NationStates Jolt Archive

Mogadishu, Somalia, 2001

Aasha wasn't supposed to be there, but she was anyway, because Mamma had sent her out to get her brother from the playground. It wasn't a playground, really, just the remains of a crashed helicopter, a rusting metal hulk with two rotors that couldn't turn. Her brother and his friends loved playing war around it, now that the U.N. school had closed down from the fighting.

Aasha wasn't afraid of the fighting--she was 14, after all, and had spent a lot of her life avoiding the warlord's men. Well, almost, apart from that last summer. Aasha tried to forget it but the images came unbidden into her mind: the broken door, the guns, the fists.

She shook her head to herself, and continued along the road towards the special place. Pappa had said it was an old archway build to mark the entrance to the old Mogadishu, before the urban sprawl had gathered around and past it. He told her she should never go there--it was a hun meel. Only the militia ever went there, and that was to patrol. Aasha had been there before, though, twice--it was mostly deserted, a large courtyard with a broken at one end and broken cobbles on the ground. The buildings around it were empty and dead from shelling.

It was peaceful. Sometimes you could hear a lonely, desolate wail as the wind picked up, rising from the old stonework. Like reer-aakhiraad. Ghosts of the past. Aasha liked to sit and think about the old days, before the warlords, when the country was rich.

Today she had decided to cut across the courtyard on her way to the playground. It was nice going where you're not supposed to go and it made Aasha's heart beat faster with wicked enjoyment. That'd really show them... if only people knew!

Aasha rounded the corner and came into the empty courtyard. Except that it wasn't empty anymore.

***

Colonel Russel Remington smiled in satisfaction as he watched the convoy rumble to a half in the broken-down courtyard. The Ottawa-class APCs sat in the bright, hot sunlight, the six heavy wheels of each vehicle already tearing at the old cobbles. Already his demo men were placing explosives around the old arches to allow for the tanks to come in. They had chosen this indirect route because most of the militia guarding this side were already well into their daily khat, the foul drug of choice in war-torn Somalia. They had been easy to take care of, no match for his Marine infantry marksmen.

Remington had been chosen to lead the sub-mission to capture this part of the City because his team were amongst the best trained in the Chimaean Armed Forces Somalia Deployment. The CAFSD had been steadily increasing their presense in the nation since joining the U.N. mission an year ago. And now the time was right to strike. There were no blue hats on his soldiers this time.

With a shattering blast, the old archways came down, the ancient masonry crumbling under the C4 explosives. As the dust settled, Remington could already hear the tanks revving up their powerful engines. Overhead, the beat of helicopter rotors cut through the dusty air.

There was a shout to his left and he looked around. One of his men were taking aim at a girl in a traditional Muslim dress. The girl was rooted to the spot in terror.

Amused, he signalled for the soldier to ease up and approached the shaking girl. She wasn't looking at him, though, but at the pile of rubble that had been the arches. Remington wondered if they had some sort of religious significance. Oh well. Needs must when the Devil rides out.

Conscious of the sight he and his men must have presented, he crouched down in front of her so that she was taller. He coughed and held out his hand unsurely.

"Hello there," he said in clumsy Somali, "I'm Colonel Remington. We don't mean you any harm."

She stared at him in mute terror, turned, and ran as fast as she could into the distance. Remington stared bemusedly after her, then turned back to the soldier who had drawn aim at her and shrugged. "Never was good with children."

The soldier smiled back and tapped his CR48 rifle. "Sorry, sir, was pretty much automatic when I drew the bead at her."

"Quite all right, Private. Carry on." he looked around the courtyard and frowned. "What a dismal place. Remind me to have this paved over for something when the Op's finished."

::::::::::::::::::::::

New Sydney, British Columbia--Capital of the Commonwealth of Chimaea, 2005

"Going on in five... four... three... two... one... zero!"

The camera came live and the small red light went on. Lady Bryce smiled pleasantly at camera, her beautiful featured framed perfectly by her dark hair. She looked every inch in control and in charge.

"Fellow Chimaeans, it is with great joy that I bring to you the news we have all been waiting for: for the first time in decades, Somalia is now entirely at peace and all major military operations have ceased. It's taken us four years to achieve this and the turning point has come.

"The first proper, representative Somali Parliament has convened and within a few minutes will pass the first Act: the autonomous Constitution which will bring the Chimaean Somali Protectorate into the Commonwealth. The world has watched the events of these past four years with wonder and amazement as we have achieved what everyone else could not: the return of Somalia from the edge of chaos and distruction. Three hundred and eighty thousand souls have perished before the Chimaean intervention and now the Somali people are at peace, with great prosperity to look forward to."

