Command and Conquer: Tiberium Saga: Third Tiberium War
The inevitableness, the idealism, and the blessing of war, as an indispensable and stimulating law of development, must be repeatedly emphasized. . . War is a biological necessity of the first importance, a regulative element in the life of mankind which cannot be dispensed with. . . But it is not only a biological law but a moral obligation and, as such, an indispensable factor in civilization.
-Fredrich von Bernhardi, Germany and the Next War, 1914
Prologue
Sergeant Charles Wolfe squinted behind his visor and stepped forward, raising his left hand as the truck approached his Zone Security checkpoint. He could see the logo on the side, belonging to a transport company that delivered meat and wheat products from the farms of what remains of northern Kentucky.
"Good mornin to ya, laddie," he called out in his Scots-Irish accent as the truck stopped with his and gave the driver a friendly smile. He was equal parts customs and immigration agent, military police, and NBC weapons specialist; and unlike frontline infantry, he wore an open-faced helmet and lighter armor of interlocking ceramic plates. His GD2 rifle hung over his shoulder by its strap, where he could still get to it quickly if need arose. Automated railgun towers and guard towers with GD12 machineguns flanked the checkpoint, which lead to a massive set of doors that were built into the wall looming overhead to separate the Blue and Yellow Zones. Two six-man squads of Zone Security troopers stood around the checkpoint, one on watch and the second manning the checkpoint itself.
"Morning," replied the truck driver, what looked like a kid barely in his twenties. The young man didn't have the look of a Yellow Zone dweller, so he's definitely a Blue Zone civie contracted out to work in the dangerous Yellow Zones. The driver held out a datapad, which showed his credentials, cargo, and destination, which Wolfe took, surprised that the man hadn't waited until he'd been asked.
"In a huray today?" he asked. His smile turned into a slight frown as he read the information. Harold Higgins, truck driver for Wilde Foods and Products, based out of Lexington. Cargo, about seven tons of meat patties, two tons of bread and other wheatstuff, along with a ton of marijuana-based products. Hemp ropes and papers were standard, but he sighed at the amount of smokable cannabis and edible hashish. No doubt for those 'hemp brownies,' he thought to himself.
Private Karl Herzog circled around the side of the truck, carrying a small handheld scanner that was designed to check for tiberium infestation. The products were supposed to be processed and sealed, but the green crystal had a tendency to slip into the most unexpected of places, even on just the smallest treads of a tire. There could have been fragments of tib-rock sprouting on the vehicle at that very moment, and that would be a disaster waiting to happen.
Such were the risks of bringing anything from a Yellow Zone to a Blue Zone.
"Yeah," Higgins said, chuckling nervously. "I'm running a little late today. Had to drive around a tib-spike that used to be a fallen tree." Wolfe sympathized and nodded as he scanned the security pass. It looked like it checked out.
"We'll git ya throu' quick, then," he assured the kid, and Higgins relaxed. Couldn't blame him either, safety came first before profits in this day and age even if some business owners still thought otherwise.
As Herzog continued his inspection, Wolfe glanced back behind him, at the tunnel that passed through the immensely high wall that blocked off the eastern half of Carolina from the western half. On this side of the wall was rough land, with thick but scraggly grass rising out of yellow-brown soil, amidst weathered buildings, some fallen and collapsed, that had seen better days . . . and this was right outside the wall. He knew that some parts of Yellow Zone 6 were far worse than this.
On the other side, beyond the sonic emitters that fended off the deadly green infestation ravaging the planet, was a comparative paradise of tall buildings and thick, verdant plant life. The Blue Zones were the last refuges against the sickness that was tiberium, but they were small and scattered across the globe. For that reason, GDI defended them with a ferocity that could generously be called paranoia.
"How's it looking?" Wolfe called as Herzog circled around the truck. The tech specialist shrugged as he came about on the other side.
