NationStates Jolt Archive

Somalia. Considered a "trouble spot," by the United Nations since the collapse of the Barre Regime in 1991. Since then, anarchy had been Somalia's one ruler as the nation erupted into civil war.

UN intervention in 1993 had accomplished effectively nothing. Peace talks in Kenya were stymied. Now was not the time for words and promises.....

Now was the time for action.

Unanounced to both the Somalis and the International Community, the Sultanate of Maraka had selected this troubled nation for the initial stage of operation "African Salvation."

With little ceremony or pomp, battlegroup Saladin rolled into the bright, calm sea off Somalia's east coast. Headed by an aircraft carrier of the same name, which was flanked with two Mullah class light cruisers and tailed by a sleek submarine known as The Sultan, the small battlegroup parked itself just a few hundred miles off the coast.

The first target was Mogadishu, the splintered nation's ostensible capital. Quartered belowdecks on the massive Saladin, Battlegroup Seljuk, under the plot of High Sheikh Saladin III began to plot its first tactical operation......

Some information....

Battlegroup Seljuk consists of 5400 individuals, all quartered on the super-carrier Saladin and its surrounding battlegroup.

Some 2,000 are sailors and necessary ship operators (technicians, mechanics). 1,800 are essential personnel (command staff, medical operators, and the like). 200 are pilots and operators of the air/armor support element.

Finally, 3,000 individuals form the infantry division that will be sweeping through Mogadishu. Their equipment is as follows:

-AK-74 Assault Rifle, w/bayonet & 200 rounds of ammunition.

-GPS unit for allocating allied movment and relaying position to command, as well as headphones set into helmet for live communication with Tactical Command.

-Light flak armor, will stop an indirect hit from most small arms weapons.

-Gas Masks, night vision goggles.

-Canteen and four meals' worth in packaged MREs.

It all comes to 70 lbs. carried.

Six hours after global satellite reports picked up the battle-group sailing into Somalian waters, Maraka officially claimed responsibility for the action.

"Maraka is one of the wealthiest and most powerful nations in Africa," the young Sultan Abu Zani declared in a brief announcement to the international press. "We have an obligation--almost a divinely appointed duty---to those nations of our land beset with conflict."

"To that end, we have sent a battlegroup into waters not far from Mogadishu, Somalia. Where the United Nations failed, we shall bring peace to the starving masses of the country. Our troops bear more then guns: with them, they carry food. They carry medicine. And they carry a message of hope. Maraka is not content to manage its own affairs. Wherever Muslims, wherever Africans suffer, Maraka will be there."

"It is left to the Sultanate to take a leading role in helping restore Africa to the greatness it once knew, before plundering Western Powers ravaged it. We will make our nation a credit to Africa, to Islam, and to the world."

OOC: Maybe this will get responses if I spell out what I'm doing for you.....

I just sent armed troops into the capital of a 3rd world nation without asking for permission from the international community, and ignoring the efforts already being made towards peace.

Well, what about it, HM!?

This meagre one is honored to announce that the People's Republic of Calcednie would be willing to aid you in your mission. What assistance do you require?

-Chief Diplomat Shen-ji Geudtr

Your offer of military aid is accepted with our gratitude. We trust you can transport your own troops? Please bring your battlefleet out to the location of Battlegroup Seljuk, High Sheikh Salazar III will be awaiting reception from your leaders. Once rondevoused, the commanders can agree on a joint plan.

----
http://www.animeadrenaline.com/gundam/g/wong.jpg
His Serene Emminence, the Sultanate Abu Zani

The Calcednian fleet slowly approaches the somalian coastline. The battleship "Perfection" leads the group, which sports 5 transports protected by 6 cruisers and 2 destroyers. The carrier "Unity" follows slightly behind, with 2 frigates watching its flanks. Small patrol boats maintain a perimeter.

Admiral Khi Bei: "Lieutenant, open up radio frequencies and hail the Marakan fleet. Inform them that we are prepared to discuss strategy at their leisure."

(OOC: i'm done for the night... i'll make sure to check this thread tomorrow.)

The Government urges the two nations to go along with the current peace process happening to avoid further conflicts. However, should you choose to continue to attack, the Government will reamin silent.

The bridge of Saladin was oddly cramped, given the massive vessel's size. Only dimly lit, shadows permeated the small room and cast much of it into inky blackness.

There was a curving console that stretched along three walls of the room, rows of black-jacketed operators with flowing black coattails and black gutras hanging down their shoulders were huddled over the masses of blinking lights and switches.

Small terminals set into the wall just above the console held blinking computer screens. Some flashed ghostly infrared redouts, others were blinking radar fields.

