02-24-2017, 09:53 PM
One problem with being out of country, let out alone out of continent, was that there were times when things called for his intimate attention. If he had simply been at the Legion headquarters in Sidi Bel Abbès, Algeria, it would have been a simple matter of making his way to C2 (Command & Control) and staff on hand could have briefed him on the situation. The command elements were already in place, the computers and equipment needed to liaise between troops in the field, their logistical train, and the theater command structure.
In down town Moscow, access to that sort of facility was not exactly easy to come by. At least, not at first glance.
The day had started well enough; a few minor meetings had been arranged, and Jacques and his escorts had been heading across the city to one such face-to-face with what he hoped would turn out to be an actual, legitimate investor. It was hard to find many with money in the CCD that could be bothered to care about anything outside their own borders, at least not without some hefty strings attached. Strings he had no intention of entertaining, in most cases.
Receiving a call from an unknown Algerian number had been strange enough, but he had never been one to screen his calls. To find a rather winded-sounding Legionnaire on the line, calling from a rural gas station near Sidi Bel Abbès, was certainly more unusual. The message, however, saw his entire schedule for the day wiped clean.
Legion HQ's entire command and control (C2) system had crashed, just as reports were coming in from eastern Liberia, where Legion and Sierra Leonean forces had been working closely with the reformist forces of the Liberian government and military. A sudden build up of Nigerian, Ivory Coast, and Burkina Faso forces on the border with the Ivory Coast, with the Legion and Liberian field commanders agreeing it was a sure sign of an impending invasion. And then the HQ's C2 system had failed, which Commandant Tuft suspected was the result of a deliberate cyber-attack.
That had been half an hour ago. And for much of the past twenty minutes, Jacques and three Legionnaires had commandeered a preppy coffee shop which, as luck would have it, had both an excellent internet service, AND a dozen 'smart tables.' Effectively touch-screen computers as table tops.
Their initial reception had been one of confusion and arguments as Jacques' Legionnaires displaced a dozen or so university students from their seats, and Jacques had a brief, explanatory conversation (entirely one-way) as to what was happening.
They got settled in in short order, and already dozens of screens were displayed above those tables, as Jacques was plugged into the comms feeds of a dozen Legion, Sierra Leonean, and Liberian field commanders, government representatives, and an old Canadian fellow. Colonel Commandant Sauvage, honorary commandant of the 1st Legion Artillery Battalion, a rather bold name for what amounted to little more the two battery's of Howitzers and a dedicated mortar platoon. But, it also held command over the newly acquired Liberian artillery elements. A man in his late sixties, he had not only served in the Canadian military, but had worked with the very M777s that had been sold to Sierra Leone and were now in the use of the Legion.
He had answered Jacques' call for assistance, and had been training his men on the use of those guns over the internet for the past few months.
Much of the work at the moment was preliminary and reactionary in nature; Jacques had issued a series of broad orders after inserting himself into the gap in the Legion's command structure, unifying the myriad Legion and allied forces through one C2 point, namely that small internet cafe. Initial reports had been sketchy, but a picture was already being painted as recce elements reported in on the Nigerian Expeditionary Force's movement across the Liberian eastern border.
During one brief lull, as his three Legionnaires scrambled to cope with the deluge of information and requests that were pouring through the commandeered tables, Jacques turned to look at a pair of university students, many of whom were watching the four men work with open curiosity. “Is there anything you could recommend from the menu, sir?”
The young man seemed startled at first, looking from one of the monitors that showed a live video stream from a Liberian drone that was watching a column of Nigerian APCs and LAVs advance west into Liberia. “I uhh...what's going on? There?”
Jacques looked at the boy curiously, glanced at the screen that had caught his attention, then back again, “You do not follow the news much, do you? Well, I suppose in your defense, what happens in Africa does not much concern CCD news agencies, I suppose.