She smiled again, her pefect white teeth glinting in the golden lights. In her mind, she reflected that the four hundred and twenty major combat missions to eradicate the fourteen thousand militia belonging to the mish-mash of Somali warlords was definitely worth it. Fourteen thousand dead was, after all, insignificant compared to the three hundred and eighty thousand dead before CAFSD had taken control.

"So again, it is with the greatest pleasure I announce the First Session of the Commonwealth Parliament of Somalia."

The red light blinked out as the broadcast shifted to Somalia via satellite. Lady Bryce breathed out slowly and grinned at the Prime Minister, who smiled back.

"A splendid speech, my Lady."

"You're too kind, as always. Is Major General Remington keeping tight security around Mogadishu?"

"Of course, my Lady, he briefed me just an hour ago. We have over six thousand troops on patrol."

"Good, good." Lady Bryce relaxed and sipped at a crystal decanter of water. "The Commonwealth of Somalia. That has a very nice ring to it, doesn't it."

The Prime Minister grinned, and held up his own glass. "To the Commonwealth!"

Lady Bryce clinked her's against it, the refracted light from the crystal throwing her face into odd relief. "The Commonwealth!"

OOC Info: Some of you may have noticed Chimaea in the Nationstates forum. Well the Earth III Chimaea will be a bit different, and a lot nastier than the other version. The characters will be roughly the same, but with more of an edge.

Hargeysa, Somalia, 2005

The night was still, the hilly sparse grasslands, mostly rock, stretching away undisturbed. It was a desolate, windswept place outside of the main city--the land was uncultivated, left to the encroashing, dry dirt.

Then the peace was broken by the screech of a battered four-wheeled drive, off-road vehicle that sped through the rutted dirt tracks, wheels occassionally sliding in the dust. It's headlights cut through the gloom of the night as the driver sped as fast as he can.

The vehicle was followed close by a helicopter, flying low like an unearthly bug over the parched landscape, keeping up to speed with the vehicle below. Inside, the four man special forces squad sat at ease, occassioanlly glancing below with amusement. The pilots and crew chiefs were a lot more tense, the pilots on task with flying the helicopter, the crew chiefs manning the machine guns on either side.

The occupants of the vehicle, by contrast, were positively paniced. All five of them men inside clung to seats and door handles for sheer life as the driver tried desperately to get away from the helicopter. It was a futile task, of course, and they knew it. One yelled out, in Somali, "The gun, give me the fucking gun!"

The man in the passenger seat twisted and passed over an AK47 assault rifle with shaking hands. The man who had shouted loaded it, checked the bolt then opened the window and leaned out, swearing as dust caught at his eyes. He pointed the weapon up and fired.

The helicopter took two bullets and banked slightly right, speeding up to overtake the vehicle. As it got within alignment, one of the special forces men leaned out and almost casually fired his CR48 at the radiator, then the engine block, looking for his targets through the night vision goggles he wore.

The vehicle skidded, spun and slammed over twice until it came to a rest right side up again. The helicopter touched down nearby and the four special forces men leapt out of it, making their way cautiously to the vehicle.

The gunman got his rear door open and all but fell out. Scrabbling desperately in the dust, he got hold of the AK47 and looked around wildly in the darkness. Where the hell were--

There was a zipping sounds, a gurgle, and the man fell dead. The special forces soldier stepped over his body and as one the team tore the doors open from the vehicle. Inside came shouts of surrender in broken English.

"Come out with your hands on your head, we have you surrounded!" shouted one of the soldiers. The four men left alive stumbled out of the vehicle, one gasping in terror as he stepped onto the back of the dead man. They were immediately grabbed and slammed onto the sides of the vehicle and held there until the helicopter nearby switched on two bright spotlights to illuminate the scene.

The soldiers pulled their night vision goggles off, and searched the men. One of them saw a tattoo on his captive's forearm and yelled, "These guys are USC!"

One of the others put his elbow into the back of his captive and snarled, "United Somali Coalition? We're the fucking future, not you. What the fuck we do with these fuckers?"

"Please... sir... Not die..." managed one of the captives.

The leader of the team shrugged. "Get them out into the light."

The four men were dragged into the spotlight, where they were forced onto their knees, hands cuffed by plastic wire. The team leader nodded at the other three soldiers, who shrugged their rifles onto their backs and took out 9mm pistols from hip holsters. The team leader did the same and together they pressed the guns into the backs of their captives heads.

"Militia of the United Somali Coalition, you are hereby being being summarily tried for crimes against humanity, inciting civil war and treason against the Commonwealth. What have you to say in your defence?"

