NationStates Jolt Archive

Greenpeace Protesters Attacked by Military Over Nuclear Submarine Controversy

17-11-2005, 23:57
17:00 AM QMT, HMNB Rorkeham
The Greenpeace and CND protestors had been hanging around for several days - it had been announced only last week that all of the Questarian Royal Navy was planning to scrap it's old diesel-electrics in favour of nuclear powered submarines. This was met with fierce opposition from the Green Party, and indeed CND, Greenpeace, and other environmental groups. Immediately the groups, classed already as a danger to national security and accused of being a Communist Party in disguise by the Government, had set up camp outside Rorkeham. The camp was approximatly four hundred strong, and the edge extended only six feet off the official ministry of defence property. Her Majesty's Naval Base Rorkeham, the largest Naval Base in the North, was protected by a giant chain link fence, it's guard towers scanning the landscape with giant spotlights. Men with rifles slung casually over their shoulders patrolled the entrances, their German shepherd guard dogs looking fiercely from side to side and occasionally growling.

Only two hours ago, Greenpeace operatives had jumped on trucks carrying nuclear engines into Rorkeham, causing great irritance to the drivers who dare not run them over. They had only been scared off by a pair of guard dogs who's huge teeth gave the environmentalists rather unpleasant ideas. Now, the second convoy was arriving, but with a different cargo. As soon as the trucks pulled down the road and into the path directly to Rorkeham, sure as pie a group of protestors jumped in front, their signs waving and angry shouts filling the air.

"Bloody hell, it's cold."

Two hundred metres away were Royal Marine Sharpshooters, John McKay and Alex Lumber. They had been lying down for fourty five minutes and had found a suitable position, although John was sure that frost was coming over his scope. Looking down his crosshairs, Alex could see the giant suppressor protruding from the end. He muttered quietly down the microphone

"Uniform Juliet One One has target sighted, over." Receiving similar replies from the other sniper groups around the camp, Alex took point and squeezed the trigger gently, whispering so only his own ears could hear "God forgive me."

The bullet sped at subsonic speeds, the noise and flash sufficiently disguised by the "Ruddy great pringles tube" as it was called in the forces. It hit the target milliseconds later, with a small splat and the crunch of bone landing in the kneecap of a protester, forcing him to drop the sign painfully to the floor.

The Royal Marine Sharpshooters never missed.

Seconds later, the meticulously planned operation sprang into action. The protesters on the street had collapsed, and with precise movements the Marines packed into the three rear trucks kicked open their doors and piled out with cries of "Go go go!" and "Move your fat ass Johnson!"

Crouched down, in full camouflage gear, very few of the protestors knewwhat was happening. Lieutenant Spatterman raised his hand, making some brief signals as the Marines spread out, entering the camp, gas masks fixed. Widespread confusion had hit the ragtag Greenpeace base. At least a dozen crumps marked the entrance of tear-gas and CS-gas shells dropped from mortars into the camp. Waking up, coughing and spluttering, what futile and little resistance the men and women could make was quickly stopped by the Marines in matt black combat dress and gas masks, submachine guns loaded and their safeties off. Helicopters with spotlights circled, Sharpshooters picking off escapists with tranquiliser darts, or if they preferred, a shot to the kneecap with their rifles.

Alistair Brown heaved a mighty cough as both of his arms were grabbed by a pair of soldiers.

"You.." he spluttered again, his eyes watering "This is a violation of my civil rights! Get your hands off me you fascist pigs!" Alistair did not know what happened next, but he saw into the goggles of a Royal Marine before wincing as the stock of the submachine gun came cracking down on his head, knocking him out cold.

Peering through his binoculars from inside the camp, Lieutenant General Drax smiled. "That's my boys. A jolly good show, don't you say Colonel?"

"Yes sir, sir, indeed sir." The young colonel piped up as an answer.

"Time to get some kip I suppose. Would you care for a cup of tea before bed, Colonel?"
11:24 AM, QMT
Already the news of the Government operation had spread quickly, first on the website of a Journalist, then the Greenpeace website, and then onto various blogs and discussion boards. Soon the word of a violent Military crackdown on a peaceful anti-nuclear camp had spread to anywhere and everywhere and the Government refused to make a statement. This was, however, only the start of things..
18-11-2005, 00:15
18-11-2005, 19:34
Saturday 18th November 2010, 11:00 AM QMT, Questarian Parliament

"What do we want?"


"When do we want it?"


The large group of demonstrators marched around the House of Commons, waving large signs and Greenpeace flags among other banners, decreeing the death of fourteen Greenpeace activists who died of concussion and major gunwounds in the Saturday 17th "Night of Suppression" where six Greenpeace anti-military camps had been attacked and destroyed with all evidence removed. Outside Parliament, beside two foot high stone walls, armed policemen patrolled warily. A new era of tension had begun as the Governmentm, popularly elected by the upper and middle class (the only ones with the vote) had taken the opportunity of a recent election victory to crack down on Crime, Non-Violent Protests, Terrorists, and other miscaellaneous "Dangers to National Security".

Member of Parliament John Reedham looked conspicuously outside the window of his black porsche limousine, which was flanked by police cars with SACT (Security and Counter-Terrorism) Team members aiming submachineguns outside bulletproof windows. Reedham had been advised to wear a flak vest - he had refused the offer, but upon reaching parliament had realised why he should have taken the vest. Angry crowds had surrounded the convoy of cars, and Reedham sat tight inside his armoured limousine as he could hear pings reflect off his car, a sign that trash was being thrown at him.

"How uncouth" he murmured, thinking of the repair costs. The car suddenly came to a halt and, obviously annoyed, Reedham asked his driver

"Why the bloody hell are we stopping?"

Before he could be given an answer, Reedham leaned forwards and he could see several people standing defiantly in front of his car, peering into the tinted windows as if they could try confirm his identity. He sighed.

"Bloody idiots. What do they hope to achieve.."

A SACT operative had already opened the door of his squad car and was slowly stepping round, his submachinegun cocked and ready in case any of the demonstrators looked like they would jump him. Another stepped out the side, and another from the car behind. Turning around, the three demonstrators: one woman and two men in their early thirties, did not seem to think they were in any sort of danger. The first SACT operative pushed the man to the ground, and before he could struggle to get up the other two were on him.

"You are under arrest on charges of conspiracy to commit rebellion or violent acts againts a member of the establishment. You do not have to say anything but if you do it may and will be used against you in court" the first SACT man stated very matter-of-factly, as the other two cuffed the protestor and a newly arrived guard picked him up and heaved him towards the squad car. The other two protestors had tried to run back into the crowd, but to no avail. The first SACT operative, who was clearly a leader of some kind, grabbed the woman by the collar and flung her forwards. She screamed and screamed, thrashing her assailants

"Get off me you fascist pigs! You can't suppress us forever!"

With a stern look the SACT Sergeant slapped her in the face twice
, repeated the arrest statement and the other two cuffed her and threw her in the squad car. Slowly but surely the convoy began to move, with the assistance of the unit of SACT and local armed and unarmed constables as the protestors watched silently, their comrades taken away, mostly likely to be in prison for a good ten years. The resistance movement had not yet started in full swing.