NationStates Jolt Archive

Allanean Supreme Court Building, 10:14 AM

“The Allanean nation is not, was not, and shall not be based on the principles of separation of Church and State. It is based on a principle of religious liberty – but it is not the concern of the Framers of the Allanean Constitution whether the rulers are guided by religion, as long as they do not violate the basic natural, civil, and constitutional rights of Allaneans.

The mounting of a drawing of Jesus Christ on a private school wall does not violate the civil rights of any Allanean, anymore then painting it pink would be – even if the school does receive some amount of voucher money. The Old European doctrine of laicite is not part of the Allanean constitution. It is justly derided in Allanean political life.

And hereby this Court rules that the action of the Jesus Christ Triumphant School in the Hash a is not in violation of any law, much less the Constitution. We rule against the Allanean Civil Liberties Union and the Hashi Civil Liberties Union, and award full court costs, to a total of five million dollars, as well as one million in damages, to the Jesus Christ Triumphant School.

There is a difference between a Secularist and an Atheist. An atheist believes in the absence of God. The Secularist not only believes in the absence of God, but claims that all religion.is a negative force in public life. Had someone claimed that he doesn't hate the Jews, but they are a negative force in public life and should stay in their homes, we would immediately recognize the anti-semite. Had someone claimed that he doesn't hate homosexuals, but they shouldn't 'act gay' in public, we would immediately recognise the homophobe. Equally, those who claim Christians and Jesus should not play a role in public life hate Christians and Jesus.

Just as this court is not a basing ground for homophobes and anti-semites, it is not – and it will not be – a basing ground for those who hate Christians and Jesus.

That is all.

And today I am especially proud to say: May God bless Allanea.”

The gavel struck. Chief Justice Daniel Robertson rose from his seat. Inwardly, he was shrugging from disgust. How the hell does something like that even happen? Why does a sick, disgusting case like that even make it to the Supreme fucking Court? What the fuck is wrong with these people?

“Samantha, my papers.”

The intern was no more then 19 years old, and she had breasts that made the Chief Justice wish he was forty years younger and not married. As she shuffled his papers, he looked at the commotion in the crowd. It seemed the ACLU lawyers were angry with the decision. At times like these, he felt good about the fact there was a layer of armored glass between him and the audience, and that there were cops standing in the hall.

“Are you not ashamed of yourself, Justice Robertson?” - asked Samantha.

He blinked at her. Samantha looked at Daniel innocently, her large blue eyes open wide. She bent over the table, looking for something in the desk, the opening in her blouse offering Robertson the view of a lifetime.

“Ashamed... why?” - he stuttered, his mind focused completely elsewhere.

“Oh I see. Well I've got something to change your mind, Justice.” - as Samantha uttered those words in a husky, sensuous voice, she straightened suddenly, tearing an AVA flamer (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12786027&postcount=53) from under the table.

“Chief Justice Daniel Briggs Robertson! The Allanean Republican Army has condemned you to the...”

The cops started firing. Multiple white stars blossomed upon the armored glass – cracks from where the bullets have impacted it several times. Now the glass was working for the assassin, and not against her. The other Justices fumbled with their robes, trying to draw their weapons.

“death penalty for crimes against Allanea and the suffering underclass! Today's verdict is just another one of your crimes! Today I will gladly execute this penalty. Down with the Queen! Down with theocracy! Up with freedom and equality!”

And then she fired. At that range, Samanth could not miss, and the Chief Justice's robes catched fire immediately.

There was nothing in his world but pain.

And, in his dying brain, the thought: I must get back at her.

He lunged forward, doing the one thing he already wanted to do five minutes ago – grabbed Samantha, catching her in his embrace, his face pressed against her tight blouse. Now, with his entire body a giant torch, the embrace took on a new, fearsome meaning.

And then the flamer's fuel tank blew up.

* * *

ANN Broadcast

...vowing to end the ARA menace, Federal and State authorities launched a series of raids on suspected operatives of the extremist secularist organisation in the Hash and Ngmgweni. It is suggested that the ARA has allied itself with local terrorist elements in the preparation of the strike...

...despite Robertson's death, there's little sympathy for his last ruling among ethnic Hashi. A secularist demonstration organized by Allaneans For Separation of Church and State, the Socialist Party of Allanea, and the Ambivalentira Party will take place today at Progressi City..

Communication chamber of The Scotia, Later that day.

