40 years later...

Authority Rejected
Part 1

Washington's was one of the classier restaurants in the Tarsonian capital city, and as one might guess by its name, was a popular place for politicians to gather for luncheons between sessions of the senate to talk about the issues of the day. Angus Mensk, a senator from the Confederate colony Korhal, sat in the outside dining courtyard with two of his fellow senators. People enjoyed eating outside this time of year on Tarsonis. The air was cool and the canopy of trees overhead would periodically disperse a few brittle green leaves on the patrons as they ate.

Though one would usually hear words like "budget", "taxes", and "election" strung within people's conversations here, the most recent and controversial plan of the Confederacy weighed very heavily on Angus Mensk's mind.

Confederate senator Carol Warren was a practical woman and a strong backer of the Confederacy. "So, what's your take on the Confederate position, Angus," she asked.

"Frankly, I think it heralds the Confederacy launching itself into a new era of colonial oppression. Its a hard-headed and downright fool's idea," he replied swallowing a bite.

"Its a hard decision, but Korhal is one of the Confederacy's most prized colonies, and their government is already the same. I don't see why this little shift is so hotly debated," Senator Howard Lowe of Chau Sara added.

"How would you feel if it was not Korhal's last bit of independence they wanted to take control of, but instead were planning to take direct rule over Chau Sara, Senator?" Angus insinuated. Lowe said nothing, looking down at his plate and taking another mouthful of his food.

"I think you're taking this a little too far, Angus," advised Carol, picking a leaf out of her food and tossing it to the ground, "besides you can't compare Korhal with a colony like Chau Sara.

"I don't understand why they would take such an action on a whim like this," Lowe puzzled, almost choking on his wine.

Sen. Warren glanced around her and pulled herself closer to the table and told them in a hushed voice, "They've been been getting more and more edgy about the colonies ever since the Guild Wars. They want to impose more control over all of the colonies eventually because they're afraid they might revolt at anytime. They chose Korhal because its the most valuable to the Confederacy."

"The people of Korhal are tired of having Confederate outposts police them all the time. It is a self sufficient colony, they can rule themselves. We don't want a full Confederate government to be installed," explained Angus, "I have to go finish lunch and get ready for the next session of the senate, I will not let the Confederacy do this to us."

Back on Korhal, Pavel Wellington was not having an enjoyable day. He worked as a lab technician in Augustgrad examining interplanetary geological and biological samples with high-tech tools. When he told people this, they told him how wonderful it must be. It paid well, he owned a two story house, three vehicles, wife and kids, satellite TV, even a guy to come in every week to cut the green-purple grass that grew on Korhal. However, he was bored. Over time he had lost interest in the samples that came in, they all begin to blur into repetition. Fifty percent iron, silicon based life form, highly radioactive substance, it didn't really matter to him any more.

This affected his work, today he had miscalibrated the machines causing inaccurate readings of every sample for the day. His boss had said he may not have a job tomorrow. On the way home from work his car had broken down. The hover just shut off and it crashed to the ground with a shower of sparks. The problem wasn't anything simple like the battery or a blocked air intake either.

This forced him to go on foot right were he didn't want to be today, the Confederate outpost. Even today, when Korhal was almost as developed and sophisticated as Tarsonis, the Confederates still treated them like children. Sometimes they would patrol the streets, and get in people's faces if they didn't like the look of them, and they were within the rules doing it too. You didn't dare speak up or fight, their Gauss rifles made sure of that.

Still, the thing that made this a bad day, for everybody, was the news that the Confederacy was going to set up a formal government on Korhal. This likely would mean an increased military presence. He had thought it was bad before, but god, what now! He didn't even have it that bad, being upper class. The soldiers would go hardcore on people in poorer, less influential neighborhoods. He had heard of people being roughed up by drunken soldiers, even shot to death! The Confederacy would sometimes imprison or dishonorably discharge one of their own, but they were token gestures, they'd always say that Korhal had it the best out of all of the colonies, so they shouldn't complain.

Pavel was passing the rod iron gate of the outpost now. It was obvious that the base was designed to not look threatening. It had well trimmed grass and real buildings with foundations, not the drag and drop barracks utilized on the battlefield. The tan cream color of the building blended with the sunlight. Being assigned duty on Korhal was lax and everybody knew it.

