rather large bit of Harvard, a serial killer who was known for cutting off his victims' hands and smashing out their teeth and the leader of a drugs cartel who'd managed to evade capture for quite a number of years until Bogbog decided he was hazy on the subject of where his jurisdiction ended. He'd become quite chummy with the men, actually.

"Anyways, you're forgettink about ze generators I had installed"
"Right. But what about Mallory, sir?"
"I think he'll be fine. His car should still be runnink and ze lack of lights shouldn't be too much of a bozer"
"No, I mean you had me call him in in the middle of the night for some files on solar flares and atmosphere analysis?"
"Ah, yes, for ze cheat, chave zem put on my desk, I should be able to get to zem tomorrow afternoon at the latest"
She cursed inwardly.
"Okay, let's head for the car then"
"Yes, let's do zat"
"No, wait" a voice said from the shadows.
Rosemary gave a small shriek.
"Oh, god, Gerald, are you still here? You scared me to death"
"He didn't actually scare you to death as you art still standink chere!" Bogbog shouted, "Dear god, use the right expression once, eh?"
"You know very well I never leave Mr. Rotok's side, Rosie"
Gerald sighed almost inaudibly as Bogbog started flicking off the TVs one by one in a pattern where all the rows he turned off would have a prime number of TVs in them.
"You'll be coming with us then?"
Somewhere in the darkness white teeth blinked.
"I do love it when Bogbog takes us on a trip"
She felt sorry for him. She had it bad, but Gerald had it worse. Bogbog needed 24 hour protection, especially now that he wasn't sleeping anymore. Gerald hadn't slept in a while himself, but it actually seemed to be affecting him. He'd become more grim, more passive. He'd taken to sitting in the shadows quietly, thinking of god knows what, and only popping out when the situation required it. Brief visits to the real world, and then back to shadow.

The lights in the hallway popped out, one by one.
"Area's secure, sir"
"Roger zat, Gerhald. Let us chead out"

[Voshkod]

The President of the United States of America sat in the Oval Office at the Resolute desk when the coo coo bird chirped once. Zero one hundred Washington. Zero five hundred Zulu. Zero nine thirty Tehran. The numbers calculated automatically in his head.

His pen flew over the Oval Office stationary, a hastily precise script. To the DNI: Initiate such plans as may destablize the Iranian regime with maximum denialability for the United States.

To the Directors NASA and NSF: I want a briefing on the so-called pulsar signal at 0730 in the Oval Office.

To SecTreas: Lean on the Board of Governors, get them to lower the interest rates.

An aide crept in, placing a report on the desk, and crept out. The President read it quickly.

To SecDHS: Provide such support to NYC as may be necessary. I will sign a disaster declaration in the morning if event warrant.

[Isosceles]

Henry Lodge: 22 June, Washington D.C.

Lodge's phone had been ringing non-stop for the past fourty-eight hours. He had turned it off to grab five hours rest - all that he could spare. The election results were in in Iran, and they were, to Lodge's mind, not good. The vitriolic, anti-US Ahmadinejad had won, and all sources said it was a landslide. Well, not all sources. His rival, Mousavi, had claimed fraud, but any definitive answer on that was impossible to find. Regardless of the veracity of the complaints, Iran was turning into a full-blown diplomatic crisis. The Revolutionary Guard was pushing back against a ground-swell of pro-Mousavi protesters. Meanwhile, the West didn't have its act together at all: the Italians were taking in wounded protesters at their embassy, EU diplomats were calling for ballot recounts, and he, Lodge, was trying to keep the peace with the Iranians.

The reporter continued to babble inanely. Half of what he says is supposition, and the other half is misinformed, thought Lodge. Then his phone rang.
"Henry?" said the voice on the other end, a slight French accent noticeable.

"Yes, Jean. Has the EU figured out a joint statement yet?"

"Non, I am afraid not. Monsieur Sarkozy will be calling for calm in the morning, but I wouldn't expect anything from us for a while. The Germans are very concerned about creating more violence."

Lodge could hear in Jean's voice the sonic equivalent of a Gallic shrug. So, no EU. And this isn't NATO territory yet. I'll get a statement up tomorrow; maybe by then Khamanei and the Council will have given in. He sighed. Then I'll start on a Security Council resolution. Something appropriately vague. Lodge knew that at this point, nothing could really happen to make this situation worse. Nothing likely; Israel could panic.

