Stroke of State

"Damn, that's quite the operation they've got down there."
Resnik wasn't kidding. From the back of the Pelican dropship, even through the relatively thick tree cover, Lieutenant Aleksandyr Novak could see a mining facility that one could only describe as impressive given that it was, up until a few hours ago, a secret. At least six sizable buildings, several large trucks, and at least a dozen workers visible from the air. Even from almost a kilometre above, Novak could spot some of them looking up and pointing at the two dropships circling the site. 
He moved his hand to the communications device embedded in his helmet. "Actual, what's the ETA on the militia ground elements?"
"They're still about five minutes out, 2-1," came the response.
"Well, they had better hurry up. We've been spotted. Request permission to initiate direct contact."
A brief pause. "Permission granted, 2-1."
Novak turned to the eleven other grey-armoured Naval Infantry in the Pelican, giving a thumbs up.
"2-1 and 2-2, we are making personal contact. Direct airborne insertion. Pelicans, move to 15 metres above the surface."
A series of acknowledgements sounded off over the comms, and Novak felt the wind shift and the dropship lurch as it began to descend. He carefully brought himself to his feet, gesturing the crew chief over, and they began to prepare the Pelican's built-in rappel system. It was only a short minute before they were directly over the site's facilities and ready to deploy.
"Remember, boys and girls," Novak called out. "Keep your safeties on unless you take direct shots. This is an eviction notice, not a search and destroy." 
Practically, this notice wasn't necessary. This would be the third operation of its kind that he and his team have carried out in just the past two months, and they were well familiar with the rules of engagement by now. The other sites hadn't been this big, though. 
Novak nodded to Staršin Resnik, who took the lead, gesturing towards the deployed rappel. He quickly went forwards, grabbing the rope tightly and then sliding down to the surface. Amin followed, then Pavolvski, then Filipov. The whole team rappelled down to the surface from the Pelican, and Novak ushered out Vasilev before making the trip himself. 
Wind rushed past him as gravity brought him to the dirt. His team was already at work, wrangling workers together and slapping them with restraints. Most protested and a few ran but didn't get far before being tackled to the ground. The second Pelican's team headed by Chief Staršin Nikolaev hit the dirt nearby not long after Novak's.
"Resnik, keep an eye on them. Amin, Vasilev, with me."
The two nodded and fell in behind Novak as he approached the largest building in the cluster. Made from grimy steel and cheap windows, Novak had quickly marked it as the headquarters for this operation, a judgement made considering its size, the number of personnel who had fled into it, and the big sign marked "OFFICES" on the front. 
The trio of Thebans reached the main entrance of the building, a single large door that Novak saw had been hastily locked by one of the workers. He tried the handle briefly, then turned to Amin.
"Breach it."
The big Persian braced himself before putting his size 13 boot into the door, sending it swinging open and allowing Novak and Vasilev to quickly breach, patrol carbines ready. 
"Hands in the air! On your knees, now!"
The frightened workers quickly complied. Novak lowered his weapon and approached one.
"Who's in charge here?"
"Joanne. Blue coat. She-she's upstairs, sir," the man said, lowering his eyes.
"Amin, bring in a couple others and restrain this group. Vasilev, upstairs with me."
The two moved up the nearby stairs, reaching the second floor and finding its occupants in hiding underneath or near their desks. Both Thebans kept their weapons ready as Novak called for the boss to make herself known. A short woman stood up from behind a desk, hands raised. She scowled at Novak, and he gestured for her to approach him. Novak lowered his weapon slightly, somehow prompting the woman to lower her hands. He raised his weapon back to her and her arms followed.
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing? This is a civilian mining operation!" she yelled, furious.
"Are you armed?" Novak asked, in English.
"No, I am not. Answer my damn question!"
"This civilian mining operation is also an illegal mining operation being carried out by a foreign corporation in violation of the sovereignty of the Free State of Kadanga. You and your companions will be arrested and deported, and your assets on this world will be seized. You are required by Kadangan law to cooperate with this process and turn over all relevant information related to this operation to us."
"I will do no such thing!"
"Lady, you are not in a position to negotiate. You will cooperate or be imprisoned for violation of this sovereign nation's laws."
"A sovereign nation that is unrecognised and therefore has no auth-"
Novak slung his carbine, drawing his pistol and a set of wrist restraints. He approached the woman before she could finish her sentence, quickly binding her hands. Novak turned to Vasilev, gesturing for him to do the same to the others in the room, before returning his attention to the woman.
"Ma'am, direct me to your personal terminal. You had better pray that there haven't been any deletions on it since our arrival, unless you want to land a fat fine or a long stay in prison for denial of relevant information to legal authorities."
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