It Shines a Lonely Light
Despite its namesake, the GDS Philadelphia wasn't situated above Philadelphia.
Satellites were often located in geo-stationary orbit, but the Philadelphia wasn't one of them. As GDI's headquarters, there was a benefit in security to keep it on the move, since it was much harder to hit a moving target than a stationary one. Likewise, considering it held a complement of infantry for rapid deployment planetside, a moving space station would make it easier to reinforce GDI forces on the ground, wherever they might be needed. Which, as Michael McNeil reflected, could be anywhere, anytime right now. Especially since word was that General Hassan had been deposed by Anton Slavik, and the Brotherhood of Nod was dedicated to "peace through power" rather than "peace through peace." Or "peace through patsies." Or…He yawned. There were all manner of slogans InOps had for their containment of Nod over the last few years. Now those people were likely sending several tonnes of shit down to several fans before being sent out into space.
Thing was, he almost welcomed it. If Nod wanted a fight, he'd bloody well give it to them. Against Nod, he could fight, he could win, and he could be happy. Apart from Nod, the only enemy humanity had to worry about was tiberium, and that was a fight he didn't have the slightest idea on how to wage. Over three decades since the green crystal had arrived on Earth, he suspected that despite assurances from GDI eggheads, no-one had the slightest idea on how to combat tiberium. Right now, standing in the observation room of the Philadelphia, looking down on the planet below…well, it made one want to stay up here. Almost. No-one won a fight by hiding.
"Commander."
Certainly not the likes of General James Solomon. The person who'd led GDI to victory in the First Tiberium War, and the person who might have to do the same in a second.
"General."
The interactions were formal, but not too formal. The two men had too much experience for that. That they were having this conversation in the observation room alone was a testament to that.
"So," McNeil asked. "Is it true?"
Solomon nodded. "Far as we can tell. There's no body, but what sources we still have within the Brotherhood indicate that he's dead, and that Slavik's in control."
McNeil swore. Slavik. The Serbian Wolf. A psychopath among psychopaths. Also a psychopath with a keen military mind, from what he understood.
"So what now?"
"Now we prepare. Wait. Hope."
"Not much of a plan."
"Plan for the worst, hope for the best," Solomon said. "That's why I'm sending you planetside. Southwest Training Centre, North America"
"A training centre?"
"Not everyone is as good as you Mac. If there's going to be a war, I want you to get the men and women ready for it."
He remained silent. He could work with that. He looked out through the observation window, down to the mouldy brown sphere that was Earth. Before he'd been born, it was meant to be a world of blues and greens, with white clouds in the sky. The blue was still there partially, but there wasn't much cloud, and the green…it was there. Sort of. He could see North America below – it was on the planet's dark side. In its centre, he could see a field of green, shining in the gloom. Tiberium.
"Light pollution."
McNeil glanced at Solomon. "Hmm?"
"Light pollution," he repeated. He looked back at McNeil. "Back in the old days, before your time, there were so many cities and so much light, the planet was never in darkness. Golden light, far as you could see. Astronauts could see from space how the entire planet was lit up."
"You ever see it yourself?"
"Me? Not personally. By the time this station was constructed, well, you know what the world's like."
McNeil did. Cities were few and far between these days, as people fled for the polar regions of Earth. But from here, he could see the tiberium below. A sickly green light, glowing in the gloom.
Shining brightly, in a world gone dark.