A video had been circling across Matuvista’s internet. It was an inherently unusual video- it was only about thirty minutes long and there was very little to view other than the walls of a prison… But it was the audio that was important. The video started with the narrator talking as a truck cruised into the prison.
“Most Fridays, that hovertruck drives into the prison. It’s a military transport, and it carries the executioners for this week’s death sentences. Nothing weird about that, but I noticed something last Friday and it got me up before dawn for this shit. So, normally, you hear maybe a single volley, maybe two. But last week, I heard… I don’t know. Thirty? Forty? I got no proof, so let’s see what I hear this morning."
The video then sped up, the first of Matuvista’s three suns cresting the horizon. Once its rays had touched the prison, the video slowed and the voice emerged again. “Alright. First dawn. Should be a volley coming now.” A timer started in the corner, hanging on zero. Then, a series of
cracks split the early morning, and the counter ticked up. “So, that’s one criminal dead. Nothing weird. Then, wait for it.” There was another crack. “That’s just them finishing the guy off, not another dead.
The seconds dragged, then a minute. Then, at about a minute and a half, another series of cracks. “So that’s two. By the way, they execute these guys in batches, so it could be one dead, could be like five. Fuck do I know.” More minutes dragged along, and then… Crack. The counter ticked up.
By the time the video ended, the counter sat pretty on 11. “Dunno about you, but something here seems a bit off,” the voice chimed in. “Never heard more than 3 before last week. Now there’s 11? Seems suspicious. Alright, well, I guess if I don’t post again I’ve been thrown in prison so… I guess let’s hope I can upload again? Aight. Signing out.”
Devi, we received two new nations whilst you were away. One I handled. The other… Well, they’re about to arrive aboard the station shortly. You should know though,“They’re somewhat unusual, Capitão. They say that they’re evolved… Well, evolved apes.” The patrician paused for a moment, as if recognising how absurd their own words were.
Apes? Simians? Our closest ancestors on Old Earth? Sigma-Devi paused for a moment as she processed this information: She had been asleep after returning from the gala, and thus hadn’t had the same chance to come to terms with the Khanate as the rest of the Consciousness had.
“Indeed, Capitão. The same ones on Old Earth. We thought them entirely extinct, and now here they are, apparently uplifted and having mastered interstellar flight.” Alfonso paused for a moment as he too processed this information, then slowly reached for a pocket and drew out a cigar.
No time to waste. I shall send a message immediately. Open communications with them before they bring their parade aboard."Understood, Capitão. At once." The patrician gave a crisp salute, then hurried off to relay the message.
Almost at the same time, the Khanate received two messages.
Hail from the Gran Republic of Matuvista! Congratulations on your Gateway having opened, and your peoples being re-introduced to the stars which our mutual ancestors promised them. Much as you draw from the past of great Mongolia, we are the heirs of the mighty Spanish Empire, inheritors of a New World twice over, and eager for any and all who understand and draw pride from their past, no matter who they be. Please, we bid you come aboard with all haste, and should you wish to engage in further diplomacy with us, have no doubt your ambassadors and representatives are welcome aboard the Santa De Angelo.Greetings, Supremus. We are the Zetan Consciousness, and we understand the need of continuing mankind's legacy in the face of what seems like certain extinction. We are transmitting this message directly to you to offer you both a heartfelt welcome to the Intergalactic Community, and a warning to you- there are others who will not be as welcoming as we to the idea of Simian inheritors. Should it please you, we invite you aboard our section of the Meeting Place whenever is expedient for further discussions.
"¿This is insane, you see that right?" A cigarette dangled from Marco's mouth as their transport flew through the air, covered by a team of three jetrikes. Their job here was fairly simple. Recon had identified a rebel leader stronghold, and after almost a week and a half of constant pounding music and permanent day, they knew the rebels within would be exhausted and prime for picking off.
Inwardly, much of the Matuvistans had been impressed when news of the Hollywoodite plan had leaked through to them. It was... Not exactly a traditional method of winning a guerrilla war, but it certainly showed a knack for tactically thinking outside the box that the Gran Republic appreciated.
