NationStates

Corporal Denai Baraka steadily lowered his rifle without loosening his grip. The night was still young, but apart from the lone lightbulb inside the wooden guard post, there were no other light source at this border crossing. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out the outline of a woman on her knees just a few meters away in front of the orange barrier gate marking the end of Thai territory and the beginning of Majapahiti territory. Baraka quickly ran back inside the small guard post, grabbed the only flashlight he was issued with, and returned outside. The woman had not moved yet.

He aimed the flashlight at her and flicked it on. Immediately he could see that the woman was in horrible shape. Scars on her face, bloodstains on her cream t-shirt, what seemed like holes on her trousers, and her heavy breathing added to his shock. Her hair was disheveled and wet with her sweat. She had been holding her hands up, signifying that she meant no harm. Baraka could clearly see that. In fact, she might have been the one running away from harm, wherever she'd come from. He thought that that might not be the best question to ask the woman right now.

Instead, he slung his rifle across his back and rushed towards the woman. Upon closer inspection, she wasn't as old as he'd thought, probably still in her early twenties, which would mean that she might be just a couple of years younger than himself. "Hey. It's alright. Are you hurt?" He spoke in Indo-Malayan as he knelt down. He took off his gloves and put them inside his breast pocket so that his hands could freely inspect her wounds. The holes on her trousers were from bullets, and while none pierced her legs, some did graze her thigh and arm, causing her to bleed in those places. The scars on her face were likely caused by scratches, she probably got them while stuck in some bushes or something. He determined that she needed medical attention, as soon as possible.

"I-I think s-so..." the woman - or rather, girl - replied shakily. She lowered her hands and looked up at Baraka. He could see the fatigue and desperation in her eyes, thawing their way out of her. "Am I- am I safe h-here?" she asked. This was definitely not the best way one could end up within Imperial soil. Usually, visitors and immigrants would be welcomed with open arms (not quite literally though) by the border guards, but Baraka figured a welcoming smile and open arms wouldn't fix the situation at hand.

"Yes. Yes you are," replied Baraka hastily. He took out a piece of white cloth from one of his waist pouches. Based on his limited training on first aid that he had received back in boot camp, the first thing that needs to be done to an open wound is to close it tight with a cloth if possible. Fortunately, he's still got plenty after a logistics fireteam delivered a crate of supplies yesterday, enough to last for this whole week. "Can you stand up?" He asked back.

"My legs... they hurt," she responded, clutching the bullet wound on her outer right thigh. He knew that it wasn't too deep, so she should be able to hold off for a while. Baraka lended her a hand and once she grabbed it tight, he pulled her up and put her arm around his neck to support her weight. He found that she wasn't too heavy, which was a blessing since he wouldn't possibly be able to get her back to the guard post if she was. She visibly limped on her unwounded leg as the two made their way to the guard post.

He sat her down outside the post and leaned her on the wall. "May I take a look at your wounds, ma'am? I may be able to patch you up for the moment, before I-"

"Yes, yes please do," she cut him off. The girl was still struggling to breathe normally. It might be wise to calm her down after he'd finished closing up her wounds.

Baraka started wrapping the cloth around her thigh tightly and tied it up at the end. He took out another piece of cloth from his pouch and started doing the same, this time around her upper left arm. Once he was done, he took out his water canteen and offered it out to her. "Here. Have a drink," he said. The girl accepted it and took a long sip before handing the canteen back over.

"T-thank you," she heaved out.

"You're welcome," Baraka replied. He took the liberty to sit in front of her on the grass. "Is there anything else I can assist you with, ma'am?"

"Yes," she leaned her head back against the wooden wall. "First of all, you need to stop calling me ma'am. I'm not that old," she chuckled, but coughed afterwards, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Some drops of blood spilled on it.

Baraka smiled and nodded, offering his canteen once more. She took it again and finished its entirety in one big gulp. "Apologies. My priority right now is to ensure your safety and well-being, not figuring out what to call you based on how old I think you are."

"Hahah. Yeah, I know that," she replied, handing back Baraka's canteen. She heaved a sigh and shut her eyes, maintaining a steady breath. "Karina."

"Excuse me?"

"Karina. That's my name, if you're wondering." She offered out her hand.

"Oh." He looked down at her stretched out hand, and thought for a second before shaking it with his own.

"Aren't you going to tell me yours?"

Baraka hesitated for a second before responding. "Baraka. Corporal Denai Baraka." The girl - Karina - nodded in response. "Look, I'm going to call in some medical assistance through the radio, get some professionals here to take you to a proper field clinic. Hopefully they may be able to fix you up there."

She simply replied with an "Okay."

The corporal stood up and entered the post. There was a rotary-dial telephone sitting on the desk, imported from Great Britain in the early 50's. It used to be his secondary option of communicating with civilisation before it somehow broke down a few weeks ago. He'd filed a complaint and asked for either somebody to come and repair it or replace it entirely with a new unit. But, as with many of his other requests, it was never realised. So he had to resort to his combat radio unit.

