i alwase check this thread when ever it has a new post in hopes of reading more of this amazing story. it is truly great. on a simi related note: when this gets out of beta these should be in a PDF as part of the download.
Sorry for the double post... -- 7 -- “I still think we should have gotten the yellow one” “Nonsense” The woman replied stroking the purring animal clutched tightly within her loving arms. “The black and white one needed us, can’t you tell?” The young man leaned low to gaze into the cats dancing blue eyes and puffy face. He would be a longhaired cat, the storeowner had explained, like the big Persians in the movies. Martin had tried to point out that Persian cats weren’t black and white but Sarah wouldn’t have it. It was her cat any way. What did he know? He was just her fiancé. “Well he does look kinda under fed” Sarah leaned around to smack the small man to her side. They had known one another all their lives, went to high school and collage together, even shared the same office. All their friends said it was only a matter of time until something “Clicked”. Now that it had she could think of nothing she was more thankful for. The wedding couldn’t come soon enough. “Oh common” Martin squeaked out between fits of laughter, his arms failing about in a mock attempt to block her. “I was only kidding.” Battling back and forth the two young lovers playfully exchanged slaps and smiles, their lively eyes expressing every bit of the love they shared. The woes of the world hadn’t reached them here, hadn’t so much as touched the city if Pandria. Sure, they watched the news about the war but they were far from the lines and besides, what did it matter? They had each other, they had a future and now they had a cat. All was well and right with the world. At least, that’s what their last living thoughts told them. The explosion shattered windows in a 6-block radius and could be heard 5 miles out, the insanely powerful force of war tearing a wide swatch through the peaceful downtown streets. In a flash the bus was gone followed promptly by 2 near by brick structures, which, constructed nearly half a century earlier, could not withstand the fiery blast. It was probably over kill the policemen thought as he poked his head over a pre-selected hiding place. A device 10 times as small would have destroyed the bus, killing all aboard. But that, of course, wouldn’t create the desired effect, incite the cries and outrage that had been requested. Besides, Jekotians weren’t subtle in their work and if the investigators, indeed the populace where to believe this had been a hate crime certain measures had to be taken. The evidence of Northern Faction involvement would be unmistakable to say the least; the body of a Factional soldier caught in the blast, Jekotian propaganda and even additional bombs and tourist locations. He had been preparing the spot for almost a week, observing the traffic, measuring the distances, calculating the effects. Still, Michel sighed. It would all be very neat and proper, more than enough evidence, enough material to convict and enrage the populace as a whole. That wasn’t it. It was them . Dozens of innocent civilians carelessly going about their lives in peaceful bliss had just been snubbed out, torn from the land of the living and plunged into a world which they could do nothing about. the ends justify the means He had heard it a million times over, it was the only way they could explain all that was done, all that was inflicted in the name of peace. Yet somehow, as flames devoured storefronts and illuminated the brisk, clear night air, they seamed hollow, cynical and cold. Was it really worth it? Michel thought as he emerged from behind the conceit pillar and straitened his freshly pressed policeman’s uniform. these people had nothing to do with anything…now their gone… Sirens intruded on his thoughts, interrupting his journey towards his nearby squad car. The attack had, thanks to efforts by Northern double agents over the past few weeks, been an expected one, pointing towards millions of resurgent Jekotian citizens as the root of all evil. The plan had worked…flawlessly. “It’s not over yet” His words where heavy and laced with sorrow. The destruction of the historic city block had not been his first nor the dozens killed. 6 years in the service made sure death was a traveling partner and pain was a friend. It was just that lately he had begun to question the sanity of it all…whether or not it was really worth it. Michel shook his head, rubbed his dirtied face- he had to look, after all, like he’d been near an explosion- and began waving at the first fire engine barreling down the road. He had a long night ahead of him.