The two of them men were crying now, terrified beyond their wits. One of them was babbling a mix of English, Somali and Italian about surrender. The other, the driver, just kneeled quietly, his eyes open, staring coldly and unblinkingly into the spotlights. The team leader was going to continue when the driver said, in English, "I have a family, you know."

The team leader shrugged. "So do we. So did the Chimaean soldiers you killed last Friday. So do the women you rape and the men you shoot. What's your point?"

The man was silent.

"With the authority invested in me by the Chimaean Armed Forces, I hereby sentence you to summary execution. May the gods have mercy on your souls."

One of the men yelled out beseechingly into the night sky, a yell that was cut short as the 9mm bullet slammed through his skull at close range, dug through his brain and came out of his cheek.

As the men fell, the special forces team were already stepping over the bodies, heading for the helicopter and the body bags. Once the corpses were bagged and stowed in the helicopter, the team set timed grenades on the vehicle, then left the scene.

As the helicopter lifted into the night sky, the vehicle exploded, sending up trails of flame and wreckage into the air, looking for all the world like a fiery flower in full bloom.

Major General Remington looked out over Mogadishu and smiled. The night was cool, barely tinged with the heat of the day, and throughout the city lights were twinkling in the breeze. It was a vastly different place than the Mogadishu they had taken over through fierce fighting in 2001. The rubble and broken buildings were mostly gone, replaced by a mix of modern Chimaean buildings and more traditional Somali architecture. The rebuilding of the city had gone well, creating thousands of new jobs and contracts for the new Somali companies. Chimaean companies had also gotten some lucrative contracts on the more difficult rebuilding, including major roadworks, the elctrical grid and power plants and the communications networks. Often the Chimaean companies had outsourced various tasks locally too.

The Somali currency (or to be accurate, currencies) had been replaced with the Chimaean Sil, though scaled down and changed to reflect the delicate state of the Somali economy.

The Major General, however, was more concerned with security. The new Commonwealth Somali Armed Forces were still mostly in training to meet the security needs of the reborn nation and numbered around 128, 000 troops for a population of over 10 million. He was hardly surprised though; Somalis were tired of war and fighting. Most of the active security needs were met by the Chimaeans who had a presense of nearly 750, 000 troops in Somalia--which had been scaled down from the initial deployment of 1.5 million. They were stationed in four large camps throughout the country.

There were over 6, 000 troops in Mogadishu alone that night, patrolling the streets, maintaining checkpoints and generally creating a heavy security presense to deter would-be terrorists. Most of the warlords and their militia had been wiped out by the Chimaeans; the only remaining factions had banded together under the United Somali Coalition banner and were conducting a desperate geurilla war against the Chimaean Armed Forces. But CAF had a lot of experience dealing with geurillas and terrorists.

Remington's smile grew bigger as he looked at Mogadishu from the window of his office in the CAF Administrative headquarters, remembering the battles against the militias. Some warlords had welcomed them, only to be astonished as the Chimaeans proceeded to systematically destroy all military resources and personnel they'd had and arrest the leaders on crimes against humanity charges. Those guilty had, in due course, been executed. Some had been taken to Chimaean prisons in Canada. CAF wasn't taking chances.

Remington had fared well in Somalia, rising rapidly through the ranks and becoming the commanding officer of CAFSD--in effect the highest authority in Somalia. The new Administrator and his Parliament that was going to be sworn in -- Remington checked his watch -- in an hour was technically the highest power. Remington knew better of course. There was a reason that the imposing bulk of the Somali Parliament building was directly opposite the CAF Administrative headquarters.

As for the Somalis... there was some bad feeling about being in the Commonwealth, but it was dissolving fast. The famine was over, the militia were gone and the Chimaeans had destroyed over 3 million weapons, technicals and assorted military equipment. Even Remington had been surprised at the sheer amount of guns in the country. CAF was still de-mining and destroying illegal arms.

Of course, killing over 14, 000 people has raised a lot of eyebrows. Remington, though, wasn't going to miss a bunch of murderous thugs--there were still over one hundred CAF operations against the dissipated militias. Every single lead was checked out thoroughly, every stone was turned, every suspect rounded up.

As he stood there, deep in thought, there was a discreet cough behind him. One of his Aides saluted and nodded towards the Parliament building, which could be seen through the window.

"Nearly time to go, sir."

Remington saluted back and turned away from the Mogadishu skyline. "Any disturbances tonight?"

"No sir. All the roads are closed off to civilian vehicles. There's a lot of people about, waiting for the parade too, but everything's peaceful."

The Major General shrugged on his dress-uniform's jacket and put on his black leather gloves. "Right, then. Let's go make government."