[Altaria87]

Steve Swanson, 22nd June
"Nick, get me some Cofee"
"Right away sir!" Answered the aide in his thick asian accent.
As Steve paced up and down the corridors of the White House, he began to think out loud: "Damn, what's happening to this country? Everything going to hell... Riots, fires, Iran, power cuts, even bloody aliens. There's only os much the damned army can do, and it's not like we can attack Iran, that won't work, those EU guys will think we're nuts. We could increase military presence in cities to stop the riots, but how I'm I gonna PR my way out of that one? And it's not like the army can just turn into fire fighters or electrisions. And how in hell are we meant to fight a signal from space.
DAMMIT, WE'RE USELESS!"
"Erm, Sir, you asked for cofee?"
"Ah, yes, thank you Nick,"
Sipping the cofee, Steve walked slowly to the President's office Let's see what Mr. President has planned....

[MrEdwardNigma]

They arrived in the car park. Bogbog's car looked a lot like a spaceship. It was a van he'd modified himself. Bits of machinery clung to the side of the slick black machine and they shook as Gerald flipped the key in the contact. The car purred and the satellite disc on top started spinning slowly, likely looking for a signal. The two back doors popped open and Bogbog jumped in. Rosemary was about to follow him in, but he waved his finger at her.
"No, no, ze help rides in ze front. Zis is delicate equipment, you know?"
She grunted and took a seat next to Gerald. It took her a minute to realise why she still couldn't quite see him: he'd removed all the lights from the driver's cabin. She didn't know when this happened. Probably on one of the trips Bogbog took without her. The kind that had her apologising to various authorities for weeks.
"New York power central?" Gerald said in his deep voice.
"Yes! Just drive, will you? Ze carpark is bad for my chealth. All zese exchaust fumes, it's disgustink!"
Bogbog neglected to mention that fact that this entire carpark was usually empty except for his car, and he did a lot of stuff that was way more unhealthy than breathing a little exhaust gas.

While the car raced through the streets of New York and Rosemary tried desperately to have some kind of a conversation with Gerald, Bogbog had booted up several computers in the back. One screen housed a link to the white house and some readouts on the weather, another showed a live feed from CNN, a third was showing repeats of an obscure sport known as "shark boxing", there was a screen showing readings on the power grid in New York and the final screen was a webcam link to Bogbog's buddies in prison. he adjusted his pointy hat and said "Okay, sorry for ze interruption, I believe Muhammed was cheadink down ze laundry chute, no?"
He grinned. They always went down the laundry chute. So predictable. As his "friends" answered, he checked out the data on the computer screens.

[Zid]

The oval office is a very lonely place at night. Not many people dare to disturb the president while he works, or takes powernaps. While Swanson is heading through the office space to get to the door, suddenly a senior white house staff member runs past him, followed by half a dozen junior aides, all more or less in a state of disarray. The senior officer heads straight for the Oval office doors, passing the secret service guardsmen without a glance, and not even bothering to knock.

Swanson is right behind, as the man storms into the room, looking as he was hunted by wolves.

"Mr President. It´s the Kremlin hotline. My counterpart has informed me that the russian president wish to speak to you immediately, within three minutes. Do you wish to take the call here or in the Situation Room?"

[Voshkod]

The President closed to personnel file in front of him (it read Rotok, Bogbog). He'd been considering canning some of the more "interesting" people brought on by his predecessor, including that "psychohistorian" fellow.

"I'll take it in the Sit Room. General Swanson, good timing, you're with me. When we get there, I'd like you to get on the line to NORAD, STRATCOM and NATO HQ to find out if there's something going on. Roy," he said to his personal assistant, "get some coffee started in the Sit Room and get me the standard bio and psych eval on the Russian President. Tell the Communications Office to get the DNI and Sec State on the line, and, what the hell, someone get that psychohistorian to the Sit Room so I can see if he's worth his salary."

