“IT BURNS,” screamed one of the militia’s number as burning shards of glass violently ripped through his armor, piercing the soft flesh underneath.
He toppled over and lay face down on the floor, blood seeping out of the holes in his already-red uniform. Moaning softly he rocked back and forth, as his mind was racked by memories and nightmares alike, until he was silenced by a second explosive that came bursting through the cracked window, spraying more glass down upon the groaning soldier.
Fire burst from all four windows of the upper floor, of the blackened building, as the two liquids contained within in the bomb met. With this explosion more of the militia met the same fate as the hapless soldier. Their burning remains littered the upper floor of the apartment building.
On the street below someone prepared another bomb but before it could be thrown into the building one of the militia sent hot lead through the supple skin of the mans chest, as blood came bursting out of his back. The man dropped to his knees and then toppled over, but was almost immediately sent flying in several different directions as he, and many more of the crowd were ripped violently apart by the bomb.
However, the celebration in the building did not last long as the soldier’s head exploded in a cloud of red. He toppled backwards away from the window, his head lying on a cushion of brains, his face distorted, yet still smiling.
Another soldier fell as he dove out the window, the entire third floor erupting with flames above him. He hit the ground before his scream reached the frenzied crowd below. His body was looted, and his corpse given no respect as it was jerked this way and that, his head lolling and eyes glazed over with death.
Things come full circle.
Those who had been brave enough to venture out to take his equipment were soon cut down as a grenade from a speeding vulture exploded right beside them, sending red hot metal into the corpses of the slain. More had this same fate written on their foreheads.
The vulture roared towards the crowd, grenades erupting in their midst, more and more the close it got. However, the shock from one of the detonated explosive behind it sent the bike spinning out of control and the rider was catapulted off into the midst of the crowd. He was not dead. The crowd beat upon him mercilessly with until his visor was broken, the back of his nose-bone smashed into his brain, and his skull cracked. His vulture was commandeered.
The militia inside the building had been forced down to the second floor where the few remaining men huddled up against the wall, hardly daring to look out the window for fear that they would suffer the fate as so many already had that day, death. They sat, waiting for the backup that they had radioed for, the backup that they knew would almost certainly not come. The highest remaining officer radioed in again.
“We need backup! We’re pinned down in apartment complex B6, South 42nd street, we need backup! There’s too damn many of them. I repeat we need backup!”
He did not hear the reply, a bomb came hurtling through the window, landing a bare footstep away. He could only stare in amazement. The last words he heard were, “OH SHIT,” as one of the soldiers with quicker reflexes dove around the corner.
The command post had received his radio message moments earlier, and was about to reply, when static burst through the COM.
The crowd outside was now nearly on top of the building and were bashing on the bolted doors, which at the moment were holding, but couldn’t take much more of the abuse. With one final kick from one of the leading men the door ripped of its hinges, the metal bar holding it locked sent spinning backwards towards the staircase where the militias former commander lay on the landing, his body black, and the COM lying next to his mangled head, a scene that should only belong in nightmares.
The crowd began to rush into the building but stopped as a grenade landed next to the already dead commander, and proceeded to roll down the steps. The lucky ones dove to one side or the other, but those behind them would have, if they had lived, scars all across their faces, and torsos, that would last for eternity.
As they recovered from the blast a second sound replaced the screams of the wounded, a low rumble in the distance. People not yet into the building turned to look, and their jaws dropped. Down the street, no further than one hundred forty yards, a giant mechanical beast, with a huge cannon sat. As they watched the siege-tanks support legs sprung out, and thrust down, to crater in the street below. The cannon stiffened. The smart ones began to run towards the tank, but many, who remained in the house, were sent slamming into walls on all sides of the building as the fire engulfed the bottom floor.
Many of the men were killed in their mad-rush towards the tank, taken out by the flying blocks of concrete, or burnt as the massive artillery shells exploded in an expanding ball of fire. However, many of those more experienced in the ways of war (which made them the ones with guns) did make it under the tanks range, and were soon battering its armor with burst after burst of hot metal. A few shouts were heard from inside and the hatch was thrust open as militia soldier emerged, a gauss rifle in his hands. He took down three of the unfortunate rioters before a bullet found its place in his head. Another emerged to take his place, but was silenced before he could inflict any damage.
By now one of the men in the riot had snuck around the back of the tank, and after falling back down again many times, finally succeeded in hoisting himself onto the tanks massive bulk. A bit unsteady he walked slowly over to the hatch, and when a third man popped out, he stood waiting, pistol in hand. His finger twitched, sending a spatter of fresh blood all over the tanks metallic armor.
He reached out and grabbed onto the dead mans collar before he could fall back into the tank, and took out a bomb. But before he could do anything the tanks massive support legs lifted up, leaving huge dents in the ground where they had been. The man on top of the tank was momentarily stunned, but then quickly armed the bomb, shoved it inside the soldier’s shirt, and dropped him back into the tank.
