IC Roleplaying Thread

[OYID]

HEY, YOU!


Quick question...

Which side is better: the legitimate governments formed after the last disastrous imperialist war...

OR...

...a series of organized crime cartels who prepare for war from lands themselves illegally-obtained after long bloody campaigns of colonialist war?

Better think fast, the fate of the planet depends on your support of each side!

[Gesar]

SOCIAL DEMOCRATIC LABOUR MINISTER DECLARES MAY 1 "ISLAMIC LABOUR DAY", CALLS FOR NON-SYNDICALIST CELEBRATION OF WORKERS MOVEMENT





TEHRAN: In a further demonstration of his mild support for the "salafiyya" movement of the Qajar dynasty of Iran, and in defiance of Totalist opposition and a traditionally-syndicalist holiday, Labour Minister Mirza Kuchik Khan...

[Luc]

STOP THE MILITARY BUILDUP, FOCUS ON THE PEOPLE

The Pan-Canadian Social Credit League denounces and condemns the Monarchist regime’s continued use of public funds to carry out a military buildup with the open intention of waging war on our working-class brothers across the sea.

This policy is irresponsible and a threat to world peace, and completely unconscionable after the painful experience of the Great War. The governments of Earth should focus on international peace and cooperation, instead of openly conspiring to impose yet another horrifying mass slaughter upon the peoples of the world.

As ever, we reaffirm our commitment to mutualist credit unions and community banking as the only tenable alternative to the tyranny of major banks. We demand that the Canadian government initiate targeted aid programmes aimed towards strengthening and expanding social credit institutions, instead of wasting millions of pounds on feeding the small and chastened ego of Mister Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David Windsor, both with military buildups or delusional military threats against faraway peoples.

[Luc]

POVERTY FOR THE WORKERS, RESCUE FOR THE BANKERS

As the latest capitalist crisis (of the sort it suffers every few decades) ruined the economy and left millions without a job, the corrupt German Imperial government once again showed its true colors by ordering the immediate bailout of the major banks and the guarantee of private creditors, this while community banks and credit unions saw their savings disappear overnight due to the irresponsible machinations of major bankers.

Why is it that with millions out on the streets it was the German government’s priority to shore up the power and authority of the financial sector? Could it be that the finance oligarchy wields a disproportionate amount of influence in our nation’s politics and that this leads to an open State policy of favoring the protection of its elite status rather than distributing aid to those who have been hardest hit by the crisis, namely the workers, community banking initiatives, not to mention entire sectors of the actually-productive economy that have been devastated precisely as a result of the power and influence of major untenable banks?

As German workers and revolutionaries, we denounce the German government’s evident special treatment towards the bankers and its complete abandonment of the rest of society. We catalog it, accordingly, as yet more evidence of the fundamentally illegitimate nature of the Kaiser’s regime, and demand that proper action be undertaken to redistribute wealth towards the service of the dispossessed majority rather than stick its nose in on ultramarine and far-off affairs.
Signed,

Free Workers Union of Germany - Freie Arbeiter Union Deutschlands

[Flaming Bolshevik]

A letter is found on the rotting body of a Red Army Captain near a burnt out village, previously occupied by Muslim League rebels.

My Dear Aarashi,
I write to you tonight in preparation for the chaos that comes tomorrow. We've recieved news from our scouts that an influential Sheikh with ties to the Muslim League has arrived in a nearby village along with a sizeable number of rebels with the intent of recruiting young men to join the League "In the defense of Islam."

Our mission is to neutralize the rebels and capture this Sheikh before he leaves to recruit from other villages. We cannot estimate whether they can muster reinforcements for the coming skirmish, but we do have the benefit of air support. I pray to Allah that we do not have to use air support, it is already bad enough to have to fight our brothers but they insist on resisting the reforms that the Commune has implemented in the hopes of implementing Sharia on a greater scale. How misguided are our brothers?

On another note, tell our son that i shall see him soon and make sure he keeps compliant with his prayers, especially the Fajr. How i cannot wait until he joins the Military!