"Clar," he answered with his German accent strangling his latest attempt to properly speak English. "He kann go durough-" he stopped as the scanner started beeping wildly. He went to the right side of the cargo hold before the scanner started whining loudly.
"Tiberium!" he shouted, bringing up his rifle. "Two tonnen of the rot! Tib-smuggler!"
Before he could even so much as demand him to exit the vehicle, Wolfe found himself looking down the barrel of a handgun, Higgins' anxious demeanor replaced by an grim calm and cold fury.
"Peace through power!" the young man shouted, and Wolfe dove to the ground as the handgun went off. Pain exploded from his left shoulder as the round slipped through his body armor, and he swung his rifle up, depressing the trigger. A burst scythed through the driver's side door, the flimsy metal no match for a GD2 assault rifle's 6.5mm rounds, but if he hit the smuggler Wolfe couldn't tell.
More gunfire erupted from the window, and Edwards scrambled backward amidst the wild spray of desperate shots. Another round slipped through the plates and hit his right thigh. He scrambled for behind one of the concrete barriers, and could hear the deep, cracking reports of other Zone Security rifles as they fired on the truck.
The scream of the truck driver echoed in his ears, a motto he has never heard personally but recognized instantly.
Nod. Higgins was a Brotherhood agent. Even worse, he was one of their own citizens.
A moment later heat and force washed over where Higgins lay behind the concrete divider, shrapnel careening through the air and stabbing into the concrete wall. Higgins waited for the shrapnel to stop raining down, and then peeked over the barrier. The truck burned, intense heat rolling off it, alarm klaxons blaring along with the Tiberium recognition sensors. There wasn't much left of the truck, pieces of it lying around the checkpoint. To his horror, he saw Herzog and the other four troopers on the ground.
Herzog was pretty much dead, pieces of shrapnel were embedded in his torso while an oversized metal shard went through the German's visor and embedded itself in-between his eyes. As if that wasn't enough, his arms or what's left of them had to be somewhere. Wolfe hear the groans of two of his fellow squadmates, so at least they were alive somehow. The other two had to be either unconscious or dead, he can't be sure.
Suicide bomber, he realized, using his right arm to pull himself off using the barrier to situate himself. Bastard blew himself in case he was found out, probably linked to his heartbeat.
Fuckin' Nod wankers.
Gray uniforms choked the entrance to the airport terminal as men and women went about their business, talking back and forth, syncing up personal computers, presenting identification to security personnel, and running errands. In the blue-white light of the room their skin tended to take on pallid hues, even the ones with darker skin tones, and combined with the gray dress uniforms it made everything seem antiseptic and unusually clean.
Battle Commander Paulo Firmina dos Reis walked across the terminal, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder as he weaved through the dozens of Global Defense Initiative soldiers milling around in the terminal. Andrews Airbase had grown to be one of the largest airfields in the world, servicing one of the most populated Blue Zones on the planet, and as such it was a hub of transit for GDI's military personnel.
Which is why Paulo had just gotten off of a V-35 Ox just minutes ago that had been ferrying a pair of fresh companies of newly minted GDI Army riflemen that were being assigned to GDI Fort Meade up north. With GDI civilian budget cutbacks on military budget and spending, many military installations that were once run by the various branches of the former United States Armed Forces have now been shut down and decommissioned or forcibly merged into joint bases. Which funny enough, Andrews Airbase was one of the latter, having absorbed the Washington Naval Air Facility.
His left wrist buzzed, barely audible through the terminal's din, and Paulo looked down at the flatscreen mounted on his left forearm as he walked. The screen was part of his Combat Computer ("Comcom" for short), a device issued to all Battle Commanders as part of their mobile command and control duties, synced to computers built into the utility belt around his waist and the implants in his skull, including his artificial eyes- relics of one of the police actions that had helped get him his current rank. The screen lit up, indicating the information he was about to receive wasn't sensitive - the built-in sensors would have transmitted the data directly to his retinas via laser otherwise.