"Mike Sierra One-Zero-One, this is Mike Sierra One-Two-Six," he spoke, holding the receiver close to his mouth. "Request for medical unit, I have a wounded civilian here at the post. I repeat, request for medical unit, I have a wounded civilian here at the post, over."

A few seconds of silence passed before Baraka heard a reply. "Mike Sierra One-Two-Six, copy that. A field medic fireteam is inbound, ETA forty minutes, do you copy?"

"Mike Sierra One-Zero-One, roger that. Mike Sierra One-Two-Six out."

The sound of fighter planes flying overhead woke Corporal Denai Baraka up from his slumber.

He sat up straight in his fold-up bed, looking around at his surroundings. Through the small opening at the far end of the tent, he could see that it was still dark outside. He ran his hands against his face before looking at his watch. It was four thirty in the morning. He had woken up thirty minutes earlier than he was supposed to. That wasn't a problem, but he felt like he would need more hours of sleep before going through his day. Then again, he never did get "enough" sleep these past few days. There were always gunshots echoing out early in the morning or even explosions in the distance that oftentimes woke the young corporal up. This war wasn't showing signs of ending any time soon, it seemed like.

It wasn't even a "war" in the first place. The conflict started out as a mere border skirmish between Imperial forces and the so-called assorted groups of "Freedom Fighters" armed by the Thai Communist Party. They have launched a guerilla war against the royal Thai government a few months ago, with whom Majapahit had a very close-knit alliance with in many sectors, including collective defence. Thus, the young Emperor Jayanagara VI, half seriously concerned about the communists in Thailand and the other half looking for publicity, offered the Thai government a helping hand in taking care of these rebels near the Thai-Majapahit border, in the Malay Peninsula. That was when Majapahit started deploying hundreds of troops, vehicles, and aircraft to the peninsula to fight off the rebels who attempted to cross the border.

Of course, two countries weren't very fond of the decision: namely the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics and the People's Republic of China, who were thought to be supplying armaments and military advisers to the rebel forces. The Soviets and Chinese had repeatedly accused Majapahit of "getting involved in the unnecessary massacre of unarmed and innocent civilians" and "violating their basic human rights" on the international stage. Brave and unnerving Majapahiti diplomats, accompanied by their Thai counterparts, worked tirelessly day and night to fight off these accusations and making sure the joint Majapahiti-Thai operations continue to run smoothly.

Baraka was snapped out of his thoughts by the deafening roar of yet another HA-300 fighter jet flying overhead, this time it flew much closer to the ground and he had to cover both of his ears with his unwashed hands. Seems like the Air Force was already on the move. He then remembered having gone here to the small medical camp while he was accompanying the girl he'd met at the border checkpoint last night. Karin? Or was it Karina? Ah, he'd forgotten her name already.

What he did remember was as he had called in for a medical team to carry the girl to the clinic last night, there was a pair of regulars riding along on the medics' jeep: one Lance Corporal, and the other a Private, both seemingly a couple of years his junior. Turned out, they were his replacements; MS-126 was such an uneventful and minuscule checkpoint along the Majapahiti-Thai border that perhaps their commanding officers thought that it would be a good place for border security training for the freshmen. He had given them a quick briefing of what the current situation at the border was like and what to expect while doing their duty, before hopping onto the medical jeep and leaving the checkpoint for good, and now here he was.

Baraka stood up from the bed and made his way outside the tent. Several other tents were set up in two neat rows facing each other. A campfire had been set up in the centre, surrounded by some grunts drinking coffee and chatting about their encounters the day before. The sun was still nowhere to be found.

"Corporal?"

He spun his head around to find the pair of field medics he'd called upon last night walking towards him. "Yes?" Baraka responded nonchalantly.

"You are expected at the command tent immediately," one of the medics reported. "The Lieutenant wants to see you."

"What about?" He asked, only for the medics to shake their head. Baraka nodded and muttered a quick "thanks", before turning the other way and heading towards the command tent at the far end of the field clinic.

"Listen, Grand Admiral. I have to admit, I vehemently agree that we do need to put up a tougher stance on them. However, you need to understand that we are facing heavy criticism from one of the world's reigning superpowers. These kind of actions need to be thought out more-"

"With all due respect, Mr. Premier, we could've gotten much more desirable results since the beginning of this operation if the civilian government hadn't tampered with the plans that have been drafted by the Joint Defence Command. Your attempts to "balance the scales" haven't worked, sir, and we are wasting precious ti-"

"I'd rather not burden you and your men's shoulders with the completely unprecedented and unwanted weight of the entire Eastern Bloc armies knocking at our door, Grand Admiral. My government is trying to ensure this operation keeps going smoothly, even if we have to take things slow."

Premier Rakha' Tanoe swiped the sweat off his forehead, which had been piling up ever since this meeting started half an hour ago. The Chancellery's situation room was usually much cooler and more tolerable, but the amount of people present must have dwarfed the capability of the room's air conditioning system. The Premier heaved a sigh, leaning on the oval table with both hands and looking over the assortment of maps, reports, and war plans, as well as half-empty glasses of water scattered across the wooden table. He needed a break so bad. Everyone else in this room must do, too, judging from the exhausted look on each of their faces.

