Insomnia

[Transabina]

Aanaari, Saamiland
1 July 1953, 02.43


For another night, Isku Ooli found himself staring at the ceiling while his wife Kirste lay next to him, locked in an utterly sound, imperturbable slumber. How blissful she seemed. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to will himself to sleep, but the seconds ticked by uninterrupted. How many nights had it been now? One week? Two? He couldn’t seem to recall. Every fiber of his body seemed to call out for sleep, but somehow it wouldn’t come. For weeks now, he had been unable to shake this feeling of groggy alertness, a faint tingling on the back of his neck, as though he was perpetually being awakened to hear an intruder in the next room. Talking, reading, music, teas, even warm milk had not helped, and the President was too proud a man to ask his doctors for a sedative. He told himself it was probably the sun. The endless daytime of the summer months was known to play tricks on one’s body and mind. That must be it - right?


Through the haze of groggy restlessness, President Ooli tried to recall when this had all started. He had first felt like this shortly after his return from Sikandara. Could that really have been almost a month ago? He recalled his slumber on the long flight back from Old Shahdara with all the yearning of a parched man in the desert dreaming of clear rivers and streams. What was it about that meeting? His government had lauded its success, although that came more by good luck than Saami diplomatic acumen. And while called a public success, it had been a private debacle, leaving the Saami government in a poor position for further negotiations. The Sikandari Chancellor had graciously acquiesced to almost every Saami proposal. The Chancellor had invited them as guests, and had offered them a great gift - almost complete energy security. And he had been ungraciously refused.


Had that been it? The meeting had shaken the Saami President. While he had been in politics for over 20 years, he had never lost his optimism, that sense that he was working for the betterment of all people. He still thought of himself as the young lawyer, the principled social reformer. The very idea of foreign intrigues, wars, and revolutions was foreign to him. He had accepted the responsibilities of Head of State rather reluctantly, preferring to dogmatically stick to the previous government’s strategy of benevolent neutrality. The fact that this was no longer possible had been made all to clear in Sikandara. The Saami leader hated it, but the facts were there. The Saami government could not afford to continue to isolate itself. He would have to forge new alliances, to break with established protocol, and to accept the risks of these decisions.


But events were moving too fast for anyone to place sound bets. A military junta in Saaremaa, populists in Boganhem, revolution in Cantiginia, violence in Engellex, and now reports of warfare in both the Orient and Occident! What to do, what sides to take? Who were the real friends and enemies? The President didn’t know. His advisers didn’t know.


And to make matters worse, every action - including inaction - was being scrutinized by the Saami Congress, not to mention the press. The right-wing opposition parties applauded his recognition of the new government in Saaremaa, but condemned recognition of the new leadership in Boganhem, while his own left-wing coalition partners took the opposite stance. The failure to negotiate an energy deal with Sikandara had brought ridicule by elements of the press, and a scandal had developed over several erroneous news stories, threatening fragile relations with the new governments of both Boganhem and Cantiginia. And on top of it all, his government had to contend with an ongoing labor dispute between several major private and state-owned mining companies and the nation Coal and Steel Union.


It was all too much for one man to take, the Saami President concluded. Why had he ever agreed to run for a second term? It had to be this damn job keeping him awake at nights. After all, the same sun never set for Kirste, but she seemed to sleep just fine. With a sigh, Isku Ooli shifted in his bed, keeping his eyes closed. Maybe if I keep them shut, sleep will come…


Keattama Mining Complex
Muonaa Province, Saamiland
1 July 1953, 02.45


Some of the miners were just coming to the surface for the 3rd shift’s lunch break. The Keattama mine was one of the largest coal mines in Saamiland, a sprawling complex of hundreds of individual shafts and well thousands workers, responsible for over 15% of Saamiland’s annual coal production. Coal was a booming business in Muonaa province, and the facility was operating at nearly full capacity despite the late hour - the hefty overtime bonus some small compensation for the cramped, dirty, and backbreaking work being done.


The miners emerged pale and grim from the mine’s cramped lifts in groups of a dozen or more, covered in a fine black dust. They quickly fanned out around the surrounding complex in small groups, fetching knapsacks and lunch pails, moving with heavy, tired steps towards the grassy edge of the compound, looking down a gentile slope on the railhead below, where trucks and machines scurried to and from the great heaped piles of coal, loading their bounty onto waiting trains bound for one of the many large power plants scattered across the country. While they watched the busy activity below, the men ate and talked among themselves, stealing cups of kossu under the eyes of their foremen. Altogether not an unusual night on the job.


The seeming normality was suddenly broken by a rumbling boom emanating from the direction of the mine’s main access shafts. The ground shook. Almost immediately, every man turned to look towards the center of the complex. From a distance, several dark black pyres of smoke were suddenly visible, rising over the frenzied scene. As a man, the resting clusters of miners dropped their cups and plates and rushed headlong towards the scene, pulling steel helmets tight over their heads as they ran. A deep, booming alarm bell began to clang. Someone shouted in the distance, “Explosion in Shaft 14 A! The whole level is on fire! My God, there were 100 people down there!”