Ok guys, this isnt my best work and its a bit long so please forgive me. --8-- Thick clouds of smoke and ash seemed to rain down bits of earth, steel and flesh as fire leapt up from fresh craters scattered around the battered defensive line. What had begun as a sunny, cloudless day had been quickly enveloped within an ever expanding fog of war and death. Tattered remains of the once peaceful meadow now blanketed smoldering craters, flaming chunks of steel and concrete barriers, even the dead lie secure within layers of rich dark soil and root entangled grass. The air itself seemed to buzz and spit rays of angry lead in every direction as the Northern Faction columns inched their way forward, bobbing in and out of artillery formed hills and craters. Sound had little meaning within this man made manifestation of hell. Men deprived of limbs screaming for aid, steel bursting from fires within, concrete crumbling against countless impacts from projectiles of every sort, hell surly could not compile a more deafening, more hectic nor terrible commotion. Borodin sat crouched behind a steel girder, his gloved hands keeping a helmet firmly atop his head, the strap having been lost hours earlier amidst hand to hand combat. Despite the myriad of sounds competing for the Lt. Commander’s attention he heard only the steady rhythmic thump of his heart, the slow rush of air into his lungs, the measured flow of the same out into the dusty air a moment later. Behind closed eyes images of a home 3,000 miles away filled the darkness, lost friends and distant family inhabiting each comforting vista. Beyond the large houses of the upper class suburbs dwelt a darker but ever present awareness of the young man’s situation and environment. An entire squad securing the left flank had been annihilated and in turn allowed the current flood of Jekotian assailants within firing range. A last minute regrouping had proved futile and Borodin now found himself on the verge of being overrun. His first assignment had been less than ideal. Commander Pewter’s unit, in which Borodin had the misfortune of serving, had been deployed immediately as a stop gap to the expanding Factional forces in the south while a more developed Imperial force was readied. Expected to be little more than a speed bump for the charging Northern forces, Pewter’s men had been clamored together and inserted via airdrop without heavy armor support. Not wishing to become one of the “honored dead,” Pewter attempted to lead his assailants on a chase into the more easily defendable valleys but soon found them unwilling to play games. Eventually a lack of time and space had driven the small detachment to plant itself between the deploying Imperial forces and their would be assassins. That had been two weeks ago. The dark reality that existed beyond the safe confines of home startled Borodin with its sudden stillness. Rather than being showered with pieces of his disintegrating shelter the young officer opened his eyes to find that, although the roar of war still raged else ware, the constant hail of machine gun fire had ceased. Borodin knew what came next. “Shit” He muttered as he leapt across the cluttered pillbox in an effort to find a radio. “Report!” He bellowed to no one in particular as he shuffled debris around hoping to unearth his desired treasure. The replies were weak, but prompt. “Twelve dead,” the newly promoted Sergeant explained while searching through the rubble for treasure of his own. “16 wounded five serious.” “4rth Legion” Borodin said having found the battered long range radio and seeming to ignore the information he had a moment ago requested. “This is firebase echo. We are being over run, repeat, over-" his words trailed off as bullets leapt from the sergeant’s gun on their way into an approaching Northern Faction soldier. His act of defiance was met by a withering volley from beyond the confines of the pot marked bunker. “Request immediate redirect of artillery,” Borodin continued as his shelter once again began to come apart around him. “Priority 2. My coordinates. Fire for effect!” A pause. “Lt. Commander” a static bathed voice finally responded, “please confirm, fire on your location?” But Borodin had since discarded the small box, its usefulness in his current situation at an end. Finding a Imperial assault rifle more suitable to the task at hand Borodin unleashed a few rounds into a foreign face that had appeared in the forward view port. The faces look of shock and terror erupted into a shower of blood and bone just before falling out of sight. Borodin, however, had already turned his attention to a similar face, this time connected to a uniformed body, that had rounded the corner and now rushed through the door way, its own weapon spitting fire as it came. Finding his weapon empty after another two rounds the young officer leapt at the man, swinging the composite stock of his rifle in a wide arch to gain speed and force. Caught unaware, he had obviously been concentrating on something else in the room, the soldier received both shots followed by the blunt club, the latter buckling his knees and sending his towering frame to the floor. In a sadly familiar fashion the earth began to tremble under the impact of dozens of steel projectiles each flung from nearly two miles away. Realizing his order had been executed, Borodin dove into an unoccupied corner, his now free hands pulling his latest victim atop him for added cover. All around the tiny fortification explosions assaulted anything unlucky enough to be nearby. Brilliant plumes of fire and earth erupted from formerly sound earth, the force from which vaporizing or dismembering man and machine. Amidst this latest onslaught of death from above Borodin noticed a warm sensation beginning on his chest and gently running down his side. Chancing a glimpse he realized he was saturated with blood