Inshallah, i will see you again soon my love. I will write you again tomorrow.

Love, Jaideb.

[Serenissima]

Unauthorised Canadian Armed Forces recruitment message - one of the many political posters springing up in the increasingly febrile political scene.

[Xaph]

The Long Residence, Back Porch

A sip.

"That's a mighty fine sweet tea, Rose."

"Oh, Huey! Lookit what you just did! You put the sweet tea right down on your papers!"

Another sip.

"Aw, shucks. Those're the plans we were gonna get to between roughly May and August. Dernit."

One more sip.

"...mighty fine, Rose, mighty fine sweet tea."

[Serenissima]

Japanese edition of a commemorative postcard issued to the sailors of the Royal Navy, Imperial Japanese Navy and Marine Nationale carrying out blockade operations in Panama. The ships' flags and the text are changed depending on the language of the card.

[Gesar]

1936 WARTIME CABINET OF THE EXPANSIVE STATE OF IRAN

Vazir-e A'zam (Prime Minister): Hassan Taqizadeh (Islamic Revival Party, Iranzamin faction)
Minister of Court: Sayyid Hossan Modarres* (Learned Council)
Speaker of the Grand National Majilis: Ayatollah Abol-Ghasem Kharjani (Islamic Revival Party, Fidaiyin-e Islam faction)
Grand Ayatollah of the Party of Ali: Sheikh Abdul-Karim Haeri Yazdi (Independent**)
Sardaar-e A'zam (Minister of Defense): Gen. Mohammad Taqi Pessian (Islamic Revival Party, Fidaiyin-e Islam)
Minister of Foreign Affairs: His Highness Firouz Nosrat-ed-Dowleh Mirza III (Islamic Revival Party, Iranzamin faction)
Minister of Justice: Sayyid Hossan Modarres
Minister of the Interior: Ahmad Qavam (Islamic Revival Party, Moderate faction)
Minister of Islamic Guidance: Ruhollah Khomeini (Learned Council)
Minister of Culture and Iranian Identity: Mohammad-Taqi Bahar (Islamic Revival Party, Iranzamin faction)
Minister of Finance: Mirza Hasan Ashtiani*** (Islamic Revival Party, Moderate faction)
Minister of Labour and Social Projects: Mirza Kuchik Khan (Social Democratic Party, Constitutionalist faction)
Minister of Post, Telegraph, and Telephones: Ahmad Matin-Daftari (Islamic Revival Party, Moderate faction)
Minister of Petroleum: Mohammad Mossadegh (Social Democratic Party, Constitutionalist faction)
Amir-e Fetyan (Commander of the Fetyan): Col. Mahmud Khan Puladeen (Independent****)
Commander of the Gendarmerie*****: Gen. Eric Carlberg (Independent)

Notes:
The Islamic Revival Party is split into three rough factions, the Iranzamin faction (nationalist and monarchist in ideology, centrist to center-left economically), the Moderates (to the right economically, and consisting mostly of conservative loyalists), and the Fidaiyin-e Islam, a reformist faction that relies heavily on pan-Islamic rhetoric, not dissimilar to Western "National Populists". The left wing of the Social Democratic Party, the Radicals, has not been offered representation in the wartime government; instead, they are represented by the "loyalist" Social Democrats, those willing to accept royal and clerical authority in the hopes of maintaining the gains of te Constitutional Revolution.
*Also bears the honorific Amir-e-Khabir, a historic title used to represent Sayyid Modarres' control over the royal household
**The Grand Ayatollah does not claim political allegiance, but supports the Learned Council of the clergy in nearly all matters
***Also bears the title Mostowfi ol-Mamalek, "Chancellor of the Realm"
****Col. Puladeen claims no political affiliation but is widely viewed as a government loyalist and nationalist member of the "Stockholm Clique" of officers trained by Swedish adventurers and military attaches.
*****The post of Commander of the Gendarmerie is widely ceremonial as of the ascension of Mohammad Hassan Shah, but General Carlberg's wide respect and friendship with the officers of the Imperial Iranian Armed Forces has landed him an unofficial advisory role to the last two Shahs.