“Well. Long story short, I suppose. Nigeria destabilized Sierra Leone, supplying support by way of funds, weapons, and ammunition to both sides. Leading to the civil war there. And they are unhappy that I found out about it. Even more unhappy that their efforts to sick Liberia on Sierra Leone to clean up their mess failed so spectacularly. So now they have roped their cronies into invading, in an effort to further destabilize the region. You see, Liberia is one of few nations in the region that hasn't been entirely over-run by the Sahara. Abundant water, wood. Sierra Leone, abundant natural resources. Things they can make use of once they set up puppet governments. Easily done, after you kill a few thousand people.”
The pair of students, and many of the others in the room, stared at him in confusion for a moment. Except one, a young woman who was nodding along as if she understood. “Burkina Faso and Côte d'Ivoire are allied with Nigeria, mostly due to debt and bribery. Benin is the only nation in that region that is both democratic and not in Nigeria's pocket.”
A truncated line from a text book, likely.
Jacques smiled and gestured to the young woman that had spoken up, “Who is the current president of Benin, and what is their foreign policy regarding conflict in the region?”
The girl went wide-eyed for a moment, then closed them tight and waggled her fingers in the air as if trying to sort through her thoughts, “President Derrick Fasano. From umm...Togo, somewhere? Benin has a long standing policy of opposition to any of Nigeria's foreign interests, as they still suspect Nigeria of being behind the mass crop death a few years ago?”
Jacques flashed a charming, impressed smile to the young woman, “Would you care for a job? As it turns out, I am in need of an adviser on African political affairs. I assume you are majoring in something related?”
She seemed startled again, and glanced at one of her friends for a moment, then nodded slightly, “Political sciences. We just finished a module on Africa. Ummm...what would I need to do?”
He tapped one of his men on the shoulder, and a short discussion later a new screen popped up above one of the tables, showing a rather beleaguered looking woman standing in a pleasantly adorned wood-paneled room. “Mr Danjou? I take it your offices in Algeria are up and running again?”
“Sadly, no, Mademoiselle Karthika Narang. But, if she is willing, I have my liaison officer.”
He looked from the Indian woman, a volunteer to the Legion's cause to bring a lasting peace to the region, and current Legion 'diplomat' in Benin, “Assuming this young lady is interested in the opportunity?”
He looked at the woman, who stared at him wide-eyed for a few long moments, clearly unsure what to do. “I do not mean to rush you, Miss...?”
“Karina. Uhh...Karina Rao?”
“Mademoiselle Rao. But lives are in the balance.”
She froze, eyes locked on the display of Nigerian and Burkina Faso forces advancing into Liberia. A brief war of emotions crossed her features, before she finally cleared her throat and stepped forward, taking Jacques' hand, “Uhhh...I'll do my best?”
“I know you will. Mademoiselle Narang will bring you up to speed, and explain what I'll need of you. Thank you.”
He gently urged her towards the waiting screen, and the two women began discussing the situation.
He glanced at the displays again, then back to the crowd of university students, some of whom were still recording the goings-on live on their social media feeds, Wallets held up and some babbling excitedly. His gaze landed on a pair, an idea coalescing in his mind. “You two. What are your majors?”
Another young woman lowered her Wallet briefly to glance at him, then flashed a grin, “Journalism.”
“Social Sciences. Uhh...International Law mostly?”
The young man was a bit more hesitant to respond.
“Journalism. Excellent. Care to be a war reporter, from the comfort of a Moscow cafe?”
She went wide eyed, then nodded eagerly.
“International Law? Damnably handy, when in the middle of this sort of thing. Can't exactly reach my lawyers at the moment. I need someone liaison between myself, Sierra Leone, and Liberia, to start drafting up a unified declaration of war. And a formal request of aid from Benin.”
The young man glanced at his journalist friend, who waggled her eyebrows at him and jerked her head towards the table Jacques was indicating to, clearly encouraging her friend to do it.
“Uhhh...Yeah? I mean, guess it'd look good on the resume maybe?”
Jacques laughed and nodded in agreement, “Would give you a leg up over your class mates.”