[Zid]

A flurry of action results as people are scrambling, calling from cellphones as they run through corridors. Two secret servicemen are speaking into their headsets, warning others of the change of location, as the executive elevator swings the president and a select few down into the tunnels below the white house. Several people are scrambling to get the room in order, a large room totally redecorated by Greenes predesessor. The walls are clad in plasma screens, showing world maps, and highlighting several different hotspots- American troops in Iraq, Carrier naval groups, major capitals.

One screen is showing a picture of the russian president. The psych evaluation is short, and stating him to be a no-nonsense man, but probably heavily influenced by the former president, who now is prime minister.

More screens light up, and a man in air force uniform salutes the president.
"Mr President, we are online with NORAD and STRATCOM. They report that the russian armed forces were ordered to high alert for about seven minutes ago. They are working on why."

Swanson and Lodge arrive in the situation room seconds later.

A sleek and beatiful woman dressed in a tasteful black outfit, with long black hair stands beside a laudspeaker. She nods at the president.

"I´m the interpreter. My russian counterpart have told me they are very anxious to get started. We are live towards Kremlin."

"Президент здесь," she says.

The laudspeker is silent only for a second before starting.

"Это русский говорить президента. Во-первых, препятствуйте мне убедите вас что наша воинская мобилизация только естественная реакция к последним событиям, и защитить русские граници и граждан."

The translator starts, her calm voice not even stuttering.

"This is the Russian president speaking. First, let me assure you that the military mobilization is mearly a reaction to recent events, and to make sure that Russian citizens and borders are safe. We, of course, have nothing to do with... this"

"Во-вторых, мы конечно предусмотрим такую помощь какая помочь вам считать те ответствено для этого ужасного поступка, и помогаем affected. Это ужасный день, не только для США, но для мира."

The translator seems a bit perplexed by this, but continues to translate:

"Second, we will of course provide such help as needed to help you find those responsible for this terrible act, and help the affected. This is a terrible day, not only for the US, but.... for the world." She swallows, but regains her composture, trying to stay professional.

-------------------------------------------------------------

A few minutes earlier, both Bogbog and the psychohistorian recived urgent calls by white house staff, demanding that they strived to get to the white house ASAP.

[Isosceles]

Henry Lodge

The Situation Room filled quickly, uniformed and suited men and women taking their seats. Lodge had heard that the Russians had been ordered to high alert. Medvedev does like his threats.

Lodge had been talking to the EU for most of the morning - to little effect. The Europeans were still split on what, if any, role they should take in Iran. At least the Canadians are on-side for a diplomatic push. Of course, complex situations always tended to get more complicated, and that held true here. The Russians had gone and readied their nuclear arsenal. Lodge didn't know for sure, but he had a pretty good idea that conferences like this were going on throughout the NATO member states.

As the interpreter spoke, Lodge felt a shiver run up his spine. The words were ominous, to say the least. It was, he thought, like some scene out of Doctor Strangelove, transplanted into the twenty-first century.

[Voshkod]

POTUS

He made sure his phone was muted. "All right, people, what the hell is going on here? I need information, we're flying blind. General Swanson, take us to DEFCON Three. Ambassador Lodge, glad to see you here. Get on the horn to your counterparts in the UK, France and Japan to see if they know anything."

He turned to the translator. "Before I begin, what's his attitude, tonal inflection. Give me more than his words, what's he feeling?"

[Zid]

The translator seems to think for a second.

"I´m no psychologist. But he seems sincere and somewhat nervous."

She nods at the phone.

"But I don´t think he appriciates being put on hold."

[Altaria87]

Steve Swanson
Steve had ran to the Situation Room as quickly as he possibly could, he'd carried out the President's Orders, because quite frankly that was the only thing he could do right now.
As he listened to the Russian Steve was taken by an odd sense of forboding, he had never claimed to be the smartest man alive, but now he just felt... stupid
"Please tell me I'm not the only one who has no idea what's happening" He asked meekly while looking around the table at his colleagues

[Voshkod]

POTUS

"You're not, General, and that scares the hell out of me," Greene said. "I do not like operating in an information vacuum!"

He turned back to the translator. "OK, here we go."

"President Medvedev, I thank you for the information regarding your alert status. I'm certain that you'll understand that we will also raise our alert status. It is important that our forces remain deconflicted during this time."

He took a breath, a quick drink of water, and scowled at the people in the room that were supposed to have the answers.