[Gesar]

RESOLUTION OF THE MAJILIS

In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful,

By suggestion and then decree of His Most High Majesty, Mohammed Hassan Shah Qajar, Shahanshah of Iran, Pivot of the Universe, Lord of the Conjunction, Victory of the Government,

Whereas the Exalted Ottoman State has committed unprovoked acts against the Kingdom of Egypt that constitute unlawful violations of Egyptian sovereignty and hostile measures akin to war, thus obligating the Expansive State of Iran under previous treaties to come to the defense of our Egyptian allies;
Recognizing that diplomatic measures have failed to contain acts which constitute crimes against the Greater Iranian people, e.g. the support of the terrorist Simko Simchak in creating divisions among the Iranian Kurdish people;
Acknowledging that is the duty of the Expansive State of Iran to provide for the security of the peoples of Greater Iran, and that diplomacy has likewise been a failure in preventing the genocide of our Armenian and Assyrian Christian brothers, as well as the repression of Shi'ite Arabs and the Azerbaijanis:

Resolved by the National Consultative Majilis and approved by His Most High Majesty the Shah, that the state of war which has been forced upon the Iranian nation by the Exalted Ottoman State is now formally declared, and that the Shah, Ministry of Defense, subordinate institutions charged with the security of our people, and the Majilis be entrusted with wartime powers upon creation of a suitable cabinet to serve until the next elections, and
Called for by the above parties that the allies of Iran, namely those who have signed defensive agreements with our state, join us in seeking a just end to this war, and
Declared that this state of hostilities will continue until the security of the Iranian and Egyptian people has been assured by a diplomatic resolution of the Ottoman State, with dispensations to prevent the ethno-religious suppression which has induced a state of poor relations between our nations as well as those that would prevent future escalation of hostilities.

Allahu akbar. May He have mercy upon us all.

Declared this day, 14 Djumada l-Akhira 1355 AH
1 September 1936

[Flaming Bolshevik]

Excerpt from a Homage to Bharatiya
Submitted by an Anonymous Journalist

India has been marked by decades of division and social struggle against the remnants of colonialism and the last vestiges of the tyrannical caste system that has kept allowed millions to live in slave-like conditions. Only one of the Factions, The Bharatiya Commune is worthy of admiration in this subcontinent for the sweeping reforms and modernization that has elevated the Peasants of Bengal from their overwhelming oppression. In this piece i will be exploring my experiences in my visits to various locations within the country so that the overwhelming propaganda by the Non-Syndicalist nations may be disproved in the face of the truth. I seek to remain here for the span of a year in my quest to understand the revolution in Asia.

Calcutta

My journey began in the heart of Asian Syndicalism in the city of Calcutta. I arrived to the National Bharatiyan Airport on the early morning of February 4th where i met my sponsor from the Syndicalist Party of the Bharatiya Commune. Once ready we set off towards the Capital where she showed me all the various Government and Cultural centers such as the "Lal Salam Museum of National Heritage" which had on display a variety of artifacts from India's ancient past which were recovered from the British Empire during the War of Independence. After a few hours of meeting multiple public officials and commanders of the Red Guard, i asked to visit a nearby automobile factory being built under the 5 Year Plan. My request was approved and we took a rental car to the construction site. When we arrived i was amazed at the sheer magnitude of the project being undertaken. Thousands of workers set to work under the management of the Syndicalist Builder's Union performing 8 hours of hard labor a day everyday of the week. Each one of these workers seeking to provide for his family through Government Incentives of extra labor vouchers and education sponsored by Bharatiya Free Toilers University so that they may pursue the education that no peasant in the Federation or Dominion could dare dream of pursuing. I was inspired by the resilience and progress achieved by the Indian Revolution. After hours of speaking to the workers i decided to retire back to my hotel.

