NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This leads on from Blood Sun Rising Part 1: Make War (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=123901&highlight=). Why is there no Part 2? Because I have writers block for Part 2 and will write it later as a kind of flashback.

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Blood Sun Rising
Part 3: Make Peace


The day dawned in New Sydney to a thin, depressing drizzle. The heavy clouds overhead, promising storms, seemed to despair with lethargy. Usually vibrant with life, New Sydney awoke wishing it could stay under warm covers with a good book.

It was at half-past-four in the morning that Jack Sellers, security guard at the National New Sydney Bank, parked his car in the little lane in between the bank building and the Macdonalds next door, as he had done so every day for fifteen years, and put his black peaked cap on. Making sure he looked respectable, he walked to the front of the Bank building, opened the glass doors with his special keycard and stepped inside the marble-floored foyer.

Across the modern-designed and decorated foyer was the giant front desk, now only with a staff of one—the night-shift security guard who was even now yawning and packing his novel into his briefcase. Jack Sellers smiled in greeting and strode across the room and rested his elbows on the desk, in front of the night-shift guard.

Just as Jack was opening his mouth to say something, the night-shift guard reached into the open briefcase, pulled out a nine-millimetre handgun and pressed it into Jack’s forehead, all in one fluid moment.

“Ah, Mr. Sellers,” the man said, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand to reveal a dark khaki uniform underneath, “Today will be a day like no other…”

All throughout the splendour of New Sydney forcing itself to go to work, the same thing was happening. The major buildings in the city centre were taken over by men and women in dark khaki, some wearing ski masks to hide their identity. None wore any identifying insignia or markings, though they all carried powerful, military assault rifles and handguns. Most had gained entrance the previous night, though in some cases some had breached doors or entered through roofs.

Quietly and with efficiency, security guards were disarmed and put under lock and key in safe locations in the buildings. Office workers, cleaners and others in the buildings were rounded up in the bottom floor of each building and kept under guard. The doors were secured shut and bullet-proof shutters lowered where available. Dressed as security guards and police, some of the men and women turned back commuters and visitors from the buildings claiming fire hazard or bomb threat. They were told gently but firmly to return to their homes.

Sometimes all it took were four of the khaki-clad gunmen to clear out and secure an entire building. They acted in perfect synchronisation, intimidating and professional to a point. Slowly, like the evening tide crawling up a beach, building after building was captured and secured.

By five o’clock, most of the buildings in the city centre were secured—apart from the one right within the centre, the New Sydney Federal Parliament House.

Jack Sellers had been locked into one of the ninth-floor executive offices, along with another security guard who seemed to be in shock from what had happened. Jack wondered what would have happened to the man if there had been a regular security thread, like a bank robbery… would he have just folded up?

For the first few minutes he had banged on the thick door and demanded that the uniformed men let him go, to no avail. He hadn’t expected any less but it had been something to do. He could still feel the first jolt of fear, shock and adrenalin when the ‘night-shift guard’ had put the pistol to his head. Another ‘guard’ had appeared and had taken Jack’s own small pistol. They seemed very professional and Jack guessed they were either military or ex-military. They wore no identifying insignia on their uniforms and there didn’t seem to be a noticeable ranking structure.

Jack stopped trying to engage the other security guard in conversation and walked around the office to check for any means of escape. Though what he’d do when he escaped he didn’t know… No doubt by this stage the authorities would be aware of what had happened. Jack was pretty sure it wasn’t just a bank robbery or something to do with this particular building.

He came to one of the big glass windows set into the outer wall and looked out. The bank building was tall, and while he could see traffic and people moving below him it was too far to try anything like jumping. Not unless he wanted to be layered across the road below. His watch had also been taken away from him and his eyes went up across the city skyline to where the sandstone City Hall clock tower stuck up like a testimony to heritage. Half past five.

His eyes turned back to the street below him. This was an impossible situation, he decided. Even if I got out of this building what can I do…

Then, as he looked down at the street, he slowly realised what he was seeing… and suddenly realised what the man in uniform has mean when he said ‘today will be a day like no other’.

**A CCBC News Broadcast**

"...To recap the extraordinary events of the last three hours:

"Early this morning workers and commuters in New Sydney were confronted by armed gunmen in uniform who proceeded to take over buildings within a three kilometre radius of the New Sydney Federal Parliament House, which was in full Emergency session in response to the bombing of a Street Island warehouse complex by S.I.N. terrorists. Parliament House is located at the exact centre of New Sydney.

