The United Congo
27-12-2005, 00:32
“Talon Leader, this is Talon Two, I am in formation and holding on your left wing.”
The two Mig-17 fighter-bombers levelled off at a conservative ten thousand feet and banked gracefully to the left, the whine of their antiquated jet motors filling the sky with sound as they left the Airbase’s airspace and roared into the setting sun.
“Roger, Talon Two.” The pilot in the seat of the lead aircraft checked his instruments once more. A red indicator light on his cockpit warning board reminded him that his oil temperature was dangerously high. He ignored it; there was nothing he could do about it now, and returning to base would not solve the problem. The queue for aircraft maintenance was almost thirty aircraft long, and a lack of equipment was making even routine maintenance painfully slow. Talon Leader gritted his teeth behind his oxygen mask and prayed that the motor would hold out until the end of the mission.
“Talon Two, this is Talon Leader.” Leader looked down at his kneeboard, on which rested a map of the People’s Republic. “Execute a left turn to heading zero-four-niner and maintain cover operations whilst I drop the goods.”
The two aircraft rolled in the blue skies of the United Congo, leaving the glare of the sunset for the glare of the riot fires several miles ahead.
---
Brazzaville’s main hospital was located several miles east of the Presidential Mansion. Even from the window on the fourth floor – the floor exclusive to executive personnel and much better equipped than the civilian floors below – President Sentwali Shombay could see the red flags of his new government fluttering amidst the strange neighbours of the tower blocks and shanty-town hovels that made up the inner area of the United Congo’s capital. The streets were deserted, partially due to his presence here but mostly to do with the military’s curfew on all citizens outside after 9pm. Shombay had been trying to persuade his Chief of Staff Sassou Amin to step down from this policy, but the General had so far refused to relax the Army’s total curfew of the country’s major population centres. The President sighed; he sometimes deluded himself into thinking that he actually had real power, but it was those conversations that reminded him who elevated him from Minister of Defence to President of the newly-proclaimed People’s Republic and figurehead of the Stalinist military government that had seized control.
The door at the end of the corridor opened, and the General stepped in. He walked quietly along the uncarpeted floor towards the President, and stopped shortly behind him. The President turned. Amin did not salute.
“The aircraft are en route to the rioters,” he said bluntly, without showing any respect for Shombay’s supposed position. “I need your authorisation to proceed.”
Sentwali smiled inwardly. ‘What you mean is that you want me to order you to do this and therefore take the blame,’ he thought bitterly to himself. Aloud, he asked, “Is this the only option? I mean,” he gestured as he turned back to the window. “Why not just send the Infantry in?”
Amin hesitated before answering, although Sentwali already knew the reason why. The army was still largely divided on tribal grounds, and was barely held together as an internal security force by the conscript’s indoctrinated belief in the cause of Marxist-Leninism, drummed into him by senior officers after being press-ganged. Sending the infantry in to quell a riot may bring out tribal divisions if brothers were forced to shoot brothers. Amin merely said, “I need authorisation.”
Sentwali sighed, looking out across the rooftops at his fluttering red flags. He knew that refusing would make no difference; the General would merely invent the papers that gave Sentwali’ authorisation, or at worst replace him outright with a more willing puppet. At least in his current office, he had some form of protection as a figurehead, even if it was Brutus that was guarding Caesar.
“Do it,” he said bitterly. Amin turned abruptly and left without another word. A few moments later, a nurse exited the door opposite and quietly informed the President that the First Lady had given birth to a healthy son. Sentwali smiled, and walked into the room to see his wife.
---
“Talon Two, this is Talon Leader,” Leader checked his instruments once more and then took a deep breath. “We have clearance. Maintain aforementioned duties whilst I line up for the run.”
The two Migs banked into a gradual descending turn to the left as they descended on the regional capital of Djambala. Talon Two broke formation at two thousand feet and maintained a circling vigil against hostile forces, whilst Talon Leader set up the run and armed one of his two napalm weapons before beginning a steep dive.
The Mig-17 roared down towards the city where the rioting population had seized several buildings and were protesting the new government. Talon Leader lined up with the large crowd of people that was now beginning to scatter at his approach, and squeezed the release switch.
A harsh buzzing entered his ears as a second red light on his monitor board informed him that the pylon release grips were jammed. Leader swore, and throttled up before pulling out of the dive. He armed his second bomb and began another run. Most of the crowd was scattered around now, leaving less of a target. Leader was glad of that in one sense. He lined up the attack run and squeezed the release switch. He noticed with mixed emotions that the pylon operated successfully and the bomb dropped clear, hitting the ground in an spreading blast of white hot fire that engulfed several people as the protestors scattered. The Army would then move in and secure the area, barely needing to fire a shot. The two Migs turned and roared for home.
---
The People’s News
State reports from the Glorious People’s Republic
Son born to the President!
The glorious revolutionary President Sentwali Shombay was graced today with a son as his wife went into labour merely hours after the success of the revolution by Marxist-Leninist forces that deposed the former, traitorous President of the former Republic
The son, named Lenin Shombay after the glorious revolutionary of the Soviet Union, was born at 10:31pm today and is reported to be in excellent health.
Other News
The military carried out minor activities to quell a small riot by marginalised anti-revolutionaries seeking to cause damage to the new regime and hinder the growth of Marxist-Leninism across the world. The military reports few causalities, and that the crowds were dispersed with a minimum of force.
