by Adrian P
“The Armed Forces’ Chief General.”
Audi threw a quick salute at two troopers guarding the cabin’s entrance door. The boy opened the door and entered a living room, where a man in dark green military uniform stood. He was old, mostly grey-haired, and his clothes was covered in military badges.
The boy clicked his tongue, albeit silent, and threw a salute. “Chief General Howland.”
“Bandana Boy,” the old man returned the salute.
The boy glanced sideways. On the couch placed far across the room, a young woman sat with both hands placed over her knees, while her legs were crossed in elegance. She wore a Byzantium purple tight dress with thin, scarlet red scarf wrapped neatly around her neck. A golden, cylindrical marble held the scarf’s knot tight, and an initial was embossed on its surface: VST.
Princess Victoria Scythe Tanuya.
The 19-year-old princess touched her jet-black, silky bob-hair, playing with its tips and swirling them between her fingers. Her eyes were dark violet, a rare genetic mutation she inherited from her parents. She glanced at the boy.
“Princess,” the boy lowered his head to a bow, but stopped midway.
Victoria threw her glance away towards the two women standing on her sides. They wore Victorian-era maid dresses taken straight from history books, albeit with weapons holstered on their belt: a knife for one maid, and two batons for another. They maintained silence, but the short-haired maid with knife threw a sharp glare at Audi.
The Princess just avoided eye contact with me? The boy thought. Why did—
“Your plan failed,” the Chief General spoke in abrupt with a harsh tone. “I’ve lost a lot of troopers in vain.”
“This Brotherhood insurgents are a bit tougher than Gleicherden Wehrmacht,” Audi said. “Surprising, seeing how their technology is centuries behind us.”
“Are you calling my soldiers incompetent?” Howland frowned.
“I don’t blame your troopers,” Audi replied. “The Brotherhood is stronger than I’ve expected. Even without the power of their fleet, this small insurgent force is quite formidable on their own,” he paused. “But we know where they are going.”
“Where?”
“Kotabaru Observatory,” Audi replied. “How’s Military Sector’s readiness in the city?”
“Bad,” Howland replied. “Violent riots have erupted in every major city, and Bandar Primer forces are tied up in attempts to quell them.”
“Another Brotherhood manoeuvre,” Audi pinched his nose. “They seemed to have infiltrated The Crowned Confederacy for years. Hell, how many other planets have been compromised?”
The Chief General crossed his arms. “I cannot spare any more troops to handle Konstantin Simonovsky. Whatever you’re planning next, you’ll have to make do with what’s left of today’s forces.”
“Our assault earlier took on quite some casualties and hardware, and you expect us to make do with whatever’s left?” he frowned. “Your experience in Gleicherde hasn’t taught you anything, has it?”
“There’s nothing more I want than to kick these barbarians out of our worlds, Bandana Boy,” the Chief General replied. “But we are extremely tied up in this planet. The Armed Forces has no more resources to spare for this operation.”
“We have to go full force on these Brotherhood!” Audi yelled. “Let them off easy, and they’ll wield one of the strongest superweapons ever created in the history of mankind!”
Silence.
“Have you seen how helpless the people of Benteng City were, in the face of the hurricane Konstantin created? The thunderstorms. The tornadoes,” he pointed outside. “He successfully twisted nature into a weapon, and once this weapon is fired, there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”
“Likewise, the riots are violent enough to threaten innocent citizens,” the Chief General spoke. “There have been civilian deaths, even rape and slaughter. Are you saying I should abandon the protection of this planet’s civilians in favour of getting rid of this superweapon?”
“Are you saying you would sacrifice trillions other lives by letting the superweapon go?”
“Civilians are in immediate danger, Bandana Boy,” the Chief General replied. “If you have to choose between saving someone currently in danger, and another who might potentially be in danger in the future, who would you choose?”
