Like a million stars in the sky, each life burns separately from every other.   Ultimately we are all alone in the night.   Occasionally, lives will pass closely to one another, causing each to flare and change in ways that could never be anticipated…

Each of us, every mother’s son, has been forced by circumstances beyond our control to adapt and change in ways we could never fathom.  It is true for all people, from the beginning of time, from the earliest days, and will be true until the last star flickers and dies.   Few of us ever really reach the potential within; most of us simply try to keep our heads above water, trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other, staying one step ahead of our pasts, to live one more day.   In the war, we all did what we had to do to survive.   Sometimes, that was enough.   Sometimes it wasn’t…

- Battle of Drakes Folly, seven years ago -

They had been shelling our position for the past fifteen hours, and the toll it was taking on us was visible in every line of our faces, the tightening around the eyes, and the thinness of our lips.   They had us on the run, at least that much was certain, and we were running out of places to hole up.   I heard someone say that “When you can’t run anymore, you crawl, and when you can’t do that anymore, you get someone to carry you…” I was starting to figure out just what that meant.   Fifteen hours of hell, and fire, and smoke.  Fifteen hours of stark terror, exhaustion, and pain.   That we were still alive was more a twisted joke than by any real skill.  

“India four six, this is Charlie one six Charlie…” the radio squawked “reports indicate increased activity in your sector...”  

Part of me wanted to laugh at the cruelty of it all, Command was only just now catching up with current events, no wonder we were getting our asses handed to us.  

“…intel suggests that Uniform Papa forces may be preparing for something…”

Suddenly, the shelling stopped, leaving relative silence in its wake.  The moans of the dying, the stench of the dead, were our only companions.  

“India four six, this is Charlie one six Charlie…”

after all the shelling, the sound coming from the field radio was nearly deafening, fighting for attention over the ringing in my ears.

“Uniform Papa forces are standing down, I say again, Uniform Papa forces are standing down.  Consolidate remaining assets and await further instructions.  Take no hostile actions. Authenticate: delta, four, two, foxtrot, sierra.  How copy, over?”

In stunned disbelief I looked at the code book in my hands.  It had to be a mistake, but there it was staring at him in the face: Unconditional surrender.  They had given up.  The war was over.  We lost.

“cowards…”

My name is Roland, and this is my story… For as long as I am able to tell it.

___________________________________________________________________

So, what do you all think?  I have more, its set in a kind of 'video diary' style, and what I have is mostly backstory to flesh out the character.   It sort of started as a Firefly thing, but I think I pulled all the references to it and made it more... 'near future ish'

I like it. Would like to see more.

The camera flickers to life, the picture is grainy and a little out of focus for a moment before slowly clearing.  

"Okay, where'd we leave off?   Oh yeah, So, I was 'bout fifteen or so, Ma an' Pa just got blowed up..."

Roland sighs softly before continuing

"Just the world having it's way with things as usual... The War was on.   Things were confused for a good long while, menfolk and womenfolk all scurrying this way and that tryin' to just keep themselves alive an such... But Right then an’ there I knew there was a war on.   Bunch of us who had lost family in that attack took up arms 'gainst the blue hats.   Thats how it started really, just dumb luck.   They showed up later to pick us up..."

"About a year into it, we were callin ourselves the 448th irregulars, and we were approached by The Independent High command... well, a representative from Command.  Seems they were pulling all us lone groups into the army so as to get us coordinated an such.   We'd stay together as a company, and get some new guys too.   Linked us up to the whole thing."

"After that, it was just an endless march of faces, places I'd never seen before, an never wanna see again...blood, sweat... tears.  So many tears... so much blood...   learned not to get too close with some, and others you kept as close as you could dare..."

"Some say that there's a certain honor in combat, an honesty that you don't find anywhere else...  you learn what life really is: a long road that we all walk alone, sometimes with people beside you, but always alone.   We all die, and somewhere out there, someone's carrying a bullet with your name on it.  Maybe if you're lucky, you die of old age before it finds you."

"If you believe in a god or something like that, maybe it helps.  Maybe not.   But one thing is sure: when you go, you go.  Three campaigns, more places than I can count, and always too much blood.   Best to not think about that..."

"We'd been out in some nameless backwater , trying to hold onto a munition depot that was producing anti-air missiles...  that's likely why we weren't getting the stuffing knocked out of us, cause the UN wanted it almost as bad as we did.   And they wanted it whole."