"Early-arriving workers were taken hostage, as well as security guards stationed in the buildings. It is estimated that there are a few hundred of the gunmen in the buildings; they have modern military weapons and are well-trained, according to reports. Initially, they dressed as security guards and forced workers away from the buildings they have secured but within two hours they had all donned khaki uniforms.

"The Chimaean Armed Forces Council have declared a state of ermergency and have deployed Army units into New Sydney. We have reporter Mark Gatsy on the streets of New Sydney; Mark... what's the situation out there?"

"Well Louise, Army units have certainly taken charge of the situation and have occupied several buildings which the gunmen haven't secured... They're also deployed along the streets, which they're patrolling in armoured cars and other urban-warfare vehicles, some which are armed with large canons. Overhead I can hear the drone of helicopters; I've seen three out of the window of the room I'm in, two were attack helicopters and one was a large transport helicopter of some kind."

"Where are you, you're inside a building?"

"Yes the Army have opened a floor of a building for press use, which is fairly unusual in the circumstances but I believe they are sure there's no risk to this particular building."

"What can you tell us about the gunmen?"

"Not much is known about the gunmen at this time, Louise, but what little is coming in portrays a picture of a very efficient and highly-trained force. They seem to be well armed with modern assault rifles and handguns and some of the soldiers I've talked to have not ruled out larger ordinance like grenades. Their intentions at this time is unknown, they've only released a statement saying that they will shoot the hostages if they believe their positions are in danger, and that a full statement will be given later."

"What of the police?"

"That's the strange thing, Louise, I haven't seen many police and the few that are there seem to be on the outskirts of the three kilometre radius that the gunmen have captured. There are rumours that the police are being blocked by the military. If this is true, it doesn't make too much sense as the police also have highly-effective anti-terrorist squads on 24-hour alert and ready to respond within minutes."

"Thank you, Mark... Take care and keep us posted."

"Will do, Louise."

"That was Mark Gatsy reporting from New Sydney City. The latest news from the situation is that the military have secured and closed off the New Sydney Parliament House, and the MPs have been told to stay within the Parliament House complex. We'll keep you updated here on CCBC."

Lord Ridgeway, the honourable member for Hope, was astonished and outraged when two soldiers opened his (locked!) door and stepped inside, interrupting his shaving and cutting his chin painfully. He swore and one of the soldiers handed him a tissue from the box by the mirror.

"Sir--" began one of the soldiers only to find himself being dismissed by a casual flick of the hand. Lord Ridgeway continued shaving as the two soldiers stared in astonishment.

Only when he was done did he turn around and glare at them. "How dare you set foot in here? This is the Federal Parliament of Chimaea! The army has no--"

One of the soldiers sighed and with a loud click, opened the holster at his hip. Lord Ridgeway's eyes were drawn to it as if by magnetism.

"Your presense is needed in the Debating Chamber, sir. The Parliament is sitting."

Lord Ridgeway took his coat off it's hook and shrugged it on, then nodded. The two soldiers led him out of the room.

All throughout Parliament House, soldiers appeared and escorted the MPs to their respective seats in the main Debating Chamber. Some, who resisted, were pushed and prodded roughly and the worst were simply carried by the burly soldiers. Once in the Chamber, the MPs were left alone to talk amongst themselves in raised voices, their anger and fear badly masked.

All around the perimeter of the chamber, soldiers armed with assault rifles stood to attention, their faces carefully blank. They were a mixed group, consisting of Marines, Airborne and general infantry, though all were armed in the same way.

There were soldiers in the galleries above, though these kept to the darkness and were difficult to make out.

One of the doors at the side suddenly opened and the Speaker of the House, followed by the Governor, walked in. There was a sudden hush; not only because they were two of the most important men in the room, but because no-one has seen Sir Reginald for some time.

His hand was bandaged and his face, though clean-shaven, looked haggard and unnaturally alert. He walked with a slow, careful tread as if unsure of his footing and flinched in the bright lighting of the room. The gathered MPs started to mutter when they saw him and the volume increased when it became apparent that the two men were being led into the Chamber at gunpoint.

http://www.hmm-162.com/History/news/News2003/BaghdadPhrog1.jpg

The chinook helicopter flew low over the City, the wash from its rotors sending the canopies of trees into a frenzy. It reached a large park, at the side of which were an essembled group of national and international journalists, driven there by Armoured Personnel Carriers. They were guarded by heavily armed soldiers.