Serving the Revolution

The following weeks were spent performing back breaking labor, studying old tomes of India's past and reading manifestos of its future. After reading about the role of foreign volunteers in the War of Independence, I was convinced that i could aid the revolution in some form. I enlisted in the International Brigades the next day. I went to a recruitment depot, was interviewed about my intentions and my personal life and went through a very intimate physical exam to determine i would not be a liability. Everything cleared and i was set to attend basic training. The first few weeks were sheer hell. We marched through the jungles everyday for miles to develop a steel sense of endurance and learned various forms of martial arts, various ways to survive in the wilderness and various ways to neutralize an enemy. By the time we were halfway done we were all some of the most cynical, persistent and fanatical people you could ever meet. The last portion of training was ideological, we were instilled with a fanaticism unparalleled that never left the hearts of my Comrades, even in the face of certain death. We were deployed to our posts a week after graduation and that is when i recieved my trial by fire. We were on patrol near a village with suspected ties to the Muslim League when we were stopped by a child, crying and begging for us to help his mother who was to be stoned in the evening for adultery. The village was of no particular strategic importance but as this little boy begged and groveled at our feet to help his mother we could not help but feel a sense of fury at the idea of injustice being forced upon these people by the Jihadists. We developed a plan to break off into groups that would approach the village from the East and West, waiting for the evening when the village would gather to watch the stoning. We would hit the rebels from both sides and kill anybody who attempts to stop us from rescuing the woman. As the Athan for the Maghreb Prayer for the evening was called, we prepared and took position in the assumption that the stoning would take place immediately after prayer. When the villagers began to gather in the town center, we waited for the rebels to take position in an agonizing suspense that will haunt me forever. A large and burly man took to the center of the group with a large stone in hand that would be used for crushing the woman's skull. He gave a speech on the sin of adultery and why this punishment was righteous in the eyes of God and as the shouts of "Allahu Ackbar" filled the air, I took aim at the man's face and fired a shot into his head. He dropped and my Comrades began to fire at the other rebels armed with machetes, makeshift spears and antiquated rifles. Within 10 minutes all 15 rebels occupying the village were dead and one of ours was tragically shot through the neck, his carotid artery spurting too much blood for us to keep him alive in the skirmish. The Woman whose name was revealed to us as "Aisha" was reunited with her child and we were given a small amulet of an elephant for "good luck."

Red Crescent, Red Star
After a few months deployed in the jungles of Bengal fighting the Islamic Extremists, we had all seen our fair share of death and destruction. We were rotated to the Western Border where we were ordered to protect the Red Crescent aid workers providing help to the refugees fleeing the conflict in the Commune. The Government of the Commune was brutally dismantling the Muslim League bit by bit and it was only a matter of time that they would lose the will to fight. We arrived to the Government Complex on the border where the Red Crescent was operating alongside Communal Refugee Agencies, feeding and housing thousands of refugees. Everyday spent there was miserable. The sobbing of the mother learning of her young son being killed fighting the Red Army. The father whose entire family was seperated during the chaos of fleeing their village in the face of the Red Army's advance. The reason for my misery was not from pity or sadness for these people, it was my burning desire to end the injustice that put them in this position. The Muslim League was being portayed in the eyes of the Non-Syndicalist World as champions of sorts, Martyrs in the eyes of God against the "Oppression of the Bharatiya Commune." We knew better. The League's intentions may have been noble once in defending the civil rights of Muslims in India, but they have degenerated into just another ragtag group of bandits claiming to fight for Allah. Everyday we recieved more and more Refugees with no end in sight. If Religion is truly the opiate of the masses as Karl Marx once said, then perhaps the Bharatiya Commune is the addict struggling to cleanse himself of the harmful substance in his body.

[Zar]

It was a humid morning in Nigeria. The sun was beginning to shine over the walls of prison yard. The Magistrate waited outside the cells of the condemned prisoners, a row of sheds with iron bars. Each measured three by three meters and contained a jug of water and a wooden plank to sleep on. The inmates usually spent their time sitting in front on the bars.

