The Biomass Revolution

Chapter 13: The Biomass Revolution

Obi stared at several maps spread out over a large wooden table in the basement of the Silo. The bunker was just like he remembered it; cramped, dark and rancid.

“I don’t believe it, for God’s sake. These are all old maps?” he asked, bringing his hand down on the table.

The room was filled with what was left of the TDU. They watched intensely from metal chairs behind the table, hope flickering in some eyes and doubt in others.

Obi paced back and forth while Spurious reviewed the maps. He tried to concentrate, but the ancient wall lights flickered, a result of the dust storm hammering the roof far above.

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question Spurious. Are you really telling me all of these maps are old, and finding a route into the CRK tunnels is going to be next to impossible?” Obi asked.

Spurious studied the maps, trying to fight the drowsiness. “Yeah, these maps are all old as dirt. I mean, some of these tunnels are still there, but some have caved in, been blown up, or filled with storm water,” Spurious said, pausing.

“The tunnels you need access to aren’t on any maps you would ever be able to obtain. The CRK will have made sure of that. Luckily, they’re up here,” Spurious said, pointing at his head.

Obi gritted his teeth. “I was hoping we weren’t going to have to rely on your memory of blueprints, but if that’s all we have, then that’s all we have.”

“Where is the rest of the TDU?” Spurious asked suddenly.

Ajax jumped up and grabbed the back of his chair, swinging him around. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ajax roared, a large vein in his forehead bulging out.

“Back off Ajax!” Obi yelled. “Yes, Spurious. The men in this room and a few upstairs are the all that remains of the TDU. And that…” Obi hesitated. He pulled himself from the maps and looked Spurious straight in his eyes. “That is why we need you so badly.”

Spurious took an audible breath, still shaking from being lifted into the air by Ajax.

“Right now, there are probably a dozen Justice Committee agents waiting to storm my flat. Lana is dead. My life is over,” Spurious said.

Slowly he raised his head, studying the fear and desperation present in the faces of every soldier. Finally he nodded. “If you promise this plan has a chance of working, I’ll be your guide.”

Obi clapped his hands together. “Yes!” he yelled. “We’re in business again, men!”

Spurious had never been a religious man. He was more of a humanist, believing the good in people was more important than anything supernatural. But on the morning of his departure back to Tisaia, he found himself kneeling on the cement floor of the silo.

Spurious had become sick of faith. He had lost patience with it. He had seen too many of his friends die and watched them laid to rest, only to decompose in the ground from which they had come.

Now he had the opportunity to be part of something bigger than himself and to avenge the deaths of Paulo, Lana and his parents. He was going to fight. He would fight to the end. He would create his own destiny.

As the morning sun struggled to peek out from behind the clouds, Squad 19 began gathering their belongings, preparing for the journey across the Wastelands.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, John emerged from the other room. “Well, it sure was nice having guests. Good luck to you all,” he said, yawning.

Obi wasn’t sure if the old man knew the dire situation they were in. He wasn’t sure the man was even sane, living out in The Wastelands by himself, but he appreciated his hospitality nonetheless.

“Thank you for the food and shelter,” Obi said, shaking the rough man’s hand before running to catch up with Spurious.

“Wait up for a second, will you?” Obi asked, following him out of the door.

“I want you to know we’re not the people you have heard about in the paper or at work. In fact, whether you want to believe it or not, we follow the same principles and philosophies your very own parents preached years ago in the infant stages of the TDU,” Obi said, placing his hand on Spurious’ shoulder. “The innocent people who died in attacks during the past decade were never meant to be killed. Our goal has always been to take out the CRK and form a new democratic government. With your help we can finally accomplish this, but I have to ask,” Obi said, stopping to look Spurious in his eyes. “You do realize that this may be a one way trip, right?”

Ajax took a deep breath, watching the cloud of air disappear into the slight wind. He was on point, about a mile ahead of the others to scout. Obi had split the squad up, sending Ran and Nordica to scout the western side of the rock configuration. Tsui and Juliana had stayed at the silo to wait for any other TDU members who were late to the rendezvous, while Obi, Spurious, Creo, Nathar, and the new recruits had fallen back, waiting for word to proceed.

Ajax knelt on top of a worn rock overlooking a small valley, the great walls of Tisaia vaguely visible in the distance. He removed his goggles and wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead before squinting in the sun. They had reached the border between the rock formations and a crater known as Nuke Valley.

He squinted again to make out the crater in the center of the valley, where decades ago a bomb had blown a depression hundreds of feet deep and thousands of feet wide. The basin around the crater was weathered by years of wind storms. With zero cover and pockets of radiation, Nuke Valley was one of the most dangerous places to cross the Wastelands.

He had made the journey across the crater once, losing a CRK patrol in the cover of night, but it had cost him. Ajax grimaced, recalling the week he spent in the med ward with radiation poisoning, puking his guts out. But the internal damage was nothing compared to the suffering his skin went through. His arms were still covered in scars where boils had plastered his poisoned skin.

Beyond the crater he could make out the skeletons of buildings, dozens of them. All that remained was their metal guts jutting out of the cracked red dirt. He remembered listening to Obi tell stories of the day the bombs fell. Obi had been there, in Chicago, the once beautiful city spanning miles and miles of what were now Wastelands.

Ajax pulled his goggles back over his eyes and covered his face with a black bandana. Obi’s instructions were simple: find a safe route through Nuke Valley.

Since Ajax was the only member of the TDU who survived a trip through the crater, the choice was easy—Obi picked him to lead the way.

The rest of the squad showed up minutes later, the new recruits panting through their dust masks. Obi twisted the cap off his canteen and handed it to the youngest of the men, watching the water drip slowly down his chin. The recruit looked familiar, his frightened brown eyes peering back at him helplessly. It made Obi want to protect him the same way he protected the rest of his squad, but he knew the boy had little chance of survival. Like so many thrown into Squad 19 before him, the life expectancy for the “fillers” was not long and he doubted the boy would last the week.

“What do you think, Ajax?” Obi asked, turning his attention to the valley with his hands on his hips. “Do you remember how you got through last time?”

“It was under the cover of night. All I remember was running, but I’ll find a way, don’t worry.”

“Okay, but I don’t want you turning into a damn glow stick. Make sure you use your radiation detector at all times, you got that?”

“Yes boss.” Ajax said, disappearing over the cliff and making his way carefully down the rocky trail and into the valley below.

Spurious watched him go before resting on one of the rocks, feeling the fuzziness of fatigue setting in. He brought his hand to his face, wiping the dried cracks of blood caked skin from his swollen wounds. A blast of wind battered his face with dust particles, prompting him to claw at his eyes with bloody finger tips. “God damn it!” he yelled.

The other soldiers paid him little attention and continued to survey the area.

“Creo and Nathar, you take up sniping positions over there and there. I want Ajax covered from all angles,” Obi said, pointing at several rock formations.

Nathar stood, his thick brown hair whipping wildly in the wind. He had quickly become one of the best scouts, and found a suitable rock formation within seconds.

The cold wind continued its tirade and the soldiers took up their positions, while Spurious huddled inside the small hollow of a rock nearby. Obi glanced at him, watching him try and curl up in the safety of the depressed concave in the rock. He could see the fear bleeding from his frightened eyes, just like he saw in the young eyes of the new recruit. He remembered his father telling him fear was weakness. Part of which he believed, but for these young men turned soldiers, fear could also be their strength.

He had seen it before, Nathar being a perfect example. Not long ago Nathar would shake before battle, his hands quivering uncontrollably. Now the man didn’t seem to worry about anything.

There were times Obi feared death, but he never let it show. As commander it was his job to remain strong, unwavering even in the face of horror. Weakness caused fear, his father was right; and he promised himself he would never let his soldiers see it in his face.

The howl of a dust storm picked up in the distance. Spurious stood and made his way to the edge of the formation, surveying the valley below. Having never been outside the walls of Tisaia, he did not recognize the barren landscape, the remains of the city below littering the dead earth. Everywhere his eyes fell, destruction and death looked back at him. He could only imagine how powerful the bomb that left the massive crater must have been, obliterating everything in its path and leaving its poisonous grip on the land.

The sound of static broke though the intermittent wind as Obi’s radio blared to life.

“Commander, this is Ran, over.”

“Roger, Obi here, over.”

“We just spotted a group of men on horses riding towards Nuke Valley. Over.”

Obi rushed over to his pack to find his binoculars. From his position he couldn’t see any targets yet, just a cloud of dust intensifying in the distance. A gray sky had swallowed the sun, further clouding his vision.

“There, at the edge of the crater,” one of the new recruits said, his torn gloves pointing at the swirling brown blur of dust.

Obi removed his goggles and brought the binoculars to his naked eye. “That’s no dust storm,” he said, waving at Creo’s position.

“Creo, this is Obi. Over.”

“Roger, Creo here. Over.”

“See if you can use your scopes to see what’s creating the dust, over.”

“Sir, I have five men, maybe six on horseback. They look like raiders. And they’re heading straight for Ajax. Over.”