As soon as the chinook settled to the ground, the soldiers led the way to it. The ramp on the back of the chinook slid down and soldiers and media dissappeared inside.

A moment later, the helicopter rose into the air and headed for the New Sydney Parliament House.

"We'll be touching down in New Sydney International in a few minutes, sir."

Prime Minister Achefield sat up and nodded to the pretty air hostess (who, knowing Chimaean security, could probably kill a mountain lion with her bare hands). He shuffled the papers on the fold-down table and packed them neatly into his briefcase.

Across from him, his aide/bodyguard shifted position slightly in his seat. The flight from Lavenrunz had been a fairly long one and not once did the other man move in his seat. Achefield had been impressed. Even in the luxury of the Chimaea II, the Prime Minister's jet, such a long journey was monotonous.

The plane dipped and banked. Achefield glanced through his window and saw the airport and the City stretching far away below him. He shifted position and watched the three SC-42 Airhawkes that had formed the formal escort gain height and head back to base.

He looked down at the airport and saw three military transport planes at the terminals, as well as several military vehicles. Achefield wondered what had happened to draw the planes to the civilian airport, then shrugged and put it out of his mind.

Chimaea two banked a final time, then came into land on one of the runaways. It taxied along to the end of the runaway, turned ponderously and began to crawl towards the waiting terminal.

So it was with some astonishment that the passengers suddenly jerked forwards against their seatbelts as the plane suddenly drew to a halt. Achefield's aide glanced outside, frowned, unclipped his seatbelt and stood up in the aisle. There was a blur of movement and a large handgun was in his hands, pointed down at the floor.

"Stay in your seats, just keep a low profile!" he hissed as he edged forwards towards the doorway in front of them which separated them from the outside door. He ducked to one side of the door and waited.

There was a clank of a portable stair being locked into place. The muffled noise of the door opened followed by the sound of a scuffle, then silence. The passengers stared at the door.

"Right," said a voice, "I know the Prime Minister's bodyguard is standing at the doorway, ready to shoot the first person that comes in. Don't worry, this is an official military action. My name is Colonel de Yass. Kindly put down your weapon."

The bodyguard looked at Achefield, who hesitated, then nodded. The gun vanished into the bodyguard's suit. The door clicked open and a tall, thin man walked in, nodding casually to the looming bodyguard and walking up to the seated Prime Minister.

"Good morning, sir. Your presense is urgently requested at Parliament House. I have a staff car waiting."

Achefield frowned. "What, already? But I just got back--"

Colonel de Yass smiled. "This is the way it's got to be, sir."

Shaking his head, Achefield slipped his briefcase out of the overhead compartment, then stood and followed the Colonel out.

At the same time, the woman calling herself Tanya Welles stepped from the front door of a non-descript townhouse in the outskirts of New Sydney and into a waiting limousine, which was escorted by four military policemen on motorcycles and two armoured jeeps, each with a machine gun attached to the back and containing armed soldiers. Overhead, two Cobra gunships hovered above the small convoy.

She was dressed in unmarked combat fatigues and carried herself with the posture of a soldier. As the convoy pulled away from the roadside, the snipers on the buildings on either side got up from their positions and made their way down to the street.

The chinook helicopter was the first to arrive at Parliament House, landing gracefully on the helipad that was part of its immense lawns. The back ramp lowered and the journalists and media representatives walked out, escorted closely by the soldiers. They were taken to the main foyeur of the Parliament House building then left to wait for a few minutes, still under guard. Then a uniformed officer walked towards them and smiled, spreading his hands in welcome.

"Ladies and gentlemen... Thank you very much for coming here today under such circumstances. I hope the ride wasn't too uncomfortable. If you will follow me...?"

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and began walking towards a marble staircase at the side of the foyeur. The soldiers gestured for the media to follow him.

--------------------

The door opened and Prime Minister Achefield stepped into the Debating Chamber warily. He took in the armed soldiers along the walls, the bewildered and angry faces of the MPs and finally rested on the Governor, who had looked up at the sound of the door opening.

He had never seen the Governor look worse. The man's eyes were sunken and his face seemed to have aged forty years. There was a wild, uncontrolled look about him, though he was dressed neatly enough and was clean-shaven. Achefield thought about the few encounters he had with Sir Reginald Styles before departing for the Lavenrunz conference.