and, more importantly, it wasn’t his. With mild embarrassment the officer discovered that in the confusion he had neglected to ensure his human shield was, in fact, dead. Slowly he released the leather chest plate that held the man in place and grasped instead the unshaven, long haired head that hung loosely just above it. Now more attentive Borodin noticed a slow, raspy breath entering and exiting a mouth soupy with blood and spit. For a moment he reflected on how similar this man’s breathing was in relation to his own and wondered if he too was chasing images of his home, his family and friends. Setting this aside Borodin jerked his arms in opposite directions, fracturing the older man’s vertebrae and severing the spinal cord causing instant death. Content with the now still figure he once again positioned the fleshy shield in such a way as to protect the most vital parts of his body. The grown of shattered steel amidst explosions of fire and death lasted for another 30 seconds before finally ending in silence, or as close as was possible upon a battlefield. Tossing the still warm body from his side, Borodin quickly gathered his gear and reloaded his weapon. “All squads, rendezvous 100 yards east of bunker 611B. Jeremy, Pop the weasel” Leaning down to collect the longer range radio he had discarded earlier he heard his own words coming across an active com unit to his rear. Turning in confusion, Imperial squad communicators relayed information via ear piece, he found the newly promoted Sergeant slumped against the far wall; his midsection severed allowing any number of fleshy bits to spill forth. Taking a moment to return the earpiece to its former owner’s ear, Borodin gently brushed his hand over his comrade’s empty eyes, bringing the eyelids to a close. “Victory and Glory, my friend” He whispered, reciting a portion of the Imperial Legionary’s creed, “Victory and Glory…” Outside the Lt. Commander met with his subordinates, each in varied states of disrepair, and proceeded to quickly, yet cautiously, weave their way in and out of the smoldering craters on their way to the rendezvous. Nearly a minute passed before, with relief, the small party found a much larger crater rung by steel beams bent wildly in all directions, the result of an Imperial bunker who had too long enjoyed the company of a Northern Faction 2000 pound aerial bomb. The rebels have their aircraft in play Borodin thought with distain as a single Brenodi soldier hurried to catch up with his comrades, Where the hell are our fighters?
Not willing to dwell on matters that he could do nothing about the Lt. Commander instead set up his remaining men in a defensive circle, arranged proper distribution of ammunition and connected those who needed immediate medical attention with those who were able to give it. His artillery call had forced the Jekotians to withdraw for the moment but the gain was temporary and had cost his men dearly. Out of the 27 soldiers across three squads only these battered eleven remained. Ten if you didn’t count- “That’s a bit of a jog” Borodin addressed the man who had just spilled over the edge of the crater with out looking up, his hands, and attention, directed to what would have to pass as a bandage being placed on a badly wounded Corporal. “Did you have any problems?” The man shook his head as he discarded his mangled helmet in favor of a mangled canteen. “No Sir, the det packs had been placed in position hours ago.” The man paused to draw a few gulps of stale water before continuing. “I only had to rig the sequence and key in the right frequencies.” Content with the reduced flow of blood seeping from his patients wound, Borodin nodded in appreciation to the man and exchanged the now empty med kit, all of his engineers had long since died in the line of duty, for a long range field radio. “Thank you Jeremy,” He offered as he dialed in the desired frequency, “I believe the boys have cleared a place for your mortar near the back.” An unspoken demand for silence suddenly befell the unfortunate band of brothers as figures appeared once more near the now abandoned pill boxes. Slowly the figures bobbed in and out of the numerous craters that radiated out from battered concrete epicenters, their shapes denoted by an occasional shaft of light emanating from what appeared to be a weapon. The reflection from the rifle’s scope faded from view as the soldiers slid to a halt, their entire bodies becoming opaque revealing what lied beyond them. Scouts Borodin knew it wouldn’t be long. “4rth Legion” He whispered leaning over the small box, “Fire base Echo. I need priority 5 artillery on pre-“ “Borodin?” A voice from within the box asked, interrupting the Lt. Commander. “I’m glad to hear your not-“ “Shut the hell up and listen” He spat in response, adrenalin, hunger, fatigue and a bit of fear squeezing emotion form his words. “I need priority 5 artillery on previously established coordinates. On my mark only. Fire for effect.” A pause. “Confirmed, battery awaiting your command” The young officer lowered the receiver as he peered over the makeshift fortification. He knew the voice within the box belonged to a friend of his from the Academy who lacked Borodin’s political connections and thus held a lower rank. The man was, nevertheless, a skilled and accomplished soldier and even surpassed Borodin in hand to hand combat and weaponry. He would have to make a point to smooth things out after this was over. A few dozen yards behind the now still, and thus invisible, scouts dozens of other figures began to emerge, again disappearing momentarily within tiny canyons of dirt before reemerging a few yards closer. Unlike their processors, these figures boasted varied shapes and sizes with weapons ranging from the nearly indistinguishable to the large and unruly. The Lt. Commander remained motionless as he counted the two dozen or so