Opus Veda

The palace was wrecked. Plaster, bullet casings, and glass shards carpeted everything. Floral red wallpaper hung loose in strips. Drapes dangled over corpses.

It was dark, and quiet.

A rifle snapped. Someone clattered downstairs and landed amongst the Vedic fire teams. They watched the guardsman suffer with folded arms; Luis sneered, a waste of ammunition.

Kristoff dug his knife behind her ear. She jerked several times, went rigid, and died.

A door flew open. Andrez powered through it with a hundred fighters following. Luis fell in alongside him. They strode through empty halls.

"Where are we up to?"

"They've retreated to the second floor," said Andrez, "I presume they intend to hold it until their main force arrives. We need to deal with them and leave before that happens."

"I've spoken with Surveillance. With a little luck, it may be the revolution's main host isn't managing."

Andrez stopped walking and tilted towards a window. The outside air flashed and boomed.

He carried on.

"Doesn't sound like it to me. If we don't clear the command centre quickly enough we'll be encircled, so get ready; we're moving on."

They arrived at the King's Staircase, an auric cube of chequerboard flooring and twisting iron rails. An audience of Georgian portraits watched from the walls.

Opus Veda moved into position. They locked shields at the stair's base; aimed rifles at the landing above; began scaling upwards.

No one spoke. No one heard a thing.

They reached the landing.

Kasia and Sima Ren peered over the shield wall. They activated their tasers and aimed into an art gallery ahead.

"It appears clear…" Sima Ren whispered, "we can move ahead."

"Zilong…" Kasia's voice went high. She knew as spoke, it was too late.

A red dot was beaming into his chest.

"Zilong!"

Gunfire flashed. Kasia fired back. She halted the attack but enough had come.

Sima Ren tumbled downstairs.

"Down!" Andrez braced the wall. Bullets flew overhead. Stopped. A quick burst at the Veda's left. Kasia ducked behind her allies.

Silence again.

Then buzzing like insect wings.

The buzzing faltered.

"Shields up!"

A pack of drones dropped on the Veda's line and exploded. Shields flew away like leaves.

They fell back into the lower apartments. Bullets chased them, tearing a dozen Vedics down. Grenades bounced into packed crowds and detonated. Another dozen died. Kasia carried Sima Ren away as death spread all around.

Luis called out to return fire. The panicking fire teams towards the second floor, expending precious rounds, but delaying the revolution's advance.

Their guns were too primitive to offer a serious fight. Before the Reds could shoot back Luis herded everyone away.

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The marines stalked after them.

Opus Veda dispersed through the palace's apartments to divide the counter attack's attention. The marines kept after them. They were coordinated and efficient, sparing ammo and taking open foes with precision. Lost guardsman reformed on them and tried to aid. Major Kinnock ordered them upstairs.

More rooms fell. Vedic tricks failed. A score died for it.

Luis fired his last round. Missed. His mark aimed back. Luis drew his blade but knew it was futile.

He would not reach his target.

Tanya fired from low, skewered the marine's thigh, and wriggled back under a table. Luis dived away. The marine chased revenge and for it lost her cool. Mike fired from cover and dropped her. Her squad took the bait, wasting ammo firing where Mike had already left. They pursued; Tanya swung a fire axe out and butchered one. Another tried to shoot her. Her teammate struck fast, slitting his throat and vanishing.

Kristoff fired his fourth bullet and claimed a fourth life.

The last marine retreated, calling for support.

"Oi fifth-element! Fuckin' get back!" Kristoff wafted his teammate behind him. She darted away. The room was clear, but one ally remained. Kristoff saw her shifting under the table. He crept down.

Tanya's mask was off. Laser lines scanned above her. Kristoff checked his rifle. One round. He searched for a plan and whispered.

"Tanya! I'll get a shot out, you make a dash behind me, on three…"

"No. Kristoff…" Tanya swayed her head as if drunk. Her eyes were heavy, her breath rasping.

"Look at me…"

Kristoff saw it: blood leaking from her leg and chest.

And she was picking at the cyanide tube in her mask.

He ran for her. Gunfire forced him back.

"Tanya!"

She looked up at him. Blinked slowly.

Glass crunched softly. Her lips parted in a foamy line of saliva. Her head rolled sideways. Kristoff watched, helpless and catatonic, as another sister died in front of him.

He heard soft chatter from the marines line.

"Get last of the guardsmen upstairs, we'll barricade the gallery. I'd like to see those Black fucks break in."

Kristoff listened to them return upstairs. He could take one with his last shot but he'd never reach Tanya's body.

He chose Tanya.

Andrez walked around despairing. His force was as ruined as the apartments containing them. Every room stank of gunpowder, blood, and faeces. The dead and dying stretched far ahead. Medical couldn't manage their numbers. Most had removed their masks, inflaming Andrez's guilt. He saw young and old of all backgrounds, eyes weary with battle, with life. They formed a chorus of pained groaning - one Andrez had only heard before in the Veda's victims.

And their contract was yet to be finished. The encroaching war outside would not let them forget: the clock still ticked.

Someone slapped Andrez's shoulder. Luis brought him back to reality.

"They've returned to the second floor and barred the King's Gallery. We'll cover the landing Andrez but you need to get a move on. Take a minute, gather whoever and whatever you can."

Luis marched out. He was visibly shaken. Andrez barely registered his words.

"…Andrez?"

Esmé's voice. He followed it into a bathroom, and when he reached her, wished he hadn't.

She Kasia cradled one another, trembling and delirious. The rest of their section had fared worse. Maqbool slumped between two urinals. His arm was broken, his ankle twisted, his eyelids too weak to open.

Sima Ren lay flat. His once stern gaze had eased and greyed. Andrez removed his mask and kissed Sima Ren's forehead. A 19 year old warrior had died living up to a father's legacy. Few outside this bathroom would know his heroism.

And how many of them would survive the night? Andrez considered the next hurdle. It was too high to overcome.

He wanted to call the retreat.

Kasia pulled herself up, acknowledging no one. She washed in the basin and ran her fingers through her hair. Sick and blood drenched her uniform.

She replaced her mask and limped outside.

Watching her gave Andrez what he needed. He got back up, pulling Esmé with him, and smiled at her.

"How would you rank this against being in psychiatric then? Wishing I'd left you on the ward yet?"

Esmé tiptoed and kissed his cheek.

"Terrorism would have be easier, if only management wasn't so shite..."

They returned to the apartments. The grand staircase awaited. Those able to fight had rearmed themselves and formed around it.

Andrez joined Luis and Mike, who were debating a plan of attack.

Tanya's body rested with them. Kristoff sat with her, smoking a cigarette stolen from a dead marine. His eyes had faded.

The commanders discussed their approach. Kristoff half listened, half looked around.

A grappling hook stuck in the window. A dead guardsman hung over it. Kristoff searched the Armoury teams for what weapons remained.

He pulled the photo of his sister out, stroking her face, then Tanya's. One taken by cancer, the other taken, repeatedly, by a depraved brother and his friends. Kristoff had tried to replace that brother - be someone better and guide Tanya from the traumas haunting her. He had never succeeded.

He flung the cigarette away and joined his section.

"I know how we can get upstairs."