Achefield walked forward, through the rings of seats to the central area where the Governor, Prime Minister and opposition leaders had their seats. He took his seat and leaned towards the Governor. "Sir, what's happening? Are you all right?"

The Governor glanced at him, his eyes unfocusing slightly. "Uh... I don't... I'm not sure. Did... How was Lavenrunz?"

Achefield hid his surprise at the other man's almost guttural voice. "The conference went smoothly enough, I suppose--"

The door opened again, and then the House fell deathly silent.

The limousine convoy drove through the deserted streets of New Sydney, the only noise the whirr of powerful engines and the sound of tyres against the tarmac of the road.

As it reached the large iron gates of the Parliament House complex, it slowed down to be checked by the soldiers guarding it. After a cursory inspection, it was allowed through the complex gates and into the lawns, following the long paved pathway to stop directly in front of Parliament House itself.

The soldiers stepped out of the vehicles and fanned out, rifles at the ready. The chauffer got out of the driver's side of the limousine, stepped to the side and opened the door, saluting.

A pair of booted feet touched the ground, hesitated for a second, then a figure levered himself out of the limousine. He was dressed in formal military dress uniform and had several medals pinned to his chest. He nodded at the chauffer, went to the other side of the limousine and held the door open for the second figure to emerge.

Together, they headed up the broad granite stairs and into Parliament House.

#tag#

**Exclusive report by Mark Gatsy, CCBC**

"...A tense atmosphere which pervades the scene, almost a tangible sense of something gone very, very wrong. None of the officers present have informed us what's happening exactly.

"To recap for our new viewers, the military invited representatives of the media to attend what they described as a 'significant event' in Parliament House, in the midst of the emergency that has gripped inner New Sydney in the early hours of the morning. We aren't sure what's being done about the gunmen who have taken control of most of the buildings within a three kilometre radius of Parliament House.

"The media were flown by military helicopter to Parliament House, where we have been shown to one of the public viewing galleries overlooking the Debating Chamber. It seems that almost all of Parliament is sitting today, though there is a certain amount of dissaray in their order. There are armed soldiers along the walls of the Chamber, something which I've never heard of before...

"It seems that no-one has really been informed of what's going on... the members of parliament gathered below seem to be just as confused as we are. The Governor and the Speaker were shown in a while ago, the Governor looks a little worse for wear. It is his first public appearence for some time and no doubt would fuel speculation in the tabloids about his activities... The Prime Minister came in a while ago, I think straight from landing in Chimaea from the conference in Lavenrunz... He's speaking with the Governor right now--

"Good lord! The door just opened and General Garrison's just stepped into the Debating Chamber!"

*sounds of commotion and murmuring among the media*

"For the information of non-Chimaean viewers, the Commander in Chief of the Chimaean Armed Forces cannot enter the Debating Chamber while in session... only by special invitation of the Governor and the Speaker could he address a sitting of Parliament... There is a lady following him, in an Army uniform but without any insignia... She's oddly familiar but I can't place her. She's walking side-by-side with the General..."

General Garrison calmly marched through the rows of seated MPs, his eyes straight ahead, his face as stony as ever. He ignored the gasps and sounds of shock that rustled around the Chamber, though he felt the weight of centuries press down on him. But it was the necessary thing to do.

He walked past the Prime Minister and Governor, the former looking horrified and even the latter managing to look fairly shocked. He walked up the short steps to the raised dais at the head of the Chamber where the Speaker presided, and turned to face him. The man, a retired High Court judge, stared at him, almost speechless with indignation.

The silence spread like waves, and even the rustling and murmuring in the ranks of the MPs stopped. The General nodded, almost to himself, and said to the Speaker, "Sir, I request that you yield the chair to me for the time being."

"What authority could you possibly have--" blustered the old man.

"The Constitution of the Commonwealth, the highest authority," the General replied mildly.

"What in gods' name are you blathering about?"

"The Constitution allows for military intervention as the last resort in a breakdown of law and order, sir. I request you step aside."

"There is no breakdown of--"

"Oh, is there not!" The General didn't raise his voice but his tone suddenly changed from calm and fixed to venomous. Almost everyone present started. "I demand you yield the chair to me, sir!"

The Speaker flinched, then got to his feet with dignity and stepped to one side. "All right, General, but heaven protect you if you're wrong."