soldiers approaching his former position, making a note of each class, its composition, their formations and apparent moral. How quickly did they move? Where they alert? Where they well fed and groomed? Anything could be a potential advantage in the days and weeks to come Borodin would take all he could get. “Standby” He whispered into the still present receiver. Silently he calculated the amount of time it would take for a shell to leave its home a mile or two to his rear, reach the apex of its trajectory and finally end its life as a new crater before his eyes. To this he added the current speed of his prey along with the response time of the artillery officers, the 4rth Legions being excellent even by Imperial standards. After what seemed an eternity of watching a hoard of enemy soldiers creep ever so cautiously into their impending doom, the group at last formed groups around two of the remaining bunkers, no doubt intending to utilize them in some coming offensive. Content with their position Borodin gave the order. Another moment passed as distant cannons ejected five rounds amidst plumes of scarlet flame. Hearing the whistle of incoming steel rain the Northern soldiers dove into their newly acquired shelters, each no doubt greatly relived to have been in such close proximity to sturdy places of refuge within an otherwise open, and thus artillery friendly, field. Half a heart beat passed before the whistle of falling shells exploded into thunderous reports of Imperial accuracy and power. Although far fewer in number than the barrage that had rescued Borodin’s men earlier, these shells none the less evicted large portions of earth, flinging them high in the air before gravity once again pulled them down. As the dust and dirt began to settle one could see that only two of the shells targets now lay dead or dying in the new craters, the others having darted fortuitously into the nearby fortifications. Borodin smiled as he removed the transmitter from his pocket, pleased to see his plan playing out in reality as it had so well in his mind. In the time it took to depress an electronic trigger a series of high yield demolitions packs, placed strategically within each remaining bunker, unleashed their destructive power in unison. Twenty-two soldiers of the former Jekotian Empire vaporized within a flash of blinding light and searing flame. Borodin took a deep breath, letting the vibrations from the deafening roar shake loose some of the stiffness sleep deprivation had inflicted upon him. Replacements for his battered men would soon arrive from 4th Legion along with engineers to repair the barely standing pillboxes that would once again be his home. Letting the breath out in a weary sigh Borodin turned to his relived but equally exhausted men. “Alright fellas, back into the bunkers…”
What? No one read it? By the way, Borodin is serving in Commander Snyder's unit, not Pewter, I didnt realise the mistake untill just now.
Softly the gentle sways and dips of classical notes hundreds of years old filled and caressed the eloquent meeting hall; the hushed muffle of men and women heading for their seats drowning beneath each wordless rhythm and beat. Scoplin would have been proud, would have beamed to see his piece played in such a manner and in such a setting so long after its conception and even his death. Greatness, however, was timeless as the music and its newest setting proved. The immense walls that now refracted the priceless sonnet where nowhere near as old but where, debatably, just as great. Composed mainly of imported marble, priceless metals, woods and tapestries the meeting hall rose up and around in the kind of unrestrained splendor not gazed upon since the Global Emperors, yet even they would have had to stop and gasp at the beauty and power the place emanated. Stretching out for several hundred yards the Imperial Senate meeting hall boasted dozens of marble columns topped with etched gold and carved fittings. Hand woven fabrics depicting scenes from through out the history of the Brenodi people hung from ceiling to white marble floor; their length reaching 50 feet or more in many places. Overhead, dangling beneath paintings of stars and the heavens large enough to cover a football field, circular chandeliers, 20 feet in diameter, bathed all below in a soft, soothing, golden light. On the floor- also decorated with etched stone- rare mahogany, cherry and Oak formed the required 600 chairs, benches, tables and desks that enabled 500 men and women to form laws, debate issues and forge the path an entire planet would take. Every inch was designed to breed elegance, illustrate power and instill incredible awe. A task which the architects had completed flawlessly. “Good evening Sir” The tall, gray haired senator laughed and shook his counterparts worn hand. His mouth stretched into a wide, genuine smile, revealing dozens of pristine white teeth made smooth by decades of use. Broad shoulders supported well-built, yet loose arms which matched perfectly the remainder of the former soldier’s stocky frame. His eyes struck out with a piercing blue/gray stare that seamed to defuse tense situations and instill trust and loyalty. If the entire culture and history of the Brenodi peoples could be rolled and embodied into a single man it would be the retried Master Sergeant Terin A. Burrows. “Call me Terin,” The Senator demanded light heartily, “All my friends do.” “And who would those be?” Letting out a hearty chuckle the old veteran firmly grasped the newcomer’s hand. “You have a point John, but you know me, never willing to let the new guys float around unattended.” John Higgins returned the friendly smile and laugh; “More like you want them on your side…” Terin nodded, “Got me again, you know me all to well.” The youngest of the trio simply looked on in amazement, staring with confusion and bewilderment. At a