The Captain walked out of one of the cells. Behind him, two soldiers had the prisoner in tow. The Magistrate approached the group. He examined the Prisoner's body. His face was quite swollen and the he was covered with bruises and lacerations. This made tribal identification difficult, though based on his stature he would guess that the Prisoner was Igbo.

The Captain noticed the Magistrate's examination. "Here he is. The bastard shot Private Schultz during the firefight!"

"He was the only one you could capture alive?"

"Of course! They attacked in the night, just shooting everyone they could find. It was pure chaos. Luckily we drove them off into the jungle."

The Magistrate had doubts about this. Although security forces were under orders to bring any rebels to justice, in practice they tried to avoid taking prisoners. The recent rebellion, with units being ambushed while taking the wounded or surrendered back to base, left a bad taste in everyone's mouth. There were probably a dozen corpses within a three kilometer radius, just lying in the bush.

"Did he say anything during questioning?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. Said he knew nothing and was acting under the orders of his brother."

The Magistrate nodded before writing a few sentences in his notepad. He was eager to finish his job.

"You can proceed now."

"Excellent. Let's get this over with."

The Captain and his men then set off towards the gallows. The Magistrate followed behind.

The Prisoner bobbed his head back and forth as the soldiers moved him towards the gallows. He prisoner clearly had the sense beaten out of him, so he was compliant and silent. The Magistrate appreciated this small blessing. After the rebellion, messages from Europe inundated the colonial offices, asking for all sorts of explanations. He was tasked by the colonial government to gather information about what precipitated the rebellion. From what he could gather, most of the perpetrators came from a handful of tribes. His superiors would decide what this meant after he delivered his report.

Observing executions, however was out of the Magistrate's own volition. He didn't know exactly why he felt obligated to watch them. He never heard of any being executed in his native Frankfurt. He didn't like to listening to Weltkrieg curmudgeons go on about how many Frenchmen they killed either. Perhaps, instead of blood lust, he watched out of some twisted notion of respect.

After this thought, the group reached the gallows. The Magistrate stood to the side as the two soldiers went up the steps with the prisoner. They fixed the noose over the Prisoner's neck and placed a bag over his head. The Captain stood next to the Magistrate. "I give them sixty seconds before I give the order.", he remarked.

The Magistrate waited until the time came. The sun was now beating down on everyone. Prisoner's body stood silently as it glistened with sweat. About half a minute later, the silence was interrupted. A wet whooping sound came out of the bag over the Prisoner's head. It first came in small bursts before increasing in length and intensity. The Magistrate wondered if the Prisoner was making some sort of prayer or plead.

"Looks like he is having a coughing fit." remarked the Captain. Turning to the hangman, the Captain barked "Now!" The sound stopped as the Prisoner vanished beneath the trap door. The soldiers went to examine his body.

The Magistrate turned to the Captain to bid him farewell. He then began his journey back to the colonial offices.

[Gesar]

Twilight in Qom was ordinarily beautiful; even tonight, purple and blue bled into red and gold, providing a technicolor backdrop for the city's historic district, where minarets and newer government offices pierced the sky. But it was, as of the local clergy's proclamation that eviction of all Totalists was now a top priority, a beauty marred by smoke and fire. Even the sounds of Qom's nightlife, the clamor of the last call for the markets and shisha houses interrupted with the muezzin's last call to prayer, became a cacophony with the clatter of gunfire and battle cries.

It all seemed rather annoying, to say nothing of being far less glamorous than previously imagined, to young Mahmoud, a student of Islamic jurisprudence who had become one of the first officers of the Fetyan. “Zende ba Shah!” He yelled over the din of battle, throat rubbed raw with fire and a day of barking orders to a squad that was nowhere to be seen, pulling the trigger on his new German Mauser.

Click.

“How about you watch your ammunition instead of focusing on parroting state propaganda, kid?” At least there was Ghougas, the Armenian-born soldier who had made his way to the extraction point with Mahmoud, if that could be said to be a circumstance worthy of an “at least”.

