Union, Disunion

[TheShammySocialist]

Cape Town, South Africa

 

A relatively younger man stepped up to the podium that had been set outside the old South Africa parliament, his dirty blonde hair shone in the lights of the cameras despite dusk falling, the lights of the parliament building providing a seemingly homely background to him. An array of men and women stood behind him, both white and black, everyone seemed to have a sheen of sweat on their skin in the warm evening air. All of the arrayed individuals around the podium were well dressed in formal clothing, many appeared to be tired and strained from what could only have been a slew of negotiations that led to this moment. The younger individual standing at the podium cleared his throat and took a sip of water from a glass next to him, before dabbing the corners of his mouth lightly with a handkerchief.

 

"It has been a long time indeed, my friends, a long time since whispers and gossip spread across the coast and over the veldt about independent sovereignty, from having to bow to individuals who oversaw this land from afar. South Africa has always been a country of deep divides over a great many things, where cultures have clashed, but in some ways, thrived by finding a balance and mutually beneficial relationship. Our past is riddled with derision and strife, imbalance and marginalization, something that I hope never has to be relived by newer generations," he said, lightly, as his eyes looked about the group of reporters and people who had gathered to hear him speak, the crowd silent, aside from the few clicks of a camera.

 

"With the fall of Arctica, it was the choice of the free people of South Africa, community leaders, important figures in our provinces, that we move to decide our own way forward from this point, to establish fair governance, install independent sovereignty, to ensure the common good was continued in our lands. From here on the streets of the great city of Cape Town, all the way to the city of Palma in the territory of Mozambique, we gathered representatives at your behest to form the seeds of government that will show the way forward for our nation. Yes. Our nation. South Africa deserves recognition once again, it deserves to breathe again, to be reconstituted as a nation that will take its place amongst the others of the world."

 

"We may all have our own ideas of how to govern this land, that is why a government of you, the people, will be formed by free and fair elections, to ensure that the ideas of you, the people, are instituted, to see that your needs are seen to. We are public servants of your choosing, that came together when the communities and territories thought it was in their best interest to ensure a stable imposition of government. A republic, a government chosen by masses to serve them as their representatives, their mouthpieces. Beyond the system of governance, however, this country will be more than just that, it will be a union, a union of the people, a union of cultures, a union of communities, of beliefs. A Union of South Africa."

 

He smiled, it wasn't a smirk, and didn't reflect any smugness in the upturn of the lips, it was a proud one, like one where an achievement had been suddenly realized. "I am High Commissioner Adolph Paton, my friends behind me are your South African Independence Commission Representatives, who have traveled in good grace to speak for you, and we are your humble servants, your friends, your fellow citizens, and it is by our hand that we proclaim a Union of South Africa. A nation that establishes its sovereignty over this region in good faith."

 

As Paton uttered his last few words, two long banners unfurled from the top of the parliament, whipping out in the light breeze and illuminated by two lights that were turned on behind him.

 

 

--- --- ---

 

"Your son was always good with his words," said a greying Jonas Akimba quietly and casually, looking up at the TV in the darkened interior of the coffee shop in the historic Simon's Town district of Cape Town. His eyes switched their view over to the equally older man across from him, a white man by the name of Andrew Paton, wearing a polo shirt that was almost as grey as the silver hair on his head.

 

"He is his father's son," remarked Paton, lightly, as he looked back at Akimba with curiosity.

 

"He also has his father's stubbornness as well, he was raised well, but you know as well as I do that I don't accept what he has down, my friend," responded Akimba, cutting straight to the meat of their conversation. Akimba didn't beat around the bush, and Paton smiled enigmatically when Akimba mentioned that his acceptance was not to be found in the declaration of independence.

 

"Prominent figures in the country have a place within the country, including the businessmen, Jonas," said Paton, casually, as he took a sip of the steaming mug of black coffee sitting in front of him.

 

"And I will not forget what some of those businessmen did to my family, Andrew, nor to further their cause and ensure inequality. Now they have had a say in how the government is formed, and the government will certainly cater to their requests."

 

"That was a long time ago, Jonas, people change, things change."

 

"These people do not, you and I both know that."

 

"You were never one for optimism."

 

"And can you truly blame me for that?"

 

Paton paused, and considered his answer for a moment, "No, I do not..."

 

"Your son has my respect, but we both know that my respect has its limits..."

 

"The nation is young, Jonas, this is his time."

 

"It would be a time for my son, as well."

 

"Your personal feelings are clouding your judgment about the new government, don't let it stoke your reservations to paranoia, Jonas."

 

"Time will tell, my friend, time will tell..." responded Akimba, smiling sadly at Paton before looking back at the television, and a slow tear rolling out of the corner of one of his eyes.

 

Paton saw the glistening line appear on the darker face of his counterpart, and nodded lightly before sipping his coffee. He raised his mug a little, "To the Union of South Africa."

 

Akimba only nodded, and muttered a similar toast, and taking a sip of his tea, before staring at the television again, as Andrew Paton's son began shaking hands with fellow commissioners, and exchanging hugs with a few. The sound of applause could be heard off the cameras, and flashes from cameras going off illuminated the scene.

 

[OOC: Not sure what the feeling is on disputed territory right now, but I'm moving forward with this, please PM me with any concerns or questions if need be and don't clutter this thread with OOC beyond this statement here.]

Edited March 26, 2013 by TheShammySocialist

[Gloval]

The Democratic-Ubersteinian Republic of the Falklands recognizes and welcomes this fellow southern hemispheric nation of self-determined peoples. A gift-sheep was sent along with a nice card.

[Mara Lithaen]

With the formation of a popularly-selected government in the southern portion of Africa, the Confederacy withdrew its armed forces from the new nation's borders, and President Stratton both announced the Confederacy's recognition of the South African Union and welcomed the Confederacy's brothers and sisters back to the land of self-rule.

[TheShammySocialist]

"Adolph, the constitution isn't just an expression of the people," said Robert de Klerk, an older man with a receding hairline, as he paced around the table that held a number of commissioners and influential individuals from around South Africa. "It is also a document that reflects on the economy, we are a country that is rife with challenges that stem from cultural differences, and disparity between social classes. But we are also a group of enterprising individuals, the nation was built on the ideals of free market economics, capitalism."

 

"And on the backs of many who paid for such an economic system to thrive here, a system that continues to ensure disparity," remarked a representative from Natal, Everett Kathrada, who eyed de Klerk with derision.

 

"Government controls on the markets can stifle investment, it also builds a bureaucracy, a bureaucracy that can be rife with corruption, and giving extra power to the unions only strengthens the weakest. The ones who do not want to work for a living, that hide behind union concepts that give far too much power to the common worker, and hamstring those who depend on his labor," continued de Klerk, garnering a few nods from heads around the table, but far more grim and stiff-jawed reactions.

 

Robert de Klerk was well known not only for his anti-planned economy sentiment, but for his leadership as Chief Executive Officer of Transvall Holdings Limited, one of the most powerful mineral extraction and processing groups in the country. He was well respected amongst his peers and competitors as the face of the South African gold and diamond market, for his championship of the free market. It was said amongst many that he probably had memorized Adam Smith's works, and there was a persistent humorous gossip that skirted with the idea that he was Cecil Rhodes' reincarnated. Although he was an argumentative fellow with those that disagreed with him, he wasn't without his uses to the South African Independence Commission, and he was an associative, unelected member, able to offer opinions and rhetoric on certain subjects, that primarily being the economy.

 

"We're well aware of your dislike for unions and government control, Robert, you've made it quite evident during many of our meetings," responded Adolph Paton, in a light tone, that skirted annoyance but was still able to put on conciliatory tone. "I will say that capitalism does present opportunities to ensure entrepreneurship is promoted, but at that same token, Mr. Kathrada has a point. The constitution is certainly written to express not just the people, Robert, that much is true, but it is my opinion that the markets will be subject to government whims when it is needed."