Aanaari, Saamiland
1 July 1953, 03.08


An urgent phone call came through to the Presidential Estate less than half an hour after the explosion occurred. A local official in Muonaa had had the sense to call the central government in Aanaari directly, while the rest of the local government and emergency services were paralyzed by the calamity. In minutes, the report of an explosion at the Keattama mining complex was relayed by phone to all the major government offices. At first, the young presidential aide had been reluctant to wake President Ooli, but in a few minutes more senior staff members had been awakened, and they chose to relay the news to the president immediately. After all, they knew, he wasn't sleeping anyway.

 

[Transabina]

Aado Processing Facility
Outskirts of Muonaa, Saamiland
07.30, 2 July 1953

The Aado facility was one of the dozens of large industrial facilities which dotted across Muonaa and Tsappesuvaarri provinces which helped to process and refine the bewildering array of metal and mineral products the region produced. This particular facility was owned by the Saami Construction giant, SKF Manufacturing, as the final stage of SKF's production chain for cobblestones and stone building blocks, processing the waste material from the cutting process into gravel for cement and road construction. Since SKF Manufacturing had announced plans to construct two new facilities for this task in Salla province, rumors of possible layoffs had circulated widely among the employees here, further radicalizing the union workers already frustrated by stalled negotiations between SKF Manufacturing and the national Steel and Coal Union, of which they were a part.

Yesterday, these workers had heard two new pieces of bad news. First, reports had come in of a horrific explosion and fire at the Keattama Mining Complex, less than 30 km away, a disaster which had claimed the lives of at least 140 fellow union members. While the Keattama mines were not owned or operated by SKF Manufacturing, the disaster had struck hard at the heartstrings of the workers and union newspapers were quick to use the disaster as yet another example of the unsafe and inhumane conditions which, it claimed, were rampant throughout Saamiland. Further complicating matters, Union leaders had walked out of negotiations at SKF Manufacturing's headquarters in downtown Muonaa shortly after noon on the first, threatening a general strike if the company did not agree to more substantial concession in wages and benefits.

This last piece of news was not altogether unexpected - the Union had been known for taking the hard line in negotiations and had in fact suspended negotiations twice before, playing on the threat to improve its bargaining position. But this time, the news struck the workers at Aado differently than before, coming as it did in the wake of the Keattama disaster. As the day-laborers had left for the evening, fanning out to the narrow, muddy streets and cramped rented-rooms Muonaa's lower-class districts, they began to talk among themselves and a new consensus began to emerge. "Here we are working so hard, risking our lives every day in long, demanding labor, while they rake in the profits of our sweat and blood, and give nothing back!" Over rounds of drinks, in cramped and smoke filled rooms across the city, hundreds of working men came to the same conclusion. They would not wait for their leaders any longer. The time for negotiations was over. They would force an confrontation now, before their bosses could blow them up too!

At 07.30 on the 2nd of July, a whistle sounded at the Aado Processing Facility. The rumbling stone crushers ground to a halt, and some 300 men of the 3rd shift filed from their posts, replaced by the 400 arrivals of the 1st shift, who took their places. From a balcony overlooking the main yard, everything looked orderly, a routine practiced many times before by the employees here. The changeover usually took 15 minutes, and as the clock ticked town the new arrivals took their places. After the allotted time, another steam whistle pierced the air, heralding the start of the next shift. The foremen watched from above, expectantly waiting for the workers below to begin, for the trucks and machinery to spring to life again, like they had seen so often before.

Nothing happened. A minute ticked by and still the workers just stood there, in little clustered groups near their machines, talking among themselves. A shout rang out from across the yard, near the loading dock. Waving his arms, a thin young foreman hurried across the open ground towards a cluster of workers. "Are you all deaf!? You heard the whistle, get to work!"

All eyes seemed to turn towards the young man. As others watched, one worker stepped from the group and approached his younger superior. Behind him, the others knotted together, strong arms gripping shovels and picks. The supervisor suddenly stopped, his expression suddenly fearful as the bigger man approached him. "I'm sorry sir, but we can not do that. Until all our Union's demands are met, we will occupy this factory. We will not leave, and we will not work."

"What, you.. You can't do that!" The exasperated young foreman stepped back, wildly gesticulating. "You are all trespassing then. This is private property! If you will not work, you must leave."

"I believe we can." The burly spokesman for the workers said. A shout from behind nicely punctuated this assertion, and all eyes turned again to see a scuffle at the main gate, where two hired guards were trying to hold back a flood of 3rd shift workers pushing their way in to rejoin the workers already inside. As the higher-ups on the balcony watched, both guards were wrestled to the ground, and hundreds more men were suddenly streaming back inside. All around the facility grounds, there was a sudden burst of movement. Excited groups of workers, many carrying wrenches, picks, rakes, and shovels, were now moving towards the bewildered and widely separated foreman and supervisors in the yard below. There was a clamor of footsteps on the metal stairs leading up to the foreman's offices, perched in the upper floors of the main warehouse. Stern, serious-looking men appeared, facing down the small throng of supervisors and managers who had gathered on the catwalk to see what was happening. A frightened secretary screamed from somewhere inside.