"¿Would you shut the fuck up? This is gonna be easy." The strike of another lighter, and the small space within the transport continued to fill with smoke. None of the soldiers cared- every single one of them had the habit themselves. Within Matuvista’s civilian population, tobacco consumption sat at around 60%. In the military, it was closer to 90%. It helped, of course, that revivalist lung therapy could stave off the worst of the effects.
"Easy, difficult, whatever. It's still insane. They can
see us. That's not how this works." Marco insisted, sweeping the ash that had fallen down onto the floor of the transport away with his boot.
"We're above the light line right now. They're not gonna see us until we drop down on them, and even then, ¿so what? They're gonna be exhausted. I bet you half of them won't even be able to get themselves out of bed. We're gonna have too many people to fit in the other transport." Leonor laughed and let out a plume of smoke, drumming her fingers against the barrel of her rifle.
"La Emperatriz, Capture Team Delta. The words crackled through all of their earpieces.
"La Emperatriz, go ahead Delta." Came the response, and with it a little bit of the strain on the men eased.
"¿We're a minute from raid site. Is everything clear for approach? Over."
"Hold Capture Team. We're waiting for a request to clear with the Oligarchs. Be prepared for rapid deployment. Over."
"Confirmed La Emperatriz, holding." Confusion filled the transport. What were they waiting on? Then, their squad leader smirked.
"¿What, you guys didn't think we had night vision to launch a raid in broad daylight, did you? Dumbasses. The Oligarchs are going to switch the lights off right before we launch the raid. That said, night vision on." There was a brief pause as troops blinked and their eyesight adjusted itself to the new light level.
"Delta, this is La Emperatriz, lights are off, you are go, go, go for deployment, over."
"Copy La Emperatriz, going in. Capture Team Delta over and out."
With that, the transport plunged down towards the ground. Holding on tight, the soldiers inside waited, the interior of the transport lit only by smouldering cigarettes and a dim red light that told them it still wasn't time yet.
Until it turned green, and all at once the soldiers moved. Rifles slung over shoulders, cigarettes stomped out, and the transport's floor groaned open, the team clipping themselves onto the deployment system and dropping down. As they left the comfort of their vehicle, they could hear the pounding music that still filled the air, covering the noise of the engines and soon, the gunfire.
"Squad, form up on me. Prep for breach." A few glances were exchanged as the breacher drew out their shortened semiautomatic shotgun- all these years, and few things were quicker and easier to use to blow off hinges, then turned to look at their squad leader.
"¡Breach!" The gun barked twice, then the soldier's heel slammed against the door and sent it toppling inwards.
"¡Move move move!" They moved inside together, a well-drilled, well-trained group. A single lone sentry stood in front of them, clearly half-asleep. He'd soon have a much more final sleep as three silenced rounds embedded themselves into his chest and neck, the thud of his body against the ground muffled by the thudding bassline blared all around them.
From there, the squad moved on. Each room had to be cleared, and in each one they found a similar scene; people disoriented by the sudden darkness, exhausted, barely able to put up a token resistance. A few foolishly tried raising up their guns to meet these strange shadowy figures storming through their facility and were met with precise, targeted fire, whilst most ended up being cuffed and left face-down.
But there was one man they wanted that they still hadn't found. As they moved through room after room, he escaped them, until at last, there was just one left. Marco reached for the doorknob, looking at squad leader. There was a nod, the door swung open, and the soft clatter of a flashbang was lost in a particularly over the top guitar riff.
Once it had gone off, the men pushed inside. Targeted audio-visual disruptive devices opened up, providing anyone who stood against the soldiers a taste of hell as their body was overwhelmed by high and low frequency sounds and a dazzling, off-coloured strobe glare.
"La Emperatriz, Capture Team Delta."
"La Emperatriz."
"Package secured. No casualties. Returning to base. Tell the Oligarchs to turn the sun back on. Capture Team Delta over and out."