Ignoring this last, the General pulled the large leather chair to one side and stood at the podium, staring around at the Parliament, feeling almost at a loss. Well, he thought to himself, My career's definitely over now. Might as well go with a bang.

He took a deep breath. Every camera in the media gallery was concentrated on his face, every sound recorder and note-taker ready for what he had to say.

"Members of Parliament, my fellow Chimaeans... We live in troubled times. We are threatened on one side by tyranny and dictatorship from abroad, shadowy powers that would see every man, woman and child in this fair nation enslaved and even killed. On another side our liberal and democratic way of life is threatened by sectarian violence and terrorism. We walk the streets in fear, looking over our shoulders, suspecting our neighbours. Our homes have become fortresses. Our lives have become caged.

"But there is a third side to our troubles, a third side stemming from the highest authority in the land--this very Parliament itself!"

He let the waves of indignant muttering wash over the Chamber, then raised a hand for silence. He noticed, on a micro-scale, that it was a very old hand he raised, wrinkled, calloused yet strong and steady. A commanding hand, a warrior's hand... but an old one.

"I have been your protector for decades. I have sat at the right hand of three Governor's, I have watched as this nation has survived all manner of terror from nuclear war to losing your loved ones on foreign battlefields. I have written letters to families myself, families that kept the lights on to keep the darkness away while I write them letters of eternal darkness. I have seen acts of courage and bravery that have went unsung, witnessed acts of heroism that could never be recognised. And I have been..." he searched for a word for a moment, "humbled."

He paused, the went on. "I have also been witness to indecision, weakness and madness. I have seen the important decisions played down for the sake of elections, I have seen your very lives threatened again and again through a facade of inept and blustering leadership. And I have stood by and done... nothing.

"Lord Bryce once told me that in the end, all you ever have are the things you gave. I never understood what he meant till now."

He tapped his fingers absent-mindedly on the podium, as if gathering his thoughts. Then he looked down directly at the Governor.

"Sir Reginald Styles, Governor of the Commonwealth of Chimaea, I hereby invoke my right, held sacrosanct within our Constitution, to dismiss you from your duties as leader of this nation and furthermore, hold you under arrest on charges of treason. May heaven forgive you."

The shocked silence lasted all of five seconds. Then Sir Reginald leapt to his feet and pointed an accusing finger right at the General. "Heaven may not forgive me, General," he shouted, "But by the gods nothing will save you now."

The House erupted into uproar. Suddenly everyone was on their feet, trying to make themselves heard above the shouting. In the midst of it, in a frozen tableau, General Garrison and Sir Reginald stared at each other, neither flinching from the other's eyes.

After a couple of minutes of chaos, the General held up his hand again. When this did nothing to quieten the House, he took a step back, reached down and unclipped his holster, pulling out his 9mm pistol. He held it up, aiming at the roof of the Chamber, and gradually all eyes were fixed on it in terrified fascination.

"Thank you," he said gentle, putting the gun back. "Gentlemen...?"

Two Army officers standing to the side saluted, walked up to the Governor and stood on either side of him. The General nodded and the Governor shook his head, turned around and walked towards the door he had came in from. The two officers fell into step beside and slightly behind him.

"The Army has secured the City until the civilian authorities are fully prepared to undertake their duties once more," the General announced. "Do not worry about the events of early this morning, the gunmen inside the buildings around Parliament House are Chimaean elite forces. We had to act as quickly and without the crowds of afternoon, as you may appreciate, for security reasons. I have the backing of the Chimaean Armed Forces on this move. You have my solemn word that the Armed Forces will not interfere and will extract once order is restored.

"The current Cabinet and members of Parliament will remain until formal elections take place as an interim government. It is within my powers to nominate an interim Governor as Chief of State. I have spent a long time wondering whom to place in this important and crucial position; both members of the previous Administration or the Opposition would not inspire confidence. So it is with honour that I nominate the Governor of the Commonwealth of Chimaea..."

He stepped aside from the podium and the woman who had called herself Tanya Welles, formerly of the Chimaean Marine Corp, stepped up to the podium. She looked almost fragile as she stood there, blinking in the lights, dressed in an unmarked Army uniform. As everyone stared at her, they all thought the same thing: she looks oddly familiar...

General Garrison smiled grimly. "Fellow Chimaeans... Lady Tanya Bryce."

:shock:

God bless,

The Republic of Syskeyia