 

"The industries are what fuel this state, Adolph, don't forget that."

 

"How could any of us forget that, Robert? We are well aware of the lucrative businesses that produce the wealth of this nation, but we are also very wary of unsavory business practices that go against the ideals this state is being built upon," replied Gustav Theerbok, one of the more younger representatives, he a clean cut Boer from Pretoria with a penchant for social welfare programs.

 

"In a roundabout way, Robert, you are saying, don't bite the hand that feeds you, yes, I am well aware of that," said Paton, with a gentle smile on his face. "We don't intend to hamstring your corporation, or any other corporation, so long as it would operate within business, labor, and safety parameters that are needed and well founded."

 

"I am not trying to sound accusatory, Adolph, I really am not," said de Klerk, as he finally took a seat after pacing around the table at least a half dozen times. "I, like many other business leaders, just want to ensure what is best for our companies, and if our companies do well, this nation does well. It is a mutually beneficial relationship, and I'm sure all of you can say that."

 

"But what is best for your companies can fly in the face of what the government sees as backwards economic schemes that could cause further social disorder and disparity. There has to be a balance somewhere, Robert, anything else is unacceptable," remarked Kathrada, seemingly putting his foot down.

 

"Not to worry, my friend, I can only hope that the balance we find, is one that is acceptable to us both," responded de Klerk, his tone almost mocking of Kathrada.

 

"It will be a balance that we will find on our own," voiced Keira Eversmann, a firm-speaking, middle-aged, bronze-tanned blonde who was a representative for the outer townships of Cape Town. "Your opinions and ideas are welcome here, Mr. de Clerk, but they are not what will carry the day in any decision we make when deciding the texts of this constitution."

 

"Of course, of course," was all that de Klerk offered, his tone clearly now mocking, as many knew that commercial interests were well represented by actual sitting members of the Commission.

 

"Robert," started Adolph lightly, putting himself in the middle of the tense conversation that was, "South Africa's businesses and commercial interests will not be forgotten, and we will give consideration to that, but that topic is not the only one that must be seen to today. We have much to discuss, foreign policy, cultural issues, security. I thank you for your insight, however."

 

"Your tone speaks volumes Adolph, does this mean we are switching topics?"

 

"I believe it does."

 

"Then I must bid you all ado, my association with this Commission was over economics, I look forward to hearing about the draft when you have it prepared," he said, in a businesslike manner, as he collected his briefcase. He would depart the room with little more than a curt nod, clearly leaving some delegates fuming, others seemed to be apathetic to his departure. What was clear though, was that national unity was far from concrete, as Adolph broke the silence with a call to topic over foreign policy, to break from the last topic, which was clearly a touchy one with many in the room...

[TheShammySocialist]

"It is said that your time as High Commissioner has earned you a great deal of respect amongst the population, I daresay I wish I had your grace for oratory remarks and a level demeanor like your own back in my heyday," said Andrew Paton, as he struck a match on a nearby rock, and lit his pipe in the growing dimness of evening. He looked over at his son with a proud, yet careful smile, before looking to the west again. "It is said that the National Union party will benefit from its involvement in the Independence Commission in this upcoming election, I commend you for that."

 

"I believe it was you that so eloquently said, 'don't count your chicks before they hatch from their eggs', father, nothing is sound or in stone at this moment, and one single action could swing the electorate away from us," responded Adolph, in a lighthearted tone. He had exchanged his usual suit and tie for jeans and a button up short sleeve shirt with a white and blue pattern across it for the trip he took with his father that evening. His elder typically preferred to take their discussions and importance to somewhere quiet and relaxing, and the heights of Signal Hill, overlooking Cape Town, was just that spot this evening. "The election isn't what worries me, it is much more complicated than that."

 

"The influence of the corporations and impending storm over what is considered 'fair' labor practices by the Constitutional and Labor Commissions?" asked Andrew, smoke puffing from his mouth as he spoke.

 

Adolph grimaced lightly, but nodded, "Yes, I feel that the corporations will try to gain back lost ground in recent years against labor laws by allying themselves with certain members of the commission. Something they were doing before the Commission even had its first meeting, so it seems as though they already have ground against us."

 

"And what do you think is right for the country? Ensuring its prosperity? Or forgoing prosperity in these crucial years, in order so that the working classes can get more in the way of benefits while the companies grow impatient, or restless?"

 

"The country needs a balance of the two, I know as well as you do that some of the unions in this nation are much more powerful than they need to be, but at the same time, the corporations ask to take away too much. There are two extremes that have come to blows here, and I am in between the two of them," sighed Adolph, seemingly unsure of what future lay for the new government that was soon to be elected.

 

"More so than you think," responded Andrew, as he sat down on a rock next to his younger son, and puffed out another cloud of smoke, before looking hard at him. "Jonas Akimba had words with me about a week ago, during your call to sovereignty speech."

 

Adolph seemed unsettled by the news, and he rested his elbow on his knee, and rubbed his hand over his mouth, "What did Mr. Akimba have to say?"

 

"Jonas isn't the force he used to be," said Andrew.

 

"What did he have to say, dad?" asked Adolph, his eyes flashing as he looked over at Andrew. "He is still a force, but his legacy is one that is well remembered by a number of my colleagues. His word carries weight in several households, and amongst many who are disenfranchised with corporate interests in the government."

 

"He can't accept corporatism controlling the government shaping itself, he can't forget what happened, nor will he, and I can't blame him for that stance," responded Andrew, he looked hard at Adolph.

 

"The Grangetown Incident took place a long time ago," muttered Adolph, his face showing remorse for saying the words, but not apologizing for his statement.

 

"Yes it did, but would you forgive someone if they killed your wife and son in the same night?" asked Andrew, his gaze unrelenting on the younger Paton. "Jonas Akimba suffered a fate no person should have to suffer, his campaign against corporatism controlling the government was what helped flush the bureaucracy of corruption and helped improve equality in these lands."

 

"His impact is no doubt a good thing, but these are delicate times, the Commission already faces questions over security after a plantation north of Beira in the Mozambique territory was ransacked. There was, luckily, no bloodshed," said Adolph, testily. "A tightrope has to be walked here, we've been able to ensure the government is elected before a full constitution is enacted and labor laws are set in stone. But I fear that if Jonas pushes this matter, things will get ugly between both sides before they get any better. I don't want to take sides here, I want what is best for this country."

 

"Don't we all," murmured Andrew, his tone sympathetic. "People like de Klerk, yes, I know he is an associate member of the commission, do not know the plight of common people well, he sees only people trying to extract money from pockets because they think they're entitled. In reality, they are entitled to better wages, just don't let him and his friends hijack this government. I have it on good account that United Fruit is considering using Multi-National United to provide security for plantations in Mozambique."

 

"That'd be an escalation," muttered Adolph.

 

"You only have so much time before things come to a head my son, don't forget that," said Andrew lightly, as he stood up, looking at the last rays of sunlight.

 

Adolph only nodded, as Andrew patted his son's shoulder, and started to stroll away at a slow pace, leaving the young politician to his thoughts, as darkness closed over Cape Town...

[TheShammySocialist]

As elections drew nearer for the Union of South Africa, there would appear to be no headway to break up a deadlock between politicians that were pushing for more social welfare and tighter labor restrictions, and those supporting corporate interests for "the greater economic good". Political parties were already drawing lines however, about where they would stand on economic planning and labor laws, and it was becoming a great focus of debate amongst candidates who were standing for parliament. Election debates, particularly national ones on television, were becoming heated arguments, particularly between the three major parties, the center-left National Union Party (NUP), the conservative Freedom Party (SAFP), and the left-wing South African Social Democrats (SASD).