baby-like 28, Montgomery Wilkins was the newest of the massive congressional delegation chosen to lead the sprawling Empire. He had missed prior sessions due to an illness and was finding his first experience with fellow lawmakers overwhelming to say the least. “Just remember to watch out for this guy,” John went on, continuing the muse, “He’ll rob you blind-“ “Oh John,” Terin interrupted, seeing the young man’s uncertain face. “Your gona scare the poor boy to death. This is his first day.” Senator Higgins burst once more into friendly laughs, “All the more reason to warn him,” he said walking off, “All the more reason…” Terin shook his head and turned once more to his confused colleague. “Don’t mind us; we’re old, sour goats with nothing better to do than torture squirts like you.” Montgomery stumbled forward as his elder slapped him hard on the shoulder, “Common Monty, we have laws to make.” Together the two men wandered through out the gargantuan meeting place, shaking hands and making friends (Or at least the political equivalent). After residing on the Imperial senate for nearly three decades, Terin Burrows had made many friends and few enemies and decided to introduce them all to his newest acquaintance. Hours passed by filled with big smiles and bad jokes, the joyful soldier reveling in his self assumed task of breaking in the new recruits. Finally, as all good things do, the foray ended and the mass of people took their respective seats; junior members towards the back, veterans at the front. It might not have been the most sensible arrangement but it worked. Slowly silence fell over the cavernous main chamber as the first of a string of speakers made his way to the lavishly adorned podium, a small package of notes in hand. Reaching his sought after position the older man stretched his arms and arranged the pad before him. For effect another moment of wordless quiet passed before Terin began. “Good morning gentlemen and ladies,” Burrows said, confidence in his voice, command projecting his presence. “At least, I think its still morning,” Thunderous roars of political laughing filled the room. It wasn’t that the words where really that amusing, on the contrary it was the kind of joke used so often by their kind as to elect a kind of despair. It was, instead, the man who spoke them. Few disliked such a generous, hearty soul. In fact he was among the most liked, influential members the Brenodi had to offer. “My topic today however,” He went on as the noise died down, “is of a much more serious nature.” Silence once again gripped the chamber, only the tiny ruffles of papers or occasional cough attempted to release its steely grip. They knew the subject on which he was to speak. “As many of you know attacks have been launched against residential districts of peace loving Brenodi cities by elements of the rebellious Jekotian rabble.” A pause. The string of bombings over the past couple weeks seemed uncharacteristic of the Northern Faction but aside from rumors passed by former colleges still in the service he had nothing to go on and with the public growing more fearful speculation simply wasn’t enough. Granted, due to his popularity, Terin was hard to remove but it could be done. He hadn’t gotten this far by acting stupid. “These terrorist acts,” He went on, “threaten to, if they go on unchecked, unravel every thread of progress made over the past 40 years. These unhappy few are not true to the honored foes I my self fought in the last ‘Great War.’ They are pathetic examples of a disillusioned group of dissenters determined to pervert our goals for peace and civilization in the lands of our former enemies. We are at war not only to put down an illegal uprising but for the sake of our children and theirs. Just as the Global Empire before us subjugated uncivilized tribes for their own good, so too must we in our benevolence—“ A fiery shot of lead tore through the speaker’s shoulder a split second ahead of its thunderous report. Immediately a misty shower of blood and bone plastered the leader of the assembly sitting just to the rear, the sharp fragments tearing holes in his flesh. Twisting around from the impact, Terin fell to the floor, his nearly severed arm bending back into a shattered mess on his blood soaked back. In the blink of an eye the formally quiet hall erupted into blind panic. Screams and shouts filled the air and drowned out any call for sanity and reason. Nearly 1000 feet and hands quickly toppled desks and chairs, covering the floor and impairing frightened senators hastily trying to escape a terror unknown. The scene was, in every sense of the word, complete and total chaos. Michel smiled and closed the lens cap of his steaming rifle. From his vantage point high in the cathedral like ceiling he could see it all, the tears, the shouts, the terrified faces searching for the source of this newest disaster. It wouldn’t take them long-- he noted, his smile growing larger—to discover the Northern Faction soldier to his right, incriminating rifle in hand. The resulting story would be played out over the nightly news. Rebel marksmen tries to assassinate popular senator. Commits suicide after shot fails to carry out its lethal intent. Taking a final look at the fear he had induced, Michel set the weapon in the body’s lifeless hand and crawled out of the long vent which had held him. A moment later he had secured the duct and began to straiten his pressed Imperial Guard uniform. He would, as an Imperial pilot, have quite a night ahead of him; what with the senators scrambling for a safe harbor. Michel smirked, how little they all know
Maybe I should write a Northern Faction related story, such as the beginning of the 9th and history. Anyway, I read as most of the story as I could, nice job. :D Anyway, if enough people want me to write something I will, untill then I'm not going to bother.