Now standing in the middle of the yard, the worker's spokesman shouted out, "Please, stay calm. Nobody will be harmed. But we must now escort you off the premises." Despite the assurances, a few more scuffles broke out, but no one was seriously hurt. For most of the foreman and corporate employees on sight, there was nothing to do. There were less than 50 of them on sight, plus a half dozen frightened secretaries and four hired guards, compared to the hundreds of workers. In ten minutes and with much shoving and rude words, but little else, all non-union employees of the Aado Processing Facility were herded together, counted, and, when the workers were sure everyone was accounted for, they were escorted off the grounds.

As their supervisors were escorted out the main gate, the first police car arrived. One of the secretaries had managed to bar the door to her office and call the police before she was found by the striking workers. But the call had been unclear, and two police cars arrived, not knowing quite what to expect. The four officers were surprised to see the commotion outside, and it took quite some time to establish just what had happened. By 08.30, the officers were reporting what they had heard back to their superiors, who vacillated yet again. They had no training for such a situation, and at any rate, the facility was private property owned by SKF Manufacturing, and no one there had reported any disturbance. That only changed after 09.00, when local corporate officials were able to phone corporate headquarters and report what had transpired. An emergency meeting of SKF's board of directors took place shortly afterwards, and, at the end of this, the company called the Muonaa Provincial Police, informing them of the developing situation and requesting that the police remove the unruly workers. Thus, it took over two hours for the police to arrive in force and establish a perimeter around the facility.

By that time, the number of strikers in the facility had grown to over 800. The workers had time to pile heaps of stone to bar the gates in the perimeter fence, and to organize groups of men to keep a watch on the perimeter fence. By 10.00 they were in firm control of the facility, and the arriving commander of the Provincial Police troops concluded that it would be impossible to force the striking workers out of the facility without considerable reinforcements. More significantly, during this time, the local union leaders were busy on the telephone, contacting other union organizers around the country appealing to other local union groups to join in this strike.

What was truly surprising about these events was that the strike began to spread at a grassroots level, from the ground up. Low-level union organizers were contacted directly by the workers at Aado, and many chose to join the strike without consulting their higher-ups. For his part, Daaidu Gealabi, the President of the Steel and Coal Union, had to learn about the unfolding events third-hand. By this time, eight more local union chapters in Muonaa Province, and two in Tsappesuvaarri province had joined in the strike and events were fast moving beyond his control. Forced by the situation on the ground, the national Coal and Steel Union announced a general strike of all SKF-owned plants, starting on the 3rd.

Keattama Mining Complex
Muonaa Province, Saamiland
18.40, 2 July 1953

All throughout the 2nd, the fires in Keattama continued to rage uncontrolled. Hundreds of volunteer firefighters from across the province had arrived, but they were hardly trained to fight fires underground, and, despite their best efforts, the situation was only partially contained 24 hours after the initial explosion. The death toll was rising, now up to 108 killed in the initial blast, and 42 more in the firefighting effort. Most of these latter deaths had come from asphyxiation, and the fire chiefs were now screaming at the governor for more equipment and support. At the same time, Keattama Mining officials, anxious to prevent further losses and damage to the mines, were advocating that the lower shafts be flooded to stop the fire from spreading. This was vocally opposed by local union leaders, who were concerned such action would end the lives of any workers trapped below. The Saami Congress had established a relief fund of SKr. 50,000,000.00 to help the families of the victims, and the government had established an inquiry to determine the cause of the explosion, but no one in the government or the mining industry itself had a coordinated plan for dealing with the situation.

Over 4,000 union members temporarily out of work at Keattama did have a plan, however. In mid afternoon several thousand of the workers staged a march from the western suburb of Bargiteanu to the courthouse in downtown Muonaa. They had not been able to secure the proper permits for this demonstration on such short notice, but the police were fearful to interfere. More watched than escorted by the police, the parade of workers moved slowly through the outskirts of town, picking up stragglers from across the city. Not all were Union members, but most were - workers from Aado and other striking facilities, supplemented by unemployed or generally disgruntled members of the Saami lower class. By the time the protesters reached Muonaa, they numbered over 5,000. Trying to remain somewhat orderly, the leaders moved to occupy Borregeavaa Park, across from the courthouse, but in the process streets were blocked and a commotion ensued. With a large and unruly crowd occupying the central square of Muonaa, the local police began calling for reinforcements, learning that these demonstrations were not isolated and that there were no more men to spare.

Aanaari, Saamiland
21.00, 2 July 1953

An exhausted President Ooli stood and moved to the podium. They day had passed in a blur - one piece of bad news after another - and the Saami leader could hardly have imagined a worse situation. Abroad, a terrorist bombing in Ivernia had been reported, and the Danish government was approaching collapse, raising serious concerns about the administration's policy regarding the Fennian-Austwegian border dispute. His party had been thoroughly trounced in Congressional debate today. The impact of the explosion at Keattama was just beginning to be appreciated by the slow-witted members of Congress, and concern over Saami energy security had drawn a new round of scrutiny over the failure of his negotiations with Sikandara.

And to top it all off, the nation's largest union had picked today as the time for an impromptu general strike. He had reports of at least five privately owned facilities being occupied by workers, while several others had been shut down due to strikes, and all indications were that this was just the beginning. An hour ago, he had spoken personally to Daaidu Gealabi, the union president, but all he had gotten from the man was apologies and regrets for the turn of events. Gealabi had been insistent that he could not restrain his constituents. The threatened general strike would go ahead and there was nothing he could do to stop it. And despite this, corporate leaders and opposition members of the Saami Parliament had been bombarding his office with demands for police and military assistance in squashing the strike - or at least in driving out the workers illegally occupying their factories. He could do nothing to stop the situation from escalating, but he would most certainly take the blame for whatever happened.