 

While the National Union Party was able to stay somewhat above the storm between the Freedom Party, and the SASD, it was facing increasing flak for not taking a particularly clear stance on the economy. Much of what the NUP was hedging its bets on, were the follow-up talks over economic and labor planning, which was a commission scheduled to take place following the election. By doing this, it was basically deferring responsibility, and although this was a fairly effective scheme at keeping itself above the storm, the Freedom Party was using it to smear the NUP as uncaring about the economic situation, and thereby gaining some ground against it.

 

The South African Social Democrats also had a strong standing amongst the working class, particularly in the Southeast around Durban and throughout the Natal region, the party being heavily affiliated with Jonas Akimba, the aforementioned labor leader who lost his wife and son to a suspected assassination by gunmen almost two decades previous during an incident known as the Grangetown Massacre. Akimba was a strong symbol for the labor and trade unions movement, as well as continuing the fight for economic equality and closing the wealth gap. He was politically active, championing the SASD when he could, and launching sharp criticisms on the commission not solving the economic issue before the election began. His show of vocal support for the SASD was also energizing labor movements across the territory, particularly in the territories of the State of Mozambique, where plantation workers were striking for higher wages.

 

With the ransacking of a United Fruit plantation in Mozambique only two weeks before the election, the Independence Commission was left with no alternative at one point, but to turn to private security enterprises in ensuring property was kept safe. Corporations like Multi-National United would be detailed to support local police forces and guard private property with primarily non-lethal weaponry, but were allowed to keep fast reaction units available in case situations got out of hand. This was another issue, that of security and jurisdiction, that had yet to be solved, and wouldn't be until the election was over. Although none of the parties wanted to see labor movements spill over into violence, it was widely feared that if the SASD lost heavily during the election, there could be significant issues with labor-related incidents that did just that.

 

Time would only tell, if such predictions proved true, and how well the fledgling government would be able to cope with the tense economic situation, which was pitting employer against employee...

[TheShammySocialist]

'This is North South Africa Radio 104.5, bringing you all your musical needs for the Nampula region and beyond, this request comes from one of our frequent listeners, Missy, in Lumbo. We're taking you back to 1969, when the Stones were really Rolling, this is [url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sM8ix0siRVQ]Gimme Shelter[/url], just for you, Missy, only on your favorite station, NSAR One-Oh-Four-Five."

 

"Do you really think that chap is that smooth in real life?" called out Officer Neal Owens, commenting on the suave and smooth voice of NSAR's late afternoon deejay. His voice a dull roar over the loud whirring of the helicopter's blades, as the slowly ascending tune of nineteen-sixties rock began to fill the passenger cabin.

 

"He's sitting behind a microphone, of course not, he'd probably fall flat on his face talking to someone face to face," laughed Officer Desmond Zuma, whose booming resonance reflected on his Xhosa heritage. "He probably wouldn't know what to say if he met that Missy lady!"

 

"Keep your head in the game boys, or you might not be talking at all," called out Lieutenant Dirk van der Swart, sitting in a jumpseat next to the open door of the white Oryx helicopter as it tore through the skies above Nampula Province. Van der Swart tapped his fingers on his R4 assault rifle, as he looked down at the terrain below them, covered in light foliage that seemed impenetrable, besides open patches here and there, where farmers had cut a field for themselves in the rolling terrain. The province of Nampula was particularly like this, and although it seemed like an easy operational zone, it was far from it. To support local police units, men like van der Swart and his reaction team, hired from the ranks of the private military corporation Multi-National United, were expected to operate in the protection of public safety and private property.

 

With short cut blonde hair, and steely grey eyes that gave van der Swart a hawk-like appearance, he was a veteran of several wars in this region, having fought against insurgencies in association with an AUP task force in what was now the Confederacy of West Africa. While living in Melbourne, Australia, he had also been conscripted into a civilian volunteer unit that fought against Communist guerrillas that had launched a large-scale assault on the city. As a native of Pretoria, now he was back in the saddle in his home nation, ensuring the safety of corporate assets, as well as ensuring the safety of the public at large. As part of MNU's First Force Reaction Battalion's Bravo Company, they were tasked with ensuring the security of the Nampula Region of the State of Mozambique, a task that was proving difficult with increasingly militant labor workers as elections drew closer.

 

"This is the third call-out today, L.T., it'll probably prove as meaningless as the last one," called out Officer Charles Lumbick, sitting across from van der Swart spitting another sunflower seed out onto the flower of the helicopter. He looked bored, van der Swart couldn't blame him, the past seventy-two hours had seen them fly out a total of ten times, including this sortie, and they had arrived to a situation that was completely under control. The police and post security forces were jumpy, and tended to make calls for special reaction teams rather frequently and before they were actually needed. The situation was usually resolved by the time they got there, but van der Swart and his men weren't being paid to make decisions, they were being paid to follow orders. Eventually, there would be a post that cried wolf, and there would be a situation that would actually require their intervention.

 

"You spit another seed out on my floor, Officer Lumbick, and I'll have you cleaning it with a toothbrush after we get back to Nampula!" yelled out the helicopter's crew chief, Officer Vincente Salazar, his thick Portuguese accent flowing into his English. Salazar was a native of Mozambique, hailing from the capital of Maputo, and his scrappy demeanor was well known amongst the individuals serving at the Nampula Duty Station.

 

Lumbick gave Salazar shake of the head, before kicking the sunflower seeds out the open sliding door next to him, the seeds showering off the tail end of the helicopter as it banked slightly, following Route EN8, towards the township of Murrupula. The call had come in from a security team guarding an aluminum production facility owned by the South African corporation SAAL, as van der Swart's team had taken off, the radio transmissions had cut short, and phone connections were down. Losses of communication were not uncommon, but they weren't frequent either, and the hardened MNU Tactical Officer was wishing that they had been given a second "stick", which was basically another twelve-soldier reaction team, to support them in case things had gone loopy.

 

"Lieutenant! Got smoke to the southwest, pretty sure its coming from our objective," called out the Oryx's co-pilot, Pilot-Officer Devon "Dev" Meade, looking over his shoulder into the passenger compartment.

 

"Make it a touch and go, Dev, no sense in you boys getting fragged with us if things go sour," responded van der Swart with a yell, as he unbuckled himself from his jump seat, and grabbing a handrail, the rest of his eleven-man reaction team doing the same. Salazar, who had been relaxed, despite sharing words with Lumbick, immediately moved into door-gunner's position, and pulled the charging hammer back on the SS-77 machinegun.

 

"You got it, L.T., grab a rail, we're going to come in hot and hard, you boys better be ready to get the hell out of here," shouted out Dev, as the helicopter went into a banking dive as the pilot, Pilot-Officer Roger "Rodge" Mayhew began increasing speed.

 

 

Van der Swart and his team were no rookies when it came to touch-and-go landings, basically the helicopter spending a total of five seconds at an altitude of about five to six feet off the ground, before the helicopter powering up and departing. Salazar unfolded armored side shields on the door gun, as the rest of the team hung on for dear life as Mayhew and Meade drove the helicopter forward. They were not very high off the ground, and a huge wash of dust followed them as they tore threw the air for the smoldering SAAL plant.

 

"Thirty seconds! Be ready to roll!" yelled Meade, as van der Swart grit his teeth, preparing for the jump from the door of the hovering aircraft.

 

"Thirty seconds!" echoed van der Swart, as he made a quick adjustment to the chinstrap on his helmet, and making sure his high-impact elbow and kneepads were in place. He slipped on a pair of desert goggles that would shield his eyes from the rotor wash, his team doing the same, as they made their final approach.