Let me know how Im doing so I dont contenue old mistakes. --10-- The fiery talons of my rage consumed the helpless figure before them. Quivering under the weight of such raw emotion I flung aside my hefty rifle, now seeming too simple, to cowardly for the deed I knew had to be done. Crossing the space between us within two steps I leapt upon the thing that called its self a man, my hands providing a conduit through which my unrestrained blood lust could flow into his broken and battered body. Blow after blow I raised my arms and fists to mount renewed attacks, each more vicious than those before. All I could see was her face, her smiling, jubilant face, the sparkle she got in her eye when I made her laugh, the joyful smile that seemed to give life to all those near by. My fists slammed down again and again and again, the dull thud of padded flesh soon giving way to a wet mesh of blood and fabric, still I continued on. Her skin was softer than the finest Bourbon silk and bore the same chocolate milky hue that had always begged to be touched on her mother. A muffled squish soon began to accompany each impact with tiny geysers of blood and fleshy debris launching out from the gruesome craters forming within the man. I soon realized my open mouth was producing a wail of anger and pain broken only by the need to take in air and expel unholy mixtures of spit, snot and formally airborne blood flying up from below. Again and again and again my fists flew down, now themselves sliced and bleeding from too many times striking metal and now exposed bone. In tortured unison the muscles within my arm proclaimed their fatigue with waves of pain that radiated through my back and up my spine but I didn’t care, the pain was immaterial, almost nonexistent, a problem for someone else, for him, for her. She used to love the grass. The sea of deep green blades reaching out to the life giving heavens fascinated her and she would run barefoot for hours, laughing and giggling without a care in the world. She would always prance about, lifting her foot and placing it in a new, undisturbed patch of grass before cackling with joy over the sensation. It was just soup now, my fists found only garbled soup beneath them, mangled flesh that failed to satisfy their master’s fury. I began grabbing and tearing at the remains, what had been a man had surly died by then, wishing to eradicate them from existence, as if somehow this man had been responsible and his dismissal would make the world right itself. Yet my arms began to give out, over come by fatigue, exhaustion, poor sleep, no food, I don’t know and at the time I didn’t care. I just knew I would need to augment my failing strength if the task was to be completed. Wiping away bits of flesh and bone that had caked around my belt whilst my fists still bore strength I grabbed my knife. Oh how I longed for the hatchet of a scout but it had been months since I was anywhere near an armory and had only a simple field knife. I knew it would suffice. The jagged fountains of flesh and blood erupted once more as I repeatedly lashed the serrated steel up and down in a hacking motion that made more of a mess than it did further my goal. Had I retained my goggles perhaps my eyes would have remained clear of the muck that hindered them but my rage had discarded them sometime ago. One could not look on death through the protection of plastic and Kevlar. It had to be seen, it had to be felt, it had to be consumed and bathed in. How we were all fools, moving in and out dispensing life and death at the end of idiotic machines, fighting for men we didn’t know, dieing for an idea we had only heard about, sacrificing more than life, more than death. My blade went down once more but struck something and refused to return with my slippery hands. Breathing out chunks of what tasted like liquid iron I reached down to see what evil conspired to halt my mission. I remember laughing as my numb fingers wrapped around his backbone. It felt just like a Coronado Beast, like the ones I used to hunt, Maria loved the way I prepared them, so did little Karolina, she used to. My sick laughter began to fade into uncontrolled sobs as I attempted to dislodge the spinal column from the lower torso atop which I straddled. I pulled and pulled