"The commander of the UN forces turns out to be some damn fool named 'General Francisco Coronado-Drake', and he had the bright idea of loosing chem on the lot of us, seeking to burn us out from this place, seems he didn't put much store into the old 'Geneva' convention limitations.   Lucky for us, infiltrators managed to get inside his command bunker and steal the control codes for his missile batteries."

"Them UN folks didn’t know which way to run when their Chem spreaders blew up 100 meters off the launch racks, spreading only God knows what all over their garrison compound.   Six days we waited before heading inside, what we found... not the sort of thing you'd ever believe, nor ever want to see again."

"I'll remember what we found there till the day I die..."

Sounds good so far, just a little short.   send more.

The New World Order : A tale of Resistance


“Alright people, here’s how things are going to work.”  Captain Billings stood in front of a large map that detailed the layout of the munitions depot, including the surrounding area for five kilometers in each direction, as well as another smaller scale map that showed the route that we would follow to approach the objective.
“Elements of 1st Platoon will move on foot to take up an overwatch position on this ridgeline to the north of the objective and set up communication relay to support the overall mission.”  Indicating the location on the map before moving on with the briefing
“The bulk of 2nd and 3rd platoons will advance along this route until they have arrived at Phase line alpha.   Once they have arrived on site, they will set up observation of the main gate and await the positioning of 4th platoon along the secondary axis of approach…Here.” Again he indicated on the map the route that was proposed.
“Once all assets are in position, 4th Platoon will mount a diversionary assault on the secondary gate while 2nd and 3rd platoons advance and recon in force the main gate.   All personnel encountered inside the gates are to be treated as hostiles.”
“Protective gear will be mandatory, but given the nature of the contaminant, masks will be the only precaution necessary.   SP is in fifteen minutes.  Are there any questions?”
Looking around the room, Captain Billings took a moment to answer any questions that anyone may have had before releasing everyone assembled to conduct their preparations and move into position.  
Drawing his platoon together, Sergeant Crombe saw that they were all about as ready as could be expected, and conducted last minute checks… everyone had full camelbacks, everyone had a fresh canister on their masks and a full combat load of ammunition, plus two extra magazines (one in the rifle, one on the buttstock in a redi-mag).  
“Okay guys, I’m not going to sugar coat this, we’re going in and we’re securing the facility.  Anyone here ever see what chem can do to a person?   Good, then you have an idea what to expect.  Keep your wits,  stay frosty, and stick together.   Time to go.”

The approach on the munitions depot went without a hitch, not surprising since we hadn’t heard a peep out of the place in the past six days since we detonated the chemical rockets slip seconds after they lept from their tubes.   The vegetation around the depot was thick and slowed us down a little, but we were getting used to it after months of tromping around in it.   Finally, we passed the final marker, and radioed the command post that we were in position.
Everyone took a knee and donned their masks, preparing for the order that would send us in to clear the facility…

Interesting writing style...I like it. Keep it coming !  

The New World Order: A Tale of Resistance


It was eerie, there was almost no sound at all, the lights were on all over the facility, and I couldn't escape the feeling that we were walking into a trap, but as we bounded to the gate of the depot, there was nothing.   Nothing at all, just the sounds of our boots pounding on the gravel outside the fence line.

"Six, this is Alpha four six India... We have reached the main gate, looks like nobody's home..."   Well, maybe that was a stretch, we could see the guards still at their posts... leaning against the wall, curled up in the corner as if they had fallen asleep... but we knew this was a sleep they would never wake from:  their skin had taken the blueish gray cast of death, the dull drone of flies were everywhere.

"Alpha four six India, this is Alpha six charlie, roger, you are clear to proceed, how copy?"

"Wilco, Alpha four six India out."
...

Inside was more of the same, bodies... everywhere there were bodies...  Inside the facility; draped over tables, collapsed against boxes, laying on their weapons, eyes open and staring at the wall or the ceiling or the floor...   Silent in death, almost peaceful...  The entire depot had become a tomb...

Static from the radio told us that this deep inside the facility, we would only have short range communications, no contact from our support, no information as to what was going on outside.

Still deeper into the depot we went, seeking the command bunker three levels down.

On the second sub-level, there were signs that the chemical agent had taken longer to work it's deadly purpose: soldiers in various states of protective gear were strewn about like toy soldiers in some demonic game, none appeared to have had time to get very far.

here the effects of the chemical agents were more pronounced: men had bled from every opening in their skin, as if their blood had fled their bodies in some biological attempt to escape the toxins that had stolen their lives.

thick and crusted in areas, the blood had turned dark brown as it dried, marring the concrete floors and giving the appearance of spilled paint.