However, things seemed different today. The gate guards were in their full marine exosuit armor, the marines on Korhal didn't usually wear their armor, even when on duty. They acted different too. They might usually joke about him or gesture, even point a gun and pull the trigger while the safety was on to scare the shit out of him. Now they stood like silent stone sentinels. They stared with a measurable tension in their eyes. The rest of the base was just as quiet and tense, he could feel it in the air.

Pavel had always wondered why the Confederates treated them the way they do. His conclusion was fear, fear that they would be surpassed by Korhal, because they certainly were not a lesser people.

It was then, when he was deep in his own thoughts, and about to turn the corner out of sight of the base, that his life changed forever. From that corner appeared a few people, then more, then a crowd, then a mob, then a shear mass of humanity. They washed over him silent in their rage. He was forced to move with them back toward the base or be trampled. What he saw explained everything, these were simple people, below him, who had to take the Confederacy's crap everyday. Some were clearly homeless, and others just plain angry. They weren't ready to just let it get worse.

An involuntary part of the crowd, Pavel returned to the gate where the marines were clearly filled with adrenaline. Their grips on their rifles had tightened and their breathing had sped up. Now the mob began to utter shouts, many were unintelligible, but Pavel could hear "get out" and "go home" among them, and he was frightened. More exosuit clad marines came to the gate, these looking more resolute in their stance.

Soon, a marine in an exosuit with different shades of red and white as well as some gold traces arrived. A speaker had been attached to his suit, "This is Commander Norbert of the Confederate Alpha Squadron. You are to disperse immediately and return to your homes." Many shouts of opposition sprung up and the crowd became more energetic, rattling against the gates. It was clear that this man was becoming nervous, but Pavel did not fully grasp that this was out of concern for the crowd he was in.

Pavel was about to push his way out of the crowd when a single burst of gunfire rang out. He looked back at the gate to see four people lying on the ground, not moving. Rivulets of blood flowed out from under some of them. Pavel was shocked, he had never seen anything like this personally. He was just glad that it didn't happen to him. Then he began to realize that it had. He did not know where it had hit, but the dull ache began to spread throughout his midsection. The pain had been dulled, but so were the rest of his senses. He began to stumble back into the crowd, wide eyed in disbelief. They parted from him, as if touching him would cause them to die too. As the mob entered a complete panic, Pavel could only hear the shouts as if they were far away, in another reality. His vision became a blur, and he took a rasping breath. His jaw hung open now, unable to control the mixture of blood and saliva sliding down his chin. Taking a half step forward, he fell to his hands and knees, staring at the ground as the contents of his mouth added new color to the blur of the cold, hard material.

The crowd was dispersing now, except for some odd men who were pushing people aside in an attempt to enter the mass of fleeing people. The only thing Pavel could feel now was a warmth streaming down his stomach and left leg. Someone tripped over him, and he fell to his side. Someone knelt over him as the blur went dark and the warmth faded.

General Edmund Duke sat in his office on Tarsonis staring at his computer monitor. There was little furniture in the room, but the walls were covered with tactical maps of past battles. Some of which he personally had commanded. Behind him the entire wall was one big window, which was casting the dim orange-pink light of the sunset at a downward slant into the big open room. Otherwise it was quite dark. Duke hadn't noticed as he was too busy reviewing his information and mulling over the situation.

Not long ago he had been in a meeting with some of the higher-ups in the government. The fools, he thought, they had never suspected that telling the Korhalians they were going to impose a stronger government on them would cause a revolt. The Confederates had always been this way, forcing themselves on people. They just didn't understand that you have to slowly assimilate people into your culture if you didn't want a fight.

Even Duke was surprised at how fast it had happened. At first it had been mostly smaller rural areas that were rioting, now it had spread to nearly every corner of the planet. All of the Confederate outposts were still intact, but it was only a matter of time until tensions grew and open fighting broke out. "Looks like they need to be taught some discipline," he muttered to himself in his usual drawl.

"Colonel Burns is here sir," the enlisted man who acted as his secretary notified him through the comm. system.

"Send him on in," he confirmed. One of the dark wooden double doors clicked open and he entered quietly. "Colonel, I've been talking to some very important people, and it looks like we have a situation on our hands," Duke began. Burns just stood listening. Duke gestured to a chair and he sat comfortably. "Seems the Korhalians aren't too agreeable about our plans to keep a closer eye on 'em. They've staged a planetary revolt." Burns' eyebrows went up in subdued surprise. Such a thing was unheard of. Duke went on, "We haven't lost any outposts yet, you understand. They've just been showing their... displeasure.

"So its the possible threat that's got them scared," realized Burns.

"Yep, very scared, and this comes straight from the top, boy. If we take care of this the way they want, fast, violent if necessary, it will look very good for us, very good for us indeed, Simon." Duke added.

Simon Burns nodded. He hated it when Edmund called him "boy". Now that his vision had a chance to adjust to the dark he noticed that the light behind Duke gave the short pudgy man an otherworldly orange aura. When they had first met, both realized that they had the same goal: to obtain as much power as possible. So they helped each other out. Duke gave him the inside track, and he did any special "jobs" Duke needed done. This had allowed Simon to be promoted a great deal faster than most people. Duke had already gone far. Starting as an officer, he received a few promotions for his leadership qualities, and even more once his skills as a tactician were recognized.

Duke was glaring at his computer monitor again, analyzing progress reports as they were coming in. Then he hit a button that ejected a disk and another to instantly shut down the terminal. "We're going," he said, and Burns followed after him confused. They left the office and the waiting room with the secretary. They were going down a long hall, side by side, and everybody made sure to give them space as they passed.

"We're going?" Burns asked.

"The fleet has just finished entering formation. They're waiting on us," Duke informed, oblivious. They burst through a door and exited the Confederate military building, entering a small vehicle to race them to the complex's starport.

"Already?" He asked again.

"I told you they wanted this taken care of as soon as possible. The sooner we're up there, the sooner we can get underway. I can tell why they're so jittery. You see, Korhal is our most vital colony. Not only do we get a lot of our military personnel from there, but we get a damned lot of its production and even some science and technology stuff too," Duke mentioned.

The vehicle stopped and they walked along the permanent spaceship pad, it was much larger than the average spaceport, the pad had been poured over the ground and the tower facilities had been set up nearby. The pad was so immense that there were a few battlecrusers in the back corners undergoing maintenance. Luckily, the General's personal transport was very close.

It was black with the white Alpha Squadron symbol, a blocky "A" and a hawk in delta formation, on the sides. Inside there was smooth varnished wood and black leather seats. There was also a full computer system and a bar. Duke wasn't usually this extravagant, but he had decided to let himself go when it came to this.

Sinking into soft chairs, and buckling up as the ship's engines were warming up, General Duke continued like there had been no interruption, "So what they fear the most is that if the most prosperous and well treated colony is willing to uprise against us and even has the smallest amount of success, then other colonies just might get some of the same fool ideas in their heads."

"So, then. We have to do whatever is necessary to make sure that doesn't happen," Burns reasoned. Duke simply nodded and sunk further into the chair.

The black ship rose from the ground, and began accelerating forward. Then it pointed its nose up and shot into space to meet the waiting fleet.

Reflecting on his time spent on Tarsonis, Angus Mensk realized that he had more or less accomplished nothing. He ran his smooth, clean hands back through his mostly gray hair. Angus had been a strong man in his day, but found himself tiring much more easily lately. His once broad chest had become a little slimer, but if ever he felt pained, he would never show it. Often Angus would find his mind wandering to thoughts of wether his facial wrinkles, mostly around his eyes and forehead, came from the increased amounts of worrying his position as senator gave him these days.

Sitting at a desk in a small room on board a small transport ship bound for Korhal, Angus thought back to his attempts to persuade the senate to not pursue their present course of action. He understood now that they had already made their decision long before announcing it. They had hardly even listened to him.

Now, however, he just wanted to get back to Korhal. He knew that the approximately two day trip was one of the shortest distances between Confederate worlds, but he was impatient anyway.

"This is the captain speaking, we have just dropped out of warp space and are beginning our deceleration. We should reach Augustgrad in a few hours," came a voice over the ship's comm. system.

Finally!, Angus thought. He had a fear in the back of his mind that he would come back to Korhal and there would be nothing left. Pressing a button on the back part of the desk, a screen ascended out of a slot with a key pad on part of it. He entered various codes for which world, region, and city he wanted to connect to. Then he entered his own number. The screen lit up with the image of his wife.