Within minutes, many of those once balking and upset university students were gathered around the tables, sharing the work load with Jacques men. It would be hours before HQ would be up and running again, and there was too much work that needed to be done too soon. He glanced at the pair of baristas standing at the closest end of the bar, watching the strange goings on. Then he pulled out his credit card, “Start a tab, would you?”
In down town Moscow, access to that sort of facility was not exactly easy to come by. At least, not at first glance.
The day had started well enough; a few minor meetings had been arranged, and Jacques and his escorts had been heading across the city to one such face-to-face with what he hoped would turn out to be an actual, legitimate investor. It was hard to find many with money in the CCD that could be bothered to care about anything outside their own borders, at least not without some hefty strings attached. Strings he had no intention of entertaining, in most cases.
Receiving a call from an unknown Algerian number had been strange enough, but he had never been one to screen his calls. To find a rather winded-sounding Legionnaire on the line, calling from a rural gas station near Sidi Bel Abbès, was certainly more unusual. The message, however, saw his entire schedule for the day wiped clean.
Legion HQ's entire command and control (C2) system had crashed, just as reports were coming in from eastern Liberia, where Legion and Sierra Leonean forces had been working closely with the reformist forces of the Liberian government and military. A sudden build up of Nigerian, Ivory Coast, and Burkina Faso forces on the border with the Ivory Coast, with the Legion and Liberian field commanders agreeing it was a sure sign of an impending invasion. And then the HQ's C2 system had failed, which Commandant Tuft suspected was the result of a deliberate cyber-attack.
That had been half an hour ago. And for much of the past twenty minutes, Jacques and three Legionnaires had commandeered a preppy coffee shop which, as luck would have it, had both an excellent internet service, AND a dozen 'smart tables.' Effectively touch-screen computers as table tops.
Their initial reception had been one of confusion and arguments as Jacques' Legionnaires displaced a dozen or so university students from their seats, and Jacques had a brief, explanatory conversation (entirely one-way) as to what was happening.
They got settled in in short order, and already dozens of screens were displayed above those tables, as Jacques was plugged into the comms feeds of a dozen Legion, Sierra Leonean, and Liberian field commanders, government representatives, and an old Canadian fellow. Colonel Commandant Sauvage, honorary commandant of the 1st Legion Artillery Battalion, a rather bold name for what amounted to little more the two battery's of Howitzers and a dedicated mortar platoon. But, it also held command over the newly acquired Liberian artillery elements. A man in his late sixties, he had not only served in the Canadian military, but had worked with the very M777s that had been sold to Sierra Leone and were now in the use of the Legion.
He had answered Jacques' call for assistance, and had been training his men on the use of those guns over the internet for the past few months.
Much of the work at the moment was preliminary and reactionary in nature; Jacques had issued a series of broad orders after inserting himself into the gap in the Legion's command structure, unifying the myriad Legion and allied forces through one C2 point, namely that small internet cafe. Initial reports had been sketchy, but a picture was already being painted as recce elements reported in on the Nigerian Expeditionary Force's movement across the Liberian eastern border.
During one brief lull, as his three Legionnaires scrambled to cope with the deluge of information and requests that were pouring through the commandeered tables, Jacques turned to look at a pair of university students, many of whom were watching the four men work with open curiosity. “Is there anything you could recommend from the menu, sir?”
The young man seemed startled at first, looking from one of the monitors that showed a live video stream from a Liberian drone that was watching a column of Nigerian APCs and LAVs advance west into Liberia. “I uhh...what's going on? There?”
Jacques looked at the boy curiously, glanced at the screen that had caught his attention, then back again, “You do not follow the news much, do you? Well, I suppose in your defense, what happens in Africa does not much concern CCD news agencies, I suppose.
“Well. Long story short, I suppose. Nigeria destabilized Sierra Leone, supplying support by way of funds, weapons, and ammunition to both sides. Leading to the civil war there. And they are unhappy that I found out about it. Even more unhappy that their efforts to sick Liberia on Sierra Leone to clean up their mess failed so spectacularly. So now they have roped their cronies into invading, in an effort to further destabilize the region. You see, Liberia is one of few nations in the region that hasn't been entirely over-run by the Sahara. Abundant water, wood. Sierra Leone, abundant natural resources. Things they can make use of once they set up puppet governments. Easily done, after you kill a few thousand people.”