 

"We'll drop you then move to a support over Murrupula, good luck down there Lieutenant!" shouted out Mayhew, as they shot along the road below, van der Swart only catching a glimpse of a fire raging in part of the SAAL plant before the helicopter came to an abrupt halt, the rear of the helicopter tilting backwards.

 

"Go go go!" yelled van der Swart, as he dived out of the hovering Oryx, the white dust-covered exterior shining brightly in the sun, "MNU" emblazoned along the side of the craft. He hit the ground hard, and rolled, with a grunt, before landing on his stomach, cradling his R4 in his arms, before bringing it up. The rest of the team dropped to the team in similar fashion, although Zuma was able to stay on his feet, but he also immediately fell to his stomach as well. The wash of the rotors creating a dust storm around the team, as the helicopter's powerful engines could be heard immediately powering up, and it began gaining altitude quickly, banking away from the SAAL complex and its charge that was now on the ground.

 

"Fire from what looks like the plant office, boss, looks like casualties on the ground near the entrance," said one of van der Swarts' team members, Officer Carranza, another Portuguese mercenary from Mozambique. Mayhew had dropped them across from the SAAL plant's gated entrance, which gave them a little distances from

 

"Roger wilco, everyone green? No twisted ankles?" asked van der Swart, as he slowly got up onto his haunches, there was a slew of positive responses to him from each of the team members, as they got up as well.

 

"Alright, lets go, Carranza, Lumbick, when we get into position, I want you to check those bodies."

 

"Copy that, bossman," replied Lumbick, as they began to move, hunched over, across the road, van der Swart was limping a little from the impact of the jump, and a few others appeared to be shaken up as well, but it didn't appear to be any injury that would amount to more than a couple bruises. As they approached the gate, van der Swart was able to assess the scene condition a little better, there was a fire in the plant offices, or they were smoldering at least. The rest of the plant appeared to be dark, fire alarms could be heard beeping inside the building, but what peaked his interest the most were the bullet holes that were in scattered groupings. A few cars were left in the parking lot, including two MNU vehicles, both of which had been shot up, and he could see another individual collapsed near the open door of one.

 

"Another body, over by that Hilux," pointed out van der Swart, as they reached a hut used for gate security, and the troopers huddled against it. "Alright Lumbick, Carranza, you're up, Zuma and Evans, move over to that concrete abutment and provide cover from there." The mercenaries quickly moved out, with the hulking Zuma and Evans, the latter carrying a Milikor revolving grenade launcher in his hands, along with a submachinegun slung over his back, moving over to a concrete barrier. Lumbick and Carranza moved over to the three bodies at the gate, which had been thrown open wide, the gate lock itself appeared to be laying near one of the men, its remnants shattered.

 

"Two unidentified men, I got a machete here," called out Lumbick, holding up a crude-looking blade from one of the bodies. "We got an MNU casualty here! Multiple GSWs to the chest," he added, examining the other figure.

 

"ID?"

 

"One of our post guards, Officer Victor Yanputo!" called back Lumbick, holding up an identification.

 

"Sidearm and extra clips are missing, sir," added Carranza, "Looks like he got a few rounds off though!" The Portuguese mercenary held up a spent nine millimeter casing, a standard round used in most sidearms carried by MNU and local police forces.

 

"I got seven point six twos here, boss, looks like AK rounds," added Lumbick, as he picked up a longer, heavier looking shell casing.

 

"Definitely not ours then," responded van der Swart, looking grimly over at Lumbick.

 

"I got movement!" boomed Zuma, suddenly, from behind the concrete barrier, aiming down the sights of his R4, and focused in.

 

"Get out of there Charlie, Carranza, back to cover!" yelled van der Swart, the two officers quickly moving for cover, Lumbick diving over to join Evans and Zuma, while Carranza scrambled back behind the security shack. "Where are they Des?" called van der Swart, as he brought his R4 up, and aimed around the corner into the parking lot of the plant.

 

"Behind that Hilux, furthest from us!" called back Zuma, pointing over at the other MNU armored pickup that was covered in bullet holes.

 

"This is MNU Reaction Team Bravo Longsword, identify yourself!" yelled van der Swart.

 

"Should I light 'em up sir?" yelled Evans, bringing up his grenade launcher, and adjusting aim.

 

"Hold your fire, hold your fire," called van der Swart, belting out again, "This is MNU Reaction Team Bravo Longsword, come out with your hands above your head and identify yourself!"

 

Two hands, covered in red, slowly emerged from behind the Hilux, the individual they were attached to, didn't look in the best of shape, clearly he was an office worker of some sort. Dark red stained his white button up shirt, and there was a bandage around one of his ankles that van der Swart noticed as he limped from behind the vehicle, he looked to be mouthing something, but his voice wasn't loud enough to carry. He started limping towards the team, before collapsing on the pavement of the parking lot, either too exhausted to go any further, or from blood loss.

 

"Ah shit! Zuma, Owens! Go get him, now, rest of you provide cover!" yelled van der Swart, motioning at the fallen man, before cuing his radio receiver pinned to his shoulder. "MNU Buffalo 5-2, this is MNU Bravo Longsword Actual."

 

"Reading you five-by-five, Longsword Actual," crackled Mayhew's voice, "What do we got?"

 

"Confirm MNU Security Team SAAL Murrupula down, we have officers KIA or MIA, and possible enemy combatant casualties down here, along with one confirmed survivor. Need an immediate medical evacuation down here, and a new set of orders from Castle Keep," said van der Swart, referring to his superiors at Nampula.

 

"We'll relay your message to Castle Keep, standby for medical evac, have one of your boys grab the foldout stretcher from us and stabilize him," replied Mayhew.

 

"Roger wilco, Buffalo 5-2, we got your LZ covered, bring 'er down," said van der Swart, as he ground his back teeth together; there had never been a full attack on an MNU-guarded industrial complex before. Not one that had succeeded in overrunning it anyways, and this was a blatant escalation from what he had seen, protests were one thing, open attacks were something that was unknown at this point.

Edited March 24, 2013 by TheShammySocialist

[TheShammySocialist]

The dust swirled from behind the Land Rover Defender as it bumped and bucked along the road west of Johannesburg, fields and grazing lands stretching for as far as the eye could see across the vast rolling plains that dominated the Gauteng District. The Special Protection Service agent at the wheel seemed to be doing his best to avoid the ruts that dominated the road, but it was utterly useless. Adolph Paton rubbed at his temple, probably because of the impending headache he would receive from the cabinet about gallivanting off alone, the newly-elected President of the Union, his party narrowly securing a majority despite fierce opposition. The Conservatives had pushed for putting off the election altogether, until the civil conflagration that was apparently growing in Mozambique was settled, but they had failed to do so.

 

The last ditch efforts of the right to push the election back alienated a number of swing voters, and had secured the National Union Party governance, at least for now, but the new government was in little better a position than the Independence Commission. With the country at odds, with big employers at heads with labor organizations, and labor militancy growing in Mozambique after attacks on a handful of various industries there, and politicians at odds with one another over how best to deal with it, it was a mess that few wanted to step into. Having led the Independence Commission as High Commissioner, and despite his attempts to remain aloof of heavy political debate between sides, Adolph Paton was thrust directly into it now as President.

 

"Are you sure this is the road, Mr. President?" asked Clyde van Kockum, the burly driver of the Defender, and one of Adolph's close protection agents.

 

"Quite sure, Clyde, this isn't my first time out here, mind you," replied Adolph, in a cool tone. "I've been to Mr. Tembo's house many times, the road is much the same as it was almost six months ago when I was last out here."

 

"Aye sir."