The President cursed under his breath, rubbing his tired eyes. Regardless of the situation, he was still the President, and he was expected to lead, even when he had no idea which way to go. In many ways, that was the most frustrating part of the job. But it was a part he couldn't shirk from. So the President lifted his head and began to speak before the waiting cameras and microphones.

"Yesterday, a terrible tragedy befell our nation. In an industrial accident outside the city of Muonaa, the lives of at least 150 men and women were lost in a great calamity of fire and smoke. The causes of this tragedy remain unknown, but the Saami Government is moving swiftly to investigate this matter and to ensure that justice is done to the victims of all the slain. Until the results of this investigation are known, I call upon all the workers of the Keattama Mining Complex to refrain from judgement, and to avoid disturbing the peace. Your voices will be heard, but no amount of violence or unrest can bring back the lives of the lost or assuage the suffering of their families and friends."

"This incident seems to have galvanized the many brave and patriotic members of the Coal and Steel Union, and there have been disturbing reports of strikes, violence, and illegality by members of this union. Again, I wish to assure you, your voices will be heard. This government respects the rights of unions to organize and to negotiate on behalf of their members for better wages and conditions. I hold the deepest respect for their right to strike and to protest against poor wages and working , and it has been the goal of my government to help better this situation. However, the government can not condone the use of violence, the organizing of unlawful protests and disturbing of the peace, and the illegal seizure of private property by any group, regardless of the rightness of their demands. As such, we urge all workers across the nation to refrain from such acts, to leave the facilities they are occupying, and to return again to legal means of voicing their concerns. If this advice is not followed, the government will have no choice but to move to restore order..."

The President spoke for several minutes more, trying to carefully mix threats and praise, and to carve out a middle ground in a situation where he knew there was none. There was little more he could do. Chances were, whatever he said or did, the strikes would go ahead tomorrow, and then his administration would be forced to respond with something more forceful than words.

 

[Serenierre]

Badjedaallu,
Livli Gaahta
Aanaari, Saamiland

In a private cubicle in the high-end gourmet restaurant in one of the Saami capital's posh localities, Hamza Qureshi sat swivelling the wine in the glass, waiting for Mihka Juvvalu, leader of the main opposition party to arrive. The meeting had been arranged secretly by the staff at the Embassy of Sikandara using the local ISIS agent to slip a note in the politician's office, with every effort being made to keep the shroud of secrecy over the meeting. So when the man had finally arrived, he had quickly been ushered into the cubicle.

The hellos were exchanged and the meal ordered. Qureshi started, "Things are getting quite uncomfortable for President Ooli, are they not?" he leaned forward, "What is the general opinion within your party on the failure on the oil agreement? The reason I ask is that, Shahdara is not willing to lose a strategic partnership with this country and is interested in the opinion of your party – as the largest opposition party – as far as the bilateral relationship between our two countries is concerned."

It should have been clear from that moment for the Saami man that the Sikandari state was in no mood to take the bilateral relations with that country lightly. Too much was at stake back home and far too much money was set to be made by businessmen back in the southern empire. Following a satisfactory enough answer to his probing, Qureshi looked at the other man and had smiled, easing the tension that had developed. "Your President Ooli is quite an interesting man, at-least according to Chancellor Suleymani... he managed to both please and displease the Shahdara establishment... by responding positively to our approach but spurning other, more important, ventures we were keen on." Piquing the other man's curiosity with that statement, Qureshi left the statement hanging. Brushing off further enquiries with a simple wave of the hand. "Don't force me to do something unprofessional," he would say with a half smile.

And as their meal of reindeer and potatoes came to the table, complete with the traditional alcoholic beverage that traditionally accompanied such meals, the Intelligence Attache passed a file to the Saami man. "You will find," he said cutting into a portion of the steak before him, "plenty in there to give your foe a run for his money. You have no idea what kind of deal he spurned in Shahdara." When the Saami politician reached out to the dossier, he stopped him, "I'd advise you not to read that now... it is something worth reading in the calm and quiet of your office." The files included the minutes of the meeting between Suleymani and Ooli, obviously with Ooli's responses highlighted and comments added by officials indicating how Saamiland stood to suffer because of one refusal or another. However the bulk of the file was dominated by the oil deal that Sikandara had been prepared to give to this Nordic country and how the President had simply refused it, at-least that was the narrative from the Sikandari perspective.

Qureshi knew that the scribbles of some bureaucrats in Shahdara would not be enough to convince this astute politician but the dossier did provide the Opposition with actual concrete details about the offer that had been rejected.

As they prepared to leave, following that delicious meal, "However your party handles this information is really up to you, however a serious request would be to keep our name out of it. In a few days, details of the oil deal will be leaked by our contacts within the Sikandari press... we would advise you and your party to wait until such a time that the news begins to permeate openly, both, there and here." And with a nod and a firm handshake that clandestine meeting ended.