He sat down on his plush leather chair and took a sip of ice cold water. His fingers massaged his temples. The headache was coming back.

"I suggest we take a few minutes off, sir. If you don't mind," came the voice of Tanoe's secretary, a young woman in her late twenties. The Premier took a glance at her and nodded slowly in agreement. The secretary then turned to the participants of the meeting. "Okay. Ladies, gentlemen, we'll reconvene in ten minutes. Please head over to the side room, where we have prepared refreshments for all of you."

"Thank you, Vina. I'll be here for a while," said Tanoe. The woman smiled, nodded and left the room with her folder of paperwork clutched to her chest.

The Premier leaned back on his seat, both hands on his face now. This situation was clearly getting out of hand. What he had initially assumed would've been an easy and quick intervention in the civil war in the Kingdom of Thailand apparently ended up being a prolonged skirmish between Majapahit and the communist-affiliated rebels across the Majapahiti-Thai border. The response from the Soviet Union had completely thrown him off guard. He had thought that the Russians wouldn't bat an eye to the Thai reds, as they were currently preoccupied with Vietnam and several other places in Africa. Furthermore, the Thai army had the rebels cornered to the far southern territory and were closing in the Majapahiti border. All Tanoe had to do was to send a couple of divisions to knock out the communists so that the royalists could obliterate them without much resistance. Apparently that hadn't gone smoothly.

The civil war itself had been raging for nearly three years now, with no clear end in sight. It seemed like the Thai were simply unable to effectively and efficiently conduct prolonged asymmetric warfare. Majapahit could have stayed entirely out of it, of course, but Tanoe had wanted to show some goodwill to the long-time allies of Majapahit, show that the Empire would stand for their allies. Plus, he'd thought that it was a perfect opportunity to strengthen popular support for his administration after having failed to pass a popular public health reform legislation in the first quarter of last year. Furthermore, had the Thai communists been let loose, it was likely that they would cross the border (by any means possible, of course) and enter Majapahit to spread their wretched ideology here. If that had happened, it would seriously damage Tanoe's reputation, both among the common folk and in the eyes of the Emperor himself. His Imperial Majesty could possibly remove him from government entirely as a consequence for turning a blind eye to the problem next door.

Some people, even some within his cabinet, had mentioned that Tanoe might have been overthinking the entire ordeal, that all this was not really necessary. But it was too late as he had made up his mind long before he had issued the executive order to approve of the deployment.

"Sir?"

Tanoe looked up towards the doorway, visibly taken aback by the sudden voice who snapped him out of his thoughts. Vina stood, peeking halfway through the door. "Are you ready to continue?"

Tanoe nodded. "Uh, yeah. Send them in, please." He sipped the remaining water in his glass and straightened himself up in his seat.

MAJAKARTA — Millions of Majapahitis belonging to the Muslim community are now celebrating the most festive time of the Islamic year in the country, Eid al-Fitr, commemorated after the end of Ramadan holy month. After successfully enduring fasting from before dawn until sunset every day for the past thirty days, Muslims are now commemorating their "victory" in the everlasting struggle to become better subjects of God. A special Eid morning prayer will be performed in nearly every mosque across the Empire, attracting hundreds of locals.

His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Jayanagara VII, stated his hopeful wishes for this year's Eid. "May our Muslim brothers and sisters enjoy a pleasant Eid al-Fitr with their families, relatives, and friends, hand-in-hand in celebration of their victory in the month of Ramadan," the official announcement from the Imperial Palace on Monday (02/05/2022) morning read. "Eid is a time full of joy and forgiveness, I highly hope that we can all strive to become a better person, keep up the good deeds, and stay away from sins. Hopefully Yang Maha Kuasa (God Almighty) will guide us all to light."

The Imperial government and local authorities, under coordination of the Bureau of Religious Affairs, has ensured the public that this year's Eid celebrations will run as smoothly as possible. Eid prayers at mosques in major cities across the Empire will be able to be attended by hundreds of Muslims and will serve post-prayer ketupat sayur and ayam opor for free, staple dishes commonly served during many Islamic festivities in Majapahit.

Many Muslims are celebrating by spending time with their families and friends. Majakarta-based employee Kartono Pradana, 27, said he felt “more devoted” after successfully finished his 30-day fasting marathon in Ramadan. This Eid, he will visit some of his relatives to drop off and exchange gifts. "Our family usually gathers in one relative's house," he commented. "We would have sleepovers and cook meals together for the big day. It's a moment of gratitude to God Almighty and also an opportunity to connect with our families, with our friends, and neighbours too."

As a pluralist country upholding its diversity under the state ideology of Pan-Nusantaranism, freedom of religion is guaranteed in Majapahit. The country's Muslim minority, numbering around 32 million out of a population of over 304 million people, lives in harmony alongside the majority Hindu-Buddhist community and a multitude of other religious groups.