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Arkarda Durumov sat back in his chair. The spy secretary that he
had in the ranks of the political leaders told him that the UNSC was
in turmoil. That was what Communists do best, he thought. We spread
turmoil. He rose from his padded leather chair and crossed to the
window of his office in the main command bunker. He inhaled deeply,
invigorated over what he was about to do. Fighters roared out of the
hangers to go onto routine patrols, tanks and jeeps rolled across the
perimeter of the base, and grunts ran exercises. A Spartan's armor
gleamed in the sunlight.
"Mine," he said to the room. "They are all mine. And more." He
chuckled to himself as he hit the intercom button,
"Katka, announce that I will make a speech to the men on the hour."
It was time.
"Yes, sir," came the garbled reply.
>One hour later<
Spartan Adam 387 stood at attention in the ranks of all the other
men gathered for the Magistrate's speech. Something in his gut told
him that something was wrong. Call it a Captain's instinct. He looked
at his teammates, Steven 645, Emily 792, Daniel 321, and Chesley 511.
He was proud of them all. They had done the best in training, in case
another alien threat came to the attention of mankind. He hoped that
this would be a short speech, congratulating them all on their good
work.
"My good men of New Reach," Durumov began, "I have startling news."
Immediately, Adam could tell that something was amiss. The Magistrate
looked stricken, but something registered his shocked appearance as
false. "The UNSC has deserted us. They are afraid of our military
power here. They have decided to leave you all and to make us an
independent colony. They have done the same to New Rome, Avalon, and
the Vienna's Pride colony. This is a shock to you as much as it is to
me. But it could not have come at a more inopportune time. When it
set us free, to make our own government, it declared war uppon us."
Everyone stood even straighter than usual at this news. Adam
especially. He had studied human emotion and intellect for some time.
He knew that the Magistrate was lying. However, he couldn't reveal
this at his speech. Even as he thought these things, the Magistrate
continued on his sob story. "No telling who will fall for this crap,"
he whispered to himself.
"...However, my comrades, we will rise to defeat our oppressors,
who are at this very hour coming to kill us. We and the other
colonies have made our govornment. We are the USSSR. We will continue
the grand tradition of serving our government. All shall be equal. We
shall rise to destroy these dogs. However, we have solved the work
problem. If a man does not work, he will be shot. None are to be
disloyal to the USSSR. Now, comrades, go and prepare yourselves for
the battles to come. To his horror, all but a few began to cheer, and
scurried to get to their posts. Adam looked over at his teammates.
The had not cheered. Adam signaled his team to follow him. They
nodded as they headed for a private sniper bunker. No one ever
monitored the snipers. No one ever dared to.
When the magistrate entered his office, his secretary stood at
attention. "Sir," she said, "You have a holoconference on line 3. The
callers are our comrades from the New Rome, Avalon, and Vienna's
Pride colonies."
"Thank you, Katka." It was a glorious day in history. Finally, he
had found a way to make Communism work. If a man did not work,
neither did he live. Inside his office, the room was dark. Only
three holograms lit the room. Durumov took his usual seat. "My dear
commrades."
Inside the sniper bunker, some very uncommunistic talking was going
on. "There's something wrong with this," Adam mused, "The UNSC
wouldn't say, you're free, now we're gonna kick your butt."
"You're right. The President and his board of advisors would never
commit such an act," Emily said as she stared into the scope. Steven
took a long draw from his coffin nail.
"Durumov's crappin'. He and those other colonies were probably
planning this. They just waited till they had the resources and the
men to do this," he said as the smouldering butt fell from his
fingers.
"I'm not so sure," Chesley said, "What he said sounded pretty
convincing."
"Duh, he sounded convincing. He wouldn't be able to gain all those
soldier's trust without sounding like he meant it," Daniel spat.
"Look," Adam said before Chesley could find a rebuttal, "Whether he
meant it or not is irrelevant. He's wrong. He's gonna get his war
machine cranked up, and take out the UNSC with all the power he and
the other colonies have. We need to stop him, somehow."
"Yeah," Steven croaked, "We should tell the other Spartans and go
kick his..."
"NO!" Adam yelled. Quickly lowering his voice and looking around,
he said, "The other Spartans might have bought into his story. We
can't risk that and get caught before an all out war breaks out
across the galaxy. We have to do this ourselves. We'll fight a
guerilla war the way John 117 did on Halo. It's the only chance. We
need to wear them down." He looked at the floor. "Much as I hate to
kill men that were once my own."
"Then that's settled," Daniel said as he rose from his seat,
"What's the plan, Capt.?"
"Well, it's relatively simple..."
Mike Thurmond hated having to stand guard at the supply depot.
Nothing ever happened. Suddenly, Five figures, gleaming in the
moonlight, strode towards him. He raised his assault rifle and
barked, "Halt! Identify yourselves!"
A calm voice said, "At ease, Private. We're just doing a routine
inspection of the place. You can lower your weapon. I'm Captain Adam
387." He handed the private his id card. "This is my squad. They're
assisting me. Should be out of your way soon."
"Ok," Mike said, "Here's your id, sir. Thank you." Adam nodded a
"you're welcome," then entered the room. Weaponry and ammunition
lined the walls, along with survival gear and food.
"Put all you can into these bags," he whispered as he dropped eight
duffel bags on the floor. They loaded assault rifles, sniper rifles,
rocket launchers, pistols, grenades, ammunition, survival equipment
and all the food that they could into the bags. When the bags were
bulging, Adam said, "Alright, let's blow this joint."
Ten minutes later, that was exactly whay they did. Steve fired a
quick rocket into the supply depot, dropped the rocket launcher, and
ran off base. Adam put his binoculars down and and talked into his
communicator. "7-11 is up in flames. Guys, let's snag some vehichles."
Three red lights blinked in acknowledgement. They ran across base
with the other shocked troopers, but while the others ran to the
wreckage, they ran to the hanger. Chesley jumped into a tank, while
emily leapt into the passenger side of the jeep, sniper rifle at the
ready. Daniel jumped in back, and Adam drove. When both vehichles
were far out, Chesley turned the tank and fired repeatedly on the
hanger, which collapsed after two well placed shots.
"Let's high tail it!" Adam called into his communicator. Three
klics out, with enemies on their tails, they picked up Steven, now
hefting a shotgun. Bullets pinged everywhere as Daniel, Steve, and
once in a while Chesley, returned fire. Men flew, bullets torn
through their flesh, or charred from the tank's main cannon. Finally,
the Colonel in command of the Charge ordered the men to retreat. All
of the team members cheered, victorious, but not unscathed. Once,
Steven's shield had been decimated by enemies, and he had a bullet
graze his side. It didn't bleed, but it stung. After two more hours
of travel, they made camp for the night. "Good job, guys," Adam said,
"We gave them something to think about. Now, let the United Spartan
Guerilla Front prevail!" They all held up their water packets to
toast their vow. They knew that the batlles to come would be vicious,
and that victories such as this one would be sweet. Twenty minutes
later, all five Spartans were fast asleep under a star and moonlit
sky.
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