“That—“
“I’m not naïve,” he walked towards the exit and opened the door, but stopped before he steps out. “In our line of duty, no, in life, choices are never black and white. Never easy. Never simple.”
Silence.
“That’s why I beg you, do what you can to stop the superweapon from getting out of this planet with what we have left,” he stepped out. “You turned the tide of battle in Gleicherde when we’ve almost lost the war.”
“I’m sure you can do the same again.”
As the Chief General exited the cabin, Audi pulled a chair on the dining table and sat with force. He sighed. “Life choices are never easy, huh? Yeah, no shit.”
One of the princess’s maid approached him and brushed her long hair back. She sat in front of him. “I’ve contacted my colleagues in the Galactic Intelligence Bureau,” she said. “They have mobilised their agents in this planet, and will be assisting us in providing deep intelligence information.”
“And how will that help us, grumpy maid?”
“You’re asking for a pummelling, aren’t you?” she frowned. “My name’s Dina, you imbecile.”
“Yeah okay, that,” the boy replied in monotone. “We have enough intel to know what they want, and what they’re capable of. I need units who can actually defeat them, and I doubt your agents can do that.”
Another maid with shoulder-length hair approached, clasping both hands in front of her. “The GIB isn’t well-equipped enough to fight the Brotherhood, but we can manipulate the city’s infrastructure to obstruct their move.”
“Ayu’s right,” Dina said. “We have the power to manipulate traffic flows, utilities, and other urban services to fight against them.”
Audi’s eyes widened. “Interesting,” he said. “And how do I assume command?”
“You don’t,” Dina frowned. “Tell me your plan, and I’ll convey them to the GIB.”
“Good enough,” Audi turned to Victoria. “Do you have anything to say, Princess?”
Victoria looked at him with a neutral expression. She stood and turned towards a door. “No,” she entered the room and shut herself in.
Audi leaned on the table with one arm. “Did something happen to her while I was away?”
Dina and Ayu looked at one another. Ayu shrugged her shoulders lightly.
“She’s been a little quiet since yesterday. More quiet than I’m willing to be comfortable with,” Dina said. “Especially when you’re around, her mood seemed to sour.”
Ayu glanced at Audi. “Did you do something?”
The boy shook his head. “I haven’t really been around her since yesterday. I’ve spent my day and night out in the city, scouting Konstantin and his Brotherhood forces. Planning. Strategising. Surveying.”
Dina glanced at Ayu. “Keep her company,” she said. “And watch everything she does and say.”
Ayu nodded. “But…you don’t mean she’s…”
“There’s no reason for her to be, not that I know of,” Dina replied. “Just go and take care of her.”
Ayu walked towards Victoria’s room and entered.
“What are you talking about?” Audi asked. “What happened to her?”
Dina kept quiet while gazing at the boy. “Just a bad feeling,” she said. “But I want you to keep one thing in mind.”
Audi listened.
“Princess Victoria is a member of the Royal Family, and her words are absolute, especially to Ayu and I,” she said. “Therefore, whatever she says, whatever she wills, I must obey no matter how much I disagree.”
Audi frowned his eyebrows.
She stood up and clasped
both hands in front of her. “If we have a mutual understanding, then all is good,” she said.
“I fear nothing more than us turning into enemies.”
Chapter 1 / Part 6
The stars glimmered on the night sky. Brotherhood convoy stopped in the middle of a darkened highway with none of the lights lit. It was pitch black. Conscripts jumped off the trucks and turned their flashlight on, laying down logs on the road. They took petrol lighters out of their pockets and lit the logs into a bonfire.
A huge conscript carried a large box and laid it on the ground. “Dinner time, brothers and sisters!” he yelled in Russian.
Conscripts queued and picked up a thin rectangular trays covered with thin lid. One conscript opened it, and unveiled a set meal with steamed grains, stewed meat, citrus fruit, and long vegetables. Twenty bonfires were lit, and conscripts sat around them in groups. They laid down their rifles and chat while eating. One conscript expressed how she missed her friends in the Mother Fleet, while another engaged in a philosophical discussion of Brotherhood’s core tenets.