“Shit,” Obi said, stomping the ground and pausing to stare into the valley below. He didn’t want to risk injuring any of his men, especially Spurious, but Ajax was heading blindly into a trap. He was already at least a mile away, outside of radio range, and in another minute he would be outside the safety range of their sniper rifles. Obi knew Creo was a good shot, but shooting one moving target at this distance would be next to impossible, let alone six. He also ran the risk of drawing attention to their own location if Creo fired any rounds. If there were more raiders in the area then he would be putting his entire squad at risk.

Obi knew he needed to make a decision. He had seconds, not minutes before Ajax would be too far out of range for the protection of their rifles. A somber look crossed his face as he brought the radio back up to his mouth. He knew he couldn’t risk the squad for one man, even if it was Ajax.

“Ran, come in. Over.”

“Roger. Ran here. Over.”

“Ran, I want you two to take shelter and wait for us to reach the spillway. We’re going to find some place to hide. I do not want a confrontation, do you understand? Over.”

“Roger.”

“Creo, hold your fire. Over.”

“Sir?” Creo asked over the radio.

“I said, hold your fire. He is on his own. Over.”

A second of static rang out over the channel before Creo responded. “Understood, sir. Over.”

The soldier reluctantly took his finger off the trigger and peered into his scope, watching the raiders ride towards Ajax, the brown dust trailing behind them.

“Good luck, my friend.” Creo said under his breath.

The burly mail carrier waddled past security and entered the busy atrium of the CRK administrative offices. He navigated through the crowd of staffers and Knights, gripping a message tightly in his pocket, feeling the warmth of the fresh wax seal on his exposed palm.

"Excuse me," he said, sucking in his gut and squeezing through two staffers talking quietly in the middle of the atrium. He was in a hurry and took his job very seriously, making every attempt to deliver his messages on time. The State had entrusted him with a great responsibility, for he carried messages so confidential they weren’t sent through the heavily encrypted electronic system. Messages so important, only carriers who were vetted and passed multiple background checks were even considered for employment.

Not even the beauty of the marble atrium or the ceiling painted and stenciled with perfectly symmetrical lines could distract him. He had seen them many times before and had once marveled at the dazzling chandeliers hanging from the rafters, but those times had passed. The office was only another stop on his daily route.

The carrier darted around another staffer and entered the administrative offices of Commander Augustus. Like the grand atrium, these offices were carved from marble and had magnificent chandeliers. The room was furnished with mahogany desks and a large table equipped with an AI hub.

A petite female staffer led the carrier through the maze of desks; Knights in civilian clothes were fingering their blue screens and talking on wrist radios. The office was always busy and was staffed 24 hours a day.

The long, sparsely lit hallway came into view as the carrier made his way past the last desk. He had never been back this far, but the urgency of his note allowed him to take it straight to Commander Augustus’ sentry guards.

He rounded the corner, the staffer parting ways with a small nod when the Knights came into focus. They towered above the small burly carrier.

"State your business," the Knight closest to him said.

The carrier reached nervously into his pocket for the note which he had hid deep in the bowels of his coat. Finally he retrieved it and, with a shaking hand, gave it to the Knight.

The Knight spun, his armor creaking. The carrier watched him stride down the hallway lined with statues of fallen Knights. He stood on his tip toes to see over the other guard’s armor, hoping to make out the faces of the famed statues. It was the one marvel he had heard of but had never seen.

The guard rotated his head; his glowing blue goggles peered down on the carrier, who took a step back, frowning. "Is there something else you need?" the guard asked.

"No, no. I just wanted to make sure the letter got to Commander Augustus," he said, stuttering.

"I can assure you, it will," the Knight replied, rotating his helmet once again.

The carrier frowned, frustrated by the Knights continued lack of courtesy. He headed back towards the offices just before Commander Augustus opened his office door and grabbed the note out of the Knight’s hand, quickly retreating.

With a sigh, he took a seat. He tore into the letter and removed the handwritten note, dropping the envelope on his spotless oak desk.

Commander Augustus set the message down on his desk softly, and leaned back in his chair to catch his first view of the Battle of Thermopylae for the day. He had the painting from his personal office replicated and hung on the wall of his offices at both the CRK headquarters and the administrative offices.

He stared at the image of the few hundred Spartans battling an army of thousands of Persian warriors. For the longest time Augustus had believed the citizens he was trying to protect were like those several hundred Spartans, strong, loyal and selfless. But it was when he received messages like this, he began to question if this was delusional.

State employees had everything they needed: clothing, housing, food, and relative safety. If they wanted to find a wife or husband, they could simply apply for one, and receive someone that matched them perfectly. So why did they continue to try and escape?

This was not the first time Augustus had seen a note like this, and it wouldn’t be the last. And as he had in the past, he would forget this traitor. He crumpled the paper in his hand and tossed in into the fireplace, watching it burn slowly in the flames.

Creo sucked in a lung full of air and held it, wrapping his hand around the end of the rifle and crawling to the edge of the boulder. The cold wind of the morning bit into his jacket, but he did not flinch. He placed his eye against the scope and glassed the valley below, searching for Ajax. The ash and dust swirled violently over the cracked red earth, blurring his vision.

He sniffled, lowering the scope and pulling the bandana down from his face, wiping a cold strand of snot from his nose. Then he brought the familiar scope back to his eye, squinting to survey the valley again.

The scope revealed familiar sights: sun bleached bones, rebar protruding out of cracked concrete, and the scattered segments of road in places the wind had not covered the blacktop with dust, but he had lost sight of Ajax.

He maneuvered to his left to get a better view. The scope brought the lead raider into focus. Creo zoomed in further, magnifying the man in the cross hairs. An ugly tusk like bone hung off his helmet. His naked chest was decorated with bones splintered and broken, only barely covering a scar running the length of his torso. He was a bulky man, dwarfing the other raiders with his thick frame.

Creo took another deep breath and felt the hard metal of the trigger, massaging it with his well trained fingers, wanting desperately to take the shot. It was the type of shot snipers hoped they never had to make—out of viable range, with an unpredictable wind and limited visibility. He wasn’t even sure he could make it if Obi ordered him to do so.

He rotated the rifle back to the right, glassing the valley again for Ajax. He tilted the barrel up slowly, combing the last stretch of blacktop where he had seen him. His crosshairs came to a stop on the concrete foundation of an old house, rebar extending out in all directions like branches from a dead tree. He zoomed in some more, magnifying the foundation, so he could see the cracks crawling up what was left of the small wall. And there he was, resting his back against the inside wall, peering out every minute or so at the approaching raiders.

“Thank God, he has seen them,” Creo muttered over the wind, pleased Ajax had sensed the danger following him.

Creo rotated the rifle again, taking in a breath and lining the cross hairs up with the raiders. They were on the black top now, about one hundred yards from the foundation, quickly closing in.

“Shit, he’s a sitting duck.” Creo said, lining the cross hairs back up with the pack of raiders. He gripped the rifle harder and wiped his exposed nose with his elbow.

He watched helplessly as the raiders barreled down on Ajax’s location. The dust from their horses swirled behind them, mixing a collage of red and black ash into the air like a trail of dark blood. A howling wind was beginning to pick up, clouding his view of the raiders honing in on Ajax. Through the wind he could hear something else. His ears strained to hear it, but the wind was too loud. He hustled further out on the ledge, trying to get a better view of Obi’s position, stumbling over the rock and climbing quickly to a new position.

The noise broke through the wind again, a buzzing sound. He paused, clawing at the sharp rock, making his way higher. The sound was familiar, something he recognized. A sound that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up at the very hum.

“Scorpions,” he cried, stumbling over the rocky surface again, making his way up higher into the rock formation for a better view.

He knelt down and brought the scope to his eye again. Sure enough, a trio of Scorpions came out of the west, racing over the hard cold ground. They tore onto the blacktop, a thick cloud of dust exploding from behind their oversized tires.

The raiders weren’t after Ajax. They were trying to escape into Nuke Valley.

He paused, listening to the scream of their mini guns erupt over the wind, before kneeling to watch the slaughter. The riders were quickly cut down, the CRK bullets tearing through the men and their horses, sending chunks of flesh and body parts into the air. Within seconds all of the raiders except the leader were dead. Somehow he managed to dismount his horse. He stumbled towards the foundation where Ajax was hiding, a thick trail of blood flowing from his wounds.

The trio of Scorpions surrounded the man, smoke crawling out of their silent barrels. Creo watched him totter back and forth before finally collapsing onto the dusty earth next to the concrete wall.

The Knights must want him alive.

Minutes passed and the man lay in the dirt, motionless. One of the Scorpion doors opened and a Knight stepped out into the dusty wind, pointing his rifle at the fallen raider. He walked towards the man cautiously.

Creo watched through his scope, blinking just in time to see the raider jump to his feet and face the Knight.

“What the…” Creo whispered under his breath.

The raider stagger backwards, reaching for a pistol tucked in the back of his pants. A shot rang out over the wind, loud enough for Creo to hear it faintly.

The raider fired again, and again, watching the bullets ricochet of the Knight’s thick armor. Before long the pistol was empty and the raider fell to his knees, reaching in his pockets for more bullets. The Knight approached him cautiously, his rifle pointed down at the man’s face.