 

As they cleared a hill, Adolph's memory and prediction would prove true as they beheld a large farmhouse and barn, a large paddock full of sheep sat next to the barn, and as they approached closer, an Australian sheepdog made its presence known, bolting out of its post in the barn to run up to the approaching vehicle. The dog made a number of barks as Clyde maneuvered the vehicle closer to the farmhouse, parking next to a pickup underneath a tree, and cutting the engine. He looked back at Adolph, who had nonchalantly reached out and let the sheepdog lick at his hand and sniff it, the dog seemed to recognize him, and its vocal antics began to settle down.

 

"Will you require my presence, Mr. President?"

 

"Mr. Tembo is a family friend, Clyde," responded Adolph, with a businesslike smile, as he opened the door, and stepped out of the Defender. "If he shoots me, he probably has a good reason for doing so."

 

"Or to put you out of your misery," called out Piet Tembo, leaning against a support column of the farmhouses' front porch, that faced west.

 

Adolph turned around and grinned, as Piet smirked at him, and added, "Congratulations, or my condolences, whichever you prefer, take it as you may."

 

Adolph made his way over towards the farmhouse, as the sheep farmer watched him, his arms folding across his midsection as the younger man approached, he appeared at ease, but he had an inquisitive look on his face. "I prefer neither, I think, at this point," said Adolph, as he put a foot on the first step, and looked up at one of his fathers' closest friends. "How's the season treating you so far?"

 

"As good as could be expected, feed prices are a little high though, think you could do something about that for me?" said Piet, the high cheekbones on his face perking up even more as his mouth broke into a toothy grin.

 

"I could make a few calls," said Adolph, with a serious face, before cracking up lightly, and following Piet onto the porch, where the older man walked over to a set of wicker porch furniture, and gestured his guest forward. A jug and a glass of lemonade sat on a matching wicker table beside it, and Piet motioned for Adolph to take a seat in one of the chairs, as he poured more lemonade out. He disappeared for a few moments into the house, before returning with a second glass, and pouring another glass for Adolph, before finally taking a seat of his own chair, and settling back.

 

"So, how are things going for you laddie? I haven't seen you in near half a year now, though for old men like us, it seems like yesterday," he chuckled lightly, as he sipped deeply on the lemonade.

 

"I think you can probably ascertain how well things are going, by just listening to the radio or reading a newspaper," muttered Adolph, sighing heavily as he relaxed into the comfortable chair.

 

"Politics didn't really ever interest me too much, but it is interesting to watch how events unfolded, like those going on in Mozambique," said Piet, lightly. Adolph knew he was well informed of events, Piet was one who always had contacts everywhere, and it was one of the reasons why he had sought him out.

 

"No kidding, and getting MNU extracted from service there is like pulling teeth, especially considering the infancy of the Armed Services," responded Adolph, as he sipped the lemonade. "Good lemonade," he murmured, and nodded his thanks at Piet.

 

"Thank you," nodded Piet, and he appeared to be looking knowingly at Adolph, "Multi National United is becoming part of the problem, their response to that attack on the United Fruit plantation was overbearing to say the least."

 

"That's what you get when you hire soldiers of fortune to do your work for you," responded Adolph, sounding annoyed with the whole situation. He watched as Piet's sheep dog amble up onto the porch, throw them a bored look for a moment, before the older man snapped his finger at a dog bed in the corner of the porch. The dog trotted past, and lay down after going around in a circle a couple times.

 

"Soldiers of fortune...," echoed Piet, with a chuckle, and a look at Adolph. "You know, I'm not stupid Adolph Paton, I know why you're out here, did your father recommend this, or is this your own play of desperation."

 

"You never change, you never beat around the bush," responded Adolph lightly.

 

"I used to literally beat around the bush, that was a long time ago, young man," responded Piet, with a grin at Adolph. "What do you want?"

 

"I need someone who has dealt with an insurgency before, someone I can trust, someone who is an experienced off-..."

 

"You...," interrupted Piet, before leaning forward and putting his hand on his forehead and shaking his head. "You have some nerve, young Mr. Paton, I'm not sure if you have as much a nerve as your father, but you're certainly pushing it."

 

"I need an Army Chief of Staff," said Adolph, in a firm voice.

 

"I haven't been in a uniform for nearly a decade, Adolph, this is borderline preposterous, why the hell would you even thin-..."

 

"Because you're one of the few people I know who was a military officer, and is trustworthy, tactful, and has the know-how to deal with this kind of warfare," said Adolph, interrupting Piet in midsentence.

 

"And here I was thinking you had come out here for some insight and advice, my you are sneaky one," said Piet, resting his chin on his hand, and staring into Adolph's eyes with a hardened look.

 

"Your enemies are also few, and you're a level choice that should be respected by all sides, mainly because you don't have political ambitions," responded Adolph. "Worst thing I could have right now is a political appointee who would make this into a bigger conundrum than it already is, or some kind of Julius Casar, I don't need that looming over my head."

 

"You got some nerve coming out here and asking a simple farmer, someone who doesn't want anything to do with his former life, to return to the uniform for another go."

 

"Things don't always go as smoothly as one would hope, if I didn't need your help, I wouldn't be out here asking for it, Piet. Please, I need you to come to Cape Town with me, one last go around."

 

Adolph sat back in his chair, and Piet took another sip of the lemonade, as the conversation broke off, and descended into silence, only broken by the creak of Piet's rocking wicker chair, the sound of the dog panting, and the distant sounds of the sheep as they grazed in their small patch of pasture. He seemed to be staring off into space for the longest time, rocking gently in his chair, setting down his glass, the older man seemed calm and at ease, despite the outburst of emotions at Adolph. Adolph would break away from staring at him, and sigh softly, and look down at the glass of lemonade in his hand, before putting his head back against the head cushion on the chair.

 

Finally, the older man broke his silence, and looked over at Adolph, before sliding a pad of paper over to him, and when Adolph gave him an inquisitive look, Piet said lightly, "Your number in Cape Town, I will call you in the morning with my answer, I need time, my friend."

 

As he scribbled the number to his personal line, Adolph nodded firmly, "Of course. How about another glass of lemonade and a little more catching up?"

 

"You did what you came here to do, I'm sure the President has much better things to do then chew the fa-."

 

"Sometimes, all other things can wait, even if you're a President," said Adolph, with a smile, as he sat back in his chair.

 

Piet grinned lightly at him, before leaning back, seeming more relaxed, and breaking out into a story about the farm, and helping the President forget the maelstrom that he had found himself in for at least another hour...

[TheShammySocialist]

Liupo, Mozambique

 

The dust kicked up by the column of haphazard array of military vehicles that trundled north on Route 236 was almost choking to anyone who stood alongside the road for any length of time, the smell of diesel and petrol filled the air. For some, such a scene was utter confusion and just mind-boggling, for [url=http://i1192.photobucket.com/albums/aa325/VictorDeltaRomeo/pete_postlethwaite_1946___2011_by_boy140495-d36e52z_zpsede3ce1c.jpg]Piet Tembo[/url], the newly-appointed South African Army Chief of Staff, this was home (away from his sheep farm he had left only about a fortnight earlier), and as he surveyed the damaged town, he knew this was why he was back.

 

Instead of remaining in Cape Town, he had elected to personally conduct the campaign that was quickly developing in Mozambique on his own, and Piet was well up to the task, having served the various nations that had overseen the governance of these lands until about a decade ago, when he finally took retirement. After calling Adolph Paton the morning after his visit, to accept the offer to become the Army's Chief of Staff, he was quickly flown out from Pretoria that afternoon, after quickly working out a steward to oversee his farm. By evening, he was receiving his uniform and insignia in a subdued and quiet ceremony in Adolph's office at the Government House, after passing a physical and mental endurance screening that was expedited for time's sake. Piet may have lived on his own for some time after the early loss of his wife due to breast cancer, but he was certainly a sane and pragmatic individual.