Konstantin and Sasha sat opposite one another, separated by a large stack of logs. His eyes were crimson red, Konstantin pulled out small sparks of electricity from the ground and flicked it to the logs. A small fire burst out, propagated through the logs, and a large flame flared out within seconds.
“He escaped because of you,” Konstantin took a bite off his meal. “Had you not intervened, I would’ve smashed him to pulp, and he wouldn’t have threatened The Brotherhood ever again.”
“No one individual can threaten the infinite momentum of our Great Liberation,” he replied. “I would have him crushed before we blast off this planet, you mark my words.”
Konstantin clicked his tongue. “Speaking of The Great Liberation, how many days until The Patriot of War’s next offensive?” he asked. “Is he not rushing the fleet’s mobilisation? I’ve had request from the Fleet Voina’s Weapons Arsenal for design reviews over the past few weeks.”
“And did you review them?”
“Not as thoroughly as I wanted to,” Konstantin sighed. “I feel guilty for abandoning my duty as Fleet Voina’s Chief Weapons Engineer, but I’m officially under the command of Mother Fleet for now.”
“Fleet Voina wields the most versatile hardware and equipment amongst the Four Fleets of Apocalypse,” Sasha said. “But versatility means constant requirement for adaptation, and your absence over the past few years broke the flow of scientific reviews in the Fleet Arsenal.”
“Can’t you call someone from The Ivory Tower? They’re supposed to be geniuses, aren’t they?”
“They have more pressing works to do than to bother with menial weapon designs.”
Konstantin grumbled. “I will make up for it when we return. For now, we must focus on bringing back Celestial Anvil to Mother Fleet.”
Sasha slurped another sip of broth. “The Patriot of War will never forgive you if he finds out about this.”
“You’re an accessory too, Gryaznov.”
The Rear Admiral chuckled. “So why are we going to the observatory instead of the spaceport? Don’t tell me we’re deploying Celestial Anvil again?”
Konstantin nodded.
“Why?”
“Any reason why I shouldn’t?” Konstantin asked. “It’s not like people in Kotabaru are innocent.”
“By your logic, nobody in The Tyrant Empire is innocent,” Sasha replied. “Their system of wealth may be written by their government, but its enforcement is done by every individual, from the rich to the poor.”
“Exactly.”
“And that’s why you want to kill them all?”
Konstantin took a bite of his meal.
“Listen Simonovsky, I despised The Tyrant Empire just as much as you do. Their system. Their history. What they’ve done to the people,” he paused. “But what the people do isn’t out of their own volition. Had the government never written their wretched laws and norms, the people wouldn’t have acted this way.”
“Are you sure?” Konstantin asked. “They have every chance they had to resist. Had they mounted even the slightest rebellion against the system, nobody will have to suffer from this unjust machines of wealth and inequality.”
“What are they supposed to do? Under the immense pressure to conform to majority norms, not even the mentally powerful can resist,” Sasha leaned forward. “Are you expecting an individual to sacrifice their own life to uphold a futile morality? To remain kind in a world that doesn’t appreciate kindness? To be charitable in a world where only those who dare exploiting others can survive and thrive?”
Konstantin snatched a metal cup filled with water and chugged half of it within seconds. He slammed its base on the ground, slightly splashing the water inside onto his clothes.
“Government defines system, but the people defines culture, and system and culture co-reinforces each other,” he gritted his teeth. “You can topple government and replace the system, but you can’t change the people’s culture even with threat and coercion.”
“You…“
“Death is the only way to erase a culture,” he replied. “Therefore—“
Sasha stood in abrupt. “I’m surprised you’re still part of Fleet Voina, Simonovsky.”
Konstantin kept silent.