A blast of wind hit Creo, startling him. By the time he turned back, the Knight was firing on the raider. The bullets tore through his soft flesh and bone, splattering the wall where Ajax hid with bright blood.

The raider crawled across the dirt, clawing towards the Knight. For several seconds the Knight stood there, watching until the man reached his armored foot. Just when the raider made a harmless swipe, the Knight unloaded his weapon on the man until he was nothing but chunks of red meat, splattered across the dead earth.

Creo turned. He couldn’t watch the slaughter any longer. Not even a raider deserved to be desecrated.

Finally he took a long deep breath, watching the Knight climb back into his Scorpion. The trio peeled off the red cracked dirt and tore on to the blacktop, zipping away from Ajaxs’ location.

Creo dropped the scope and rested his back against a sharp rock in relief, swiping beads of sweat off his forehead. For now the danger was over, but Ajax still had a long way to go through the radioactive valley.

Squad 19 stood at the edge of a dam, where a dirt path met the weathered gray concrete, dwarfed by the gigantic beast. Their shadows followed them down to the ledge. Obi listened to a small trickle of water spilling over the edge, a fraction of what once poured into the long since dried up lake below.

Overhead, the sun had taken refuge behind a dark gray cloud. What warmth the sun offered was now gone and the winter wind cut into his garments like frozen knives.

The dam, which had not been used for over half a century, looked like an abandoned castle, an alien in the desolate land. A thin metal ladder snaked down the cracked concrete that once held back millions of gallons of water.

Obi stood at the ledge, his orange goggles piercing the darkness below. He studied the twisted metal extending into the bowels of the old dam. Nudging the handlebars softly with his boot, he braced himself against Creo just as a gust of wind tore into his coat.

“It’s the only way down,” Obi said, stepping out of the way. “Two at a time. We can’t risk more weight than that. Ran and Nordica, lead the way.”

Nordica nudged her way carefully through the others and tested the first step with a cautious foot before she began her decent. Ran followed anxiously, his fearful eyes locking for a second with Obi’s before his head disappeared beneath the ledge.

The strain of the two scouts’ weight made the ladder creak and sway. They paused simultaneously, gripping the handlebars tightly, until the rusty metal stopped moving.

“Careful,” Obi muttered under his breath, loud enough to pinch the nerves of Creo, who watched nearby.

Nordica paused, peering up at Ran before continuing down the steps. After a few agonizing moments they made it to the bottom of the old lake, their boots created footprints in the mud that hadn’t been walked on by humans for decades.

Obi watched them disappear into the opening of the large storm drain at the bottom of the spillway. Satisfied, he nodded at Nathar and the four new recruits. They were up next.

One by one the soldiers made their way down the ladder, joining the others in the storm drain below. The squad huddled together, anxious to be out of the cold wind.

Ajax was a lucky man; avoiding the raiders, the CRK, and navigating a safe route through the radioactive valley. This much luck wasn’t something Obi was accustomed to, and he knew it wouldn’t last. Luck had a tendency to dry up and disappear as soon as you got your hands on it, like a glass of cold water on a hot day. It didn’t last. It evaporated, especially in Tisaia.

Obi switched on his night vision goggles again, the warm orange glow illuminating the darkness of the small storm drain. The rest of the squad members with goggles followed suit, lighting the tunnel with a safe and tepid orange radiance.

With the fresh light, Obi examined the tunnel. It was eight by six feet. He glanced in to the darkness where their lights could not penetrate. A set of small green eyes glared back at him. It was one of the stranger sensations Obi experienced when using the device, especially when the eyes belonged to mutated creatures. In this case it was just a rat. He paid no attention to it, watching it scamper away from the squad and into a small crevice in the concrete.

“Spurious. You’re up. Do you remember where this tunnel leads?”

“It should connect to some utility tunnels we can access through a ladder. They should take us directly to Rohania.”

“You heard him. I know everyone is tired, but this is what we’ve trained for. This is our chance. Take five, grab something to eat and then we’re heading out,” Obi said.

He crouched and grabbed an energy bar from his pack, the orange glow illuminating the faces of the four new recruits who sat huddled together, their faces all riddled with fatigue and fear. He nodded at the youngest and tossed him the energy bar.

“Are you sure?” the young man asked, his frightened eyes peering up at Obi.

“Yeah, I’m not hungry.” Obi lied, walking away to find a place to sit. He listened to his men chat and chew on their meals from a distance.

“Where are you from?” Spurious asked Creo, hoping he would be more responsive than Ajax. The question hung in the air, long enough to make him feel uncomfortable.

Creo cocked his head, chewing on a half eaten piece of bread. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt if I tell. In fact, you might be interested in the place I come from.”

A few feet ahead Ajax snorted; his gaze fixed on the dark skinned Spaniard.

“The land I come from is across the seas, where the sun is still as bright as a thousand fires. The bombs never fell there, but the radiation poisoned everything,” he added. “I left with all the other survivors. I came by boat in the year 2043 to see this world with my own eyes. After traveling from one refugee camp to another, I finally saw the great walls of Tisaia I had heard so much about. It was here I met Obi and my other companions. I have fought with them ever since.”

The story sent a chill down Spurious’ spine. He heard of the refugee camps outside the quarantine zones before, but never met anyone who had visited one.

“What is it like out there?” Spurious said, nodding towards the light from the entrance of the storm drain.

Creo’s eyes panned to the ground. He paused to take another nibble of bread, his eyes locked on the concrete floor. “The horrors I have seen are endless: children, mutated by radiation poisoning; their mothers, working the street corners to pay for a meal that only prolongs their suffering. I have seen shanty towns ruled by ruthless men, where stealing a can of peaches will get you death, and rape is the most common form of conception…” Creo paused, taking another bite and twisting his head so he could look Spurious in the eye. “It makes Rohania look like a five star hotel,” he continued.

Spurious shook the images of the mutated children out of his mind and turned his gaze back to Creo. “I have heard of the refugee camps before. You know Tisaia denies they still exist?”

“That’s because the government does not want the State employees to know the truth. If they did know the truth, they would certainly want the State to try and help those outside the walls.”

The truth behind Creo’s statement lingered in the stale air. Everyone in the group knew there were people outside Tisaia that could use the State’s help. This was information the Governor’s Office never shared with the public and never would. Spurious was the only one in the tunnel who truly knew how dishonest Governor Felix Steppe’s office really was. The confidential reports he had seen and the rumors he heard from friends working at the Capitol gave him ample information to believe the State knew.

“The State knows people are out there. They choose to do nothing,” Spurious said.

“Pack it up. Time to move out,” Obi said, interrupting their conversation.

Spurious stood and followed the squad down the narrow path, crouching to avoid dripping water above him.

“What I don’t get is why more State employees don’t question these things…” Spurious said, realizing he was a perfect example of a State worker that did not question due to fear.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Nathar piped in. Spurious knew the blow was coming and shook it off easily.

“You’re right, Nathar. I have been living in a world of fear my entire life. Most employees probably are,” he said, dropping his gaze to the green trail of water below.

“You know, Spurious, your parents were examples of people who did not fear the State. As a matter of fact, from what I heard, one of the reasons they created the TDU was to help spread hope amongst State workers in a time when fear was becoming common. If it were not for them, we wouldn’t even exist. Well, at least not in the form we do today,” Obi said.

Spurious looked to Ajax and saw his scowl. For some reason, one he couldn’t quite figure out, Ajax did not approve of him. He wasn’t sure if it was due to a bitterness Ajax had for the State, or for him personally, but something had angered Ajax ever since they met a few nights ago.

“Ajax, how long have you been a part of the TDU?” Spurious asked, trying to include him in the conversation.

Ajax snorted and stared ahead.

“You know for someone trying to help you, I think you owe me some respect. I’ve done nothing wrong!” Spurious yelled at him.

Ajax stopped dead in his tracks. He turned slowly and stared at Spurious. “I owe you nothing. You’re just like the rest of the sheep in Lunia. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t be using you in the first place.”

“You know nothing about me!” Spurious exclaimed.

Obi frowned, realizing he would have to intervene. “That’s enough, you two. I already have my hands full enough and don’t need to worry about this shit!” he yelled.

Spurious and Ajax glanced at one another for one last time before they continued on behind the rest of the group.

“That goes for everyone, drop the chit chat,” Obi snapped. “Now, which way do we go?” he said, staring ahead at two different tunnels.

Spurious brought a finger to his lips, trying desperately to remember. “This tunnel isn’t supposed to stick out like this. I don’t remember there being two routes,” he said.

“Damn,” Obi murmured under his breath. He didn’t want the rest of the squad thinking they were lost.

“Ran, Nordica, you take the recruits and head down the left tunnel. Ajax, Nathar, Creo, and Spurious, you’re with me. Keep your radio channels open so we can stay in touch.” Obi paused. “Good luck, men,” he said, before heading in to the darkness of the tunnel.

The abandoned camp made Spurious’ stomach roll. When the small squad of TDU soldiers came upon it they found decaying bodies still being consumed by rats. The poor souls who had lived in the underground camp looked as though they had died recently, perhaps in the last month or so. A stench of rotting flesh still lingered in the cold air.