Embassy of Sikandara
Aanaari, Saamiland

From his office, Ambassador Saftesh-ul-Haq sat wording his report back to Shahdara, with the letter from the Chancellor lying across before him on the desk. The meeting had gone well enough and would provide the conservative opposition with enough ammunition to give Ooli and his conciliatory coalition some serious trouble.

"Depending on outcome and performance as a robust politician by M.Juvaalu, the Empire could potentially create a potent force in Saamiland to counter the ever impressive performance of centrists and liberals, which on an ideological front may be victory enough however our economic interests in this country necessitate a stronger and more combatative presence from conservative parties."

He looked out of the window and thought a bit. He had been stationed in the country since 1951 and had grown rather accustomed to its climate and ways, which surprised him everyday since in the beginning he had dreaded the harshness of these Nordic lands. The pay as well, something which his wife would constantly tell him, was quite good, not to mention the perks of living in the Embassy compound, which was an old building in the capital city's main area. The slow pace of things in this country was a much welcomed relief from the hustle and bustle of the Sikandari metropolises – it was funny that a country could be so small that its entire population could easily fit in one Sikandari city.

 

[Transabina]

Presidential Residence
Aanaari, Saamiland
07.40, 3 July, 1953

'Nothing but more bad news...' The Saami President thought with a sigh, sipping his morning tea and leafing through a small pile of domestic newspapers. This was a morning ritual of his, but today he could barely summon the will to keep reading. He hadn't slept - again - lying in bed for a few hours, eyes half-closed, mind racing, wondering if this charade was fooling the night staff he could hear bustling about across the hall, or the well mannered young guard stationed just outside the bedroom door. It hadn't - he had been greeted with that all-too-familiar knowing look when he emerged from his chamber shortly after 7.00. At least it meant the staff had known enough to brew the tea dark today, miking the needed caffeine of the tea leaves with the bracing taste of pine needles - a common recipe from Salla the President considered better than coffee.

All the headlines were filled with the news of the Coal and Steel Union's planned strike against SKF Manufacturing, scheduled to begin at 7.00 this morning. President Ooli glanced up at the clock, then down to the table. Next to the stack of newspapers was a number of reports from the provincial governors and police forces, providing more recent information than the newspapers had access to. He paged through them, trying to ascertain how far the strike had spread. According to reports from police and industry leaders, the strike had begun earlier than expected, with less than a quarter of SKF's third-shift employees arriving for work on the evening of the second, and small isolated protests outside SKF facilities and public buildings had continued throughout the night. Since the early morning, these protests had been growing. The provincial governments had been swamped overnight by last-minute requests for permits to organize public rallies and demonstrations - not only from the unions, but from several apolitical social organizations as well as the Communist Party. Most of these requests simply couldn't be processed by the regional governments, and went unapproved. But President Ooli knew that this would be construed as an attempt by his government to stifle dissent.

The latest police reports, just arriving from the various local departments, were predicting large crowds and demonstrations throughout the day, in all of Saamiland's large cities. Crowds of over 5,000 had already been reported in Muonaa and Salla, and well over outside the Saami Congress in downtown Aanaari, and these numbers were expected to grow. Other factories and mines were joining in the strike, particularly in Muonaa and Akontsjaava Province, and the Governor of Muonaa was predicting demonstrations of up to 40,000 in his province alone! A proposed march in Aanaari had been denied by the city Mayor's office, but the unions were planning to march anyways. The police forces were out in force, but were stretched thinly, particularly around Muonaa, where their attentions were still distracted by the unrelenting fires in Keattama.

The Saami President wondered how he could weather the storm suddenly raging across his country. Yesterday, he had advocated a middle stance - calling for an end to violence and illegality, but refusing to move forcibly against protesters. From his perspective, there was little else his government could do. He had no wish to move against the wealthy leaders of SKF Manufacturing or other private companies, but privately he sympathized with the striking workers. He would work to protect the property and rights of Saami industrialists, but he could not go farther - to force a resolution to the situation - without being ridiculed by his opponents in the Congress. At the same time, to refuse to intercede on behalf of the workers would threaten his party's standing with other parties in his weak left-of-center coalition members in Congress.

So there was not much else to be done, at least on behalf of the Saami upper leadership. The provincial police forces were out in force, working double shifts as they struggled to restrain the growing crowds. In Muonaa, some 500 military reservists had been mobilized to assist with the firefighting efforts, and over 800 more regulars were headed for Muonaa from the Saami-Boganhem border - ostensably to assist with firefighting and disaster relief at Keattama, but now redirected to Muonaa to support the local police. The President hoped that this would be a sufficient show of force in Muonaa to restrain further demonstrations in the area, but as he leafed through the latest reports it seemed few people in Muonaa itself shared this optimism...

Saami Congress
Downtown Aanaari, Saamiland
12.20, 4 July, 1953

The Saami Congress had been locked in debate since early morning. As most legislatures do, the Saami Congress had lagged behind the public debate over the ongoing strikes across the nation. A motion for the Saami Congress to intervene and rule decisively on the ongoing debate over wages and working conditions on the morning on the 4th. The sides were tightly drawn from the beginning. The proposed legislation had been drafted by a junior member of Saapmi Dimokraatesi, the second-largest coalition member in President Ooli's government. This was vehemently opposed, in principle, by the leading opposition party, Ruosaapmiin (the Saami Homeland Party). Quickly, a partisan debate over the measure developed, with the opposition quickly rallying against an uncoordinated and poorly-timed motion by the ruling coalition. Rallying around Opposition Whip and Ruosaapmiin leader Mihka Juvvalu, and his impromptu slogan, "No to domestic terror!" the initial proposal was squashed, with all of coalition-member Ristalas Semokraahtta and the right-wing of President Ooli's own Vuoigaatvuđ abstaining or voting against the measure.