 

Within seventy-two hours of his ascendancy to Chief of Staff, Piet lobbied immediately for the removal of all private military corporations from the Mozambique State, which was granted by a large majority in the Parliament, and had begun to gather a task force together made up of both contacts as well as active-duty officers whose records he pored over before selecting them. Their task? Develop a strategy to counter increasing militancy in Central Mozambique, which was being fueled by the standoff between corporations and the labor reforms movement. As part of his terms for return, Piet also began the expedited contact and commissioning of a number of ex-military officers who had worked with him in the past, or that were recommended to him by some of his close associates that he trusted.

 

Although the South African Armed Services (SAAS) still were in their infancy, and with most units still going through training maneuvers, Piet also expedited the enlistment and formation of a Brigade-sized formation of former soldiers and veterans who were either already in training, or volunteered for service. The unit, designated as 1 South African Mechanized Brigade (Group), was to become Piet's hammer and anvil in early prosecution of the conflict in Mozambique, and would assume the duties that PMCs like MNU had been performing. With attacks over a wide area, mostly in the Nampula District, and expanding beyond just targeting corporate assets in the region, Piet knew that to handle the group he was dealing with, which was now known to be the Peoples' Defense Forces of Southeast Africa, he would need to both engage them militarily, and continue to garner civilian support for the mission.

 

That was not hard to do, and the incident at Liupo, just as 1st Brigade was moving assets into the region, provided him with a victory amongst the local population, but the victory came at a cost; two local police constables were dead, one was wounded, and five town residents had been slain as well, including a young boy. Standing on the side of the road in Liupo, with a non-regulation slouch hat on his head, Piet strode away from the Land Rover Defender that served as his command vehicle, which, besides the larger radio antennae, seemed inconspicuously like any other military vehicle in the column moving by. A platoon of infantry had been detailed to secure the town and form a garrison until the area was assured safe by other units, especially after the attack.

 

Townspeople seemed apprehensive but generally thankful for the arrival of the Army, but nerves were running high, and Piet could sense this, many residents standing in their doorway, remaining aloof from the rest. Piet wasn't dissuaded however, and he would stoll slowly into the small village with only his translator at his side, his signature Webley revolver holstered to his belt, and a combat knife tucked into the side of his boot. One woman came forward towards them, an older ebony woman that seemed shaken, from a group that seemed to be nervous about the General's approach, and Piet would smile politely at her, as she started speaking in what he determined to be Portuguese.

 

He would look at his translator when she finished, and the lanky, tanned, Afrikaaner, replied, "She says they came last night, with guns, and machetes, they were looking for food, and weapons, they took a small boy captive and held him at gunpoint."

 

"What of the police?" asked Piet, the translator echoing him in Portuguese.

 

The woman rapidly responded to the question, which the translator deciphered as, "They tried to talk them down, but they were gunned down, then they killed anyone else who stood in their way, before taking whatever they wanted. Two younger women are missing."

 

Piet nodded grimly, "Does she know where they went? Did she recognize any of the attackers?" The translator nodded, and repeated Piet's question back to the woman, who shook her head, and shrugged, before responding in a short sentence.

 

"No, it was too dark," replied the translator, before paying attention to the woman, as she spoke again, this time with a more desperate voice.

 

"What did she say?"

 

"We might not seem thankful you are here, but we are, please don't leave us."

 

"Tell her that we have no plans on leaving," said Piet, his smile polite and assuring as he nodded at the woman, as the translator fired back his response at her. The woman looked close to tears, and she let out a sob, before limping forward to wrap her arms around Piet gently. Piet was taken aback, and the translator looked at Piet with a raised eyebrow, but the older soldier gently recovered his composure, and gently patted the women's back with a weathered hand as she sniffled into his chest. Piet turned his head to greet the sound of a set of footsteps behind him, and noticed a newly recommissioned Captain [url=http://i1192.photobucket.com/albums/aa325/VictorDeltaRomeo/photo-Les-Larmes-du-soleil-Tears-of-the-sun-2002-13_zps869c89b7.jpg]Dirk van der Swart[/url] approaching with a raised eyebrow.

 

Like many other officers in 1 Brigade, van der Swart was a friend of Piet, and after being contacted by the older soldier, he put his loyalties before his wallet, and had accepted the offer Piet had given him, as a light infantry company commander. Piet held a finger to let the woman hold her embrace just a little longer, and van der Swart nodded lightly, and mouthed, "Recce is back, with a new lead..."

Edited April 6, 2013 by TheShammySocialist

[TheShammySocialist]

"Might want to suppress that machinegun nest, Charlie," called out Piet Tembo, as machinegun rounds ricocheted off the Oryx's fuselage as it circled above the abandoned town of Mafua, where a garrison of insurgents had forced the villagers out of their homes. The village sat aside Route 510, a main route north from Nampula northwards to the fairly sizable city of Numano.

 

In a bid to reopen the route, and free the town, Piet had tasked an infantry battalion supported by artillery and Oryx helicopters to retake the town and apprehend or kill any insurgents that remained there. As it was a significant operation, Piet wanted to be in attendance and provide direction to tactical commanders on the ground as they advanced. Although advised against doing so by most of the officers of 1 Brigade, Piet boarded one of the Oryx helicopters that was to support the operation, while van der Swart commanded the first wave of South African infantry attackers that converged on the town from various southerly directions.

 

"Working on it sir!" yelled the door-gunner, a crew chief by the name of Charles Silisu. The machine gun sputtered as spent shells clattered onto the floor, rolling out the doors and around the passenger cabin. Silisu maneuvered his focus of fire onto a house that had been an annoyance to the helicopters since they had arrived, where one particularly mean gunner was trying to force the helicopters out of the air, or drive them off.

 

As Silisu hammered away at the hut, trying to suppress the heavy machinegun there, Piet noticed a series of white streaks suddenly shoot out at forms of the South African infantry troopers advancing through the brush in the early morning sun. Rocket propelled grenades had been a favorite weapon of the insurgency in Mozambique, and had been a very loathed weapon by 1 Brigade, as it was able to knock down most any of the light armored personnel carriers or IFVs if there was a direct hit. Piet keyed his microphone, and said, "Captain, looks like you have some RPG teams on the western edge of town, advise your teams to move cautiously down there."

 

"Yeah, I got eyes on," said van der Swart, his voice crackling through Piet's one-piece headset. "Red house right?"

 

"Aye."

 

"Roger wilco on that, we'll deal with that, you watch out for yourself, they're pretty good shots with those damn pesky things."

 

"Target is suppressed sir, receiving no fire from that house near the center of town," called out Silisu, as his machinegun fell silent.

 

"I got a group of five rebels breaking from cover on the western side of town, retreating towards the town center," called out a squad commander, voice crackling over the tactical radio.

 

"Shifting vectors! Prepare to engage Sergeant!" called out the helicopter pilot, as Piet held onto a rail, and took a bite out of the bagel he had brought along with him, and was calmly eating as the helicopter maneuvered above the combat zone.

 

"Engaging!" yelled Silisu, as the helicopter shifted around hard, and the door gunner brought his gun onto target, the machinegun sputtering as Silisu opened up on the insurgents on the move. The fall of the rounds kicked up dirt and debris around the running insurgents, one of whom haphazardly brought an assault rifle up and began sporadically firing at the helicopter.