“Here,” Creo said, handing Spurious a handkerchief to cover his mouth. He brought it to his face instantly, trying to relieve his nostrils of the atrocious smell.

“Move on, men. There isn’t anything we can do for them now,” Obi ordered. He stopped for a second to massage his temples.

A few feet ahead Spurious tried to avoid the torn tents, cooking pot, and heaps of trash covering the concrete ground. He looked back at Ajax, who walked emotionless through the death. The young State worker gagged. “This is the future we face?” he asked, trekking on through the carnage.

Obi’s radio blared to life, interrupting Spurious.

“This is Nordica. Over.”

“Roger, Obi here, over.”

“Commander, we’ve reached a fork where our tunnel separates into four others. Which one do we take? Over.”

The aging commander shined his flashlight in Spurious’ eyes. “You heard her, which one is it?” he demanded.

Spurious mentally went over the piles of maps he studied the past few months. Within a few seconds, he remembered. “Tell them to take the third tunnel that runs east. This tunnel goes directly underneath the CRK headquarters and the Capitol.” Spurious swallowed hard, realizing what he said could seal the fate of hundreds of innocent people.

Obi nodded and relayed the message over the channel. He turned to face his men, who looked on anxiously. “How long will it take for us to get there?” he asked.

The office worker looked worried. He had no way of truly knowing the distance. Trying to conceal his uncertainty, he looked back through the darkness and found his most sincere voice. “Three hours, at least,” he finally said.

“We better get moving then,” Obi ordered without question.

The squad continued down the platform, Spurious holding the small cloth handkerchief to his nose, trying desperately to avoid the stench of death lingering in the air.

The citizens of Lunia slept under a blanket of darkness that held the distant gray sunrise at bay. Beneath the cobblestone streets, far under the stone and soil, soldiers moved silently through the tunnels. Slowly, they made their way towards the heart of the Capitol where Governor Felix Steppe sat alone at his desk.

It was rare for Lunia’s leader to be at the Capitol so early, but something had driven Felix to make the short journey to his office. He wasn’t sure if it was the sleep evading him or the feeling of uneasiness lingering inside him since the legislature passed Bill 12b.

He knew the stress was also affecting his staff. The past few days, he watched Sonii leave work paler than he had ever seen him. His Chief of Staff was his most trusted confidante, and he knew the man was suffering in silence.

To make matters worse the Governor was served his morning coffee with a note from Commander Augustus, a note revealing his own fears—the TDU were still alive and operating in Tisaia.

The sun was still hiding along the gray horizon and Felix was on his third read of the memo. His strained face hovered over the yellow piece of paper under the orange glow of lamp light. He stroked his mustache and read the third paragraph again.

Several nights ago the TDU ambushed a squad of Knights in Rohania and captured an SGS worker who is allegedly the son of the founders of the TDU. We have yet to locate the perpetrators or the traitor.

Footsteps from the hallway distracted the Governor. He placed the memo back down on his desk and removed his thick glasses, rubbing his tired eyes gently. Sonii never ceases to be on time, he thought, rising from his desk to greet his loyal Chief of Staff.

Sonii entered the private quarters with his head tucked into his collar. He had no idea the Governor had already arrived, and it wasn’t until the politician cleared his throat the pale Sonii looked up.

“Governor…” he paused. “Uh, I did not realize you were here already.”

“I had some work to do,” he lied, concealing the fact he could not sleep.

“I see. Anything I can assist with?” Sonii asked, scratching the small beard lining his narrow jaw.

The Governor handed him the memo, pleased to see Sonii was beginning to regain color in his face. “I’d like your opinion about this report by the time the sun comes up. And find out why I’m just hearing about this now.”

Sonii grabbed the memo from his boss and slowly walked over to the mahogany conference table. His eyes scanned the document slowly, mindful not to miss a single word.

The letter confirmed his fears. He was well aware Tisaia was still not completely safe from threats. In fact, he realized the threats Lunia faced were more real than ever before. Supreme Knight Augustus had tried to ensure him on many occasions the TDU was no more, destroyed and “eradicated” from Tisaian soil, but Sonii was no fool. He hadn’t risen to the second most powerful position in Tisaia by being stupid.

Perhaps it’s time for the Council to choose a new commander.

Sonii turned back to the Governor, who sat studying another document at his desk. “I’ll call a council meeting immediately,” he said, his words cutting through the silence as he rushed out of the office.

The Governor stood and walked over to one of the bulletproof windows, watching shadows dance in the darkness hovering over Lunia. He watched the yellow hint of sunlight on the horizon like a dormant beast rising from its slumber. If it wasn’t a metaphor for the threat the TDU still posed, then he didn’t know what was. He frowned, glancing quickly at his wrist watch. It was going to be a long day.

Obi sat in the cold, damp tunnel, trying to keep his feet out of the murky water below him. His orange goggles glowed brightly in the darkness. He felt safe, surrounded by his trusted team. Creo, Ajax, and Nathar had just returned with the explosives. His plan was now in its final stages. Ran and Nordica were waiting for them a few tunnels away.

“What of the four new recruits?” Obi asked.

“Looks like they bailed, boss. Ran and Nordica said they disappeared a few minutes ago,” Ajax replied.

“What do you mean, bailed?”

Ajax took out his knife and began to sharpen the blade on the bayonets attached to his rifle. “Abandoned ship, like a bunch of cowards,” he said softly.

“Shit. Maybe they were compromised and we’re walking into a trap,” Nathar whispered.

“No, they bailed.” Ajax replied, running his knife along the edge of his bayonet again.

“How do you know that? What if the Tin Cans got to them?” Nathar asked, his voice raised.

Ajax slid his knife down the length of the bayonet one more time before pausing. “I know because I could see it in their eyes. They were just kids. A waste of money if you ask me.”

Obi thought of the young man to whom he had given the energy bar to earlier. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he said, knowing their lack of training could pose more danger to the mission.

Spurious watched the soldiers chat and stirred nervously. He wasn’t close enough to hear what they were discussing, but he knew whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“We proceed without them,” Obi whispered to his men. He hesitated, “We have to presume they deserted us. Besides, if they had been caught, we would have heard at least one shot fired.”

The soldiers sat huddled on the concrete platform, Obi’s flashlight illuminating an old map on the cold floor. It was one of the only maps Spurious recognized back at the silo.

“Nathar and Creo, you’ll enter the CRK tunnel from a decommissioned air duct that runs above it. You’ll drop in and take out any guards,” Obi said, pointing at the different locations on the map.

“Nordica, Ran and I will drop in after all targets have been neutralized. Ajax, you and Spurious will follow us once we’ve been given the all clear.”

“Where’s the card reader at?” Creo asked

“I was just about to get to that,” Obi replied.

“The card reader is located on the eastern wall of this final tunnel,” he said, pointing. “Once Spurious gets us inside, Ajax and I will plant the charges. We suspect there will be light resistance, and hopefully they will never see us coming.”

“Should we expect any turrets or machine gun nests?” Nathar inquired.

“Spurious, you answer that one,” Obi ordered.

Spurious cleared his throat before he spoke. “This is the back way into the CRK headquarters. As far as I can tell from the blueprints I’ve looked at there won’t be any machine gun nests and guards will be at a minimum. The tunnel is directly under the eastern half of the headquarters so the explosives should bring the entire structure down. I don’t think they would see an attack coming from this direction,” Spurious said, as reassuringly as possible.

“Good. Nathar, have you reprogrammed his card?” Obi asked.

“I did when we took five a few hours ago. Should work like a charm,” he said with a smile.

“Men, you all know what to do. We’ve been waiting for this moment for years. Once we get into the secured CRK tunnel, we have to assume we’ll be facing some resistance. We just need to buy Spurious enough time to get to the card reader. He has assured me that once inside the final tunnel, we can place the bombs and escape with enough time to make it out before the entire CRK headquarters collapses,” Obi said, gritting his teeth.

He watched his men, scanning their faces to gauge their reactions. He wasn’t surprised to see their tense jaws tightly shut. The tunnel was relatively dark, but the men’s infrared goggles easily allowed them to pick up the skeptical looks on one another’s faces.

Obi picked up on this quickly, realizing it would take more than a pep talk to reassure them he wasn’t leading them on a suicide mission. There was a reason the new recruits had left, and it wasn’t because they were cowards — they knew the chance of survival was low. There was no time for any more speeches though. Every moment they wasted was one second closer to their plan being discovered. And Obi knew he couldn’t count on any more lucky breaks.

The vent was pitch black, making it difficult for Spurious to even make out the shape of his hands in front of him. For what seemed like an hour, he squirmed through the tight air duct. He knew in advance it was going to be tight, but he had no idea it would be this bad. Ajax barely managed to fit inside, and was forced to remove his chest armor before entering.

As Spurious crawled further he began to feel his heart racing inside his chest. It was finally happening; he was going to have his chance at shaping the future of Tisaia.

His thoughts drifted to Lana, trying to forget her betrayal. He had to stay strong now; avenging the deaths of Lana, Paulo and his parents was all that mattered.