It was a map of the terminal, and a single marked point just outside the building, which read "Sergeant Charlie Carr." With a nod, Paulo turned the screen off and passed through security, handing the fully-armed and armored guards his identification and holding out his hand for a DNA sample, followed by a retinal and vocal scan. The guards also ran a diagnostic on his Comcom to ensure it was safe. The security procedures were tight, but they were understandable considering the sophistication of the Brotherhood of Nod's infiltration and disguise techniques. Brotherhood infiltrators, especially those from Yellow Zones that used to be part of first-world countries, were equipped with nearly flawless disguises that allowed them to go completely incognito. Case in point, the leading GDI civilian director during the Rio Insurrection was indeed a Brotherhood spy (the real one having been 'disappeared' with his remains still undiscovered) which allowed Nod to not only encourage his brethren to successfully rebel in Rio, but also allowed Nod to operate with complete secrecy and impunity until he was found out.
Once his identity was confirmed, the guards sent Paulo on his way, and he stepped out of the terminal and into the open, warm spring air. The roar of an Orca's engines greeted him as a wedge of the sleek VTOL craft shot through the sky overhead, wheeling about over the landing pads to the east. Their turbofans whirled and oriented themselves with the ground, the air swirling with waves of intense thermal energy as they settled into place in precise formation, descending to the landing pads in perfect unison. Paulo strode across the road toward the location marked by the blinking light on his Comcom, where a Pitbull all-terrain recon vehicle sat. A woman with close-cropped brown hair and clad in gray garrison fatigues was waiting by the vehicle, and saluted smartly as Paulo approached.
"Sergeant Carr, I presume?" he asked with a smile and a return salute. He noticed her reaction as surprise, probably from either his dark skin pigmentation or his Brazilian accent. Probably both, but he was not one to judge as it probably was out of astonishment that a man from a Yellow Zone had achieved such a high position rather than his physical features.
"Yes sir," she replied after getting her bearings straightened. "I've been told you were needing a lift to the Pentagon?"
"It would be nice, senhora," he responded as she circled around the Pitbull. "If they gave me an office there, might as well pay a visit to it."
He opened the passenger side door of the quite frankly comical-looking vehicle. With its raised body elevated above a rugged suspension, the Pitbull resembled a child's radio-controlled car. Were it not for the quartet of twin-linked 180mm rocket launchers that were mounted on the back, the weapons guided by the advanced, miniaturized sensor suite built into the vehicle, the silliness of the design alone would rightly attract more than a few laughs from GDI military personnel which many officers and grunts were more than happy to oblige in mocking this vehicle. Despite the mockery, playful or otherwise, the Pitbull was designed as a recon and missile platform, to seek out hidden enemies and support armor and infantry in the field; as such it had built up a reputation of respect and reverence that equaled or overwhelmed its negative reception. As a bonus, outside of combat operations, many officers preferred to use its speed and mobility for other, non-combat duties.
"Perdoe-me, senhora, but why. . ." as he began to ask the awkward question of why the lady was given that name. The Sergeant anticipated his question however and politely smiled.
"My parents wanted to name their next kid after Charlie Chaplin, and it just so happened I was born a girl." She shrugged, before finishing. "At least I have a name that sounds vaguely feminine. My older sister was named Kevin for God's sakes."
"Ah, your parents must've watched that Pixar movie before giving birth to your sister," Reis inquired with utmost seriousness that Sergeant Carr busted her gut in sudden and uncontrollable laughter. An action in which Reis could not resist, and soon followed in the infectious giggling and laughing.
After letting out their last fits of laughter and getting more than a few stares, Carr settled into the driver's seat while Paulo opened the passenger's door and sat in the gunner's position next to her. After closing the door, she tapped a couple keys on the sophisticated computer system set in the dashboard front of him which opened up a hidden compartment where a trio of cables of varying size rested. He extended the medium-sized cable from the side of his Comcom to link up with the Pitbull's communications suite. The Comcom's screen flashed, and then dimmed, lasers lancing out and tracking his retinas as the Pitbull pulled out of Andrews. Words appeared in front of his eyes and his vision darkened as he linked directly to the GDI global military network. One of the dozens of local Electronic Video Agents greeted him as he logged in, and began the handshaking routine that would let him connect with the orbiting GDSS Philadelphia.
