That changed after the events of the Lagoon Shallows raid, where he watched helplessly as Joseph and Scarlet were ineffective in saving Albric and capturing Indra. He initially blamed them for not following the teachings of Einzgu. But then he realized that he too had strayed from its teachings. Concerned, he sought a remedy for the problem, as he managed to do with Joseph and Scarlet.
Now though, he must resolve his conflict. Since his conversation with Joseph and Scarlet, he has pondered their words, searching for an answer to the dilemma he faces. Their somewhat constructive criticism has helped open his eyes, revealing the person he has become. But while their comments have assisted him in searching for his answer, only he can decide whether they hold any merit, any meaning in defining the solution he must forge, just like how Joseph and Scarlet must. Tonight, he stands alone, battling a conflict he has no clue how to resolve.
He looks up into the sky as the room goes dark. The moon’s light has now been completely concealed by the clouds, spreading an eerie darkness all around. He has been ignoring the light that was shining earlier. He isn’t sure if he can be the leader he once used to be, regaining the dignity he lost. He needs help, but no longer can he see forward, the darkness concealing him, defeating him it seems.
As the clouds move across the sky, they separate, leaving small openings among them. This allows the moonlight to leak through, striking Marcus’ face, blinding him. You, among others, must bring Zentari together to defeat any foes that dare show themselves. The fate of this region; our nation, rests on you and a select few to save and protect the great lands in this region.
The thought hits him hard. The words that speak to him are of an individual he once knew, a person who would condemn him for what he has molded into today. It’s as if the light is trying to help guide him to the answer, its brightness shining the truthful answer that he may not want to see.
“What did you mean by that, General Constantime?” he asks himself. “How can I, and ‘others’, lead us to safety? How, when I can’t even uphold the promises you bestowed upon me? Can I ever be forgiven? Can I forgive myself?”
The moon’s light fades away. The light has sprinkled its wisdom on him, reviving memories he had buried. He didn’t want to be reminded of his failure to oversee Argus, a failure he believes would be scolded by General Constantime, his former mentor. He also believes that General Constantime would not have approved of his current leadership style, believing he carried no weight when he spoke. His former mentor believed action defined words, and no action meant that words were empty threats. Marcus is lost, and wonders if he’ll ever make him proud, wonders if he can be forgiven for his negligence of himself and life.
His face lights up as the moonlight leaks through the clouds again. This time, it’s more intense and sharper. Let me tell you something: we each possess a unique set of skills, skills that define us, and thus we should embrace them. Yet, if you don’t recognize your abilities or utilize them to their full potential, then what good can you do? Are you being spiteful to ignore others’ pleas? Are you being selfish because you only wish to benefit yourself? The words you speak only carry weight if you act to awaken your diligence as an individual. It’s not just about you; it’s about others and how we can help and protect them. When you understand that, you’ll then become stable.
Marcus’ eyes widen. His position of power has made him become careless about himself and others, rescinding his responsibilities as a leader as he threw others into the battlefield, sacrificing them to protect himself.
“I now see what I must do to save us. I must gather my allies and lead them forward. I must protect those I care for. I must fight to better the common good. I must stand as a leader who is willing to fight alongside others. I must bring back stability in my life, stability for all who remain unaware that things are unravelling. I now see what you mean.”
He can no longer hide in the shadows. He can no longer lead from behind. He must re-stabilize his life and redefine what a leader is. He, as an individual, must employ his unique set of skills to protect other individuals, to defend the society they live in, coming to its rescue as the seams are unknowingly becoming tattered. That is what his former mentor wanted him to become, and at that he will make sure not to fail.
~
Within the perimeter of the fort are a hundred barracks, all labeled alphabetically. These sturdy structures can house a thousand soldiers, holding both men and women. While men and women are allowed in the same bunker, they are not permitted to sleep together. The only exception is when they are family. All of this was mandated by the Defense Improvement Act.
Within the barracks are individual rooms that house up to three people each. These rooms each have one window to catch the fading moonlight or the rising sun. Each has one bathroom, a living space, and kitchen. Unlike other barracks across Zentari, the Empire wanted to make its recruits feel like they live at home, a place of comfort. The design serves as an incentive for people to join who are looking for jobs to finance themselves or their family. This thought has been met with opposition by the military leaders including Marcus, believing they are weakening the sturdiness of the soldier.
Yet, the Golden Civics, which control the Miktsrod and Presidency, have stonewalled the opposition’s efforts, believing that if they made the conditions grueling, then no one would join and it would only further empower the Gewerksma.
The barracks usually have some occupants roaming around, playing activities such as chess or cards. It was activities like this that Donin and Sadara would participate in, along with Albric, who would lose most of the time. Tonight, however, the Sanz siblings reside in their shared room. Their beds are lined up next to each other to symbolize their strong family bond. The bed on the left is where Donin sleeps. On the other end is where Sadara sleeps. The bed in the middle belonged to Albric.
The Sanz Family are emotionally and mentally drained. It has been a long week since the death of Albric. It has been tough adjusting, the family missing every aspect of him. Sure, he could be annoying at times. Sure, he could be an idiot who would joke around. And yet, they miss his smile, his crappy jokes, and most importantly, his supporting nature. The family seems weaker now without Albric, only threads keeping them together thanks to the memories they have of him.
