Ah, the seas of Old Persia. Sinbad once exploited them until he got seasick...if he ever did. Now they're a massive prehistoric tomb, where petroleum is now harvested.

In the Atomic Age, nuclear-powered ships cross the seas. Some are warships; some aren't. Old Persia does a lot of suspicious things these days. Shia Islam is a big thing among many of them.

In various parts of these seas, three amphibious assault ships make way. They fly the colors of Mormon Georgia, North America. Each ship harbors an infantry regiment...of marines. They also harbor an aviation wing.

The wing's warplanes continually take off and land, doing recon. Sometimes, they're like flies on a rotten log.

Just beneath the poop decks of all three warships, the highest-ranking officers of the marine air-ground task force live and work. There's so much brass in the ships' sterns, it's a mystery how they don't sink into the ocean bows-up.

Meet Major General Ruben Rosenbaum. He's a proud Mormon and a native Georgian. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't have clinched his last promotion...which he's very proud of...even if he doesn't express it most times. Alas, he's a bit of a back-row Mormon. As of now, he smokes a cigar. And the cooler in his cabin is stocked with beer and Coke.

Most Georgian Mormons can't turn down Coke. Georgia did, after all, make the beverage great...

These days, Gen. Rosenbaum mainly does desk work. Damn, if he doesn't miss his jarhead infantry days...

He's still got his rifle, though. He doesn't use it as much as he used to, but... Damn, if it doesn't remind him of his glory days as a pubescent second lieutenant, hardly qualified to command a platoon. And he was, indeed, HARDLY qualified...

His prostate isn't what it was. But in his health, he's certain that it's still got a few decades left, before it fatigues permanently.

A naval yeoman interrupts him, and summons him to the bridge. Rosenbaum thanks the page, grabs his hat, and prepares to report to the bridge...

He stops, and pores over a picture of a French maid he once had. In the photo, she's dressed like a slut...per his request. He still loves her...this long after losing her. He imagines he'll never capture a minnow of equal worth; not even when he's in the perfect spot of his career to run for president of the States of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints...