by Saxon Keeley
“Then what are you?” the Chairman pressed tactfully.
“I am a bastardisation of whatever remnants you managed to salvage from a dead culture,” he admitted. “I am Shanxi.”
Zhang stands from his seat and wanders over to the banister.
“And thankful we must be. Your father and I did not bring you here to be Chinese. We brought you here to be better. If Shanxi is what you must be, then be it.”
“Why did you makes us believe in China?”
“Heritage,” he explained. “All great civilisations do it. Fabricate myths about some fantastical paradise or past. If no one believed, then why should we fight for better? I have given all to provide better for our people. For my family.”
“And what does that better look like?” Oscar questioned.
“Tomorrow, the whole of the Charted Systems will see. A truly independent Neo-Shanxi. Free of the CERE. A new start for the people. You and your brothers will be instrumental in that future. It is my gift to you,” he said with a sense of accomplishment.
“I never asked for that responsibility.”
“Yet it is your duty,” concluded his grandfather, placing his hand on Oscar’s back and giving him a look of unwavering conviction. “Come inside, I can feel a storm brewing.”
Alone, Oscar watches as clouds gather along the horizon. Contemplating his grandfather’s words, anger washes over him for allowing Zhang to sidestep taking any responsibility.
Startled by the door sliding open, Oscar turns to find Xuan coming to join him. Taking her place besides him, she looks out into the distance.
Apprehensively, he takes her hand. “I am sorry. I never realised how lucky I was.”
Wesley Jung
Wesley tightens the straps arounds his arm. The armour is well fitted and surprisingly it is incredibly light. At first the exoskeleton constricted movement, but as the microfibers adjust, they begin to mimic the muscles of the soldier. Though certain they are not going to meet any real resistance, it is a concern of how well the suit will protect them when they do.
Li brings over Wesley’s helmet and takes a seat next to him. Wesley studies his reflection in the orange visor.
Sun Ren limps into the room and Yong Squad stand to attention, waiting for further instruction. With a stencil and spray can in hand she addresses her soldiers.
“The Political District is under lock down. An emergency alarm has been sounded to keep citizens in their home. Soldiers are gathering the members of the Shanxi Assembly as we speak. Yong Squad have been instructed to escort the Chairman and prominent members of SCR from the Imperial Gardens to the Assembly. Once the vote for independence has been cast, we are to aid in rounding up any opposition.
“On the way through the training hall, each of you will be issued a rifle and a single clip. This is for defensive purposes only and only to be used if all other possible options have been exhausted. Understood?”
“Yes, Fūrén.”
Placing his helmet on, the word ‘calibrating’ flashes up in the corner. Wesley sniggers amused. With their identities concealed, their commander goes around spraying ‘brave’ onto each of their chests.
One last time she has them recite the squads five rules.
“You let one down, you let all down…Individuals die, units survive…Broken windows lead to broken limbs…Sun Tzu is absolute…Chinese we are, Chinese we will stay.”
“Move out.”
Through the deserted streets of the Political District the Yong Squad march their personnel towards Liang Huazhi Square. At no point in his recent memory can Wesley remember the colony being so silent. Coincidently he finds himself escorting Alistair and Weishi. As instructed he does not communicate with his brother.
Other than Sun Ren with her limp, Sun Tzu is the only soldier that can be identified. Helmetless, he takes the lead with the Chairman.
The Shanxi Assembly has already been seized. Soldiers guard the entrance. In the centre, the Shanxi Dragon welcomes them in.
Tripping on her way up the steps, Wesley rushes to steady Sun Ren. She thanks him and together they take each step slowly. Weishi offers her help to the young commander, but is politely refused. They climb into the elevator with his brother, while Zhang and Sun Tzu take the other one.
Riding the elevator all the way up to the Whispering Circle, nerves begin to set in. Several of the soldiers’ mutter something incomprehensible to themselves. Li anxiously taps his foot. Wesley feels his stomach cramp up.