"President Medvedev, you refered to a 'terrible act.' At this time, we are not aware of any situation that would require you to put your forces on alert. If you have information, I request that you share it with me."

He mutes his phone again, give the translator a warning glance not to translate the next words. "And that request puts us at an immediate disadvantage vis-a-vis the Russians. I want answers, people."

[Isosceles]

Henry Lodge

"Yes, sir. I'll contact them now.

Lodge stood, striding over to a corner of the large room where he could talk without interruption. He quickly punched the familiar number into his phone: UN headquarters, New York City. A second later, an automated message came over the line.

"Hello, You have reached the United Nations Headquarters. If you would like to proceed in English, press 1. Bonjour, vous avez entre en contact avec les Nations Unies. Si vous voudriez proceder en Francais..." Lodge pressed one; no need to be courteous to the machine.

A brisk female voice, sounding almost automated itself, came through: "Hello, how may I help you?"

"This is the White House, and I'm Ambassador Lodge. Are Ambassadors Jean-Maurice Ripert, John Sawers, or Yukio Takasu in the building?

"One moment, sir, I'll page their offices." There was a pause. Lodge found himself, though not superstitious in the least, holding his breath.

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

Zid: feel free to have them present or not. The names probably give it away, but Ripert is French, Sawers is the Brit, and Takasu is Japanese. They're all the real UN Ambassadors. See here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of...United_Nations

[Zid]

Lodge goes to the side, instead calling the French UN ambassadors private cell number. A few tones goes forward...

The other line goes eerily silent for a few seconds after President Greene speaks, the line surely muted one the russian side as well.

When it klicks on, angry voices are heard in the background, speaking to each other in Russian. The voice of the Russian president comes back, but this time speaking in a slightly broken english.

"Mr President, you don´t know...? Twenty-two minutes ago, two Russian early launch detection satelites saw major explosion on your east coast, location New York. My advisors have assured me that nothing less than thermonuclear weapon could show such readings. We have come to the conclusion- New York must have been bombed. I am very sorry."

A deadly silence spreads in the room, as all individuals wonder what to belive.

In Lodge´s phone, a tired french voice answers.

"Jean-Maurice. Cá va?"

[Voshkod]

POTUS

It's dawn in Moscow. He's probably not drunk. "Mr. President, would you hold on for a moment?" Greene waited until the translator finished and muted the line. He turned to her. "I want to know exactly what those people in the background were saying."

The President leaned back in his chair, his voice calm. "I do not believe that we are learning of the destruction of America's largest city from the Russians. Something is going on here. I want eyeballs on Manhattan, right now. Call the base commander at Fort Hamilton and the watch officer at Sandy Hook Coast Guard Base. Get some eyes in the air from McGuire Air Force Base. Get me the U.S. Attorney for Manhattan. Get me the night watchman at the Statue of Liberty if you have to. I want to know if they can see the Manhattan skyline, and if they heard or saw any explosions. Hell, see if we can call the Air Traffic Control Tower at Kennedy."

He took a gulp of coffee. "Get the Vice President to Andrews and get him airborne, out west. Alert the Tenth Mountain Division at Fort Drum. Get me the head of the Federal Reserve and the FDIC, the mayor of New York, and the FBI Director, and do it now."

[Altaria87]

Steve Swanson

"Ok, now this has gone to far, if those Iranians have dared to bomb Americ-"
He was cut short by Nick, who had been standing behind him the entire time.
"Sir, with all due respect, there is a chance it Wasn't the Iranians."
Damn it, he's right, we have no proof yet, but whoever did this can rest assured their country will no longer exist by next Monday
"Mr. President, once we have found out what has happened and who did this, do I have permission to use the full force of the USA's army to wipe their pitiful country off the map?"