He pushed through the darkness, sweat dripping down his bruised and wind burnt face, seeping into his pores. With every struggling move, he began to feel like his arms and legs were moving on their own accord. His heart continued to beat faster and faster. And just when he thought he was going to vomit, Ajax stopped in front of him. “We’re here,” he grumbled back at Spurious.

Spurious flattened his body against the smooth metal of the air duct, listening to Nathar work on removing the barely visible cover to the tunnel below.

For minutes he lay there, listening to the faint sound of Nathar working in the distance. He strained his ears, listening to the sound of boots hitting a concrete floor below, the echo muffled by the metal ventilation.

They must be in.

Gunshots immediately erupted below, rattling the metal duct. His excitement quickly turned to horror. It was really happening. He was really going into battle against the CRK.

Spurious placed his hands over his ears, trying to shield them from the deafening noise that was amplified by the tight metal vent. The gunfire stopped as soon as it had started and a nervous silence washed over the soldiers in the air duct.

“All clear!” a voice finally shouted from below.

Spurious sucked in a deep breath of stale air, attempting to get back in a crawling position. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he dropped back to his stomach. The ringing from the gunfire was pounding in his head.

“Let’s move,” Ajax growled in front of him.

Spurious forced himself onto his belly and squirmed through the final length of the air duct, trying to keep up with Ajax. He could make out the halogen light bleeding into the duct from the open hole in the center of the vent. He closed his eyes slowly and took a deep breath, just like he did before jumping into the pool as a kid, and dropped through the opening.

The brightness of the tunnel instantly washed over him. He blinked, trying to regain his vision and focus on the tunnel. Spurious felt naked, exposed in the open, not knowing exactly where he was. He rubbed his eyes as his vision slowly returned to normal.

At the end of the tunnel he could make out a large metal door and two Knights lying on the concrete ground. There were warm red puddles of blood pooled around their corpses.

“Let’s go,” Ajax shouted at Spurious, who stood staring.

Spurious snapped out of it, removing his key card from his damp pocket and rushing over to the card reader. “Please let this work,” he muttered, stepping over the body of a dead Knight and swiping the small badge over a red key card built into the wall. He waited, but nothing happened.

“Shit!” he screamed, waving the small white identification card back and forth across the front of the reader. Finally, the red light turned green with a click, and the door unlocked.

“Get him out of here,” Obi ordered Ran.

Spurious watched Ajax grab the large metal handle of the door and began to pry it open. Obi waited from behind, a bag of explosives in each hand. Nathar, Creo and Nordica all had taken to one knee, their weapons trained on the door, waiting to see what was on the other side.

Before Ajax could open the door, Spurious felt Ran grab his arm. “You heard him, Spurious, let’s go. Your work is done. We need to get you out of here!” Ran shouted.

Spurious couldn’t move, though; everything had slowed to a crawl, like it had the night Lana died. He stood there staring blankly at the door, Ran pulling on his arm, urging him to follow.

As Ajax opened the door, Nordica and Creo rushed into the room, their weapons at the ready. The explosion of gunfire erupted immediately.

This time Spurious didn’t bring his hands to his ears; he stood there, motionless, watching the red hot blasts of white lead streak from the ends of Creo’s and Nordica’s rifles. Spurious could barely make out the Knights in the distance. They fired from behind two metal crates positioned in the middle of the next hallway.

Ran loosened his grip on Spurious’ hand just as two rounds tore through Nordica. He screamed helplessly and watched Nordica’s dreadlocks swirling in the air, her rifle firing wildly before her body slumped against the concrete wall speckled with blood.

Creo cocked his head to glance down at Nordica’s lifeless body before firing several bursts at the Knights’ positions. “Go to hell, you Tin Cans!” he screamed.

The rounds ricocheted harmlessly off the metal crates the Knights were hiding behind, prompting them to duck. This gave Nathar and Ajax an opportunity to rush into the room. Ajax dove, lobbing a grenade towards their position.

The grenade hit the ground and rolled to the middle of the two metal crates. The Knights fumbled with their weapons, turning to run after seeing it at the last moment.

Ajax and Nathar dove for cover just before the bright white light of the grenade flashed. The explosion ripped through the metal crates, shredding the Knights and sending chunks of concrete, twisted metal, and body parts into the air.

Ajax slowly removed his hands from his head and peered around the room, coughing from the smoke and smell of scorched flesh.

“Let’s move! Plant the explosives,” Ajax ordered. He rushed past Obi who was preoccupied watching Creo and Ran attempt CPR on Nordica.

“How bad?” Obi asked.

Creo removed his goggles, so he could look upon his commander with his own eyes before shaking his head.

Obi, nodded, pulling a whimpering Ran off of Nordica. “Ran, I need you to get the others out of here. Nordica would want you to live. Ajax and I will finish setting the explosives.”

Ran wiped a tear from his face and nodded, heading for the vent opening. Obi watched half his team make it back to the air duct, Nathar hoisting Spurious and then Ran into the darkness above him.

A small rush of relief washed over Obi. It was a small victory, considering the mission. He knew going in there would be casualties. Even though Nordica wouldn’t be making the trip home, there was comfort knowing she wanted to die in combat.

“How’s it coming, Ajax?”

“Almost done, boss, let’s just hope the Tin Cans didn’t hear us coming.”

Obi knew they were working on borrowed time. By now the entire headquarters would be alerted to their presence and squads from all over Lunia would be honing in on them. They had minutes, maybe seconds, to plant the charges and bail. He kneeled next to Ajax and trained his machine gun on the door at the end of the tunnel, waiting.

“Okay, boss. Timer’s set, let’s go!” Ajax shouted. “You do the honors,” he said, handing Obi the remote detonator.

Obi felt the cold metal of the detonator on his fingers. In his hand he held the end to a revolution—the ability to bring the CRK headquarters and the Tisaian government to its knees.

He looked up at Ajax, a smile hidden by his five days’ worth of facial scruff. His friend didn’t return the smile, however. He looked terrified. Obi turned just in time to see a squad of Knights pouring into the room.

Ajax started firing immediately, back tracking through the open metal door and into the first room. Shells rained down on the concrete floor, pinging as they hit.

“Shut it!” Obi screamed.

Ajax tossed his weapon to the side and began shutting the massive metal door. White hot bullets ricocheted off the other side, but Ajax would not be deterred. He grunted, snorted and heaved with all of his might. His muscles bulged, the cobwebs of veins poking out of his scarred arms until finally the door closed with a loud bang.

But Obi’s luck had finally run out. He lay on the concrete floor, squirming in pain. Ajax continued on, oblivious to his fallen comrade. He headed to the card reader and blasted the device with his pistol.

“Let’s go, I’ll hoist you up first, boss!” Ajax shouted, reaching down for his assault rifle. It was then his eyes finally came to rest on Obi’s broken body.

“I’m not going to be making the trip home this time, my friend. You’re Commander of the TDU now,” Obi coughed, a red stream of blood streaking down his chin.

“No!” Ajax cried, collapsing to his knees. “You’re coming with, boss, we can still get you out of here,” the large man whimpered. His eyes comprehended what his mind could not — Obi was mortally wounded, two bullet holes to the chest and one in his stomach.

Obi coughed again, holding up the detonator. “I never told the others, but I have always considered you a son.”

Ajax squeezed Obi’s hand. He couldn’t bring himself to look down at the dying commander, the man he had fought side by side with for so long. He was a man of few words, and he wasn’t going to change now. Placing his hand on Obi’s shoulder, he squeezed it one last time, a tear finding its way out of his neon orange goggles and crawling down his thick jaw line.

“Go!” Obi coughed, another stream of blood crawling out of his lips.

Ajax stood, gritting his teeth and wiping the tear away before heading for the air duct opening. He grabbed Nathar’s hand, jumping and pulling himself into the metal duct above.

The team crawled through the air duct as quickly as they could, listening to the Knights pound the metal door in the distance. It was too late for them, though; the bombs on the other side couldn’t be disengaged, and the detonator remained in the hands of one of the most loyal TDU soldiers to ever fight in Tisaia.

He lay in front of the door, motionless, the pain subsiding, his life source draining from his body. He watched Ajax climb to safety and was at peace.

Obi’s bloodstained lips formed a smile. He had watched Spurious grow into a man in the past few days, and knew this young State worker’s destiny was to rise to greatness and lead Tisaia out of the darkness. He would have a chance to do that now.

Obi gripped the remote tighter in his gloved hand and reached for the necklace Sasa had given him years ago, caressing it. He closed his eyes and remembered her face and the faces of all those lost under his command. His eyes darted back down to the remote. This was for the departed—the ones who lost their lives fighting for justice.

The pounding on the door grew louder. He grimaced, the feeling in his legs dwindling. His body was redirecting the blood to his heart and brain as his organs slowly began to shut down. He had to hang on, to give his men adequate time. They had to get far enough away from the blast zone. He hadn’t come this far to fail them now.

The banging on the door rang out again. The Knights on the other side were growing more frantic.

Obi took one last breath, memories of the past racing through his mind before he closed his eyes for the last time. With a single click he pushed the button on the detonator; a single tear crept down his face before the fire consumed him.