Down here, things were even quieter, the sound of our breathing hard and rasping through the filters of our protective masks.

Moving in teams of four, our squad continued deeper into the facility, clearing each room as we went, finding nothing but death... and blood as we went.

Im enjoying this. Please give longer updates...

The New World Order: A Tale of Resistance

It had taken the better part of an hour to reach the third level of the complex.  The plans we had been provided showed three more levels down, but intel had stated that the command center was located on sub-level three.

"Hey Sarge... any chance we can take these masks off?" Private Jacob (Jay) Wilcox piped up.
Wilcox had been with us through the whole thing, three years of fighting, the only reason he wasn't a corporal or a sergeant was that he hated the whole idea of giving orders.  Funny thing was, he wasn't bad about following them, most of the time.

"Sorry Jay, no can do.  Last thing we want is to get turned inside out like these poor bastards"  Only down side to wearing the masks though, aside from being barely able to breathe, was that if the lights went out... we'd be blind, our NVG's didn't work too well with the shape of the mask.

"According to intel, command should be right through here..." Corporal Grant Long, our point man, indicated a closed pressure door that looked like a Pollack done in brain-matter gray and dried blood brown.

Trying the door, we found it was sealed.  From the inside.

"Shit... now what do we do?   Not like we can kick it in..." muttered Jay

"What do the plans say about alternate entrances, Long?"

"Uhh..." Cpl Long looked at the map, and tried to orient himself to it.
"According to this, if we backtrack to the last intersection, and take a right... we should be able to get access through the maintenance ducts..."

––-

"No.  No F-ing way.  I'm NOT going through THERE."  Jay was pretty adamant about it.   It didnt seem like any amount of persuasion or threat of discipline or outright bribe was going to get him to budge.  Jay has a thing about tight spaces... and something so small he had to lowcrawl though was not his idea of a fun time.

"Okay...  Long, Jay, you stay here.  Pvt. Davis and I are going to have a look at things.  if its clear, we'll open up the door on the other side, alright?   we're on the same level, so we should have comms all the way in."

Jay and Long took up a defensive position inside the maintenance room we had secured as Davis and I wormed our way through the maintenance duct to the command center.   When we emerged from the duct, we had took a moment to look around... the command center was deserted.  Only one man had been manning it apparently; and judging by the star on his epaulets, and his nametag... we had found General Coronado-Drake... And he had not been killed by the gas.  

The large hole in the side of his head and the pistol in his hand suggested as much.  

But Why???

Good Read!! Keep up the good work.

AKASL

LIVE FREE OR DIE

Ummm...we are waiting. Please post NOW!!!!









just kidding...well almost.

Is this thread dead????

Good read so far, keep it up man

Sorry about the long delay, but the .mil doesnt care if i have free time to spend writing or not.

I hope to start up with regular updates again after the new year rush.

News Yrs rush is well past, let's have some more.  It is a good start, keep at it.

Positioned on the table in front of the General were an odd collection of items to find in a military command center: a nearly empty bottle of fine Puerto Rican rum, a half smoked Cuban Cigar, and what appeared to be a touch screen display.

"Well at least the old bastard had some taste!"  Davis muttered as he eyed the rum and cigar in front of the General "hey, Sarge, lets get the guys in here... this place gives me the creeps..."
"Right, crack the door Davis, lets see what we can find in here...   Jay, Long... You copy?   Meet us at the door to the command center, gonna need you guys to help search this place and find some answers."
While Pvt. Davis went to the main door to let the other two squad members into the room, I took the time to drape the General's jacket over his head.

"Alright people, lets get this done shall we?   lets see if we can figure out just what the frak is going on down here."

Out of the corner of my eye, the tiny flashing power icon at the corner of the touch screen attracted my attention.   Turning to the screen, i lightly tapped it, wondering if this would lead us to some answers.

'Contraseña requerida por favor'  sprang a soft feminine voice from the computer...

"Hey Long, You speak spanish... your turn to take a crack at this thing!"


****************
more to follow in the comming days.  Sorry about the long delay, but like I said:  the .mil doesnt much let me have as much free time as I would like

Sweat from under the mask was starting to pool near the exit port, making a slight gurgling sound every tie he exhaled, just adding to the rasp of every breath.