Albric’s death, though, has hit Sadara the hardest. Her nightmares have become more intense, replaying Albric’s death as he falls from the cliff and the rocks pierce his body. Blood drips from his grinning mouth, an image that haunts her as she screams in terror. She doesn’t shout outside her dreams. Instead, she twitches violently around, her mind trying to wake her up. Yet, her body has familiarized itself with these convulsions. Tonight, she won’t be waking up as she tosses and turns, twitching uncontrollably.
Donin jerks up, awakened by a squeaking noise. He turns towards the noise and sees his sister is twitching. He knows she is having a nightmare, a dreadful one that is. He stares at her helplessly as her twitching becomes more intense. He wishes he could help her, could bear the pain equally with her. And yet, he does nothing because he knows it’s best not to disturb Sadara in this state. Waking her up in the middle of a nightmare would cause her to lash out violently, hurting anyone within her blinding rage and fear. He learned that the hard way not too long ago.
“What nightmare are you having now?” he whispers.
He lowers his eyes and looks at the bed between them. The sheets are tightly tucked, the pillow fluffed to perfection. Something is missing. There is supposed to be someone in the bed between them. Where’s Albric?
“Where are you, Albric?”
His voice trails off as sadness grips him. He’s forgotten that Albric died recently, forgotten the services they held for him. He thought it was just a horrible nightmare, a dark figment created within his mind. He lifts his head and gazes at Sadara, who is still twitching, realizing this is the reality they live in now.
“So, that’s what your nightmare is about.”
“We will make them pay, Sadara. Our family will get the last laugh.”
He closes his eyes, turning away grievingly, unable to stare at his helpless sister. The family can no longer endure the pain, nor hide the pain they suffer. They need to unleash their emotions, using them as a weapon to avenge Albric’s death. Donin and Sadara aren’t going to sit around quietly as they mourn Albric’s death. They need to act and bring justice to the Gewerksols responsible for their brother’s death. Vengeance has clouded their minds.
INSTIGATION
NOVEMBER 18th, 2060
7:29 A.M.
MOSKOVA
The morning light strikes the faces of many, awakening them from their slumber. The clouds overnight have moved on, bringing about a bright and crisp day in Moskova, although there’s a storm that will hit the area by noon. As always, traffic is jammed as people make their way to work, beeping their horns with rage, the noisiest thing about their electric powered cars. These vehicles can go 500-600 miles until they need to be recharged and almost everyone drives one. Even the Empire’s military has utilized electric power, a trend all nations are adopting. This has reduced the environmental impact, forcing the oil and natural gas industry to use the natural resources they drill for and convert them into plastics.
Some, however, prefer to walk to work, finding walking less aggravating and stressful. They live in the city, and owning a car is pointless when their jobs are in walking distance. They don’t take advantage of the private transportation since walking saves them money and they would have to sit in traffic, something they want to avoid. Most who walk to their jobs work at the Tower.
The Tower is a chrome-like building. Its body is a circular dome at the bottom, becoming narrower in the middle. In the middle is a giant spiraling obelisk. The twisting obelisk itself is the color of chrome, although the upper part of the obelisk is white with a red flashing beacon on top.
This is where the Department of Defense is located. Here, classified information flows in and out regularly, information that either protects or compromises the security of the Empire, depending on how the information is used. This is one of the most essential facilities within the Empire and perhaps one of the most guarded. It is also a building that many can’t take their eyes off, their eyes awed by the architecture.
Yet, its magnificence doesn’t impress the people who work there. This is especially true for Aaron Ahrima, an employee of the Tower as he gazes at the building. He is a tall slender individual with black hair, wearing black shades covering his blue eyes. Around his left wrist is a silver-colored Smart Watch, which not only tells him the time, but also the weather, the news, and countless other features. Next to his leg is his black briefcase, containing important materials. Serving with the Red Skulls four years prior, he earned his degree in cybersecurity, and afterwards was assigned to work at the Tower as a Cybersecurity Specialist.
While automated programs can protect against most cyber-attacks, the demand for cybersecurity personnel couldn’t be any higher. The reason is that these automated programs need maintenance, which a program can’t do singlehandedly yet. It is also the fact that nations, as well as devious individuals have turned to waging cyber tactics to gain information. Thus, the labor power needed to monitor and counteract these hostile aggressions has grown, yet remains in shortage given it requires high intellect and a clean record, both of which are required for either the public or private sector.
Cybersecurity is a field of study that interested him, one that he was capable of doing, and thanks to his military background, was able to get into easily. But today is his final day at the Tower, a day he knew was coming sooner rather than later. He is considered one of the hardest-working employees here, staying for hours on end to ensure the nation is protected. To accomplish this, he has helped develop some of the Tower’s firewalls, which have successfully stopped most cyber-attacks, all except for the CBW developed by the Gewerksma.