 

"Keep it steady Charlie, don't get ahead of yourself, lead those targets," called out Piet, calmly, pointing at the insurgents with his half eaten bagel as the helicopter shivered with the impact of the rifle rounds hitting it, one round tearing a hole in the floor near Piet's left foot. The door gunner appeared to follow the veteran General's advice as he focused his fire into leading the targets as he fired, and the rounds brought down the scrambling insurgents in a hail of gore. As the machinegun fell silent, the helicopter jolted hard when an artillery round landed about seventy five feet away, completely demolishing the red house where a group of insurgents had found convenient to use as an RPG nest. The blast caused Piet to drop his bagel as he grabbed another handle to steady himself, and was a little disheartened to see the marmite and butter-covered bagel had fallen spread-down onto the dirty helicopter floor, he picked it up, looked at it, then hurled it out of the helicopter.

 

"That was a little close for comfort Captain," called out Piet, as the helicopter gained some altitude, and Silisu began actively searching for targets to go weapons-free on. "You made me lose my bagel on that one."

 

"Sorry sir, I'll give you warning about that next time," responded van der Swart, his voice interspersed with gunfire.

 

"Thank you, please do."

 

"Sorry about your bagel sir."

 

"Eh, it was getting cold anyways," grumbled Piet, as his eyes watched the dark figures of infantry from 1 Brigade closing in on the town, flashing every so often as they fired their weapons. His attention was grabbed, however, when large tracers began arcing across the sky, and an Oryx that was circling in pattern with Piet's suddenly took a hit, black smoke puffing from one of its engines as it banked away.

 

"We got a technical with a heavy cannon down there, broke out of a garage in the center of town, now heading north!" yelled Piet's helicopter pilot, as the radio crackled.

 

"This is Antelope Five-Two, losing hydraulic pressure here, gotta put her down!" came the desperate voice of the other helicopter pilot, the strain in his voice evident as he and his co-pilot struggle to control the Oryx as it began to spiral.

 

"Get us after that technical!" roared Piet, as the helicopter pilot banked north, tracers flying past them as the technical attempted to take down Piet's, the helicopter shuddering suddenly as holes appeared on the fuselage.

 

"Damn good shot, that bugger," growled the pilot, as he tried to weave through the fire, and Silisu began opening fire with the machinegun, kicking up dirt around the technical as sped along the north at high speed, the heavy machinegun mounted on the back flashing as it returned its own deadly hail of lead.

 

"Keep that gun steady Sergeant!" yelled Piet, as Silisu fired wildly.

 

"Trying sir, the helicopter, its moving too much!"

 

As Piet ground his teeth as another few rounds managed to hit the Oryx, they all flinched when the technical suddenly exploded in a ball of flame, and the truck tumbling end over end on the road, as a sleeker helicopter suddenly flew past, Piet immediately recognizing the helicopter as a Rooivalk attack helicopter. "Vampire 5-1, reporting for duty, sir," crackled the radio. The Rooivalk's entrance into the battle was one that had been doubted by Piet, as a number of the helicopters required maintenance before being cleared for duty again at Nampula, after a long night of cat-and-mouse firefights farther to the west by 1 Brigade's 2nd Battalion.

 

"Good to hear from you Vampire 5-1, glad to see those techs at Nampula got you in the air again, circle around and provide fire support on that village, lets end this," ordered Piet, as his own helicopter banked back towards the town, where explosions could be seen as infantry assault teams began moving into the village.

 

"Roger wilco, sir," replied the attack helicopter pilot, as the helicopter banked around hard and moved back towards the town again.

 

"That was a close one, sir," panted Silisu, looking over at the General, sweat running down his face.

 

"This ain't over yet, far from it," said Piet, heaving a sigh as he held onto a rail, and looked down at the flaming wreck of the technical below, and the scars of battle that were being left across Mozambique.

[TheShammySocialist]

Piet looked up interestedly as van der Swart stepped inside the quiet headquarters tent at Nampula airport, the junior officer looked weary, and his khaki uniform was smudged with dirt and mud. He took off his bush hat, and heaved a sigh, and Piet raised an eyebrow slowly, as van der Swart gave him a disgruntled look, before going over to a thermos that Piet knew to contain lukewarm, or maybe even at this time, cold coffee. Van der Swart didn't seem to care what the temperature was, as he poured a cup, then immediately took a sip of it, and moved to sit down on large ammo case.

 

"How'd it go?" asked Piet, finally breaking the silence in the tent.

 

"Didn't know anything, or he didn't seem to know anything," responded van der Swart, referring to a prisoner interrogation that he had just arrived back from. "Bet he would know more if we hooked up a car battery to him."

 

Piet gave a nervous chuckle, at the thought, "You know that those kinds of interrogation techniques are not permitted, nor will I see them used by ground commanders, so put those kinds of thoughts out of your head, Dirk. We've seen this before, from this man, Abijou, he's keeping his strategy mum, he's not going to share his plans with some grunts that can easily run away and tell us, or get captured." Kazeem Abijou was the identified commander of the Peoples' Defense Forces of Southeast Africa, and was a wily figure, who had led raids on various industrial and corporate assets in Mozambique, as well as a targeted campaign of terror and raids on the security apparatus of the Mozambique Territory.

 

Dirk just nodded, and took another sip of coffee, "Then how do we figure out what his next move is? We have the initiative here, we need to keep hold of it."

 

"What did you find out?"

 

"Abijou is moving his east, and there could be a multitude of reasons for that, he's been trying to move them in a wide circle around Nampula, trying to avoid our local patrols," responded van der Swart, as he pointed out the movements on a map in front of Piet.

 

"What kind of numbers?"

 

"Latest interrogation yielded numbers around five to six thousand active fighters, split into columns," responded the Captain, folding his arms. "Again, there could be a number of reasons for his movements to the east."

 

"The National Police have large detachments in all major cities in the east, and 32 Battalion was transferred into Nacala," said Piet, looking at the map thoroughly. "We have detachments on the Island of Mozambique, at Lumbo, and 45 Battalion at Angoche."

 

"They could be trying to transfer their units into the countryside between Lumbo and Angoche," responded Dirk, indicating a swath of lightly-populated land southeast of Nampula. "He could certainly use that territory to reform his fighters for more raids and try to get out of our AO."

 

"They know we have the initiative, Abijou needs to put pressure on us, the question is how will he do that," responded Piet, his eyes surveying the map with an intense scrutiny as he tried to perceive future movements of the guerrilla forces.

 

"And where? What are you thinking sir?" asked Dirk, looking from the map to the weary but studious lines of the weary Army Chief of Staff's face.

 

"We're going to move 1 Brigade's 3rd Battalion to Monapo, reinforce the police garrison there, and hopefully provide a deterrence against any raids," responded Piet, his eyes affixed on the coastline of Mozambique. "I'm going to put in a call to Cape Town in the morning, we need to have some reserves in place."

 

"Sir?"

 

"Abijou is going on the offensive, and we're going to need all the manpower we can piece together," said Piet, pensively, finally switching his gaze to Dirk, and giving him an ominous look.

[TheShammySocialist]

Piet slipped out of the Land Rover Defender before it even stopped moving, the column of vehicles behind him began slowing to a halt, and the yell of sergeants and lieutenants could be heard as they encouraged the men and women to dismount faster. The sounds of gunfire could be heard, the smell of gunpowder was fresh in the air, mixed with the salty air of the coastal breeze. The insurgency had struck, but this had been its heaviest blow yet, and as Piet looked around the nearly-ruined bivouac at Lumbo, he shook his head. Bodies of South African soldiers and insurgents lay sprawled in the morning sun, some had been covered, others were being in the process of being covered, but he quickly put aside the pangs of disgust he had at the scene and hardened his expression.