Liam Ruher straightened himself and released a short sigh of victory, as he grabbed a piece of paper from the floor and read its headline. He stood in the center of the room, reading the last remaining intelligence report about Allanea. There used to be a heavy file, but it was reduced to ashes along with most of the organization's documents, several years before. Ruher has spent his entire day, since that morning, trying to find that piece of information, and now he held it in his hands.

He began reading the paper, hoping to find anything valuable. Special report for authorized eyes only. Written and Edited by Allen Van-Dijk. "Van-Dijk?" He thought, "Damn, that's an ancient piece of intelligence..."

"Did you find it?" Captain Gere bursted through the door, turning Ruher's line of thought upside-down. "yes, actually. But it's too old. Written by Van-Dijk."

"Really? People will pay good money for a document signed by him, you know."

"Maybe, but you're missing the point. We have nothing on Allanea. How can we plan anything like that?"

"do what we used to do back in the good days - Send people and see what happens."


OOC: So yes, I'm planning to insert some people into Allanea. Can you TG me some details about that? Airport and harbor procedures, security checks for baggage and such?

From the Inikresaistically biased Tehanan newspaper Soivet

Not the intern, Temedekansa killed the Allanean Chief justice

The news of the death of chief justice of Allanea formerly known as Daniel Robertson, estimated toheri* name Nijeli, did come as shock to the rejistani nation, it was one of the times, when democracy failed and representation** would not. But while these incidents normally only cost millions or billions of Taaeha***, this time it did cost the life of a person of kansu. While we mourn, we can only think of what the reason for the death of this person is. A simple reason would of course be Ja~otirkansa gripping for Allanea since the nation lacks the spiritual defenses to him attacking. This is a beautiful idea only it is not likely: Ja~ortirkansa had better ways to make all things from herm realm hit the nation: Make the nation lose wars, disappear under the sea, lose its prosperity and make all temples and akahelas of false gods shatter. So even though this idea has a certain charm, the local spirittalkers reject it. Rather than thinking on a national basis, we should think on a personal basis is what they suggest. According to the Taka I Je sutra'ny, the goddess of justice, Temedekansa, will 'kill those who pretend to be hers but judge lacking the sight to see ones own flank of the nose, whose minds are dark of agendas, not related to justice but to false beings, she will kill them by fire or by drowning, by illness or by uprising, by honeybees or by tigers'. We have seen that he died in a way, the sutra predicted and after a misinterpretation of secularism to spread the foul agenda of christianity and sirithilism. What is nearer than to think that the sutra spoke glorious truth and the intern, only known as Samanteha was used by Temedekansa to gloriously kill the spreader of disinformation, foul spirit and not justice?

In sign of rise.

OOC:
*inikresaist term for the place where souls wait for reincarnation
**representation / revesentatije is the tehanan term for direct democracy
***tehanan currency

Progressi, the Hash, 09:45 AM
“Ready! Shields fixed!”

The riot police stood in a single rank, their deep-blue vests and helmets separating the line of protestors from the glass-covered building of the Hashi State Lgegislature The building was built on the very site of the Hashi legislature – the one that got blown up by Allanean ground-penetrator bombs when they took over Progressive Hash ages ago.

“Ready!”

Insults flew, sometimes raw eggs, splatteding agaisnt the heavy police shields. The police stood as a wall, but there was no retaliation – until someone, whose named remained unknown, threw a brick.

Deputy Sheriff Trevor Neoworthy died instantly. The two-kilo brick threw his head backwards, failing to break the helmet, but snapping his neck at the base.

“Officers! Hold your fire!” - the Sheriff sounded anguished as he heard an familiar soft rustle – the clicking of dozens of revolver hammers being pulled back as the officers readied their single-action revolvers.

Another rock flew. And another. And then suddenly, an officer blew it. It was not a riot police officer, but a deputy sheriff standing on the roof of the State Legislature. Before anybody could help it, he drew his own gun – not the service revolver, but the DeathDealer 3000 his wife bought him for Christmas, and drew a bead on a young man who was just bending over to grab another brick. He got up – and then the officer pulled the trigger seven times, large, bloody tears blossoming all over the youngster's Che Guevara T-shirt.

The protestors ran.

They saw the steely line of police advancing behind them.

14:45 AM

The city was ablaze. Rumors told about what was now “the police murder of young George Fonder, a student at the Hashi State University”. The boy was an ethnic Caucasian, not a Hashi, but the rumors made it a “racist Allanean crime”. It meant nothing.

What did mean something where the burning cars that now began to dot the landscape – all as one large family cars, and all.

