Location: Izaen Sea. Date & Time: 10:30 AM, Hanth 21st, 166 AIW (After [the] Imperialist wars).
Standing on the conning tower, performing his normal duties, first watch officer Sover looked for contacts on the smooth sea. He felt a coldness within him that was much stronger than the cooling breeze caressing his face. He and the rest of the sub's crew were going to war for the first time. Political tensions had reached boiling point in Agicia, where the military dictatorship, fearing a coup by its restless people, sought to play off long-standing feelings of nationalism by claiming to ‘liberate' the Tren islands from being a protectorate of Feirland, and to save it from the corruption which they claimed was being done to it.
Sover considered it ironic, that when Agicia invaded the islands after suffering heavy losses, the first thing they did was tear down all statues and monuments dedicated to peace makers and national heroes, confiscate all privately owned weapons, and then demand that the people submit themselves fully to their rule. All those who even hinted a protestation were shot.
What was even more ironic was the fact their claim of liberation seemed empty, as talks and progress of a peaceful independence were going underway and, after ten years of progress, it would only be a year or two more before the Tren islands became fully independent, all without a shot fired.
Of course Feirland wouldn't stand for it, and neither would its allies. They had their task forces all sent in order to prepare a counter-attack and drive the Agician forces out of the islands. How long will this little war last? One month? Two months? He didn't know, and it was not within his place to know why or how, but to do and die!
He put down his binoculars for a moment and lit a cigarette. The day was still young, and they on the edge of enemy territory -- who knew what manner of adversary the day would bring.
Within the bow section of the sub, the torpedo personnel were hard at work servicing the electric torpedoes to insure that they would fire when needed. It was the dirtiest job on the boat, handling the torpedoes, but it was also very important for obvious reasons.
"Alright, we're finally done," said the torpedo mate to the mechanic. "The fluid level on that torpedo is on maximum and everything else is fine; there's no chance of it malfunctioning when we need it." The mechanic nodded in acknowledgement and then wiped his face with a handkerchief.
The torpedo mate sighed. "I need a drink. I'm so thirsty I'd kill my brother for a beer right now."
The mechanic smiled at the torpedo mate's comment. He always made them from time to time, saying that he'd kill a relative of his for something. Most of the time he just stayed quiet, but this time he wanted to say something in response. "I'm glad that I'm not related to you, sir," was his response, all with his tongue held firmly in cheek.
The torpedo mate laughed loudly for a moment, "You know, for a moment there I was starting to think you actually had a sense of humor," he said.