Initializing….
…
Verifying Authentication.
…
Login Authentication Successful.
Philadelphia Uplink Successful.
Welcome back, Commander.
"Peace Through Power."
The greeting was simple, quick, and automatic, a motto of the righteous, and he responded immediately.
"One Vision, One Purpose," Commander Gregor Radec replied with a smile as he extended his hand. The figure before him, clad in heavy blackened armor with a ceremonial red cape behind it, stood at him a little while longer before it took off its helmet and cradled it between its left arm. Radec was surprised, but only internally, at who it, or rather, she, was.
"Brother-Commander Radec," she greeted him, shaking his offered hand.
"Sister-Major Buchanan, it's been a while," he smiled as he withdrew his hand. "It's been years since we last met."
"Time means nothing in the service of the Brotherhood, Brother-Commander Radec," replied Buchanan, smiling back. She turned and gestured behind him, down the hallway, wreathed in blood-red light, mist rising past their ankles. "Come, Commander. The meeting room is this way."
Radec nodded as they walked down the passageway, flanked by his friend. Captain Evelyn Buchanan loomed side by side with him in her black powered armor, her head shaved and her solid, yet slim features wrinkled by a smile. By comparison, Radec was also a seven footer, only the bulk being of muscle with pale skin and ruby-red eyes clad in the simple black uniform of Nod officer. The smile on his face quickly turned back into a scowl as he remembered why he was here.
"I have not been told of why I was summoned here," Radec remarked. "I would like to know what is the purpose for this meeting." The semi-formal speech patterns were uncomfortable to him, but that was due to him being bluntly honest, brutally so at times. He got used to talking like this, especially since one did not speak casually in public within a temple of any kind. Tradition and all. But he'd be glad to be outside a holy place as soon as he could be.
Buchanan sighed. "I'm afraid I don't know the details either, if that is what you sought," she answered before she shrugged, her cape rippling. They passed by a prayer room, dozens of acolytes seated around a holographic projector that was displaying General Kilian Qatar, giving her famous "Origins of Nod" speech. On a trio of television screens, it showed the progress of the green crystal on the planet's surface with the percentages. Sure enough, 20% of the Earth's surface were covered in blue while 30% of the surface have been rendered uninhabitable to carbon-based lifeforms. The remaining 50% were colored yellow and Radec knew that is what the Brotherhood controls. With a few exceptions, he added internally.
"You have seen it yourself though, have you not?" Buchanan asked. "The preparations are well underway, and doubtless your summons have been made as part of the greater plan."
"I will admit that I managed to notice the troops massing here," Rawne said, eyes forward toward his objective and not looking at his companion. "More and more vehicles as well. Even leftovers from the Global Liberation War are being reactivated."
"Indeed, with many more being amassed elsewhere," Buchanan replied. She smiled at him again, internally saddened by his lack of change of expression.
"But I would like to know what is my role in this plan," Radec growled. "I do not like my purpose being kept in the dark from me."
"You are anxious, Brother," Buchanan sighed, "but you will know your place in this scheme soon enough." The Black Hand took off her left gauntlet and extended her hand, the glittering, green tattoo of inert Tiberium that engulfed her fingers shining in the red light. Laser scanners played over the complex weave of crystalline filaments carefully woven into her flesh. Radec did the same after her with his right hand instead, inert Tiberium crystals being briefly shown when his hand was scanned. The door wooshed open and both proceeded forward.
The room beyond was a chapel, and the ankle-high mist in the corridor outside rose to waist-height, and glowed pink in the red lighting. Radec stepped forward, and noticed that Buchanan had stayed behind, her head lowered slightly as she stayed in the doorway. Radec froze to look back at her.