So far sixteen of them, and ten of those in the middle-class suburbs, where the “Imperialists” went.

And it was already clear it woul get a lot worse...

Nienor Hills, Progressi City, Hash

Nienor Hills was what is normally referred to as a gated community – around two thousand families or so living in a fence-in subdivision in suburban Progressi-City. There were some Hashi and Mgweni in the community, and even an immigrant from the newly-conquered parts of Allanean Africa – but by and large these people came from Haven and the Greater Prussian Bay – the area where Allanea was first founded, and the area where Allanean civilization came to its fullest flourish, respectively.

They were not among the poorest of folks, either – senior programmers, college professors and businessmen lived in Nienor Hills. That's the kind of people who pony up to have a wall built around their neighborhood, and to have two guards with rifles standing at the entrance.

It is to be said that these guards were not any kind of experts at what they did. One was a college student named Earl, and the other was an elderly Hashi whom everybody called Carl, even though that obviously wasn't his real name – it was just the Allaneans couldn't pronounce Carl's real name. And, instead of watching the road leading up to their gate, they were playing chess.

"I just don't have any luck today, do I?” - grouched the old man as the college student wiped the pieces off the board for the third time that evening.

"Carl, it's chess. There is no luck involved. I'm just better at it.”

"That's bullshit. You know that. I beat you yesterday.”

"Twice. I beat you five times.”

"No you did not!”

"Yes I did... wait, what the hell is that?”

A group of people approached – in fact, a crowd, filling up the road, some on foot, some in cars, some filling the beds of pickup trucks. Many were holding impressive-looking sticks, and a few had guns.

"The fuck?” - Carl blinked. The men seemed angry. They shouted abuse, and, a dozen yards down the road, some of them approached a parked SUV. One of the men caved the front window in with a large club, and the others proceeded to set the car on fire.

Carl turned to the younger man. “Earl. You get Central. Call the alert. Everything. Tell them to send whatever they have there, this is going to be a mess.”

He himself did not bother to get out of the guard shack. Instead, he fumbled a switch in front of him, and spoke as clearly as he could, his voice projected by three powerful speakers mounted on the outside of the guard shack.

"ATTENTION. PLEASE KEEP AWAY FROM THE GATE. THIS IS A FENCED COMMUNITY. UNDER THE AUTHORIT VESTED IN ME BY THE HOMEOWNERS YOU ARE TEMPORARILY DENIED ENTRY. SHOULD YOU ATTEMPT TO ENTER BY FORCE, THIS WILL CONSTITUTE TRESPASSING, AND I WILL BE ALLOWED BY LAW TO...” - he paused, trying to recollect the complete formula. Unfortunately, English was not his first language. - “WELL BASICALLY I CAN JUST SHOOT YOU ALL. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.”

A large rock flew through the air, breaking the front window of the guard shack. Glass fragments were everywhere, and out of the corner of his eye Carl noticed his younger friend waving his right hand, which was covered in blood. A particularly large splinter had injured it while Earl was pushing the large red button mounted straight in the middle of the guard shack table.

The elderly Hashi ducked, racking the slide on his AK-47 rifle. He wasn't a good shot – but he was an Allanean, and as such knew how to operate a gun.

He rose, firing wildly at the direction of the mob. They retreated, and as they did, one men fell – but not from Carl's shots. Earl had made the first hit, firing off two shots from his own rifle.

The cheap AK's with which Greenwater Security issued it's low-grade guards had one advantage – they were reliable. Carl's rifle didn't overheat or malfunction as he burned through magazine after magazine on full-auto, failing to hit every single time – and then, as he was to reach for his third and final mag, an empty beer bottle was thrown in and hit him in the head.

He fell with a short, thudding sound. Earl fired several shots, and had even hit two more man – killing a Hashi woman holding a machete, and hitting a young man in an Ambivalentira shirt in the leg. He didn't notice a large, burly man appear right to the left of his guard shack. And then there was the short staccato of a submachinegun firing right next to him.

And then there was nothing.

The security cameras noted that the gate fell open thirty-two and a half seconds later.

* * *

"The riots in Progressi continue, spreading to the suburban areas...”

"Mom! Look, they've broken the gate!” - shouted little Nathan Ginsburg, his voice tearing above the droning voice coming from the screen in the living room.

"What?!” - Arie and Rebecca Ginsburg replied in unison. Rebecca dashed to the window. Only a hundred yards down the road she saw the gate crashed – literally, with a large blue garbage truck – and the first trickles of the crowd beginning to closely come through.