Many within his field didn’t know how such a thing could happen. It baffled them how their security system, one of the toughest in Zentari, was shattered. It concerned them that their security standards may no longer be up to date, meaning more resources and labor power would be needed to develop a more sophisticated defense, which could take years to develop. Yet, Aaron knows why the CBW was able to penetrate their systems.
For the last five years, he has been providing segments of the firewalls he has developed and security programs the government uses to the Gewerksma. This data was used to create Rubella Typhus, allowing it to easily penetrate the Tower’s defenses. Secretly a Neo-Demokrist, he feared that the government and private entities were becoming too reliant on automated programs, which would take jobs like his away. Believing this was becoming a reality, he decided to aid the Gewerksma, believing their ideals would save his job.
That day he believes will become a reality today when he initiates the Final Draft: unleashing the final CBW provided to him by Argus, ready to sacrifice himself to ensure others are secured in the future. Lying in the shadows across the Empire are three million Gewerksols, waiting for the signal to attack.
Half of the Gewerksols are in Moskova, along with the stolen G131 tanks. For the Final Draft to succeed, someone needs to upload the CBW into the Tower’s database, ensuring that the Gewerksma face little resistance. For this to work, they need to rely on someone on the inside, someone the government trusts.
I can’t believe it has finally come to this. Aaron takes a deep breath as he looks down at his watch. 7:32. Shit! I’m late! Jotting his head up, he picks up his briefcase and looks both ways. He sees traffic has come to a stop, but this will only last for mere seconds. He crosses the street quickly, making his way to the entrance of the building.
In his briefcase, he carries all his paperwork, a flash drive containing the CBW, and four boxes of candy molded into Plastoff[80], although a fifth box is actual candy. This Plastoff is connected to a small wireless plastic receiver, which can be remotely triggered by a button on his watch. While his main objective is to upload the CBW, he is to detonate the Semtex to cause as much damage as possible, to hinder their response towards stopping the CBW.
The reason he has chosen Plastoff is that it can’t be detected by metal detectors, as it contains insignificant amounts of metal. However, it can still be discovered by dogs or lasers that disturb the photons of the atoms composing Plastoff. To counteract these security measures the best he can, he has smothered the explosives with a cologne and hidden thick mirrors in the cardboard in hopes of reflecting or absorbing the laser.
A drop of sweat rolls down the side of Aaron’s face, hitting his shades. Despite the countermeasures he’s employed, he’s nervous that the precautions he’s taken won’t be enough. He fears that he’ll get caught, failing his comrades and more importantly, Neo-Demokrism itself. What adds to his terror is the fact that security across the Empire has been tightened, a response to the recent raid on a Gewerksma safehouse that uncovered large amounts of armaments.
As he enters, he stops, wiping away the sweat. Inside are multiple soldiers with dogs roaming around. Watching him are several security cameras, which are emitting a laser that can detect explosive materials on the atomic level. So far, his countermeasures seem to be working: they aren’t on to him.
However, the longer he stands still, the more likely they’ll suspect something. They do, after all, study the faces of those who may be perplexed, who may show signs of fear, telling security they may be up to something. Sluggishly, he walks towards one of the metal detectors, studiously avoiding the dogs, praying the lasers won’t detect the explosives inside.
Approaching the metal detector, he stops, placing his briefcase on the ground. He grabs a dull gray-colored bin and places it on the conveyor belt. It slips a little as he frantically catches it and fixes it. He looks up, staring at the officer who’s observing him.
He doesn’t recognize
the man who sits in his booth. The officer is somewhat a slim figure, perhaps in his mid-twenties. He has a stern look on his face, which becomes glaring thanks to the sunglasses he wears, giving him an intimidating look. Aaron has never seen this man before, telling him he must be new. My luck! A new guy. He won’t be as thorough. I better keep it that way.
Not wanting to show his timid expression, Aaron turns away and looks at his feet. Like many times before, he takes off his shoes and watch, placing them in a bin. He sends the bin forward as the officer presses a button, activating the conveyor belt. The mechanical track revs up, drawing the bin into the darkness, ready to examine it.
He then reaches for his briefcase, grasping the handle firmly. He goes to lift it up, but stops. Every fiber in his body is preventing him from carrying on, going against what his mind demands. At the moment, his body is in charge as he places the briefcase back down. The perplexed officer looks at him, raising an eyebrow.
“Sir. Please put your briefcase on the conveyor belt. You won’t be able to walk through until you do so.”
Aaron doesn’t move as he stares at the menacing machine. Aaron doesn’t want to put the briefcase through the machine. He fears that they will find something wrong, they usually do. He fears his attempts at hiding his contraption will be exposed. It doesn’t help that he’s arousing suspicion, already drawing more attention that he doesn’t need.
But he has a mission to complete. It has been reaffirmed to him that he won’t get caught and that he won’t fail. They have confidence that he’ll succeed and light the spark of revolution. He must believe. I must believe.
With his self-assurance, he places his briefcase with reluctance onto the conveyor belt, knowing his confidence will soon dissipate. The officer hits the button again, activating the conveyer belt. The briefcase enters the machine, sliding into its dark passageway. The officer looks at the screen, studying the contents.
Zurkerx- The Empire Shall Grow Page 21