Kalah sat in his small tent, surrounded by three of his closest friends. He watched his companions huddle around the small fire, chatting anxiously about the news trickling into the camp from relatives and friends in Rohania. The flames illuminated a sparkle in Kalah’s normally dull brown eyes.

An hour had passed since news of the massive bomb that ripped through the Council of Royal Knight’s Headquarters spread. And Kalah was excited. Normally he would have dismissed such news, but when the ground shook and the smoke rose in the distance, he knew a change was coming. Today was the day he would rise with the rest of the immigrants at Camp #4. Today was the day they would finally achieve their freedom.

He turned to his tent mate Mulia. “How many weapons do we have hidden?”

Mulia held up his fingers as if he were counting the rifles he had hidden over the years. “About 50,” he finally responded.

“Then we should have enough for almost every able man in the camp. It’s time to fight. Spread the word. Today we go to war!” Kalah yelled, rising from his feet.

Leo sat in the bowels of St. Peter’s church, hiding in the shadows and watching the flicker of candle light dance across the dark room. He listened carefully to the Rohanians who gathered around a massive oak table in the center of the room. He examined the weapons, maps and pages upon pages of documents littered across the table, wondering if they were real.

Leo had helped organize the meeting immediately after hearing of the news streaming in from Lunia. The Knights’ headquarters had finally fallen.

“Let us call this meeting to order!” shouted Susa Waria, a middle aged shop owner from Rohania, known for her waist length gray hair.

“I want to thank Leo, one of Rohania’s oldest protectors, for organizing this meeting. Rest assured you’re safe here. The Knights are busy with rescue attempts at their headquarters. That’s right, the news you have all inevitably heard by now is true. The Knights have been broken,” Susa said, pausing, the room breaking into cheers.

“Let us not forget, however, the window of opportunity for a rebellion is short. Knights are still positioned throughout Tisaia, and will without a doubt reorganize quickly. We must rally with the immigrant camps and strike them hard, and strike them swiftly if we hope to truly retake Tisaia.”

The room erupted in commotion. Susa stood, her hands trying to quell the disorder.

“What of the TDU? How do we know they’re strong enough to fight a full-fledged rebellion?” a man asked from a chair at the back of the room.

“They were strong enough to destroy the CRK headquarters,” another man Leo did not recognize shouted.

“We shouldn’t overestimate them, though,” a woman yelled at the end of the table.

“Order!” Susa yelled at the top of her lungs. The room quieted and she placed her hands down on the table softly, scanning the room with her dark brown eyes.

“We’ve waited for this day for a long time now. I can assure all of you my contacts have confirmed the TDU is still intact. News has already trickled in that the immigrant camps are beginning to rise up. We’ve been supplying them with weapons for years, waiting for an opportunity just like this…” Susa paused and grabbed a document from the table.

“In front of you there are directions. You’re all ward leaders, men and women who own shops or businesses in Rohania. These documents will provide you with the information you need to organize your wards. Weapons and supplies will be provided. What your people may lack in training they will certainly make up for in enthusiasm. The Knights will not be able to stop a full rebellion,” Susa calmly reassured them.

Silence crept over the room, the ward leaders scanning through their briefs.

“If you do not wish to be part of this uprising that is your decision. All I ask is you make this decision quickly. For those of you who do not wish to continue, please leave now,” Susa requested.

Leo watched the ward leaders fidget around the table, a few appearing anxious to leave, but they all remained. The darkness hid the nervous brows of these men and women, who had gone from struggling business owners to rebels overnight. Most of them had no experience with fighting, something they all lived amongst for so long.

Susa, however, was no stranger to fighting or rebellions. She had lived her entire life amongst those fighting to make the world a better place. In the beginning years, when Tisaia rose out of the ashes of war, she had been part of the TDU. She knew this experience wasn’t something she could pass onto the ward leaders through words on a piece of paper. She couldn’t expect them to fully grasp the task in front of them. All she could do was hope they would follow through with what she asked of them.

Susa looked around the room one more time, briefly studying the faces of each of the men and women she was relying on the most.

“Thank you for staying. I truly appreciate your bravery, and soon Tisaia will as well. Are there any questions?” Susa asked, pausing to glance around the room and study the anxious faces. Silence swept over the room and she continued. “If there are no questions, then this meeting is adjourned. Good luck and Godspeed,” Susa said, blowing out a candle, grabbing her rifle and heading for the cobblestone streets above.

Squad 19 sat perched on the first floor of an abandoned high rise, never repaired from the nuke that peeled back its layers of metal like a doctor cutting into flesh with a sharp knife. They watched the gray dawn break on the horizon, cold and dense. In the distance flames licked the skyline, smoke billowing above the CRK headquarters and Capitol, now nothing more than smoldering craters in the ground.

The sight sent a chill down Spurious’ spine, a relief so overwhelming it could almost be confused with joy. But joy wasn’t the proper word to describe the destruction he saw in the distance. Amongst the lifeless bodies of Governor Felix, Commander Augustus and their army of barbaric Knights lay many of his co-workers—collateral damage in a war that spared no one.

Spurious shook the images of death from his mind. The civilians, Lana, and his parents weren’t the only deaths being grieved. Squad 19 had not been able to mourn Obi or Nordica either. The time for grieving would come, but first Squad 19 had one last mission to complete.

A shrieking explosion broke through the morning gray haze as an ammo depot exploded somewhere in the city. The flash blinded Spurious momentarily. He shielded his naked eyes, but it was of no use; his vision was clouded with stars.

“Here, take these.” Ran said, handing him Nordica’s night vision goggles. “She has no use for them now,” Ran said, a slight whimper in his voice.

“Thanks,” Spurious replied.

A pair of heavy boot steps interrupted them, prompting the two to turn and watch Creo enter the room, his radio blaring to life.

“Listen,” he shouted, an excited grin on his face.

“We’ve captured the CRK garage. Facing light resistance. If the TDU is out there we have…” a pause of static broke over the channel. Creo shook his wrist and smacked the radio in frustration, but only static hissed out.

“We have four Fox Hounds and a dozen Scorpions. Need assistance. Over.”

“Holy shit,” Nathar said, clapping his hands in excitement.

“Roger. TDU here, identify yourself.”

Static broke out over the channel for several moments.

“This is Mulia. Immigrant from liberated Camp #4. We have captured the vehicle garage and are coordinating a counter offensive with wards in Rohania. We need TDU assistance as soon as possible. Over.”

“Roger. What is your location? Over,” Creo asked.

“Two blocks from the CRK headquarters, just south of the SGS building.”

“I know where that is!” Spurious shouted, interrupting the transmission.

“Roger. Give us 15 minutes. Hold your position!” Creo shouted into the radio.

Ajax slung his rifle around his shoulders and took one last glance out the broken window, glassing the city below. “This is our chance. I have always wanted to drive a Fox Hound. Let’s move out!”

“Be careful!” Creo yelled over the Fox Hound’s intercom. He gripped his arm rests tightly, the vehicle tearing out of the metal garage and shredding the slightly ajar door before plunging onto the cobblestone streets below.

“Hold on!” Ajax shouted, gripping the controls tightly. He took a hard left, scraping the side of a maintenance building, a trail of sparks raining down on the tank’s armor.

The tank barreled down the street, cracking the ancient bricks below its heavily chained tires.

“Any targets yet, Nathar?” Ajax asked, peering through a small slit above the control panels.

Nathar rotated into a comfortable position at his weapon station, trying to make sense of the battle blue screens connected to cameras built into the armor of the tank. The four holographic screens gave him a 360 degree view of the streets.

“Nothing yet, sir, but I’m picking up chatter over the radio.” He paused, pushing one of the padded ear phones against his head and straining to listen.

“Sounds like the remaining Tin Cans are dug in at the Golden Dome and there are sporadic pockets of resistance between our location and the arena.” Nathar paused again, desperately trying to make sense of the radio chatter overwhelming the channel. “I’m also hearing they have RPGs set up on roof tops a few blocks from here. So stay sharp,” Nathar finished.

Creo took another glance through the scope, the empty streets emerging through his viewer.

“Keep an eye on those rooftops,” Ajax shouted over the tank’s intercom.

Creo scanned the skyline, stopping on an abandoned high rise decapitated by the blast from a nuke decades ago. Something in the tangled metal was moving, and then a flash of light, a black dot breaking through the gray haze, with a flaming trail behind it.

“RPG!” he screamed, bracing against the metal skin of the tank wall, his hands covering his ears tightly.

The missile plowed into the side of the tank, creating an expensive dent in the armor before exploding and rocking the tank to its right side.

Creo attempted to recover, but his ears were ringing and vision blurred. He rubbed his eyes and squinted into the scope, gripping the joystick tightly. As the outline of the two Knights came into focus, he didn’t hesitate in pulling the hard metal trigger. He watched the uranium tipped projectile sail towards the rooftop; a flash of light blinding him, the floor where the Knights once stood disappearing in an orange explosion.

Creo laughed. “Holy shit!” he yelled. “I turned them to scrap metal!”

“Stay sharp.” Ajax instructed. “There could be more.”

Creo regained his composure quickly, firing off another shell towards a Scorpion at the end of the street where two more Knights fired a .50 cal.