Behind the row of operators was High Sheikh Salazar III. A tall, broad shouldered man, with a surprisingly rakish and athletic figure. He wore a high-collared black overcoat, its tails trailing down to his booted ankles. His face was high-boned, with a regal hawk's beak of a nose and reed-thin, half-closed dark eyes. His black beard was emaculately trimmed, and slicked to a dagger's point below his chin. His olive complexion was that of an Arab, in contrast to the black faces of the African operators around him. He wore a red and white checkhered gutra, the mark of his rank, held to his cranium by three black bands. The flowing trails of cloth ran over his left shoulder, going down to his belt's steel buckle. His tall command chair of blue-tinted steel sat vacant behind him.

Then, one of the operators brought a hand to the headphones under the cloth of his gutra. "Communication confirmed," he called into the darkness, eyes not leaving the blinking readouts on his monitor screen. "Contact with battlegroup Perfection established.... check, check."

"Line secure," grunted another operator from across the room, his voice muffled by a bristly beard. "Transmission recieved...." there was an audible click as a third operator flipped a switch. Then, there filtered into the dark room a voice garbled with crackling static.

"Battlegroup Saladin, this is the battleship Perfection.... Admiral Khi Bei wishes to discuss strategy with your commanding staff. Respond ASAP, over." It faded away into hissing nothingness.

Salazar III took a step forward, his boot clanking on the bridge's steel floor. "Send them my regards and tell him I'll be meeting him shortly. Tell him to await my arrival on his deck momentarily."

* * *

The bright sky of Somalia, streaked with ghostly clouds of white, luminescent perfection, was suddenly pierced, its calmness shattered. The black shadow of a helicopter, haloed by a disk of whirling rotors, sped over the ocean surface, knocking the bright, crystal-clear waters into a disarrayed wake.

The black helicopter was a spindly blackhawk, its spiderlike tail pointing upwards, its snub nose slanted down, as it droned towards its destination. The bulk of the massive ship Perfection awaited, glinting in the sunlight.

Kicking its snub nose up, the Helicopter came to a hover over the edge of the battleship's deck, not forty feet above the platform of grey-painted steel, where sailors scurried about, grabbing up ropes and harnesses to clear a landing space.

After a space was cleared for an impromptu landing pad, the Helicopter began to settle. Gently touching down, its rotors came to a halt, their screech fading. The door slid open, and out stepped Salazar III, hopping robustly down onto the bridge of the ship. Behind him followed several Ministers, similarly dressed in black coats, dark-skinned, with short, knappy hair. Again, they were clearly Africans, leaving it to be questioned if Arabs in Maraka did anything other then command.

Awaiting the Sheikh and his entourage was a line of uniformed Calcednian honor-guard, their uniforms crisp, their rifles held stiffly along their shoulders. "Sir," their commander grunted a long-practiced greeting. "Please follow me, and we will escort you to the Bridge. Admiral Khi Bei awaits you." Turning, the small company began to make towards the central chambers arising out of the battleship's steel deck.

With an nod from Salazar, the Marakans began to follow, walking with heads bowed and hands clasped behind their backs in an oddly uniform fashion. They arrived at the bridge of the Perfection shortly.

"They're doing what?" asked Premier Bomfy angerly.

"They have sent troops into Somalia without international consent in what appears to be an attempt to take control of the situation going on." answered the aide.

"Well they are breaking international law by doing that, prepare the gardens for a press conference."

"Yes Sir."

45 minutes later, in the Grand House Gardens

ANN Special Report – “Press Conference on the situation in Somalia”

Premier Bomfy walks out of the Grand House and steps up to the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, as I stand before you today, two nations are breaking international law by intervening in a sovereign state's internal affairs. I have discussed this issue with both my advisors and the National Senate and we will come to a conclusion on the situation shortly. Any questions?"

A sea of hands rise up, and Bomfy points to a female reporter in a navy blue suit.

"Will the Aequatian Armed Forces be put on alert for mobilization to stop this breach of international law?"

"Not at the moment, as we are still to decide whether we are going to stop them."

The Premier points to another reporter, a man wearing a black suit.

"Do you fear that making a bad decision on this will affect your chances for re-election in the coming month?"