The pair of students, and many of the others in the room, stared at him in confusion for a moment. Except one, a young woman who was nodding along as if she understood. “Burkina Faso and Côte d'Ivoire are allied with Nigeria, mostly due to debt and bribery. Benin is the only nation in that region that is both democratic and not in Nigeria's pocket.”
A truncated line from a text book, likely.
Jacques smiled and gestured to the young woman that had spoken up, “Who is the current president of Benin, and what is their foreign policy regarding conflict in the region?”
The girl went wide-eyed for a moment, then closed them tight and waggled her fingers in the air as if trying to sort through her thoughts, “President Derrick Fasano. From umm...Togo, somewhere? Benin has a long standing policy of opposition to any of Nigeria's foreign interests, as they still suspect Nigeria of being behind the mass crop death a few years ago?”
Jacques flashed a charming, impressed smile to the young woman, “Would you care for a job? As it turns out, I am in need of an adviser on African political affairs. I assume you are majoring in something related?”
She seemed startled again, and glanced at one of her friends for a moment, then nodded slightly, “Political sciences. We just finished a module on Africa. Ummm...what would I need to do?”
He tapped one of his men on the shoulder, and a short discussion later a new screen popped up above one of the tables, showing a rather beleaguered looking woman standing in a pleasantly adorned wood-paneled room. “Mr Danjou? I take it your offices in Algeria are up and running again?”
“Sadly, no, Mademoiselle Karthika Narang. But, if she is willing, I have my liaison officer.”
He looked from the Indian woman, a volunteer to the Legion's cause to bring a lasting peace to the region, and current Legion 'diplomat' in Benin, “Assuming this young lady is interested in the opportunity?”
He looked at the woman, who stared at him wide-eyed for a few long moments, clearly unsure what to do. “I do not mean to rush you, Miss...?”
“Karina. Uhh...Karina Rao?”
“Mademoiselle Rao. But lives are in the balance.”
She froze, eyes locked on the display of Nigerian and Burkina Faso forces advancing into Liberia. A brief war of emotions crossed her features, before she finally cleared her throat and stepped forward, taking Jacques' hand, “Uhhh...I'll do my best?”
“I know you will. Mademoiselle Narang will bring you up to speed, and explain what I'll need of you. Thank you.”
He gently urged her towards the waiting screen, and the two women began discussing the situation.
He glanced at the displays again, then back to the crowd of university students, some of whom were still recording the goings-on live on their social media feeds, Wallets held up and some babbling excitedly. His gaze landed on a pair, an idea coalescing in his mind. “You two. What are your majors?”
Another young woman lowered her Wallet briefly to glance at him, then flashed a grin, “Journalism.”
“Social Sciences. Uhh...International Law mostly?”
The young man was a bit more hesitant to respond.
“Journalism. Excellent. Care to be a war reporter, from the comfort of a Moscow cafe?”
She went wide eyed, then nodded eagerly.
“International Law? Damnably handy, when in the middle of this sort of thing. Can't exactly reach my lawyers at the moment. I need someone liaison between myself, Sierra Leone, and Liberia, to start drafting up a unified declaration of war. And a formal request of aid from Benin.”
The young man glanced at his journalist friend, who waggled her eyebrows at him and jerked her head towards the table Jacques was indicating to, clearly encouraging her friend to do it.
“Uhhh...Yeah? I mean, guess it'd look good on the resume maybe?”
Jacques laughed and nodded in agreement, “Would give you a leg up over your class mates.”
Within minutes, many of those once balking and upset university students were gathered around the tables, sharing the work load with Jacques men. It would be hours before HQ would be up and running again, and there was too much work that needed to be done too soon. He glanced at the pair of baristas standing at the closest end of the bar, watching the strange goings on. Then he pulled out his credit card, “Start a tab, would you?”