Sensing the nerves of the soldiers, Alistair tries to put their minds at ease. “You are all part of something great. In years to come, they will mark today as a triumph for the people of Shanxi. No, not just for Shanxi, but for all the colonies of the Charted Systems.”
“Thank you, Minister Jung,” said Sun Ren.
The doors slide open, Sun Tzu and the others are already waiting for them. He explains to the Chairman that the Assembly has already gathered in the hall. The muffled outrage of the ministers fill the circle. The situation is already tense.
Marching into the hall, the sudden presence of the Chairman accompanied by soldiers sends the Assembly into chaos. Ignoring the cries and abuse, he takes his place at the head of the Assembly. Forcefully he demands order. When he does not get it, Sun Tzu fires a few warning shots into the ceiling.
“What is the meaning of this Chairman Zhang?” asked Du Jianguo of the SC.
“I am sorry my friend, I wish this could have happened any other way,” Zhang offered a personal response despite his better judgment.
“This is a coup. You will be executed for this,” threatened Israel Epstein of the CERE.
Before he can continue with the outburst, Sun Tzu drags him out of his seat and hits him with the butt of his rifle. Falling to the ground, the shock of the violence silences the Assembly. Even his own soldiers are startled.
Taking control of the hall once again, the Chairman address his ministers.
“I have summoned you here today to restore sovereignty to the people of Shanxi and to reinstate a constitution which was unlawfully and undemocratically renounced by the CERE. Too long have we been complicit to a tyrannical foreign power that denies our people liberty and opportunity. Our colony’s resources are exploited for the monetary gain of Earth based corporations. They drain our planet, refuse to reinvest in the colony and cause environmental damage that if gone unchallenged will lead to irreversible damage.
“I put it to the Assembly, that all unelected bodies, not chosen by the people of Neo-Shanxi, are to be deemed illegal. How does the Assembly vote? In favour?”
Erupting once again, the minster’s objections are snuffed out by the reminder that they are at gunpoint. The CERE refuse to engage in the process. Joining their protest is Du Jianguo and the Shanxi Conservatives’ top party members, Li He and Yao Hongwen.
“Motion is passed,” declared Zhang, irrespective of the result. “Next proposal. Any political or business enterprise that currently holds interests that conflict with the sovereignty of the Neo-Shanxi Assembly and its people, are to be detained and prosecuted as conspirators. Those members of the Assembly who fail to denounce their affiliation with the CERE, will be detained and prosecuted as collaborators. Those who oppose, please rise.”
Israel stands to his feet, looking down on Sun Tzu with a sense of superiority. Even Sun Tzu’s crazed smile does not intimidate him.
Du joins the majority of his party in defiance. Impressed at the bravery of her peers, Li He begins to applaud them. The commotion only makes the situation worst.
A member of the CERE looks to make their escape. Hoping to slip out unnoticed, they try to sneek past Li and Wesley guarding the exit. With everyone distracted by the upheaval, they make a run for it. The door slams shut.
“Do not let them escape,” Sun Ren ordered.
Bursting into the Whispering Circle, the two soldiers chase down the run-away politician. Already in the elevator, Wesley knows how easily they could lose them in a building th
is large. Looking down the sight of his rifle, he aims for the shoulder.
“No,” screamed Li.
Wesley loses focus, but already he has begun to squeeze the trigger. A single shot is fired. The elevator doors close shut before either of them can see what has happened. Screams come from inside the hall.
Calling the elevator back up, both Wesley and Li hold their breath. The doors slide open, blood paints the back wall. Laying on the floor is the CERE politician with a hole through their neck.
“Hide the body,” instructed Sun Ren as she approaches. “We have to use these to get the others down to the police station. Jung, when it is done, stay here and look after the Chairman. There were not supposed to be any casualties.”
“Sorry, Fūrén.”
“It is not me who you need to be sorry to.”
