For seven months, the Gaians laid siege to Bunker 118. It was an awful time. Deirdre spent most of it in the command centre erected three miles from the city, protected by the Guard. Zakharov and his aides were great helpers, as they thought about everything in roundabout ways, coming up with schemes layered over schemes. They were, at times, far too involved for Deirdre to do much but nod, smile, and grant her approval. The plans had sped up the siege process considerably though, and for that, Deirdre was thankful.

Reports from the other faction leaders filtered in constantly.

From Miriam: Defiance Freehold, Security Base, and Fleet Base have fallen.

From Morgan: I have crushed her forces, and have occupied Admiralty Point, Spartan Harbour, and Nexus Hill.

From Yang: I have liberated Yang Mine, and have seized Old Fort.

From Lal: A secure perimeter has been established around Base 1, we expect it to fall within the week.

Everyone, other than Deirdre and Zakharov were having great successes in their campaigns against Santiago. Deirdre's forces were holed up outside the walls of Bunker 118, in a static, unmoving conflict.

Deirdre had the advantage of superior numbers, and a much better air force. Santiago had the advantage of a powerful navy, and a virtually unbreakable tachyon field. While Deirdre hoped that the tachyon field could be destroyed, she knew that it would be difficult. Her artillery glanced off the protective sheath, and only her air weapons could do any damage whatsoever to Santiago.

Her other armies were having the same bad luck. One, led by Commander Diehl, had entrenched themselves around the mountain stronghold of Freehold Keep. The other, led by Admirals Hawke and Lisa, oversaw the siege of Sparta Command.

"My lady, the daily assault is commencing."

The vid-screen in her room flashed, and Bunker 118 loomed, an unmovable boulder in the midst of a roiling, green and white sea. It was an ugly base. Santiago preferred practicality and efficiency to beauty, whereas Deirdre always tried to combine the three. The lack of imagination in the Spartan bureaucracy had resulted in the orthodox, unoriginal shape for the Bunker. A box.

It was a high, rocky box, standing firm against all the might of Planet. All other human agencies were united against these boxes, and yet they still stood, arrogant in the belief that they could hold off anything.

Which they could, thought Deirdre. Seven months, and the tachyon fields were still active. She could do nothing until they had been shut down. And that, Santiago would never do. The fanatical Spartan leader had thermal boreholes built actually inside her base, providing enough energy to keep the city running for all time.

Deirdre looked at one of her generals, a middle-aged man named Mathieu. He was of French descent, and he had the slightly darker skin of someone from the south. Good wines there, thought Deirdre absently, before shaking her head. Earth was gone. There was no France, no south, nothing. Now, there was only Planet.

"Wait, Mathieu. I have a little surprise planned for the Spartans. When I give the word, then we must attack. Are the mindworms ready?"

"Mindworms, my lady?"

His voice was surprised, and quite wary. Mindworms would not work while the tachyon field was operational, as Deirdre had found out the first week, when her demon boils had been incinerated with ease.

"Yes, Mathieu. Have their trainers ready to unleash them."

He nodded, and a few crackled commands were exchanged. Deirdre breathed in deeply, in an attempt to calm her racing pulse. She was always nervous. It seemed that every day she would be biting her nails, using the sheer force of her will to keep her sanity in check.

Twenty minutes passed, and the tachyon field remained the same. Finally though, and the second sun rose into the sky, lighting up the day, the tachyon shields glimmered, then winked out.

Deirdre smiled exultantly.

"Order the attack! All forces against the Spartans now!"

Therefore, the Gaians and the University charged. At first, the Spartans laughed, thinking their tachyon field intact. One glance upwards robbed them of that belief. All the Gaian artillery, ineffectual just two minutes before, now fired as many shells as they could. The screaming was unbelievably loud as rockets released their gifts of death. Deirdre nodded grimly.

Revenge was coming.

The Spartans gave up the walls, falling into the streets. Then the mindworms fell upon them, eating away at their minds. The shrieks of the Spartan forces as the hunger of the worms was sated made Deirdre shudder. A horrific weapon, the mindworm, but one that her faction utilized well, and with no qualms.

Planet had given her the worms, and she would use them to save Planet.

Weakened by the shell fire, driven from the walls by Gaian warriors, and now being devoured by masses and masses of worms, the Spartan lines broke. The Gaians, like a breaking tide, rushed into the city.

Flashes of laser fire filled the air, making it difficult to see. Dust from rubble, and smoke from fires made it as dark as night within the city. Thousands were dying, their blood seeping onto the hard streets, which remained uncaring, as rock always is.

Deirdre sensed victory steaming through her blood, and now she knew why some people could love war. It was disturbingly exhilarating, seeing the death her people were dealing. It was enjoyable, watching her enemies die with agonized screams. Bloodlust rose within her, a strange, untameable monsters that gripped every cell of her brain.

NO.

A voice in her mind spoke out against this gripping desire.

NO.

It stated once again, unbelievably strong in its proportions.

NO.

Deirdre shook her head. The bloodlust vanished, and a tear fell from her eyes. She had been lost. She had, for a few minutes, lost the battle for her soul. Standing, she stared at the battle, now repulsed by the deaths. Never again would her soul become endangered. She would not allow it, could not allow it.

By now, the Gaians were overwhelming the resistance in the city. The smoke was clearing, the dust settling. Now the true cost of the battle would be revealed. When it was, Deirdre choked, and fell to her knees, gasping for breath.

Finally, she forced herself to look up at the screen. Tears streamed down her face. Babies lay on the floor, crying for parents that were never going to be coming back. Spartan babies, but babies nevertheless. Women crawled along the floor, screaming for their husbands and children. Everywhere, the horrific results of war could be seen. Deirdre felt her legs turning to water, and she sank into her chair. Her face had gone pale, and she felt cold.

Zakharov entered the room, his face alive and joyous.

"We have won, lady! Bunker 118 is ours!"

Deirdre stared at him mutely.

"Have we won, Zakharov?"

He looked puzzled, and she spoke again.

"I am a Gaian, and I have ordered my people to kill. Look at what I have wrought, Provost. Look. I am as bad as Santiago is, no better. I am cursed, and deserve to be reviled."

Zakharov argued.

"No, lady. Never that. What must be done to Santiago is necessity. It is just and-"

She interrupted him. "Does that make it any less wrong? If I murder someone in self-defence, I have still murdered. I am lost."

Zakharov shook his head. "You intend to give up?"

Deirdre laughed coldly. "No, Zakharov. I can never give up. I have too much responsibility for my people. But I am lost, and within, I shall be as a rotten corpse. I am nothing any longer. Nothing!"

Zakharov blinked. "Lady, can a rotten corpse make me love her?"

Deirdre opened her eyes wide. She didn't believe what she was hearing. "Wh- What?"

Zakharov smiled. "I love you, Deirdre. Not for what you do, but for what you are. You are not a rotten corpse. The fact that you feel for the victims shows you are different to Santiago. Much, much different."

He leaned close to her, and kissed her. Deirdre responded. As she kissed him, she felt the love, and life of Planet rising within her, and she breathed in exultantly. She was not lost. No, never would she be lost. Not while she had Zakharov.

"I love you, Zakharov."

She kissed him again, and lost herself in the rising passion.