[MrEdwardNigma]

The van stopped at the white house and Gerald jumped out, running to the back to open the doors for Bogbog.
"Zey actually called me while we were cheadink here. It is good to be invited. And zey will need me too... I have been makink calls during ze ride, after noticink ze entire New York grid was down, no exceptions. I have tried to get in touch with all ze places zat would normally chave back-up generators, like hospitals, but - no dice. I've even tried callink some of our contacts in New York on their cellphones. No answer, nowhere, Gerhald! Zere are only two thinks zat would explain this: someone cobbled up an EMP large enough to take out New York entirely, which would be bad news both due to ze technology involved and zat zese people would have some sort of reason to do so. Ze second explanation... It is worse. New York, she is gone. Then again, I chave contacts all over ze country, and I haven't got a single call! It is late at night, but someone must have seen ze blast? Someone must chave cheard it?"
Bogbog shook his head sadly.
"It makes no sense, Gerhald, anyzing zis big chappenink, I should have been in on it immediately! Zis is why I chave set up an information network! What use is it if ze most important city in ze US of A dissappears off ze map and I don't hear about it?!!"
"Perhaps they'll know more inside, sir? They did call you, and they have additional resources. You run a small intelligence agency, but the CIA may have more on this?"
"Zat is what I am hopink. Even though zey are utterly incompetent, zey do have access to ze kind of manpower men like me can only dream of"
She sighed.
"I'd advise you not to say anything about their incompetence while in there, sir"
"You know very well zat zey are completely and utterly incompetent, Rosemary!" he shouted, "If I would have access to zose kind of resources, zis country would be an entirely different place!"
"Then again, you'd have to colour in the lines"
"True, true. I am quite happy where I am, but zat does not mean I agree with zem"
He straightened his tie and put off his pointy hat. He seemed to think that wearing a tie on top of a plain T-Shirt and jeans was fancy enough for the white house. Or maybe he just didn't care.
"I was just hoping you'd refrain from mentioning that in there, sir"
"Lie. Okay, got it. Gerhald, lead ze way"

Gerald flipped on some sunglasses, as he wouldn't be able to turn off the lights once they were inside. They then entered the building and headed for the situation room. All this time Bogbog was calling his contacts in the vicinity of New York, who would have logically seen or heard the destruction of the city should it have occurred.

[Isosceles]

Henry Lodge

Lodge said a small prayer of thanks to whatever deity granted small favors as Jean's voice came over the phone.
"Jean, I don't know what you've heard from your government, but we're getting reports that New York was hit with some kind of bomb. Are you there now?"

As the General - Swanson or something - spoke, Lodge turned and shouted over his shoulder: "The Iranians may not even have the capability to 'bomb America', General. I'd worry more about the DPRK - or else someone stole a bomb from Pakistan. Of course, that's if there has been an explosion."

[alexeduardo]

Nine psychohistorians, of a total twenty employees, were sitting around a white desk in the small Department of Psychohistory. A goverment department that might as well have been a small home.
Nine of their most important mathematicians were from New York. Thomas Agran sent someone to look for them, or something. He wasn't paying much attention to his telephone or his aides, he was busy working on massive equation.
In the desk were dozens of pages filled with numbers and symbols. In a blackboard near the desk were many equations constantly being erased and redone. In another desk, two men were rapidly and furiously going through many History books, all of them set on the chapters on the Middle East, and yelling data at the mathematicians.

Agran had gotten a sudden idea at dawn, and he had been so fascinated by it that he didn't listen to his cellphone. When it had some semblance of a shape, he decided to inform the cabinet of his Solution. He reached for his cellphone and was surprised to find it ringing.

"Hello, this is the Official Psychohistorian. How may I help you?"

[alexeduardo]

((bump, goddammit))

[Zid]

The translator looked back at the president and replayed a small recorder while listening intently.

"I think one of the voices are the Russian Prime minister. I´ve translated for him previously. He is screaming at someone: 'How could they not... If wrong I will cast your... balls to a bear and... something.' He is mostly using russian curses. The other man is saying something along the lines of 'we are sure.' That is all I can make out."

Phones are ringing constantly, and after a minute or so, the officer in charge of the room comes back. "We´ve had no luck contacting either sandy hook or fort Bragg. Mcguire is sending a plane towards new york, and Drum is sending up a chopper. ETA ten minutes. They both lost all power from the regular power lines. No phones in new York are working. The joint chiefs of staff are on their way."

A newly wakened chief of security steps in.

"Mr president. If what the russians say are true, you can´t stay here. We´ll have to evacuate you immediately."

The translator looks at the muted phone.

"Mr President. The Russians..."