Capitalizing on the apparent confusion within his opponent's ranks, a simple and direct counter-proposal was called for by Juvvalu's aides, and was put before the Congress shortly before noon. The Saami Government must move to curb further demonstrations and strike, it read, to end the illegal seizure of private property by striking workers and to end what it called, "Communist and Anti-Democratic agitation." The measure was vehemently opposed by the core of Ooli's governing coalition, including First Minister Kaarl Aagensberg (the leader of Saapmi Dimokraatesi and nominal head-of-state, although in truth little more than a Congressional whip), who considered the matter important enough to cast his 118th vote against the measure - normally reserved for tie-breaking on important budget proposals. But this was not enough to sway enough members of the unwieldy Vuoigaatvuđ-led coalition, and within half an hour, debate had been squashed and the measure moved to vote. With 70 for, 33 against, 11 abstaining, and 4 Congressmen not present, the measure was forced through in under two hours.

Outside, there was real cause for concern by the 117 Saami Congress-men and women cloistered inside the old Congress building. Shortly before noon, some 2,000 marchers from the outskirts of Aanaari had arrived in the large square outside, bringing the crowd of protesters to over 7,000 in central Aanaari alone. While the situation was well under control by local police units, generally larger and better trained than their provincial counterparts, their chanting could be heard by the Congressmen inside, casting a feeling of deep worry over the congress during the critical vote. The cries and chants could be heard inside, but only as a growing clamor, and many representatives feared the angry voices might be calling for their heads.

Aado Processing Facility,
Outskirts of Muonaa, Saamiland
06.45, 5 July 1953

Yesterday's vote had done nothing to alleviate the growing tensions in Muonaa Province. Under pressure by the legislature, the provincial governors had suspended all leave for its police officers, and troopers were now on call 24/7 throughout the country. The national government had also summoned several hundred regular army soldiers from local military barracks to perform police work in the major cities - Aanaari, Muonaa, Salla, Akontsjaava, and Eanodaat - but even this new show of force failed to quell the protests. On the third, over 70,000 had demonstrated across the country. On the 4th, that number had risen to over 95,000, mostly concentrated in the cities and larger towns. Today, despite the arriving regular troops, looking fierce with their long rifles and green-brown summer fatigues, hadn't discouraged the strikers.

To be fair, most of these soldiers had only arrived overnight, and were at any rate under orders to protect important public buildings. The real task of dealing with the series of demonstrations and marches had been left to the local and provincial police forces. Under tremendous strain, these men had held the crowds at bay for the last few days, generally exercising restraint. Between the 3rd and 4th, arrests had only numbered in the low hundreds. But today, under political pressure, these tactics were about to change.

Someone in the Ministry of the Interior had decided that the best course of action would be for police to move forcefully to arrest the leaders of the strikes, and to force the workers out of the 13 facilities they had thus far occupied. This goal was well in line with the Saami Congress's most recent resolution, but was considered ludicrous by most police captains in the field. They were acutely aware of the numbers of striking workers, and of their own tired and overstretched manpower. To provoke a confrontation, especially in Muonaa where demonstrations were at their fiercest, seemed crazy. But so was waiting, while the strikes gathered more power, argued their political leaders. So, with some reluctance, the Saami police agencies prepared for a series of operations they were, on the whole, untrained and unprepared for.

The largest such operation would take place at the Aado Processing Facility, outside Muonaa city. The police estimated the number of workers occupying the facility at over 900, but to force them out the local police forces could only muster some 250 men. These had tightened the perimeter around the industrial plant over the past day, preventing food, medical supplies, and new men from filtering in along the facility's long fence line. Overnight, newly-emplaced police searchlights had blazed relentlessly through the windows, hopefully disrupting the striking union-men's sleep during the few hours of near-darkness. Now, in the early hours of the morning, sun already high in the sky, the Muonaa Provincial Police would make their attempt of enter the facility and restore order. The would be supported by a newly arrived company of soldiers from the Saami Army. All units were under strict orders to refrain from using deadly force, but to move in and force the protesters out using tear gas and, if necessary billy clubs.

Around 06.40, the police moved against the outer fence of the Keattama facility. In two roughly-equal groups, some 160 police officers moved in two large columns against the main gate, situated in the center of the southern fence, and against the south-eastern corner of the fence line. Each throng of police was spearheaded by a 30-man platoon of soldiers, wearing gas masks and carrying police batons in the place of their rifles. As the men approached the fence, they hurled dozens of CS grenades, filling the facility's main yard and surrounding environs in a dense, choking fog.