"You do not wish to accompany me any further?" he asked her. "Perhaps we have grown further apart than I remembered."
"I'm afraid this is as far I am allowed to escort you, Brother," Buchanan answered, her head still lowered and not making eye-contact. "Do not think less of me for this."
"Understood. Fare well, Sister Buchanan," he softly addressed her as he continued forward down the hall.
"By the way, the armor is surprisingly light! You should try it some time!" Radec only smiled as he heard her call him out before arrived to his destination.
To his left were long rows of pews and seats, enough for hundreds of Nod worshippers, but no one was seated in the metal chairs. To his right, before high red and white stained glass windows, were a trio of data screens, rising out of the ground in man-height obelisk-shaped mounts, projecting lines of holy Nod texts in the archaic script of the Brotherhood.
The chamber was empty, and Radec walked toward the center of the room, wondering why he had been summoned to the chapel.
"And he cried in a loud voice: Lazarus, come forth!"
The sound shook Radec, and he stood stock still even with his face unchanged. He listened, but still not believing what he was hearing. The words, the voice echoed in his ears, a familiar tone he had heard countless times, but always recorded and artificial. This voice was real, and it was here, in this room.
There was movement to his right, behind the obelisks, and Radec looked around, awe and gratitude filling his body as he laid eyes on the figure who emerged, framed by the brilliant light streaming from the stained glass. Even as his face and demeanor remain unchanged, it was only just as his body struggled to stay standing from having seen The Messiah himself in the flesh.
"And Lazarus did arise from the grave."
His smile sent shivers of emotion flowing through the Commander, and Radec finally caved in, dropped to his knees, and lowered his head as he saw the father and the Messiah of the Brotherhood of Nod, and the one who was destined to lead the world into the golden age of Tiberium.
Kane.
Radec was speechless for the first few moments. During his time within Global Defense Initiative's ranks, he had been convinced that Kane was finally dead, Commander Michael McNeil even boasting about how he had stabbed the revered figure in his heart with a Tiberium spike. Just like the other GDI grunts, Radec cheered and enjoyed his superior's tale. But that was then, before the GDI higher-ups had decided that he and his fellows were no longer needed and had decided to give them "honorable discharge" before sending them to the hellhole formerly known as Brazil. The rage and hatred that followed the betrayal were the only things that had kept him and his fellows alive.
And then the Rio Insurrection happened. . . He did not know who, or why it happened, but he and his comrades took it upon themselves to join the rebelling citizenry and cast his betrayers out into the seas. . . One of water, and one of their own blood.
This was far too surreal. . . He was being spoken to, personally, in the flesh itself, by Kane himself.
"Rise, my son, and look upon me," Kane spoke, and Radec slowly raised his head to gaze up toward the messiah, who regarded him with a gentle, understanding smile. He was bald unlike Radec's shaven head, and his mouth wreathed with a close but thick mustache and goatee, perfectly trimmed and immaculate. Kane's dark eyes glittered with unfathomable intelligence and unshakable faith and generosity, and his voice echoed of knowledge, mercy, and benevolence that knew no bounds.
Kane raised his hands slightly, and Radec understood his intention. Slowly, he rose to his feet, to face the messiah as an equal.
"I have always believed that faith was measured in deeds, not words," Kane explained as he stepped closer, "and while many of my children worshipped my name, their deeds betrayed them."
Radec nodded, Kane's words striking a chord within his own consciousness, as if he knew the Commander down to his heart and soul. It was chilling and yet liberating at the same time.
"In my absence, they strayed from the path, but you, my son, your faith never wavered," Kane continued, his smile growing. "Not in Honduras or Jericho, or in the great Rio Insurrection. You risked your life countless times to topple GDI, to perpetuate our cause...to honor my name."