"I know that the people of Aequatio will feel the same way I do and agree with my decision along with the decision of the National Senate. Now if you excuse me, I must get back to work with my advisors, I will return with our decision shortly."

http://invisionfree.com/forums/Bomfyworld_Forums/index.php?act=Attach&type=post&id=26
Aequatian News Net

-Near Kenya/Somalia border-
The nondescript MC-45 landed on the broken down airfield, the Kenyan dust swirling as the turbofans slowly stopped. Another lay parked inside a rusty airfield, 2 MCV-16 Pegasus II VTOLs beside it. All around the area were Aerospace Force Special Forces, who were assigned with securing the airfield. The current MC-45 transport was offloading supplies, as well as a company of Marine Force Recon teams. Their mission- Evacuate all foreign nationals and aid personnel, as well as provide the AFCOM with eyes and ears in the area. The satellite links were all established, as the G-3 and his staff pored over photos of the area. Meanwhile, a Corporal and a Lance Corporal from the MFR sat on a modified Cobra LAV, cleaning the chambers of the M-32 6.5mm Caseless ATAR IIs.
"So you think this is gonna blow up?"
"Hope not, but I think so."
"Like those Rangers back in Mog?"
"Let's try and avoid that, we aren't gonna get any cavalry to rescue us."
"PCFSMFSOB."
The Lance Corporal laughed at the old Marine acronym, and put away his cleaning kit. He took a swig from the Camelbak, and looked at the sun.
"Yeah, it tends to happen like that."

Maraka City, the Sultan's Palace

The Sultan's personal office were spacious, but sparse. The long, hall-like chamber had walls of plaster, an arched ceiling of slate-grey stone carved with a variety of geometrically interlocking shapes and patterns.

The Sultan's desk was massive, made of black ebon wood. It sat atop a risen platform that ascended from the carpeted floor of the office by means of a squat, wide staircase. Red carpeting ran over the stone stairway and cubical platform. Behind the desk was a round-capped wall of windows polished until they shone, revealing the bleak skyline of downtown Maraka city below.

Steel beams ran up along the sides of the wall, curving over the arched roofway like metallic ribs. They ran up along the corners of the great window-wall, shining light spilling through the glass and making them shine. The light was pale, falling over the Sultan's desk and casting the Monarch himself in a ghostlike light.

Seated in a plush chair of black leather was Abu Zani himself, the Sultanate of Maraka. He wore a beige business soot, a similarly colored overcoat thrown over the back of his chair, his red tie matching the white oxford under his jacket, his leather shoes black as pitch. With his long, carefully groomed dark hair thrown over his shoulders, and his handsome Arab features, he could have stepped from the pages of Forbes or Time.

The Sultan of Maraka was barely thirty, a mere stripling compared to the aged, venerable rulers that had come before him. He was in many ways a departure from the old order of Maraka, a breath of new life in what had been an isolationist, ingrown nation.

Of course, people were rarely willing to accept change readily. Power hadn't come easily: after the Old Sultan died a few years ago, without a direct heir, the system had been thrown into chaos. Generals and statesmen began to vie for the throne, plunging Maraka into factionalization and chaos. Of course, they had all been the same: old men, espousing the same old, outdated morales and "visions," of Maraka's future.

Only a second nephew of the old Sultan, Abu Zani's claim to the throne had been weak. But he knew that it was he who must rule the country. Maraka's economy had floundered due to anti-business, moralistic politics. No more: Zani had done away with those bothersome old labor laws, and begun to tear away at the tradition-bound Theocracy that had controled Maraka's government for so long. As he'd predicted, prosperity had exploded, as had the power of Maraka's business trusts. Revenues were up, complaints were down.

Now it was time to bring this Gospel of plenty to the beleagured nations of Africa. Zani's handsome face broke into a wry grin. After all, were they not all brothers in the same blessed land?

Of course, there was the mattter of those annoying Aequations. It figured some massive nation, so sure of its own damned morality, would decide to throw its weight around and spoil his plans. Fortunately, he wasn't unprepared.

He'd sent a message to the Aequation leadership, forwarded with his best compliments: an envoy of embassedors were invited to dinner at the Sultan's palace, where the issue might be better discussed. Of course, the other option, as his Skaven lieutenants had eloquently put it, was to "kill-kill their boss-boss, then bad-bad man-things shut up." Assassination was a pleasant fantasy, but Zani didn't want to fight a country with such bulk. He would have to wade through the channels of diplomacy, if at first.

Just ignore that name.....

I really need to figure out how to delete that damn thing....

The final 2 MC-54s landed, and after unloading, took off. The area was now well set up, and was becoming a tent city. The soldiers were beginning to gear up for their first mission-evacuating a group from the USNE branch of the Red Cross Organization, in the outskirts of Mogadishu. Already there was an EB-1C Vampire in the air, with 3 StealthHawk drones moving in for a recon run.

The EB-1C stayed in international waters, about 100 miles south of the closest Marakan vessel. The 3 drones screamed over the waves toward Mog, and found the target area, rapidly snapping photos of the area. Each StealthHawk was armed with a 20mm cannon and a pair of AIM-90K SuperWinder short range missiles. Through a satellite feed, the pictures appeared on the G-3s computer screen, in vivid color.

When the King of the Five Civilized Nations learned of the attack, he exploded. Calling a press conference, he denounced Maraka...