With their gas masks, the 60 soldiers advanced into the cloud. At the main gate, they clamored past the idle trucks and tractors which had been parked to block their way, while a police crew in a requisitioned bulldozer forced several holes in the surrounding fence line. The police officers following them hesitated, however, their men unwilling to press on until the gas dissipated. In the dense fog, the soldiers moved forward, unaware their support was lagging behind. The few score of workers in the yard and the outskirts of the facility fell back, shouting the alarm. Within minutes, crowds of workers emerged from the central buildings, covering their faces in wet rags and brandishing their tools.

The lack of visibility caused by the tear gas led to considerable confusion on both sides. The Saami Army regulars advanced without support, quickly crossing the yard and moving into the outbuildings, while throngs of fearful and incised workers clustered around the doors of their sheltering buildings, ready to defend themselves. It was a combination with terrible consequences. Without police support, the soldiers rushed into two of the outlying warehouses, coming face-to-face with surprised workers, many just waking or going about their morning routines. With fearsome masked men suddenly among them, the workers fought back with surprising force. In their terror, men seized wrenches and shovels and fought back viciously. In the first minute, several men were injured, and a bloody brawl started around the entrance to one building, where around 20 Saami soldiers had surprised a group of over 100 unsuspecting workers. Policemen began to filter through the diminishing haze, and these late arrivals suddenly found themselves in what seemed to be a life-or-death fight. In their fear, some drew their sidearms, which they had conveniently forgotten to surrender before the operation. Shots were fired. Chaos ensued. In the end, the outnumbered government troops were forced to beat a retreat back to the perimeter. Four soldiers and one policemen were left dead, and at least 20 others injured, as well as scores of striking laborers.

Presidential Residence
Aanaari, Saamiland
07.00, 6 July 1953

Disaster! Unmitigated disaster! President Ooli cursed his luck as he scanned the headlines. Yesterday had been a terrible debacle for his government. His faction had been caught divided and off guard by the vote on the 4th, a fact he blamed squarely on First Minister Aagensberg. He had never renominated the fool after January. The mess the man had made of last year's healthcare debate should have been warning enough. But it had been the only way to secure the Social Democrat's 15 votes, and thus preserve his government's tenuous coalition in the Congress. Now the fool had allowed his opponents to force him into an impossible position. Despite the great powers vested in him as President, Ooli had no veto power over the legislature in this case, and as Chief Executive he was duty bound to follow the decrees of the legislature. If he acted, he would destroy his reputation with the people and with many supporters in the Saami Congress. If he refused to execute the legislature's decree, the opposition would surely move against him in the courts and critically damage the reputation of his government and party.

But the President was a defender of the law. He was bound by his own personal ethic to uphold the law. And the law, he knew, rested with the Saami people, and with their chosen representatives - no matter how foolhardy those representatives may seem. So, in the early hour of the 5th, he had reluctantly signed the orders authorizing the Ministry of the Interior to oversee a joint effort by police and military forces, to quell the demonstrations. With his signature, he knew the success or failure of the operation would be credited directly to him. He was taking a great political risk, but there was no other choice. With the same feelings of resignation, he had also authorized the deployment of yet more Saami military personnel to the capital and Muonaa city, and again he knew that this provocative action could and would be used against him by his opponents on both the right and left.

Now, as he read about the results of yesterday's police raids, he found little in the way of consolation. The series of coordinated operations had not been a total failure. Several hundred known agitators and organizers had been successfully arrested, mostly on minor charges of disturbing the police, and various clauses against public incitement of violence. Most couldn't be held for long, but the governors of all but Muonaa and Salla provinces were hopeful that this would disrupt demonstrations, at least for the next few days. That was the biggest bit of good news he heard this morning. Yesterday had seen well over 110,000 people take to the streets. The demonstrations were no longer limited to Coal and Steel Union members, but had encompassed a wide range left-wing political and social organizations. A march by the Saami Feminist League was even planned for Aanaari this afternoon. The police needed all the breathing room they could get.

The other side of the police operations had gone terribly. The Minister of the Interior, under pressure from Congress and industry groups, had rushed in moving against the workers occupying 13 factories and mines in Muonaa, Akontsjaava, and Salla Provinces. In the early morning of the 5th of July, government forces had moved to retake the six largest of these facilities. They had clearly underestimated the resistance they would encounter, and had only managed to retake two facilities outside Akontsjaava. There, dozens had still been injured, although thankfully no one had been killed. The four botched attempts could not say the same. Over 50 police and soldiers had been injured in the attempt, as well as hundreds of workers - if the newspapers were to be believed - and the death toll now stood at 19. Police had actually shot into the crowds in Keattama, where the violence had been the worst, and the headlines were filled with grim words like, "Massacre," and "Slaughter."

News of these deaths had haunted the Saami leader the last sleepless night. He was becoming increasingly agitated as he felt his control slipping away. And to make matters worse, his job's long hours and his wife's seemingly-amazing to sleep despite the stress had left the President feeling more and more isolated from even his closest confidant. No wonder he couldn't find sleep. To President Ooli, it felt as though something would have to give soon, and it may very well be his career or his sanity.