"Kill them lawyering carpetbaggers! Kill the Christofascists! Burn the bourgeois! Let's go fry them all up!” - the different voices bore different messages, but the unifying tone was clear.

Rebecca paled. Something terrible was rising in her, freezing her blood, something irresistible, something from the age of pogroms, of ghettoes...

"Nathan. Bring my rifle. Now.”

Somewhere in the abyss of her own nightmare she heard Arie say these words calmly, as if they were not about to be slaughtered – and the terrible blue truck started moving approaching slowly – and here were the first men already hopping the fence, already on their front lawn – someone bent over for a rock.

BANG.

The second-floor window blew apart.

Oh God it is starting. Shma Israel, adonay eloheynu....”

"Here, Dad. Here it is.”

"Good, son.” - Arie shouldered the M-1C with a grin, his cheek welded perfectly against the leather pad on the rifle's buttstock. “Go bring your mother's rifle.”

Nathan ran out of the room, and as soon as he did, Arie pulled the trigger.

He was not standing by the window, but a yard or two inside the living room. That, and the semitransparent curtains meant none of the people on their lawn saw him yet.

There were three men and eight shots, and then there was the ding of the M1 Garand as it ejected it's eight-round clip.

The crowd was taken entirely by surprise – and then it was as if someone had lit a bright lightbulb in Rebecca's brain.

You have a gun, stupid! A pistol! You always carry a gun with you!

Something snapped inside her as she reached for her Barak-21.

Two seconds later she already saw one of the rioters – a bearded young man in a Che shirt holding a rifle – through the sights of the pistol. She saw the revolutionary's head fade off into a blur as the front sight came into focus in front of her – and then she pulled the trigger three times in rapid succession.

"Mom, I brought it, I brought it!” - Nathan ran in with her FN-2000 in one hand.

She turned to him. “Nathan, go into the basement. Now. Arie, we need to split up. You go upstairs.”

From the house on the other side of the road, a long burst of gunfire came, sweeping the middle of the street. It was echoed by shots along the street as more and more of the Rosenberg's neighbors turned their attention on the riot.

But the rioters had guns too. Rebecca saw a dense stream of smoke rising from a house window where someone threw in a large hand-grenade. She saw a car tear out of a garage and then be set ablaze as someone fired a LAW at it – and hit.

And then there was a long, long burst of fire. God Almighty, what IS that?

The blue garbage truck began to burn rapidly, it's driver cabin peppered by dozens of 7.8mm Imperial rounds. They came from the balcony of a large house up the road, the one that said Andy's Guns and Ammo in the front. And then Rebecca remembered that Andy had a Maxim in his shop he was trying to sell for the last year. It

The street was filled with the dead and dying, but for some reason they kept piling up as the rioters kept pushing in. It seemed that the men in the rear had still believed that the Hills could be taken – and given their numbers, they could be. They pushed in, not letting their comrades in front escape the rain of bullets, leaving them no choice but to fight.

She killed another man. And another. And wounded one more.

And on it went. She moved from room to room to avoid being pinned by return fire, but that wasn't happening. It seemed the attackers were not coordinated well at all, and additionally not all of them were even armed.

[b]* * *

The Greenwater Security helicopter was not much of a death machine. It was an elderly Huey whose armament consisted of one door gunner with an FN-MAG and a pair of loudspeakers. But that was the vehicle that got on scene first. Below them, the Greenwater men saw the guard shack torn apart, the gate thrown down, the blue truck ablaze – and they knew what to do.

Unlike Carl and Earl, they were prepared for these sort of situations. They turned the helicopter in a semi-circle over the crowd, the loudspeakers blazing out loud military music, the machine gun strafing the crowd – and then, when they were facing the crowd directly, came in right over their heads, the gunner cutting down as many people as he could.

The ear-shattering music, the gunfire from the helicopter adding to the hail of fire poured on them from, it seemed, every doorway and window – together, these things were not possible to withstand. The rioters began to break and run.

And then a section of the perimeter wall caved, and a Doomani-made MAD.II tank drove right into Nienor Hills. And then another. Both bore Greenwater marknings. The turrets swiveled menacingly from side to side as the gunners scanned for appropriate targets.

They never had to fire.

The rioters began to run off by the dozen and hundred, and two minutes later Nienor Hills was clear – unless you counted the dead and the wounded.

Two guards and two local residents were killed. One man died of a heart attack. Five were injured.

Of the rioters,ninety-four were killed and over three hundred injured.

Rebecca had killed six men.

[OOC: Epic.]