“Imagine if The Patriot of War heard of what you just said,” Sasha clenched his fists. “He would not have stopped at killing you; he would’ve made sure that your corpse is defiled in such a way that nobody can bear to respect it.”
“I respect The Patriot of War and his philosophy, but his approach to The Great Liberation is too costly and naïve,” Konstantin replied. “And are we not allowed to criticise our better? Is that not what The Society Overseer and The Ivory Tower encouraged us to do?”
“Provided you can justify your views and criticism, yes,” Sasha replied. “But you—“
“I’ve seen enough of White Clan to justify my views!”
Sasha flinched back.
“Do you know who allowed The White Clan to exist? Our people!” Konstantin slammed his food tray down. “Do you think they would’ve been able to seize power if not through the people’s demand for quick, undeliberated freedom and liberty? Do you think The White Clan would’ve been able to trick us with promises of shallow luxury and wealth had we not demanded so? Do you think The White Clan could’ve fooled us with the lies of their Hierarchy, had the people not desired so in the first place?”
“That—“
“Like the people under White Clan, citizens of The Tyrant Empire are equally guilty,” Konstantin replied. “Their arrogance made them believe that individuals are to take sole credit for their own glory, and responsibility for their demise,” he paused. “They cultivated a society, a culture of lone spectres which judge their actions solely through the lens of cost and benefit; all the way from economic activity to romantic attraction.”
“And you think killing them would solve the problem?”
“The Great Liberation is a complicated journey with complex goals and milestones, so no, it won’t solve every problem,” he paused.
“But through Death, we can remove those whose inferior minds are too far gone to be changed.”
PLANET BANDAR PRIME
PLANETARY CAPITAL:
Muara Benteng
POPULATION:
20 Billion
MAJOR TRADE EXPORTS:
Minerals, Industrial Goods
MAJOR TRADE IMPORTS:
Agriculture, Consumer Goods, Energy
MAJOR INDUTRIAL BASE:
Agriculture, Mining, Manufacturing
UNEMPLOYMENT RATE:
3%
MINIMUM WAGE:
N/A
POVERTY RATE:
30%
LEGAL WORKING AGE:
12 – 70
LIFE EXPECTANCY:
50
CHAPTER TWO
“When the accumulation of wealth is no longer of high social importance, there wi
ll be great changes in the code of morals.”
-John Maynard Keynes-
Chapter 2 / Part 1
A van was parked outside a two-storey inn, right in the immediate outskirts of Benteng City’s remains. It was dark and the moons have risen. Benteng City survivors filled the lobby—most of them wounded and bleeding. Ambulance sirens flashed past the front passenger seat, illuminating Bryant with red light every three seconds.
He held his UFX-PDA, browsing through photos of his younger self in high school. Group pictures. Sports competition. Candid classroom shots. The students’ faces were filled with joy. Happiness. Youth.
But Bryant knew better. The brightest happy-go-lucky kids were dull and stressed now. Most had jobs, but rarely there were life. Whenever the big man called them, the first answer they gave was always “I’m busy”. “So much business.” “Working overtime this week.” “Working overtime next week.”
Since the Corporate Deregulation Act was passed unanimously in The Senate, companies have been minimising wages to their absolute limit. Annual leaves culled to a bare minimum. Overtime increasingly became demanded. Even if legal work hours was 8-to-5, most employees work 7 to 9. Lucky ones may leave at 8, as if that’s considered a privilege. Some companies abolished fixed wage entirely, forcing people to work on a purely commission basis.
As he scrolled through the smiling faces of his friends, the memories of his days working in the bank echoed. Breaks and leisure were part of work. They’re not the goal of working, but methods to relief stress from work. He went on holiday once with his fiancée, but it was not a holiday, but a therapy to prevent suicide. It’s not that he liked being a banker, but the job seemed to pay well. At the time.
Fiancée. Bryant passed through a photo of a teenage girl. Her hair was dark brown, and her face was freckled. In most pictures, she stood far away from Bryant.