"The government of the Five Civilized Nations denounce the actions of Maraka in ignoring the wishes of the international community. The Five Civilized Nations demand that Maraka withdraw from Somalia and allow INTERNATIONAL PEACEKEEPERS to Somalia to restore order. Although international peacekeepers have failed before in this matter, this time, with the support of many other governments dedicated to the reordering of Somalia, we will succeed..."

OOC-Anybody want to take the role of the local Somalis? If not, I will.

OOC: That will be my job, thank you..... anyway, I'm off for now. I'll update on both the Marakan and Somalian side when I get back. l8z.

(OOC: i've rewritten the landing part briefly because the admiral would come to greet your entourage in person.)

Admiral Bei waited just off the helicopter landing platform as the transport settled down. Marines in dress uniform flanked him, standing stiffly.
The only movement was the subtle adjusting of weight to compensate for the movement of the ship.

The rotors came to a stop and the Blackhawk's door slid open. One of the marines strode to the side of the door to help the delegates disembark from the helicopter, while the others formed an honorguard about the dignitaries, standing at attention.

Adm Khi Bei: Greetings (Adm?). *salutes* I am Khi Bei, and command this Calcednian battlegroup. I am authorized to speak for Calcednie by the chairman on any issues relating to Somalia. If you would please follow me, i have everything prepared.

The honor guard turned smartly to exit the platform, and waited for the Marakans to begin walking before falling in.

<Strategy Room>
A large central table dominates the room, with chairs set around it. Two chairs, larger than the others, are positioned in the center of each long side. On the table are various maps of Somalia, including topography, population, and even less immediately pertinant types such as a geologic map of the region. The topographic map is marked with pins representing Somalian warlords and their forces. Marakan and Calcednian fleets are depicted with pins off the coast. One wall features a large computer monitor with smaller screens off to the corners, currently in stand-by mode. There are two doors, one on either side of the room aligned along the long axis of the table.

The marine honor guard escort each member of the delegation to a seat, pulling the chair out for them and helping them be seated. (With Salazar III proffered the larger seat on his side). Then the majority of the honor guard exit the room, with the exception of four marines who take up positions near the doors. There are folders in front of each chair on the delegation's side.

Adm Bei: "Gentlemen, the folders in front of you concern the Calcednian forces with this fleet. In terms of ground forces, we have 1 division of tanks (360 tanks), and 4 divisions of infantry (~1500 soldiers/division with ~600 on-site support personnel/division). Our naval forces also feature surface to surface missile capabilities, and our carrier 'Unity' is outfitted with 10 fighter-bombers for this mission."

"Of primary importance today is that we are all aware of the general strategy to be implemented, and an appropriate division of labor be enacted to ensure this strategy succeeds. How does Maraka intend to proceed?"

<Address to the international community, Chairman Jacob Phon>

Leaders of the world, greetings. Calcednie today has undertaken steps that it deems reasonable and warranted for returning order to the globe. The people of Somalia have suffered 10 years of factions and local warlords without any real resolution coming from the international community. The people of Calcednie applaud the nation of Maraka for taking decisive action to end this situation, and we lend our support, both verbal and military, to the venture.

Somalia's plight has been all but ignored by international bodies. While the UN claims to be taking steps to remedy the situation, its peacekeeping efforts are merely a token gesture. The UN has neither the willpower nor the forces to bring peace to Somalia, and it is unwilling to give the poor citizens of that beleaguered nation the attention they deserve. The ineffectiveness of past responses could lead one to believe that the UNs masters wish instability to continue in Somalia, though Calcednie sincerely hopes that the inadequacy of past UN intervention is more from neglect than intention.

While these actions do interfere with ongoing UN peacekeeping efforts, it is Calcednie's sincere belief that the UN peacekeeping efforts are doomed to failure. Our actions today make possible the dream of an orderly Somalian society in a way that the UN has been unwilling and unable to provide. We ask that the international community bless this action, with words if not with assistance, and refrain from interfering and ruining the best chance Somalia has of becoming a unified nation once again.

-West of Mogadishu-
The sand whipped around the aircraft as the 2 MV-16s landed. The doors slammed down, and 2 Cobra LAVs, mounting a 14.5mm MG and a Hydra Rocket Pod, along with 6 MFR troops, began moving towards the outskirts of Mog. Meanwhile, the other 2 MV-16s flew toward the refugee camps where the Red Cross and Doctors without Borders personnel were, all from New Empirian branches of the organization. Ahead of the operation was a new detachment of 6 StealtHawk UCAVs, armed with Hydra rockets and Hellfire-G missiles. "The Mog" was about to get messy with the foreign world once more.

*bump*

(otherwise known as: Maraka, where art thou?)