Seeing the last of the collaborators out of the hall, Wesley sits in the empty benches. The realisation of what he had done is yet to sink in. Behind the armour, he feels detached from his own actions. The guilt he feels is from not feeling guilt.
Du is the last to be marched out, attempting one last time to reason with his old rival and friend.
“You have made a grave mistake Zhang.”
“My mistake was thinking that we could work with the CERE. One that even now you are committed to. It is not too late. Your council over the years has been invaluable. Imagine what we could achieve now that we are free,” the Chairman argued.
“Freedom that was won at the barrel of a gun. A freedom that has already been paid for in blood,” said Du, looking at Wesley.
“Yes, well that was unfortunate. But scarifies may be necessary if we are to achieve a better tomorrow.”
“Sacrifices?” Du sneered. “Does that include your grandchildren?”
Wesley realises that the former minister has figured out his identity.
“My grandchildren know the struggle that lay ahead of them. They have made their choice, as much as you have made yours,” explained Zhang.
“When does that sacrifice become too high?”
“Yīn yè fèi shí,” dismissed the Chairman.
“Bú shàn shǐ zhě bù shàn zhōng,” Du retorted.
“Farewell my friend,” finished Zhang with a heavy heart.
Two soldiers escort Du out of the hall. Even though the Shanxi Chinese Representatives occupy the assembly, it seems quiet. Weishi is busy organising her new cabinet, ready to restructure the whole of Shanxi economics. Others find the time to gather their thoughts on the morning’s event. It has all happened so swiftly.
From the floor, Alistair gestures for Wesley to come and join him. Surprised that he even figured out his identity, Wesley concludes he must be giving it away somehow. Climbing over the benches, he joins his brother in the Whispering Circle, looking out at the colony.
It is a clear day and the view stretches out for miles. Below them the beauty of the city seems more vibrant than usual. Rooftops glisten with the residue of last night’s storm.
“I knew it was you,” he said with a smarmily grin across his face. Alistair must not have realised it was Wesley who shot the CERE member. “I think it is your height.”
“So, this is it?” asked Wesley.
“Yes. This is it. Today, Shanxi is waking up to a new dawn.”
“Funny, it feels no different from yesterday,” he joked.
Alistair places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Wait until you breathe in that morning air.”
Worms
Gas fills the corridors of the police station. The Neo-Shanxi soldiers lay collapsed on the floor. Like ghosts, soldiers dressed in black and blue scout the station. Masks obscure their breathing. Large blackened lenses make them resemble bugs more than anything human.
Finding their way to the cells, another gas grenade is thrown down the steps. Panic spreads. Gasping for air, one by one the detained politicians fall asleep. Du waits in his cell. Holding his breath.
“Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda. You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me,” sang an Australian voice.
A gasmask is thrown through the bars. Scrabbling to put it over his head, Du looks up at the singing soldier. The insignia on his armband is ambiguous, as if it were a mound of worms. The soldier kneels to his level.
“Thank you for your help, it is much appreciated,” said Worms. “Don’t worry about these bars. They are only temporary. Patience, Chairman Du. Patience.”
Worms pulls off the mask and waits for him to inhale the gas. Preparing for the imminent nightmares, Du rests himself against the bars and drifts off to sleep.
REVOLT ON MAIA
Maia
Wesley Jung
The great gas giant of Thule eclipses the solar system’s star. A marble of different shades of beige flow around the planet. Occasionally a dim flash illuminates the clouds. Storms more ancient than humanity rage on. Its two moons are but specks compared to such a giant. Maia has seen its last rays of light for forty-eight long, dark hours. As it orbits around Thule, temperatures will dip to below freezing. Snow has already begun to fall.
Not a single soldier on board the Grey Heron has been off planet. None of them have seen anything but the red earth of Neo-Shanxi. Below them is a brown rocky surface. Large bodies of water form what could only be described as seas. The soil is rich in minerals, but vegetation struggles to survive the sudden freeze of each cycle. For the soldiers of Yong Squad, Maia is a truly alien world.