The two Mig-17 fighter-bombers levelled off at a conservative ten thousand feet and banked gracefully to the left, the whine of their antiquated jet motors filling the sky with sound as they left the Airbase’s airspace and roared into the setting sun.
“Roger, Talon Two.” The pilot in the seat of the lead aircraft checked his instruments once more. A red indicator light on his cockpit warning board reminded him that his oil temperature was dangerously high. He ignored it; there was nothing he could do about it now, and returning to base would not solve the problem. The queue for aircraft maintenance was almost thirty aircraft long, and a lack of equipment was making even routine maintenance painfully slow. Talon Leader gritted his teeth behind his oxygen mask and prayed that the motor would hold out until the end of the mission.
“Talon Two, this is Talon Leader.” Leader looked down at his kneeboard, on which rested a map of the People’s Republic. “Execute a left turn to heading zero-four-niner and maintain cover operations whilst I drop the goods.”
The two aircraft rolled in the blue skies of the United Congo, leaving the glare of the sunset for the glare of the riot fires several miles ahead.
---
Brazzaville’s main hospital was located several miles east of the Presidential Mansion. Even from the window on the fourth floor – the floor exclusive to executive personnel and much better equipped than the civilian floors below – President Sentwali Shombay could see the red flags of his new government fluttering amidst the strange neighbours of the tower blocks and shanty-town hovels that made up the inner area of the United Congo’s capital. The streets were deserted, partially due to his presence here but mostly to do with the military’s curfew on all citizens outside after 9pm. Shombay had been trying to persuade his Chief of Staff Sassou Amin to step down from this policy, but the General had so far refused to relax the Army’s total curfew of the country’s major population centres. The President sighed; he sometimes deluded himself into thinking that he actually had real power, but it was those conversations that reminded him who elevated him from Minister of Defence to President of the newly-proclaimed People’s Republic and figurehead of the Stalinist military government that had seized control.
The door at the end of the corridor opened, and the General stepped in. He walked quietly along the uncarpeted floor towards the President, and stopped shortly behind him. The President turned. Amin did not salute.
“The aircraft are en route to the rioters,” he said bluntly, without showing any respect for Shombay’s supposed position. “I need your authorisation to proceed.”
Sentwali smiled inwardly. ‘What you mean is that you want me to order you to do this and therefore take the blame,’ he thought bitterly to himself. Aloud, he asked, “Is this the only option? I mean,” he gestured as he turned back to the window. “Why not just send the Infantry in?”
Amin hesitated before answering, although Sentwali already knew the reason why. The army was still largely divided on tribal grounds, and was barely held together as an internal security force by the conscript’s indoctrinated belief in the cause of Marxist-Leninism, drummed into him by senior officers after being press-ganged. Sending the infantry in to quell a riot may bring out tribal divisions if brothers were forced to shoot brothers. Amin merely said, “I need authorisation.”
Sentwali sighed, looking out across the rooftops at his fluttering red flags. He knew that refusing would make no difference; the General would merely invent the papers that gave Sentwali’ authorisation, or at worst replace him outright with a more willing puppet. At least in his current office, he had some form of protection as a figurehead, even if it was Brutus that was guarding Caesar.
“Do it,” he said bitterly. Amin turned abruptly and left without another word. A few moments later, a nurse exited the door opposite and quietly informed the President that the First Lady had given birth to a healthy son. Sentwali smiled, and walked into the room to see his wife.
---
“Talon Two, this is Talon Leader,” Leader checked his instruments once more and then took a deep breath. “We have clearance. Maintain aforementioned duties whilst I line up for the run.”
The two Migs banked into a gradual descending turn to the left as they descended on the regional capital of Djambala. Talon Two broke formation at two thousand feet and maintained a circling vigil against hostile forces, whilst Talon Leader set up the run and armed one of his two napalm weapons before beginning a steep dive.
The Mig-17 roared down towards the city where the rioting population had seized several buildings and were protesting the new government. Talon Leader lined up with the large crowd of people that was now beginning to scatter at his approach, and squeezed the release switch.
A harsh buzzing entered his ears as a second red light on his monitor board informed him that the pylon release grips were jammed. Leader swore, and throttled up before pulling out of the dive. He armed his second bomb and began another run. Most of the crowd was scattered around now, leaving less of a target. Leader was glad of that in one sense. He lined up the attack run and squeezed the release switch. He noticed with mixed emotions that the pylon operated successfully and the bomb dropped clear, hitting the ground in an spreading blast of white hot fire that engulfed several people as the protestors scattered. The Army would then move in and secure the area, barely needing to fire a shot. The two Migs turned and roared for home.
---
The People’s News
State reports from the Glorious People’s Republic
Son born to the President!
The glorious revolutionary President Sentwali Shombay was graced today with a son as his wife went into labour merely hours after the success of the revolution by Marxist-Leninist forces that deposed the former, traitorous President of the former Republic
The son, named Lenin Shombay after the glorious revolutionary of the Soviet Union, was born at 10:31pm today and is reported to be in excellent health.
Other News
The military carried out minor activities to quell a small riot by marginalised anti-revolutionaries seeking to cause damage to the new regime and hinder the growth of Marxist-Leninism across the world. The military reports few causalities, and that the crowds were dispersed with a minimum of force.