He watched the white streaks of lead racing towards them and listened to their harmless pings ring out on the tank’s armor. Creo couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time in his life the .50 cal bursts from a Scorpion had no way of killing him.

He peered back into his scope and pulled the trigger, listening to the shell explode out of the tank’s gun. The first shot went wide, shattering the foundation of a stone building and lifting the Scorpion into the air from the blast. He squinted again, waiting for the cross hairs to line up with the Scorpion, but the Knights were already retreating. He watched them peel off the curb, shredding a tire before escaping down the cobblestone street.

Creo stomped the metal floor of the tank. “Damn, missed them,” he yelled over the intercom.

“It’s okay, they’re heading towards a pocket of Rohanian rebels,” Nathar said, studying his blue screen intensely. “We’re only a block from the dome.”

“Creo, keep an eye out for more RPGs. A few more direct hits and we’re toast.” Ajax said.

“Yes, sir.”

Creo took a deep breath and squinted into the scope again, observing the same empty street, a few of the buildings raging with flames. The rooftops were empty, no heat signals.

The tank reared sharply to the left and slowed, the magnificent Golden Dome coming into focus. A trail of smoke roared out of a gaping hole in the dome, sending a chill down Creo’s back. On the ground, hundreds of Rohanians and immigrants surrounded the structure. He scanned the countless men and women, their faces blurry through the gray morning.

“Holy shit, will you look at that?” Ajax said. “If Obi could only have seen this.”

Nathar blinked, rubbing his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The blue screens showed the entire Golden Dome surrounded. Rohanians sat perched on rooftops, in office windows, against concrete barriers, and hidden behind trucks. The Knights were trapped.

“Guys, I’m hearing chatter that the other Knight positions have already fallen. This is it. This is the last of them!” Nathar shouted.

“Get Ran on the line. I want him to bring Spurious to our location asap,” Ajax ordered.

With a deep groan, Ajax unlocked the gmetal hatch to the Fox Hound, swinging it open like a cupboard door. Cautiously he stuck his head out, barely flinching as two stray bullets ricocheted off the tanks armor.

“Damn,” he said, surveying the hundreds of Rohanian rebels and immigrants surrounding the Golden Dome. He watched the small army advance in awe. They cut through the dense fog crawling across the gray field, undeterred by the sniper bullets cutting through the silence of the morning.

“Over here, Ajax!” a voice yelled from the street.

The monstrous soldier turned to see Spurious running towards the tank.

“We have the Knights surrounded and the rest are on the run. The rebels are waiting for orders!” he yelled ecstatically.

Ajax climbed out of the tank, Nathar and Creo close behind.

“Take cover!” Ajax exclaimed, ducking behind the safety of the armor. Another sniper bullet ricocheted off the metal, a ping echoing in his ears.

Creo crouched beside Spurious, his head hidden behind the safety of the tank’s metal shell. “Who’s calling the shots?” he shouted over the sporadic gunfire.

“A ward leader from Rohania named Susa, apparently. I don’t know. Everything has been chaotic since I arrived with Ran!” Spurious yelled.

Ajax plucked his radio from a velcro strap on his metal chest armor. “Commander Ajax here. Requesting report. Over.”

A pair of voices crackled over the radio, static mixing with the unrecognizable chatter. “Ajax…” Crackle. “Ajax… this is…” Crackle.

“This is Commander Ajax. Come in. Over,” he replied, shaking the radio violently to the sound of more static.

“Ajax, this is Susa. I’m leading the rebellion right now and need assistance from the TDU. We broke the assault up by wards and they’re holding their fire until I give orders to advance.”

Ajax strained cautiously to see over the tank, his orange goggles glowing through the transparent fog.

“Report on status of Knights. Over.” Ajax said, waiting.

“We put their numbers anywhere from 50 to 75 strong. There are several other pockets of resistance, but I’ve already sent several wards and fighters from Camp #4 to assault those positions. The Golden Dome is their last holdout. Most of the Knights perished in the initial attack on the headquarters,” Susa replied.

“Roger. I’ll order my men to bombard the Dome with the Fox Hounds.”

“No!” Susa yelled, interrupting him. “I want the Dome saved at all costs.”

“With all due respect, I don’t give a shit. Unless you want the blood of hundreds of civilians on your hands, then we’re going to turn that building into a crater of ash.”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Susa shouted angrily over the radio. “The Dome needs to be saved. The Capitol is gone now; last I checked, the TDU turned it into a smoking cave. The Dome is the only feasible place to set up a transitional government!”

“She’s lost her freaking mind,” Ajax snorted, cocking his head to glance at his squad.

“This could be a very costly assault, Ajax,” Nathar said, fear in his voice. “The rebels have no chance at taking that building. Not with their weapons. They will be slaughtered.”

“We don’t have a choice; the Knights have refused to surrender. If it were up to me, we would use the Fox Hounds to bombard the building until it’s nothing but ashes, but we can’t win this fight without Susa, or her army.”

Another shot rang out, dropping a rebel in the middle of the field, arterial blood staining the gray dirt a bright red.

Spurious watched the rebel claw at his throat, trying to stop his life source from flowing out, but it was no use. The man twitched a few last times before he became another casualty—another statistic in the war that had already killed so many.

The sudden feeling of Déjà vu gripped Spurious as he scanned the frightened faces peeking out of the fog. He saw the face of a young man dressed in tattered clothes hiding behind a trash can, gripping a shotgun tightly to his chest. He saw the face of an old immigrant crawling towards the fallen rebel who was bleeding out in the field. He saw the face of a young woman crying uncontrollably behind a light pole. And finally he saw a man and woman holding pistols nervously behind a pickup truck. To anyone else they would have been mistaken as ordinary citizens turned soldiers, but to Spurious they were more. They were Ing, Paulo, Lana and his parents.

“NO!” Spurious yelled.

Ajax took a step back from the tank, shocked at his sudden outburst.

“No what?” Ajax asked, studying the young man’s battered face.

“No one else needs to die, Ajax. We’ve lost too many good people. And when the smoke clears we’re going to need trained soldiers to help protect our walls. There are threats in the Wastelands they can mitigate; pirates, raiders, countless other terrors. Let me offer them the chance to surrender.”

Ajax muttered something under his breath. “Spurious, this isn’t your call. Besides, we’ve offered them the chance to surrender and they won’t. We have no choice…”

“What would Obi do?” Spurious asked, cutting Ajax off.

The soldier scratched his beard, recalling a conversation he had with Obi in an abandoned windmill not a month ago. “Save those you can and help those that can be rehabilitated.” The words repeated over and over in his mind.

“Damn, you’re right.” Ajax patted Spurious on the shoulder. They both knew Obi would have done everything he could to save the Rohanians, and to find a useful purpose for the remaining Knights, who were brainwashed into following orders. Obi always saw Governor Felix and Commander Augustus as the real enemy, and believed their mindless minions of Knights were pawns in the larger chess game.

“I’m going to patch a line into the arena and see if you can talk some sense into the lead Knight…” Ajax checked his watch. “Spurious, we won’t have long before our channel is shut down by the rebels, so make this quick,” he said, patting him on the back again.

A scream cut through the morning, another rebel falling to the ground, the victim of a CRK sniper round.

“You have to hurry! The rebels won’t hold back much longer!” Creo yelled.

Spurious nodded and grabbed a radio from Ran.

“The Knight in charge is Royal Knight Tinus. Good luck,” he replied.

“That’s the Knight that killed the Samoan!” Spurious shouted anxiously.

Ran shrugged. “I don’t care who he is. This isn’t going to work. You can’t trust the Tin Can’s. They will never surrender,” he replied.

Spurious ignored the small soldier, knowing he was still grieving over Nordica’s death. Snatching the radio, he took a knee behind the Fox Hound.

“Royal Knight Tinus come in. Over.”

Static crackled over the radio for several seconds.

“Roger. Tinus here. With whom am I speaking? Over.” His voice was edgy, strained from yelling.

“This is Spurious Timur. I’m a State employee with SGS. I have been authorized to offer you a conditional surrender. Over.”

Tinus laughed. “If you can give me one good reason to talk to a traitor, then I’ll give surrender honest consideration. Over.”

Ran chuckled. “What did I tell you?”

“Shut up, little man. Let him talk,” Ajax growled.

“Royal Knight Tinus. I understand how you may feel right now. Everything you have known has turned upside down within hours. Your work, dedication and loyalty to the State may seem lost, but I can assure you it’s not.”

“You know nothing about dedication and loyalty; you’re nothing more than a traitor!” Tinus yelled, interrupting Spurious.

Spurious stiffened. “I know more about loyalty and dedication than you think. After my parents were killed in the beginning years of the revolution I was sent to an orphanage and later to the University. I became a State employee and have served the State since then. In the past two months everything changed for me. My best friend was killed in the subway attacks; the woman I loved betrayed me and was killed…”

Spurious choked, the memory of Lana’s death haunting his thoughts before the crackling radio brought him back.