As the tank rumbled after the others who had run screaming, the one on top leapt off its backside. The tank got only one shot off, which exploded in the midst of the fleeing mob, sending them sprawling in all directions, and re-painting the road red. Before it could do anything more a soft beep was heard by the one remaining crewmember inside the tank, who ran scrambling for the closed hatch, and quickly opened it. But he was not fast enough. The tank erupted with fire below him, sending it up two feet in the air, and fire spewing out of all the side hatches, as well as launching the man, and the hatch cover thirty feet into the air.
The crowd cheered.
***
“We interrupt your regular program to bring you this special broadcast.”
An image of a young female reporter flickered onto the screen.
“The rumors are true, the Confederate Government has declared martial law, upon this, the colony of Korhal. They were fueled to this decision because of the numerous riots that have been taking place in Korhal’s major cities, which also happen to house some of the Confederates largest technology, and military producing companies.”
Pictures and film reels of the riots now occupied the one sixteenth of the screen, in the upper right corner.
“Yesterday one of the more violent riots left many people and homes in ruins, as well as an apartment building, where many soldiers were taking refuge in, all but one of the soldiers was killed, and a confederate tank was destroyed in the process.”
The upper right corner switched to film of the broken tank, and then to the one surviving soldier.
“These are the words of that one surviving soldier.”
The box now occupies the entire screen and you can clearly see the cuts, grime and blood all over the soldiers face. The top part of the armor that you see is battered and dented in many places.
“It was horrible. They got us pinned down. We were originally up on the third floor, but bombs kept on coming in through the windows. I remember, one of my best friends, hot glass got through his armor and stuck in his skin, he just lay there groaning, it was horrible. They kept on pushing us further and further down, we couldn’t do anything about it, whenever we tried to do something to them we were gunned down. Oh god…god…”
“We now return to your regular programming.”
***
Chapter 1
The Soldier turned Korhal Rebel, Allan, reached into one of the numerous pockets on his gray-blue combat vest and pulled out a small camouflage box with a keypad on it. He held it up against the metal door, which seemed to be just waiting, and it almost immediately magnetized, sticking firmly. A green light, followed by a beep emanated from the explosive, as he finished punching in the combo, and took out the detonator.
“Sir, the charge is in place, we’re ready to make our entrance,” he said, as he glanced up at the top of the building across the street, where a man, barely visible due to camouflage kneeled with his sniper rifle at the ready. Allan was forced to look away though, as his foot caught on the vest of one of the dead guards, who lay on the ground in a puddle of congealed blood.
“Roger that, proceed with entrance when ready,” came the reply
Allan stopped after walking about a yard away from the door, and pushed up against the wall. His finger slowly came down upon the button on the detonator, but before it could he stopped and put a few extra yards between himself and the explosive. He glanced across to the other side of the door; the man there gave him a nod.
The door burst inwards as shards of metal spit from it, but was soon engulfed by the ball of fire that followed. Allan ran towards the door, holding his gauss rifle at the ready, the man on the other side arrived at nearly the same time as Allan did, he too held his gauss rifle in firing position.
With a nod they simultaneously spun into the doorway, and let go a burst of hot lead… but there was no one there. The only sign that there had been once were two singed rifles, and the blackened bodies lying beside them. A few feet from the bodies there was an elevator, it was the only way to go. The second man began to walk toward it but Allan put his hand on his shoulder. Slowly he walked over, his gauss rifle never slackening. Again he reached into his vest, and pulled out another explosive, setting the timer for thirty seconds, and concealing it cleverly on the top of the elevator. Then he sent it on its way.
On the basement level one hundred yards below the elevator opened with a ding, but was soon torn to shreds as dozens of bullets tore through the metal door, even as it opened. The guards waited, but there were no bodies in the elevator. Questioningly one moved forward, flanked by a second.
“WAIT!” screamed someone from behind, as he turned to run, but it was too late. A second ding was heard, and then the hallway was engulfed in inferno, as the soldiers screamed in a brief second of agony, and then their mouths closed forever.
When the smoke cleared the bodies of a dozen guards lay on the ground, blackened. Fire still burned all around them, many of their bodies flickered as red and blue sought to consume them. The bodies were spared from further desecration, however, as the shower system switched on.
On the floor above the three soldiers, for they had been joined by the one positioned on the roof, had forced the elevator door open, and were preparing to slide down the elevator shaft. Each took his turn and they were soon all standing inside the elevator, for its top had been blown off during the explosion. They surveyed the damage they had inflicted, but were forced to look away, as they felt their stomachs begin to stir.
Slowly they advanced down the hallway in delta formation, guns at the ready. They reached the end and were confronted by two other hallways, one left and one right. The sniper reached into his pocket and pulled out a white canister, the other two, recognizing the flashbang turned away, and were quickly followed by the third as it rolled out into the corridor. It erupted in a flash of blinding white light.
Quick as a flash the three were out in the corridor, sending bullets ripped down both hallways. Allan took the right; the other two took the left. Three soldiers stood hunched over on Allan’s side, covering their eyes with their hands. Allan darted down towards the first, sticking a pair of electro handcuffs onto him, before he kicked him to the ground. He did the same to the other two. They squirmed on the ground trying to get up, without the aid of their eyes, but soon found that it was impossible. A similar scene was viewed in the left hallway.