Mahmoud fastened his bayonet, ignoring the comment for a moment as he hurdled over the roadblock, the young officer finally giving into a retort as he charged the nearest Totalist, a woman brandishing a pistol near an automobile. I seek forgiveness from Alah for what I'm about to do, went his first thought. The second went more like Die, atheist bitch, although the words out of his mouth were a rather irrelevant, “How about you watch my fucking six, kafir? Besides-” A beat, while he pulled the bayonet out from the traitorous woman and started to reload, only to narrow his eyebrows upon finding the rifle jammed. “That sounds awfully like treasonous talk!”

Ghougas sighed, or at least the young officer assumed the cagey old Armenian did. “I'm loyal to my Shah,” the hail of gunfire was lessened only somewhat as the veteran took down one rebel, and then another, freeing up their rear from being flanked. “And the Expansive State. You forget, boy, I remember both the Revolution and the war against the Anglos!”

“A revolution led by clerics!” Mahmoud signaled for Ghougas to find a position on the other side. “You know damn well there is no com-”

Ghougas, apparently out of rifle ammunition, tossed away his rifle. “Compulsion in Islam. Do you people ever get tired of saying that, Mr. At-the-Shisha-Bar-After-the-Last-Call-to-Prayer?” Across the sreet, a trio of rebels were advancing, small-arms fire almost silent over the sound of a makeshift petrol bomb starting yet another damn fire. “Great, more work you're gonna have to do, kid!”

“Where in Jahannam are they getting fucking bombs?”

“Britain, France? Those thousand oil fields we have? Does it matter?”

“I mean, a little! But anyways-” Rat-at-tat. Through the smoke, it was hard to tell if he'd hit his target. “I thought you'd be a bit more happy with your people getting autonomy.”

The Armenian made no move to reply immediately, tossing a pistol to his student compatriot, yelling, “I'll be happy when I'm not being shot at by these goddamned terrorists! Or the Turks, for that matter.”

Come Mahmoud's retort, narrowly dodging a petrol bomb that landed harmlessly behind him: “The war is completely justified.” Were they truly having this debate amidst a firefight, while the Totalists continued to press him? “I'd think you of all people ought to be excited.”

Ghougas, less fazed by the banter during battle, merely tossed a grenade, the three Totalists exploding in a rain of shrapnel and gore. “Snipers on the roof, kid,” he could barely make out. “Welcome to war, where it's long, brutal, and remarkably fucking loud!” Mahmoud's ears rang, and he took his sidearm and leveled it to their left.

Another exchange of gunfire belayed his reply, the sniper falling as Mahmoud quoted the Qur'an in triumph. “Know that Paradise is a shade of swords!”

“You people and your martyrdom,” replied Ghougas, advancing ahead of Mahmoud. “And besides, we've got guns, not swords!”

“Still- fuck.” A bullet whirred by. Mahmoud ducked behind one of the new domestically-produced Volkswagens, dimly wondering where in Allah's world the Totalists were getting so much ammunition. “Think about the banking reforms, the diplomacy, the charity. Even you can't deny that the lions were-” He reloaded, opening fire with his sidearm with a grimace. “-totally worth saving.”

The Armenian snarled, hefting a shotgun in the direction of their adversaries as a bullet grazed his shoulder. “Shit! Have you even seen a lion, boy?”

“Uh...no.”

“Well, they eat your goats.”

“Never seen one of those either. I'm from Tehran.” Rat-at-tat. Two Totalists went down. It almost seemed fictional, even comical, that so many Totalists had converged on Qom for this.

“You fucking kids.”

The advance continued, however, the frank exchange of views between the rebels and loyalists slowly turning to their advantage as they pressed the assault, the Totalists beginning to retreat. “What does that-”

“Shut up!” Ghougas was low on patience, ammunition, and vocal projection alike. “I think that's your boss behind us. I've got the front!”