"Dios salve, Santa Maria,
Llena eres de gracia"
"SHUT UP AND SHOOT GOD DAMMIT. WE'RE HALF A GALAXY AWAY FROM THE SAINTS." How the hell had it all gone so wrong? One minute they were returning from patrol, the next something had taken out the main engine of their transport and they were spiralling down to the ground. The pilot and co-pilot were dead, who knew how many of the squad were injured, and now Gaspard was praying instead of shooting.
The permanent daylight of Neo-London helped them more than it did their attackers though. Hunkered down behind rubble and their crashed craft, they could see anyone stupid enough to poke their head up and try to advance. Nikki's rifle barked and chattered, the soldier ducking down to take a moment of breath.
"⸘What the fuck happened‽
⸘What the fuck is going on‽""⸘Who the fuck cares‽ ¿Why does it matter? ¡Stop whinging and start fucking lighting these fuckers up! ¡It's only six minutes until evac, so work for it!"
"¡GRANADA!" One of the soldiers scrambled on the ground for the small little bomb and hurled it back with the strength of a man desperate to continue living. They squeezed their heads against the ground as the grenade went off mid-air, raining shrapnel down all around them. Nikki hissed as she felt a piece sting her thigh, but it was nothing compared to what it would have felt like if it'd gone off right next to her.
"¡HIJO DE PUTAS!" Another soldier opened up, before hurling several grenades of their own. Once they were done with their little outburst, forced down by counter-fire as soon as the grenades had gone off and the rebels could poke their heads up again, Nikki looked down, surprised to see that the small nick in her leg was now bleeding profusely.
"Mierda. ¿Medic? ¿We still got one?" She looked around frantically, only to find no medic left. One of the other soldiers would have to help her then. Raphael, she idly recalled,
feeling the colour leave her more than she did actually see it. Once the bandage was on tight though, so tight that she could almost ignore the red seeping through it, she could at least know she wasn't about to die.
Hopefully.
Maybe Gaspard's prayer wasn't a bad idea. Just as she raised her own crucifix to her lips, she could hear a sound that could only be their earthly salvation.
Jet engines.
Machine guns chugged and plasma throwers spat death as the jetrikes roared into view, quickly followed by troop transports, flying as low as possible. As the trikes engaged the enemy, the transports opened their lower doors up. "¡WOUNDED FIRST!" Yelled one of the medics aboard, and it was with some relief that Nikki wrapped an arm around Raphael's shoulder and the pair hobbled over towards the vehicle. She clipped herself onto its embark system gratefully, feeling herself pulled up and into the waiting arms of her comrades.
Isabella paced back and forth on the command deck of her ship. They had had a major win, and then it had been balanced by a major loss. Águila-3 and its escorts had been ambushed and gunned down- although the destruction protocols had gone through to deny the rebels anything useful, they'd taken 70% casualties, and those were 70% casualties that were
not about to be replaced any time soon. Every big loss like that hurt her forces a lot.
What made it worse was that something was happening in Neo-Beijing. An unidentified vessel, claiming to be an oligarch's allies, had landed, and despite claiming they were here to assist the oligarchs, there had not only been radio silence, but radio
disruption from their landing points. Satellite footage did not paint a promising picture.
She had not been one for regular smoking prior to this operation, but now she reached for a cigarillo that one of her senior officers had left her. She lit the end slowly, breathing in, then out with a juddering sigh. Normally she was one of the people being commanded; never before had their lives been her responsibility. Grunting to herself a little, she turned and strode towards the airlock closest to the bridge of her ship, trailing smoke as she did so.
When the airlock opened, Colonel Bisson was met with Isabella in her full military regalia. Only one medal hung from her chest, but the cape and the epaulettes (not to mention the gold finishing) conveyed the message nonetheless. The cigarillo, half-smoked, hung from her lips, and she stood with a sword affixed to her ship. "Welcome aboard." She declared imperiously. "I'd say this ship's name, but it doesn't have one. Only a unit designation. Please, the bridge is just up ahead here. We have quite a bit to discuss."
Tortoise
Snowdrops
Days
Otakuforreal
shaitarn
Velos
TokyoPewPew
World Traveler
Timemaster