 

[Transabina]

Presidential Residence
Aanaari, Saamiland
20.45, 7 July 1953

President Ooli leaned back in his seat and rubbed his tired eyes, trying to clear his mind. His work gave him all too few opportunities to lay down the burdens of the Presidency and to simply be a father. This evening had been one of these rare reprieves from his public life, an opportunity to have a simple meal with his family. He had seen the children all too little over the last eight years of his Presidency. The job was demanding, even in the best of times, and Isku Ooli was a man with a stubborn dedication to his work. It had been hard on him - in many ways the worst part of his career's success - and especially on his younger wife Kirste. The children had been young when he had taken office in 1945 - Ruigi just six and a half. They had grown up with an excellent education, the best medical care in the country, all the perks of his position. But they had paid a price for these comforts; their father had grown distant and unapproachable. More and more, they had become wards of just their mother, and this had become a point of contention for the couple.

But right now, all of this was forgotten by the family. They were together again, if just for the evening. The dinner had been exceptional, and well tailored to the family's tastes by the experienced presidential chef, with plenty of mashed lingonberry and brown sugar with the renskav - a particular favorite of young Ruigi. The family's chatter had been pleasant, lighthearted talk with the children. Ruigi had taken up football in his free time, and spoke enthusiastically about his school's performance this season, while the elder twins had gossiped excitedly among themselves. After dinner, the family had sat together, reading or talking among themselves while the gramophone played a Gealbu Hargsdi album, on of Juljaa's favorites. Kirste was reading in the chair next to him. The children were on the floor, close to the gramophone, Juljaa and Manaa close together, whispering, while Ruigi dozed near the room's blazing wood stove. The music and the heat of the fire cast a drowsy glow over the room. President Ooli let his eyes close, stretching his legs out with a sigh...

... He awoke with a start 40 minutes later. The room was suddenly empty. Shaking his head, President Ooli peered at the clock. At that moment, the heavy wooden door behind him creaked open. Kirste's arms embraced him from over the back of his seat, her long dark hair cascading over his face as she leaned in to kiss him behind his ear. He murmured and turned in his seat, looking up at her smiling face.

"I didn't mean to wake you..."

"It's alright, you didn't." The President shook the remnants of sleep from his head. He felt surprisingly rested after his nap, and the warm glow in the room made him still feel relaxed. He wondered if he might just be able to sleep tonight. "Are the kids asleep?"

"Mmmhmm..." Kirste nodded, leaning in for a little kiss. "I was just going to bed myself..."

He nodded, a little groan, not wanting to get up but knowing he should. "Go ahead. I'll just be a moment."

Another brief kiss, and Kirste left, heading down the hall towards their private bedroom. The President rose, stretching out his arms and letting out a deep yawn. He walked slowly to the ornate iron stove, closing the flue on the dying coals before heading for the door and out into the hallway. The young guard on duty saluted, lifting his fist to his brow, answered by a cursory nod from President Ooli. Almost immediately, an aide stepped towards him, already waiting near the door. He handed the President a small stack of papers, neatly held together with a needle pressed twice through the upper right corner of the documents in typical Saami fashion. "Your nightly status report."

President Ooli stopped, leaning tiredly against the wall, halfway to the sanctuary of his bedroom. For a moment, he wavered, casting a glance at the door, behind which lay his bed and the possibility of a night's rest, but after a second's hesitation, the Saami leader looked down, intently examining the document. The situation in Saamiland was reaching a critical stage. On one hand, the numbers of demonstrators on the streets had fallen considerably since yesterday. The growing number of arrests seemed to be helping, disrupting the organizers of these demonstrations, and a new policy, adopted out of necessity by all seven provincial governors yesterday, which allowed unregistered demonstrations of less than 500 individuals to proceed without police interference in the provincial capitals had encouraged moderates in the union to limit protests and reduced the demands on local police forces. At the same time, these measures could have unintended consequences, warned his advisers.

Hundreds had been arrested over the last three days, including prominent members of the Coal and Steel Union, the Saami Communist Party, and the Workers and Peasant's Party. The private media was already criticizing some of these arrests, not to mention the terrible loss of life in police actions in Aado and other areas two days ago. The poor performance of the police had created a backlash against his government in the press and in Congress. A Congressional inquiry into the Aado police operation was already underway, and thee administration was under strong criticism even from its own left-wing coalition members. Now, the concern was that these parties would protest against the recent arrests of their members, and his advisers warned that even the Saami Deomcracy Party and Social Democrats would be turned against the Ooli administration if the arrests continued. Several dozen protests against these arrests had already been filed in the provincial courts, particularly by the Communist Party.

To make matters worse, the Saami opposition was continuing to raise hell on two issues. The Saami Homeland Party, the leading opposition group in the legislature, was pressing hard for more forceful action to suppress unrest in the cities, while also blaming the police failures and loss of life squarely on President Ooli and his supporters. At the same time, they were also continuing to criticize his government's energy policy, fueled by a recent article in the Sikandari press, publishing previously unreported information on the exact terms of the Sikandari oil deal he had personally refused. When analyzed by pundits and partisan economists, the new numbers seemed particularly damning, and he had been hailed as a fool on foreign policy and economics on the front page of yesterday's Utsjoki Herald.

The President frowned, flipping back and forth between pages, his brow furrowed in thought. By the time he looked up from the report. almost half an hour had passed. The President silently passed the papers back to his aid and thanked him. He turned towards his bedroom, but found his mind suddenly racing, that all too familiar tense alertness returning to his limbs. Maybe he wouldn't sleep tonight afterall.