“I’ll take this way you guys get that way,” said Allan into the COM, the response he got was a sullen nod. Slowly he began advancing down the hallway. He peeked slowly out around the corner, and then quickly pulled his head back, as he saw the four guards positioned there. Behind them there was another long corridor, which contained the barracks, and at the end was the armory.
Allan, thinking quickly banked a grenade off the wall, intentionally throwing it hard enough so it would get behind the guards. He heard a few screams as the guards rushed away from the grenade, scrambling madly. Allan dove out around the corner, and put a bullet in one of the guards’ head as soon as he landed, the other three would be found with numerous wounds to the stomach and the heart.
Quietly he advanced further down the corridor, glancing through the barracks and out the door on the opposite side, where his comrade was doing the same. He was not followed by anybody. Allan cursed under his breath but kept moving. As he neared the armory he heard screams coming from a room just to the left of the armory.
The second team did their job well. He thought.
Guards rushed to defend the door that the other team was coming through, not even realizing that Allan was on their flank until two of their number had already taken bullets to the head. By then it was too late, when they turned and took aim at him the grenade he had thrown detonated under there feet.
Behind him he heard footsteps. Allan spun around. His finger was halfway to the trigger by the time he realized it was one of his own. One bullet burst from his gun and impacted upon the man’s shoulder. He fell with a yelp as leaked out of the back of his suit. Allan knew he would not die.
***
“This is a special news bulletin.”
“Inhabitants of Korhal are celebrating all over this day, the day that will live forever in Confederate, and this colonies history. The last of the Confederate military outposts was overrun today by a group of rebels who were rumored to be the cream of the confederate militia itself. They were able to easily sweep up the military base taking only minor casualties, and one injured. Today has been unofficially declared a holiday due to the fact that no one is attending any normal activities. The Confederates have withdrawn their fleet from the skies and all of their military presence on Korhal has been removed. It is only a matter of moments before the self-elected president of Korhal, a senator named Angus Mengsk, declares Korhal free from Confederate rule. It seems that no one opposes Mengsk’s presidency though, due to what he did for the fight for freedom. It was rumored that he was the one who masterminded all the assaults on the numerous confederate military bases stationed on Korhal, and that he even took part in the most recent and final attack. Though we cannot assure you of the reality of the latter rumor, our sources tell us that the first is almost definitely true. This is truly a joyous day.”
Suddenly the screen changed to Angus Mengsk standing atop a platform, a podium and microphone positioned in front of him.
“Citizens of Korhal… I now declare you, INDEPENDENT!”
Cheers erupted from the huge crowd below, as hats and anything else that people could find were flung into the air, and people hooted and hollered for Mengsk.
***
There were some however, who weren’t so happy at the new developments on Korhal, such as the President of the Confederacy and his generals. The President sat alone in his room watching the news broadcast and silently cursed Angus Mengsk and his doings.
He lifted himself up from the couch, stretching and slowly paced over to his desk, where a keypad lay. He picked it up and punched in a few numbers.
“Yes sir?” asked a voice over the COM.
“Tell Lang and Briggs to get to the meeting room now…”
“Immediately sir!”
Again the president punched a few buttons and the comlink closed. Then he walked towards the door and it slid open before him, so that he didn’t even have to break stride. When he arrived in the meeting room the two generals already sat, waiting expectantly.
“Gentlemen…” he began slowly, “it has come to my attention that the control over our colonies is slipping. After the recent revolt on Korhal this cannot be a good thing. I am sure that you realize this. The colonies have probably been bolstered with new hope and are at this very moment preparing some plot of their own. We cannot afford this due to the fact that we have already lost one of our leading producers of technology, and military equipment, which was situated on Korhal. I believe we have been giving these colonies too much freedom, so much in fact that they were easily able to overthrow our military power; we cannot let this happen upon our other colonies. We must tighten our fist upon these pitiful colonies, we must let them know who still owns them!”
“And how do you propose we do this, Mr. President?” asked General Tso Lang.
“Very simple matters really… elect new government officials, this time… they will be our men. Or your men as the case may be, because I believe that some of your better-trained military men will serve to show no mercy towards the inhabitants of the colonies. You two do have a few such men, do you not?”
The two generals exchanged an odd glanced, and then spoke.
“Mr. President… I believe we have just the ‘few such men’ for the job.”
“Good. I’ll try to set up a new election date. And you gentlemen need not worry about the likelihood of them getting elected, or running a campaign, I am after all, a very rich man.”
“Yes Mr. President.”
“Alright. You are dismissed, oh and please have these men sent to my office, after you have briefed them, at say… six o’clock. That should be enough time, unless I am mistaken… am I?”
“Not at all… they’ll be here.”
The two generals walked towards the door, talking in low voices, not stopping as the door slid open before them. Behind them the President pushed back in his chair, a triumphant smile flitting across the emotionless lips.