but it wouldn’t move; only swaying side to side jostling out the remnants of what had been in the ribcage above. “Let go you son ova BITCH!” but the slimy bones refused and even lashed out with anger of their own, slicing my rough chaliced hands with their fractured edges. “Damn you!” I remember crying, beginning to succumb to complete exhaustion, “Damn you you filthy mother f***in-sonova-bitc-!” My words began to melt together with the world around me. I was wet, from above it seemed, the rain had come but I couldn’t feel it. My head slowly dropped along with my shoulders and back. In one motion I lost all strength and fell to the side, landing with a sad splash in a watery puddle of remains. I rolled over to stare at the wispy grays of the weeping heavens. I could feel my heart turning to stone, cracking and exploding only to turn again to stone, over and over, the pain growing with each repetition. They killed her. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t this man, or this company or even in this area. It didn’t matter that it happened a month ago or that in the brutalities of war such things happened. No, they killed her, they killed her, They… My men said nothing. We had been in that hell for over two months, evading, moving, probing, making our way deeper and deeper into Imperial occupied land to find out what was going on, why they had stopped, why here, why now? Each discovery reported demanded more of us; each door opened revealing three more. The string of engineers, the drilling equipment, the heavy air traffic, the bulldozers, the explosions and now they find themselves trading blows with the Brenodi Sixth Infantry Division, the Senate’s very own elite guard. It was their radio equipment that let us send out reports this deep behind the lines. It was their equipment that let us get news from home, that let me get news from home. I coughed as the rain water began to impair my breathing. Instantly I regretted my life saving action as death must surly be a sweet relief from the tortured hell of this life. Amidst swirls of red and gray a dark figure entered my view. I blinked a few times vainly attempting to focus my drenched eyes but could only make out a vague shape of a head, of a face. I shook my head. “She’s gone” was all I could get out but the figure said nothing, only remained posed over my pathetic frame. As I look back on it I know the sight of me, their Sergeant, in such dire straights could not have encouraged my men, must have filled them with fear and robbed them of hope. But, a finer group of men and women I have never before nor since met, and if they looked down on me for my actions, they never spoke of it. The dark, helmitless head came a bit closer, nearly to the point of focus, before his attached hand found mine. I was still shaking, from the cold or the sorrow I can not say, but the rain had failed to remove all traces of my deed and blood still covered much of my body. Slowly he pried open my sliced hand and dropped something small, metallic and cold within before closing my fingers once more. “They killed her” I managed again as the face rose a bit. “I know” he said after another few moments, “They killed her…” Blinking away some of the fog that had enveloped my mind I brought my aching hand towards my head before lifting it up to see what had been deposited there. Slowly my fingers opened to reveal the silver insignia of the famed Brenodi Sixth Infantry Division, its polished shine diminished by its former owner’s blood and gore. “They… I whispered, my eyes examining every inch of the dirty metal. The head nodded in agreement, “Lets make them feel our pain sarge. Let’s make them see what they’ve done.” Another moment passed as his words sank in before my hand closed tightly around my new prize. I sat up with renewed strength, from where it came I can not say, and padded the soldier on his leg in thanks. I looked then to my battered brethren who had been through so much and received so little. They deserved more. “We have work to do.”
Thank you, I hadnt planned on writing that but I was in a very very bad mood and just started to write. Halfway through I decided to make it into a post for the story. Sorry your BSID was introduced by being bludgoned Thor, they'll be back.