 

The garrison at Lumbo had been subject to a surprise night assault by the forces of the People's Defense Forces of Southeast Africa, and after forcing them into an ever-shrinking perimeter, denying them of even their basic mortar support, had bypassed them. A detachment of coastal defense troopers on Mozambique had been subject to a same fate on the island of Mozambique itself, and from the sounds of gunfire, it was still fighting for its life, holed up in the old Portuguese fort on the island. The insurgency had gone on the offensive, and now it was the South African's turn to move, their foes had taken the initiative, now, they had to grab it back.

 

A group of the Lumbo detachment were assembled in makeshift sandbagged positions, but their strain seemed to be ebbed a little by the speedy arrival of 1 Brigade. An officer approached Piet as the latter approached the position, the officer, a Captain, whose nameplate revealed his name to be Motopo, raising his arm in what was a weary and almost half-assed salute, Piet didn't comment on it. "Report, Captain?"

 

"Nothing has changed since I spoke with you on the phone, sir, they swept our positions on the north side of the airport, none of the troopers in the OPs up there survived the night. They put up one hell of a scrap sir, but we did a patrol after we thought the gunfire had stopped, they're all dead, a couple of them tried to make a dash across the landing strip, never made it far," said Motopo.

 

"And Major Goosen?"

 

"As I reported sir, Major Goosen is KIA, he was one of the first, he was directing machinegun fire as the first waves of attackers broke on our position here. Nothing we could do," he replied, and added, in a weary and almost defeated sigh, "He was dead before he hit the ground, sir."

 

"Whatever happened here, Captain, it wasn't your fault, we had no way of knowing where the rebels would hit," said Piet, in a firm, reassuring voice.

 

"Yes sir," replied Motopo, there was a bit of silence between them, before he asked, "What are your orders sir? My troopers can help you if you're going after those bastards, sir."

 

"Get some rest, or try to anyways, your troops held their position, that is the only thing we could have ever asked them to do facing such a force," said Piet, lightly, as he heard the sounds of multiple footsteps behind him, as his officers and staffers from 1 Brigade began to gather, awaiting orders. "A strategy will be worked out shortly on how we will approach this crisis, take some rest for now."

 

"Yes sir," responded Motopo, exchanging a salute with Piet, who felt a pang of guilt running through him for the poor officer who had had to endure the setback. He would turn around to face van der Swart, and the rest of the assembled officers who had gathered for their orders.

 

"Insurgents launched a missile about two hours ago, sir, appears that they overran the anti-ship missile launchers that our boys had on the island, hit a bulk cargo ship right off Lumbo, that's what that smoking hulk is out in the bay," reported van der Swart, who had arrived ahead of Piet with a force of infantry to secure the area before the rest of 1 Brigade began flowing into the area.

 

"And what of the island?" asked Piet.

 

"The detachment out there is holding on, barely, to the old Portuguese Fort, they're running low on ammo and water, and manpower, half their force was downed within the first hour," replied Captain Futishima, an intelligence officer with 1 Brigade's headquarters. "And the insurgents are not allowing residents to leave it seems, we've only seen a couple hundred get across the bridge, a couple were shot."

 

"If they allow any more to leave, or any others get across the bridge, we need to corral them, question them, and keep them centralized, in case they are insurgents that are deserters," responded Piet, looking around the group of officers. "I know it doesn't seem like the right thing to do, ladies and gentlemen, but we have to do it to ensure they don't try to sneak messengers or troops off the island. They may have struck a blow here, but they also left themselves with no options."

 

"Perhaps they thought that striking would give them a possible way to negotiate a peace deal?" asked a Major, one of the battalion adjutants.

 

"Possibly, but right now, there are no peace deals, these men and women have slaughtered innocent people and the only deal they are getting is one that puts them in an early grave, or in a prison cell for the rest of their lives," growled Piet, as folded his arms.

 

"What are your orders for Brigadier Kestler, sir?" asked the Brigadiers' aide, a young lieutenant.

 

"We set up a bivouac, have a battalion ready to move on the island at all times, get all artillery set up, and four of our attack helicopters moved up to be stationed here at Lumbo, we need to be ready to move when the opportunity presents itself," said Piet, nodding at the lieutenant, who scurried off. "Captain Poltami, I want you to get a video call uplink established with the President's aircraft as soon as possible, I need his permission and an executive order handed down."

 

The communications officer, Poltami, replied, "Even though the President is on his diplo-."

 

"I said as soon as possible, Captain, get it done."

 

"Yes sir."

 

Van der Swart gave him a raised eyebrow, as if to say, 'What about me?'

 

"Get a platoon of troopers assembled from your company, have them ready to go mobile at any time, set up forward observation posts at this end of the causeway, and work with the Military Police company in detaining crossers," said Piet, looking at the hardened infantry officer.

 

"Right-o," responded van der Swart, unfolding his arms, and taking off at a jog to rejoin his company.

 

Piet watched the officers break away from him, as he heaved a sigh, rubbing at his weary eyes, and murmuring, "I'm getting too old for this crap."

[TheShammySocialist]

"I'm sorry for waking you Mr. President," said Piet, standing alone inside of his headquarters in Lumbo, facing a large LCD screen with a videocamera and sound reception system that had been set up. The sound of vehicles and officers barking orders could be heard nearby, as 1 Brigade consolidated itself in Lumbo, and monitored the situation in Mozambique. Gunfire could still be heard coming from across the causeway, the coastal defense unit was still holding on for dear life, but it was certain that they wouldn't hold much longer.

 

Adolph Paton had just appeared on screen, wearing an evening robe, looking noticeably tired, on board the Airbus A-380 that was bearing to him his next destination. He rubbed at his eyes with one hand, then seemed to wave off Piet's comments with his other, before grumbling, "I told you I'd make time for you whenever you needed it when you took that job Piet. And for God's sake, none of this 'Mr. President' crap, what's going on?"

 

"About eight hours ago, an attack was launched on the town of Mozambique, rebels stormed Lumbo, wiped out near half the garrison there, while pushing across the causeway on the town. Some troops are still holding on for dear life to the old fort, but their in pretty dire straits, the rebels are also preventing civilians from leaving," responded Piet, looking concernedly at the President.

 

Paton rubbed his temples slowly, the news appearing to darken his young and usually positive demeanor, he would finally say, "I'm guessing this call isn't just to appraise me of the situation?"

 

"No sir, I already ordered Rear Admiral Deblay to send the dispatch the destroyer Port Elizabeth north to us, and he reportedly needed your permission to do so for some reason," responded Piet, folding his arms.

 

"And you have my permission."

 

"That's what I told him."

 

Paton chuckled tiredly, and said, "Cheeky bugger. What else?"

 

"I need your permission to release a company of the Selous Scouts to 1 Brigade, Minister Tzembla is being... difficult, on the topic of throwing more troops into the region," replied Piet, speaking of one of the Armed Services' special forces formations. The Selous Scouts were a Tier 2 light infantry force, with a total of five battalions, they were a recruitment farm for Tier 1 SOF forces, and were better trained than most units in the Army.

 

"That it?"

 

"I want you to also sign an executive order that puts the Albatross in the air, I need it," responded Piet, in a firm voice.

 

"I was under the assumption that the aircraft was still under flight testing, and hadn't even gone through full cargo trials yet?"

 

"We are at war, sir," replied Piet, looking at Paton with a firm expression. "It's the only thing big enough to get close, have a good chance at staying alive, and be able to get out again."

 

Paton eyed his top Army Staffer for a moment, before finally heaving a sigh and then nodding, "Alright, I'll contact Albatross Aerospace after we sign off, you need to retake Mozambique as soon as it is practical, this will make or break the back of this insurgency."

 

"That's what I'm aiming to do," growled Piet, lighting his pipe and slipping into between his teeth, and nodding firmly at the South African President, who would abruptly sign off after bidding him farewell.