“It turns out everything I have known to be true is a lie. My parents were the founders of the TDU. The State I served has oppressed those it has sworn to defend. I have seen the Wastelands, I have seen the immigrant camps and I have seen the ruthlessness of both the TDU and the Knights. And on top of all of the death, misery and pain I have seen something else. I have seen a common humanity I once read about when I was a young boy. There was once a place called New York City, a city full of immigrants from around the world. They came to Ellis Island for a chance at better life. As I have traveled throughout Tisaia, the camps, Rohania and even Lunia I realized what made New York great can make Tisaia great. If we give everyone a chance to survive, Tisaia can become a just place again. You know as well as I do that we have enough Biomass and food reserves to last a century. We can help those in need. We can build a strong Tisaia, one that values righteousness.”

Ajax watched the young man and smiled. “Go on, Spurious,” he said.

Spurious nodded and continued. “Tinus, I ask you to surrender because the bloodshed does not need to continue. We can heal from this revolution, and you and your Knights will not be harmed. I can assure you. At the end of this, we’ll need your men to continue to protect our walls. Your men will not only be safe, they will be utilized in further service to the State. These are our conditions. Surrender and you shall remain Knights…”

The arena was almost completely dark, illuminated only by the sporadic red flicker of blinking emergency lights.

Inside the second floor business office, Royal Knight Tinus stood in the makeshift control room, staring at an outdated map of the city. His men were still hastily setting the room up, piling desks against the windows overlooking the parking lot.

A deafening gunshot rang out from the corner of the room, the shot echoing throughout, but Tinus held steady, his face stoic. He had ordered the two snipers positioned at the window to fire every five minutes, to prevent the rebels from advancing. This would buy him time, hopefully enough to devise a plan—a plan that didn’t include surrendering, the option extended to him earlier by the TDU.

“Reporting for duty, sir,” a Knight said from the hallway.

Tinus instantly recognized the muffled voice. “How did it come to this, Riya?” he replied, bringing his fist down on the table. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

Riya unfastened his helmet, taking it off so he could run his hand through his sweat drenched hair. “Sir, it’s not good. We’ve lost contact with all of our squads outside the building. The rebels have taken two of our ammo depots, our garage, and our headquarters is gone.”

Tinus froze, his eyes finding their way back to the map. “We’re completely surrounded and the rebels have Fox Hounds. There is no way out.”

Riya frowned, wondering if it was finally time to reveal his true thoughts about the State. Would Tinus accept them? Embrace them? Or would he call him a traitor and have him hauled away? The old Knight took a deep breath. Under the circumstances it was a risk he was willing to take. “Sir, we need to talk. Can we do this in private?”

Tinus wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. “Sure, there is an office down the hall. Follow me.”

The two Knights exited the office and entered the dark hall, ignoring the salutes of Knights who stood waiting for orders.

“It’s the first door on your left,” Tinus said, pointing ahead.

Riya scanned the room and found a pair of chairs stacked in the corner. He dragged them over to a coffee table and nodded at Tinus. “Please sit.”

Tinus clasped his hands together behind his back. “I’d rather stand. There is a battle going on outside, our men are dying. Make this quick.”

Riya nodded and reached for his hand held radio, placing it in the center of the table. “I overheard your conversation with Spurious on the open channel. In fact, most of the men did.”

Tinus laughed, his face quickly growing red with anger. “You brought me all the way down here to tell me that?”

“With all due respect sir, just look outside. We’re completely surrounded. There is nowhere to run and no way to fight our way out of this situation. You’re the Royal Commander now. Please think of your men and the citizens of Tisaia.”

Tinus snorted. “We can still win this battle, my old friend.”

“At what cost? 25 men? 50?” Riya said, interrupting Tinus in mid sentence.

“I’d sacrifice every man if it meant keeping Tisaia safe.”

Riya stood to face his old ally. “Safe from whom? From its own people? The Rohanians? The State Workers? The Immigrants? Tinus, this revolution isn’t the result of one horrible law; it’s a result of hundreds of bad laws!”

“What would you have me do?” Tinus said, his face flushed with frustration.

“I’d have you surrender and help restore Tisaia to the State it was meant to be!” Riya yelled, spit flying out of his open mouth.

Tinus stiffened. His eyes locked with Riya’s for a split second before darting away to the wall. He took a deep breath and walked to the door. “When did things go to shit, my old friend?”

Riya took a step over to Tinus and put a hand on his armored shoulder. “A long time ago.”

Tinus let out a deep breath, his chest plate shrinking back to its normal position. A flash from his battle with the Samoan slipped into his mind. He could vividly remember the crowd cheering for the refugee. Even clearer was the memory of his utter shock, wondering why the audience would request mercy for the man. But now it was all beginning to make sense. As much as he hated to admit it, Riya and Spurious were right. The State had oppressed citizens for too long. Even worse, the Governor and his cohorts had brainwashed the Knights to carry out their restrictive laws. How could he have been blind to it for so long?

Tinus grunted, and cracked a rare smile. “You’re right, Riya. We should have stood up for what was right a long time ago. I’m afraid fear has been rampant for too long in Tisaia, preventing justice and equality from being served to the masses.”

Riya returned the man’s smile. “You’re right, but it isn’t too late. We can still salvage this. We can help rebuild Tisaia again.”

“I thought that’s what we did after the Biomass Wars, but I’ve been wrong all along,” Tinus responded, slipping his helmet back on. “Inform the men. I’m heading back to the control room to discuss our surrender with the TDU.”

Riya stood at the doorway, watching the red flicker of emergency lights. The glow illuminated Tinus’ dust caked armor through the darkness with every flash.

Suddenly a powerful wave of relief rushed over Riya—a wave so powerful he was forced to brace himself against the wall. He had been harboring his dissent for so long, and now it was finally over. He could breathe again. And while he wasn’t certain what the future held, there was something about this Spurious that convinced him things were going to change.

Static crackled over the radio. Squad 19 hunched around the radio, waiting for a response from Royal Knight Tinus.

Spurious glanced up to see the Rohanians had stopped advancing and waited in a circle around the building, news of the negotiations spreading quickly.

“Spurious, this is Tinus, come in. Over.”

Spurious fumbled for the radio and quickly brought it to his mouth. “Roger, Spurious here. Over.”

“First off, let’s drop the radio formalities. This conversation is anything but formal. Now tell me, the Ellis Island you spoke of. Was it a good place to live?”

“One of the best sir. The men and women migrated there in search of a better life. Through hard work they achieved more than you could ever imagine and built one of the best cities in the world.”

“This sounds like something worth fighting for,” Tinus replied. “How will you ensure my men will still continue to serve if we surrender?”

“Rebel leader Obi Hepe firmly believed Tisaia was corrupted not by its soldiers, but by its leaders. With Governor Felix, Commander Augustus and the legislature gone, Tisaia will need new leaders. Righteous leaders. They will need an army to protect the walls. Your men will be pardoned and will continue to serve. This is my promise to you. I’ve been assured by Rebel leader Alexir Jahn the TDU will honor this pledge.”

A brief moment of radio silence followed Spurious’ assurances.

“A lot of good men and innocent people have been killed today. It needs to end. We will accept the TDU’s conditions and will surrender.”

Spurious dropped the radio to the ground, ignoring the pieces of plastic cracking on the concrete below. He couldn’t believe what he had heard.

His eyes scanned the faces of the squad members, all who looked equally confused and shocked, before turning back to the building.

The fog began to part and a small ray of crimson light broke through one of the gray clouds above the Dome. Like a miracle, the gold rooftop began to radiate light. The rebels rose from the safety of their hiding places, watching the anomaly, soaking in the rare splendor before the sun crawled back behind the cloud and the gray reclaimed the land. Through the silence a voice broke out in the distance. “They’re surrendering!”

Spurious turned to see Leo racing through the field. “Put down your weapons, they’re surrendering!” he yelled.

Spurious laughed at the sight of the crazy old man, his arms flailing joyfully about. The rebels cautiously began to put down their weapons, erupting into cheers. One by one, the men and women emerged from the fog.

Ajax grabbed Spurious and hugged the man half his size. For a second Spurious couldn’t believe what happened, but as Ajax let go, Spurious realized it was real.

“Obi would be proud of you,” Ajax said, laughing.

Spurious smiled, not his half grin, but a full one gleaming with joy.

“Spurious! You’ve done it! Tisaia is now free!” Creo yelled.

The two embraced as more and more rebels surrounded them. “Spurious!” someone began to shout.

He turned to see Leo again, shouting his name energetically in the middle of the growing crowd.

“Spurious! Spurious! Spurious!” the old man shouted. In a matter of seconds those around him started to repeat the same. Ajax grabbed Spurious and hoisted him onto his shoulders.

By the time the Knights began to emerge from the entrance of the arena an entire crowd was chanting his name, Ajax carrying him through the hundreds of faces of civilians.

Ajax looked up at his comrade. “We’ve won, my friend! We’ve won!”

A tear crept down Spurious’ battered cheek, not from joy, not from sadness, but a combination of both. He watched the crowd shouting his name and remembered Lana, Paulo, his parents, Obi and all of the others lost in the fight for Tisaia. And he smiled.

The sun finally broke through the gray morning, illuminating a new Tisaia, a free Tisaia.