--------------------------------------------------

Lodge

"Henri? I´m on my yacht, heading back toward the city. But I am at least ten hours out. Is there some kind of trouble? Do you wish me to contact my government for you?"

---------------------------------------

Agran

"Mr Agran? The president wants you in the White house situation room, ASAP. A car is heading to get you as we speak..."

Agran hears several police cars heading in outside the house.

--------------------------

Bogbog

Heading through a couple of security controls, Bogbog finally steps into the total chaos that right now is the situation room. People are running around with phones and printed papers, while the large videoboards are flashing with maps and graphs.

[Voshkod]

POTUS

Greene closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Calmed, he unmuted the hot line. "Mr. President, thank you for your information. Something has clearly happened in New York City, and we are working to find out what. As soon as we have information, I will have it relayed to you. Our armed forces are going to the highest state of alert, as I'm sure you can understand." As soon as the translator finished, he cut the line.

"Nice work, Miss . . . .?," he said to the translator, and then he turned to the head of his security detail.

"I appreciate the concern, but I'm staying here. Make sure the Vice President and his family are airborne and safe."

The President gulped another half cup of coffee. "All right, listen up! There's not much we can do until we have visual evidence of what's happening in New York. I think we have two possibilities - a nuclear detonation or an electromagnetic detonation. Either is problematic. But there are a few steps I want to take right now.

"First, get the Governors of New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey on the line and hold them there.

"Second, bring us to DEFCON one. Flush the bombers, bring the subs up to missile firing depth. Bring all Army, Navy, Air Force, Coast Guard, and National Guard forces to full readiness, with priority to the Tenth Mountain.

"Third, alert the networks that I'll likely be speaking to the nation at seven A.M.

"Fourth, get the Attorney General to draft a proclamation of martial law for the city of New York and all surrounding counties. General Swanson, if this becomes necessary, I want you in command on the ground.

"Fifth, I want operational plans for taking out the senior leadership and nuclear capabilities of North Korea and Iran to be ready for execution. You may include the use of strategic weapons in these plans.

"Sixth, I want Ambassador Lodge to communicate with Security Council members and the North Atlantic Council. I want our friends at our side and I want our enemies terrified."

He sat back. "That's about it until we have the facts. Let's get some sandwiches in here. We're going to be here for a long time."

[Isosceles]

Henry Lodge

"Yes, Jean, I imagine you'll be contacting your government over this. Listen, I'm going to be contacting the Security Council in a minute; you'll hear then. Things are a bit chaotic here."

"Henri, if this is about Iran it can wait 'till morning...

Lodge sighed. "We don't know what this is about, Jean. We're investigating as we speak. You can inform your government that we'll be informing them shortly. Oh, and I'd appreciate if you could get to the other NATO countries.

"All right," Jean-Maurice said, tone slightly sceptical, "Good night, Henri.I don't think either of us will be getting any sleep.

Switching off the phone, Lodge returned to the table. He began scribbling notes, compiling everything known about the incident. After scanning the newly-made notes, he looked up at the President. "Sir, some of what I'll be informing the Security Council of is highly sensitive. I can't see Russia liking our submarines ready to fire. Do you want me to give a different briefing to NATO, one that covers our defensive capabilities?

[Altaria87]

Steve Swanson
"No, they can't have got the bombs from Pakistan, Lodge, Nick would have known, trust me on that one" Steve had replied just before the Diplomat got on the phone, then, after listening to the president's speech, his eyes lit up, his body became upright, and he was filled with girm determination.
"We'll be on DEFCON 1 within a minute, don't fret on that Sir, I'll contact the Navy and Air Force Generals right away, and as for if martial law becomes needed... Well you won't be dissapointed..."
Finally something I can help with, those bastards won't know whats coming to them

[alexeduardo]

Thomas Agran makes his way to the sidewalk. He is carrying a lot of papers, small wooden rectangles and a pencil. He gives instructions and fires questions as he waits for the car to arrive.
The black car gets there, he starts getting in when he demands someone fetches him his copy of History of the Saffavid Kingdoms and that other big book on the spanish reconquista and the one on Persia if they can find it. Ahmed Yavohl, his palestinian aide, enters the car with him carrying the books and they both continue taking notes as the car takes them to the new destination.