"Okay, its asking for a password Sarge, but uh... if you give me a couple minutes..."

"Do what you do Long, do what you do."

While Long bent over the workstation to work his magic, the rest of us set about examining the room for any clue as to what was going on down here.  other than the dried gore from the General's final action, there wasnt much that we could understand, looked like there was some kind of experimentation going on here, lots of scientific reports and the like, couple much make heads or tails of it all.   Nothing but page after page of printed reports, statistics, things with labels like 'specific morbidity rates' and some such...  found what looked like a map, almost like a blast drift pattern from the early cold war days for nukes and fallout rates, but rather than decreasing numbers, it showed increasing rates the further you got from the 'impact zone'...

"Hey Sarge, we're in...   Um... Sarge... you might want to take a look at this..."

Looks like Im hooked on another story. Nice work

"Hey Sarge, we're in... um... Sarge... you might want to take a look at this..."

setting down the stack of papers in my hands, I lean over to get a closer look at what Long had pulled up on the workstation.  While the text was in Spanish, the images were pretty straight forward... they showed a progression.   or was it digression?   They were dated, and arranged into three groups; Long ran double duty as translator on the clinical notes.

"Subject zero:  Male, approximate age is thirty.   Tests inconclusive, subject shows no sign of contagion as of plus six.    
Hour plus eight: subject's core temperature has decreased two points and subject is showing signs of pulmonary distress and decreased central nervous system activity.
Hour plus eight, mark fifteen: subject has lost consciousness, core temperature continues to fall.
Hour plus eight, mark twenty: subject's vital signs have ceased."

"Long, skip ahead a couple of 'subjects'..."

Nodding, Long chose subject fifteen...


"Subject fifteen:  All attempts to increase rates of contagion have resulted in increase in specific morbidity that approach limiting factor...  Now entering phase three of testing...
Hour plus two: subject shows no outward signs of contagion, thermal scan shows decrease in core temperature inverse to increase of surface and extremity temperature.
Hour plus two, mark five:  Subject fifteen has become increasingly agitated and is showing signs of distress and discomfort, verbally indicates sensation of increased heat.
Hour plus two, mark twenty:  Subject has collapsed, respiratory function has ceased, central nervous activity has spiked at two hundred units per second.
Hour plus two mark twenty one: Subject fifteen central nervous system activity ceased.

Phase three testing complete, central nervous system activity resumes at Hour plus two mark Thirty at thirty-five units per second (see attached note: rattus norvegicus basal CNS activity)"

"Ok Sarge, what the frak is going on in this fun house?!"
*******************************

more to follow

Well? We're waiting

“I wish I knew Long…  what ever it is, we need to finish our sweep and report into the TOC.   We have four hours till our check in time, and a lot of ground to cover…   see if you can find the layout for this place on the computer, and we can get this show on the road.”

****

“Davis, Jay, you two have the south corridor, Infirmary,  and the Dining facility.   Long, you’re with me.  We’re taking the north corridor, security main station and the communication center.   After we have secured the comms room, I will proceed to this security sub station to link up with Davis and Jay.  Long, we’re going to be counting on you to get comms restored so that we can contact each other and send out our report.”

“Davis, lets get a clean test, so we can get these damn masks off”

“You got it sarge.  Just be a couple minutes.”  Davis set about rigging up his test equipment, collecting samples of air, dust, and scrapings of the dead General’s blood for examination.  

“We’re clear, all tests negative, no biological or chemical agents detected…”

“Jay, you’re first.  Remove your mask.”

***

Jay and Davis proceeded down the south corridor, tagging rooms as they passed with a single green dot of phosphorescent paint to indicate it had been cleared, leaving a trail of glowing green behind them as they moved deeper into the facility...  some rooms were completely deserted, others looked as though they had been barricaded and then torn open, in every case... there was no sign of recent life...  the smell of decay grew stronger as they made their way to the infirmary...

***

Moving down the north corridor, Long and I made rapid progress, clearing each room as we came to it, seeking anything that would give us a clue as to what was really going on down here... I was starting to think that something was very very wrong.

After a short time, we arrived at the Security main station... it was in full lock down mode:  the door was secured from the inside... but it looked like someone had tried very hard to get in, and there was dried blood spattered on the wall of the corridor...  no other sign of what had happened here... but the smell.   The smell was getting stronger and according to the floorplan, there was a second entrance to the security main station through the administrative offices.   We would have to take the long route to get in.

good stuff keep it coming