--- 11 --- “That’s crazy” “What? How?” “He wouldn’t even stand a chance, no comparison what so ever.” “You’re mad! He would be more than enough; his speed alone would bring victory.” “How can he use his speed if time is frozen?” “Because” Samuel interjected as he strode into the room, his arms filled with data pads and charts, “Hikarta’s speed is so great that he moves faster than time.” The pair of engineers sat for a moment pondering their comrade’s point. Although graduates of prestigious science and technology centers for higher education the men often squabbled about the superiority of one fictional character, technology or event over another. Great Lizards verses Mammoth Birds, one alien against another or, as today, a couple of super heroes at odds. The arguments rarely concluded with either side admitting defeat and could drag on for hours if not properly interrupted as Samuel had done. “I think we can begin” he said a moment later, not wishing the conversation to start anew. The large, plain table grumbled with a half dozen of the most intelligent men and women in the Empire, each excelling in a different field of study. Together these men and women had pioneered countless breakthroughs in many different areas and with war again on the agenda, weapons designs. Samuel had been granted temporary leave to propose an idea he had been mulling over that required this particular group’s skill set to bring to life. It was as much his political connections as his above average intelligence that had convinced the administrator of the Theoretical Physics Department to allow even this limited presentation. “How’s your brother?” Asked one of the taller members as Samuel found resting places for his charts and pads. “I hear he’s won some medals or something” Samuel ignored the apparent disregard for his desire to begin the unnerving chance of a life time that he would soon find himself in the midst of in order speak for a moment of his beloved older brother. Few topics interested him more. “I received a letter from him a couple days ago.” He replied with pride, “The rebels have been cut off from the sea and are surrounded.” A pause, “shouldn’t be long before he can come home on leave.” “Actually” spoke up one of the female members, “I hear they are being supplied by air from the east and that the pocket is expanding to the south.” Samuel frowned as murmurs from the table began to rise. His brother had said as much in his letter but the Information Ministry predicted victory within the month. Borodin, while a great man, was still just a Lt. Commander and didn’t have access to all the information of the Ministry that published the news. Surly the power and might of a just Empire would shortly triumph over a band of soulless rebels. “Id be happy to answer any questions you may have about Borodin after my presentation” Samuel interjected after another few moments of discussion. “But let us now turn to the matter at hand.” The table again quieted down amidst nods and the chirp of data pads. Samuel took a moment to look each in the eye, those who were not looking elsewhere in apparent boredom, took a deep breath, and began. “As you know this department has recently discovered a break through in theoretical physics-“ “Hardly theoretical now, don’t you think?” Interrupted a fatter member of the team, chuckles following close behind. Samuel smiled half heartedly. This wasn’t going well. “Of course. You discovered a way to change the gravitational pull of atoms by bombarding them with Telsa waves. In this manor the perceived mass of an object can be altered in such a way as to manipulate the fabric of space/time.” The tall man, a physicist Samuel remembered, let out a disgusted sigh. “Yes thank you son, we’ve already developed a weapon from this, being deployed as we speak. What’s your point?” “I think,” he replied without intimidation, “that we can use this for something other than war.” The members became still, each now adopting a more interested, attentive posture. Loyal subjects of the Empire that they were each had volunteered to work on weapons of war but at heart they still longed for real science, discovery and development. War only served to destroy, they wanted to create. “What did you have in mind?” Samuel looked back and forth for a moment, surprised by his audience’s sudden interest in what he had to say. “Well,” he sputtered attempting to regain control, “we can travel in space.” A pause. “Far faster than the speed of light.” Several of the members suppressed the urge to laugh at the young, starry eyed dreamer who had obviously not given up on the fantasy of exploring the stars. With war a fact of life for much of recorded history there had been little official interest in the exploration of space. In fact the greatest advances in that field, a few satellites and a manned mission, had occurred in the decades since the Jokotian conquest. There was even debate about the value of such a program in the first place. What use are other planets and asteroids that take so long to travel to when this planet has all they need? Still, they intended to hear the boy out. “Go on” The tall one said, his own smile hovering just below the surface. Samuel obeyed. “If we can generate a sufficient gravitational field around a space craft then we can bend the fabric of space/time into a wave.” He hit a key activating the holographic projector hidden in the middle of the clean white table. Light and photons sprung forth and came together to paint a transparent, three dimensional schematic of what was being explained. Each major system and graph denoted with a different bright color. “This wave could then push a vessel far faster than light itself travels because the vessel is not actually moving but rather the space around it. Further more,” He went on tentatively, “the problem of time distortion, communications lag, energy requirements and mass/energy transmutation would all be solved since neither the craft nor anyone aboard are actually moving at all, just space around them.” Silence enveloped the formally fidgeting scientists and engineers. It could take years simply to discover the dimensions of the gravitational bubble needed for such a drive system not to mention dozens of other developments without the least of which Samuels plan would be only so much hot air. But, but if it could work, if they could surmount those difficulties, if they could achieve the impossible, then the dream of school boys everywhere would be realized. Men could finally explore, colonize and exploit the vast uninhabited emptiness of space. It was the kind of project the team had been waiting for. After another couple moments of thought filled silence the tall man, who must carry some manor of authority over his contemporaries, leaned forward, adopting a small, devilish grin. “Welcome aboard.”