In the shadow of Thule, they begin their decent into Maia’s atmosphere. The vessel begins to shake violently. The hull creeks and moans. Wesley holds his restraints tightly. Looking at his fellow soldiers, each of them appear just as queasy.
“If you throw up over yourself, you will have to go into battle wearing it. We do not have any spares. My best advice is to just swallow,” said Sun Tzu, sensing the feeling of the boat.
Knowing him, he means every word of it. Wesley leans his head back and closes his eyes. Just as things settle, they hit another pocket of turbulence. The soldier next to him begins to gag and Wesley prays he does not vomit his way.
“Two minutes to touch down,” called the pilot.
Unbuckling himself, Sun Tzu wraps his hand around the grips, steadying his balance. Standing in the aisle, he addresses the squad.
“Listen up. This is the last moment of peace that you will have until this is all over, so let us make sure we are clear on the situation. Our LZ is on the outskirts of the Lotus Gardens, a Chinese residential district. There we will rendezvous with the Chinese civilian resistance. While Shanxi and Thuỷ Phủ forces secure the area, Yong Squad are to immediately assist the locals in pushing the conflict back into the central industrial district of the Foundry.
“We are the vanguard. Success of this mission is dependent on us. We will be met with heavy resistance from Western colonists armed with military grade firearms. How they obtained them is unknown. Despite this, our primary objective is to stabilise the colony, so casualties are to be kept to a minimum. Any injured civilians are to be brought back for medical attention. Understood?”
“Sir,” confirmed the squad.
Thrusters being to slow their decent and the landing gear is prepared. Wesley lets out a sigh as they touch down. The nerves of the squad do not settle.
With Sun Ren’s ankle still recovering, she has been given control of Shanxi’s security. Sun Tzu in her stead has taken command of the Yong Squad. Many right now would be comforted by the presence of their commander leading them into battle.
The engines quieten to a purr and are replaced by the crackle of gunfire. Out of the window, beyond the residential district, clouds of smoke rise from the canal. The occasional explosion sends debris flying.
“Doors opening in ten, nine…” warned the pilot.
“Ready yourselves,” Sun Tzu ordered.
Wesley secures his helmet and fetches his rifle from overhead. The visor displays his vitals, satellite imagery, highlights fellow soldier’s status, among
many other things. Feeling overloaded by the amount of information cluttering his vision, Wesley only has the essentials active.
The hatch slides open and an icy rush of wind blows in. Before any of them can shudder, the exoskeleton regulates their temperature.
“Move out.”
Jumping out from the boat, they look around the field to find the rest of the Shanxi Army arriving. The dark sky is filled with the blinking of landing lights.
Already Sun Tzu is marching towards the resistance camp, wasting no time. Together, Wesley and Li take a moment for it all to sink in. Irritated, their leader calls for them to keep in line.
There are aspects of Lotus Gardens that remind Wesley of home. The architecture and colours are distantly Chinese. Streets are close and narrow, which occasionally open to large quads. A labyrinth like layout is the only reason the Chinese colonists have manged to hold out so long.
The injured and dispossessed litter the streets. The sudden arrival of armed soldiers is a welcome sight. Most of the citizens have fended off the attack with nothing more than rocks, glass bottles, kitchen utensils and the few guns they managed to scavenge. A struggle that would have not been able to hold out for much longer.
The resistance camp is barricaded by furniture dragged out from the nearby houses. A thick layer of dirt covers everything and everyone. All the men and women look weary. Deprived of sleep, they hope to doze off between the breaks in fighting.
The Yong Squad are met by a young man whose face is covered in ash. He leads them over to a small table where several colonists are hopelessly assessing the situation.
“Who is in charge?” Sun Tzu yelled over the noise.
“No one,” admitted the young man. “It is just those able to fight. Who is asking?”
“Sun Tzu, General of the Neo-Shanxi Army,” he said. Even though his face is concealed under the helmet, Wesley can sense the smirk across his face. “Is this your base of operations?”