Radec nearly choked, for at that moment Kane bowed his head to him, for only an instant, his gratitude nearly making the soldier's legs go weak. That Kane himself would acknowledge his actions as such was an honor he could scarcely believe, and Rawne honestly felt he didn't deserve, and yet it had been placed upon him by their messiah.
"Y-, Your Eminence," Radec tried to begin, but the knot in his throat prevented him from further speaking.
"Now, my child," Kane soothed, "I am well aware of your past allegiance to GDI. Which is why your deeds bring me much honor and gratitude, for your eyes have seen what those beings can and will do. . . And yet, here you stand before me as an equal partner in this grand scheme than as an enemy." Radec raised his head, unaware that he had bowed his head while the Messiah talked to him.
"Now, my son," he said, raising his eyes to meet Radec's once more. "I must ask you to once more bring glory to the Brotherhood. I have seen that GDI has grown vulnerable, bloated by years of arrogance, hypocrisy, and complacency. Now, is the time to strike! While they congratulate themselves on Tiberium advancements Nod made decades ago, we will expose their weaknesses for all the world to see!"
As Kane spoke, his words came faster, with fury and passion and conviction, and Radec felt himself being lifted up and carried by the messiah's emotions. The anger and contempt rang in his voice as he spoke of casting down the corrupt Global Defense Initiative, the heathens and infidels that fought against the glory of Nod and the truth that was Tiberium. Once he was part of that very group, but his actions since Rio have demonstrated his trustworthiness to the Messiah himself.
"What do you ask of me?" Radec asked, and Kane's anger faded, replaced by a sudden, understanding smile.
"You will go to one of our forward bases on the North American East Coast: a small camp has been established about a mile out from Goddard Space Center," Kane explained. "One of my intelligence agents, Ajay, will brief you. Like you, his faith is unquestioned."
Radec bowed again, and Kane gestured toward the entrance of the chapel.
"Go now, my son," he commanded, and Radec straightened. "More glory than you can possibly imagine awaits us, but only if you succeed in the mission I have laid out for you."
"What is this mission?" Rawne asked, curious as to what his leader would have tasked him with.
"The first shots of the Third Tiberium War, my son," Kane replied, his smile wide and genuine. Three seconds of further silence went between them, but for Radec it felt like eternity.
"As you wish." Radec bowed again before turning his back towards Kane and walked back out the chapel, in what would be his gateway of destiny. . .
Author's Notes: Hello everyone, I am back. Its been a while hasn't it? 4 years and some months is a very long time. Long story short: life took precedence. I have a job of 17 months now and I'm trying my license now that I have my permit again.
Yes, this is my attempt at recreating Peptuck's Tiberium Wars. As some of you may notice, most of the scenes and dialogue are almost completely ripped off from his early chapters. That's because they are, tbh. I intended to get permission to take his first two chapters, but then I decided: why not copy-paste and just give due credit to others like you do with quotes on essays?
And that's what basically happened: copy-and-paste. Well, not completely at least. Some of the characters have definitely been changed and the dialogue have some changes to them. The commanders are definitely different and their personalities can already be guessed.
As for my explaination (not a justification, I will respect Peptuck's wishes and rework the chapter if he feels it so), the thing about his early chapters is that its so organic in a sense that I can see this actually happening in the Tiberium verse that I feel there's no other version of a beginning that's more superior than Peptuck's. I have tried countless times on my spare time prior to come up with a prologue that's more or less equal to his. Needless to say, all of them came off clinical and boring. So I thought, why not copy and paste his chapters? They sound exciting!
So if you're still out there Peptuck, thank you for letting me basically take your first two chapters and reworking them.
Now for the official whoopla, credit for the first two chapters goes to Peptuck. And credit goes to Electronic Arts Los Angeles for making Command & Conquer 3: Tiberium Wars and Kane's Wrath.
As for the readers, I intend to make my version of Tiberium Wars just as realistic and horrible as real-life war can be. So do not expect Call of Duty style deaths and melodrama, people will die by the droves while others will be left behind.