Mahmoud turned, and saw that the Armenian was for once correct: a man with a glistening blade and pistol atop a white horse gave a few suppressing shots before dismounting near the Volkswagen. “Sergeant, the Stockholm boys,” meaning, of course, the Gendarmerie, trained by Swedish adventurers and soldiers, “are moving in to secure the area. “Take five minutes and head to the seminary. The mullah has orders for your unit, and I expect you'll be busy while your friend here gets ready for the war.”

Ghougas could once again be assumed to sigh as he fell back to safety. Mahmoud only stared, reloading his Mauser. “What kind of orders...sir?”

The officer stared blankly, perhaps not used to comradely questioning. “The kind you're going to follow for at least the next six months. The kind that will make this look like a picnic in the park.”

“But sir-”

“But nothing!” The officer brandished his pistol. “Sergeant, go. Now. The rebels can be handled, but the war effort is of vastly more importance.”

Mahmoud thought to argue, thought better of it, and considered arguing. “Sir- I...” He gave up. “Yes, sir.” He took two steps forward, snapping to attention and offering a crisp salute before scurrying off. A horrid taste lingered in his mouth, the taste of his Christian compatriot being right. But Allah would provide, as he did for all who fought in the spirit of Karbala.

That was scant consolation, however, the militiaman considered as he headed back to the seminary; around him, fires, sirens, and the cries of civilians did little to aid his damaged hearing. In his heart, he had learned a terrible lesson today. It was going to be a long, brutal, and remarkably fucking loud war.

[Coin]

From Scandinavia and the Netherlands, to the cities of the United States, advertising depicting South Africa as an emigration destination has become more common. From Dust Bowl refugees to skilled workers unemployed by the economic crash, immigrants are arriving in ever increasing numbers.

South Africa Calling!

South Africa needs men and women TODAY, for prosperity TOMORROW. VIRGIN FARMLANDS need hard-working families. WELL-PAID JOBS await in mines and factories. Join a FREE, INDEPENDENT republic.

Contact your local South African immigration agent or embassy for more information, and available assistance. Frequent voyages depart European and American ports. Sign up, set sail, and strike the earth for civilisation!

Funded by the Immigration Assistance Department of South Africa

[Smyg]

... then, out of nowhere came a voice, crackling over the radio waves. Someone had followed him out into the wastes! The jig was up, and he began reaching for his gun. There was no time to alert the crew, back in the ship up above.

"Hand over the minerals, blackie! Ain't no Emperor getting this treasure but the one in Berlin." The uniformed man, his face concealed beneath the breathing-mask, bore the insignia of the Luftstreitkräfte, 6th Starborn Regiment. The same bastards who had downed the Marianne, a civilian Communard mining ship, not three months ago. Syndicate gold or not, they had not needed to burn it as they did. Pirates with Imperial garb, little more. A sawed-off ray gun glittered in the hands of the Hun. Captain Sewamba, sat by the chest full of 'Lunar Silver', feigned a salute. "Ah, yes, of course the Kaiser must get his fair share..." In one swift move, he produced a revolver from its holster. "... of lead!" In the dark skies above, the stars shone brightly down upon the stand-off.

The German laughed. "This ain't Austerlitz, boy, and I ain't no pansy Austrian. My ray-gun outfires any negro-made gun, and I'll have that chest whether I have to air out your suit or not. You should've stayed on Earth, where your kind belongs." A smile came to Captain Sewamba's lips, hidden beneath the mask. This wasn't his first time fighting privateers, and it wouldn't be the last. "La lune belongs to us", he said, "and it is you who should've stayed planetside, Kraut. Vive la France, en garde!

WILL THE GERMANS GET THE LUNAR SILVER? WILL THIS BE THE END OF OUR HERO? AND WILL KABO EVER BE ABLE TO REPORT BACK TO GENERAL BEAUCHAMP IN NEW DAKAR?

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK, TO HEAR THE FATE OF CAPTAIN KABO SEWAMBA, COMMANDER OF THE SKIES, THE GREATEST AUDIO DRAMA THIS SIDE OF THE MEDITERRANEAN!