"Angus! You're back. Thank goodness, what's the Confederacy been doing?" She wondered.

"They're going to do it, and I can't do a thing about it," Angus said, shoulders sagging.

"Get back as soon as possible, we all need you here now," she requested as he squinted, not understanding, "Haven't you heard, the entire planet has rioted against the Confederates. Its been scary here, there are bands of angry people roaming about looking for Confederates to attack, and gathering at their gates. There's even been a few bursts of gunfire," she continued.

His eyes widened and his jaw went slightly slack, "The entire planet," he repeated quietly to himself.

"Oh, Arcturus is on the other channel, did you want to talk to him?" She asked.

"Hmm, oh, sure," he blurted, still lost in his thoughts.

"See you soon," she imparted, and switched the signal. The new face was that of a young man with a short neat beard and well combed hair. The twinkle in his eye suggested just a bit of arrogance. Arcturus had left Korhal and everything he knew behind to become a Confederate prospector. He went to whatever godforsaken piece of rock they told him to go to, and he milked every last particle of useful ore out of it. Many of those "rocks", Angus realized, were once the territory of the Kel-Morian Combine before the Confederacy took it in the Guild Wars. Being a prospector also had the side effect of making one quite rich, and Arcturus certainly was that. The room behind Arcturus' image was filled with ornate furnishings, and other luxury items.

"Father," he began, "I can't believe what's happening on Korhal. You have to talk some sense into those people. What the Confederacy wants to do may be the best thing that's ever happened to Korhal. It can finally have a real voice in the government. Those rioters are going to ruin all that," he pleaded.

"You don't fully understand everything that is at work here Arcturus," replied Angus, leaning forward while squirming in his seat, "The Confederates want to do this so they can tighten their grip on us. The new government will be Tarsonian, Korhalians won't have anything to do with it. The people know it. That's why they want to fight."

"But if you don't resist the Confederates, they won't harm you," Arcturus replied with a "its as simple as that" look on his face.

"But they will still oppress us just as they have everybody, and they always will," Angus asserted.

Arcturus sighed, "We never did agree on anything did we?"

"I think that's why you left in the end, but you're still my son," after a moment's passing he asked, "How are things going with you?"

Arcturus frowned, "The site we're on now isn't even big enough to have its own atmosphere, we already lost some workers to an airlock accident, they really are stupid sometimes. Other than that, work is moving along just fine. Anyway, its good to talk to you again, Dad, even if it is an argument," he chuckled.

"Goodbye, son," Angus ended the call and retracted the monitor. He sat back in his chair pondering what he should do once he returned to Korhal.

Outside of and far behind his transport ship, a fleet of battlecrusers with white markings materialized, and they too began to decelerate as they approached Korhal.

He wasn't sure what to make of the light above him, but as his vision cleared Pavel realized that he was in a hospital and not the afterlife. There were a number of other beds around him in the clean white room, and he noticed only the reassuring sounds of his heart monitor beeping, and chatter in the background. All of the beds adjacent to him were vacant. The only door was shut. Pavel attempted to sit up, and immediately quit. Pain shot through his abdomen, and he noticed how sensitive and swollen it was under the bandages wrapped around his midsection. Clearing his head from the euphoria the sudden pain had induced, Pavel found height controls for his bed and used them to slowly angle his head and torso up.

Locating the remote control for one of the room's TV's, he switched it to Korhal Global News, in the middle of a newscast, "...and Confederate officials confirmed passage of the Confederate Korhal Colonial Government amidst a storm of controversy from various senators and colonial leaders, today. Known appointees to the new government include Senator Carol Warren, a long time supporter of increased central control over Confederate colonies. In related news, the so called planetary revolt of Korhal, in response to the passage of the resolution, has escalated into several outbreaks of violence against Confederate outposts around the globe. When asked about how serious the situation was, Confederate officials replied that the incidents were isolated, and what has been construed as rioting is simply organized protest that will be peacefully settled as soon as possible."

Pavel shut off the box before he was overwhelmed, the whole planet, he thought to himself in amazement. Could the Confederacy stop all of Korhal if it turned against them? Pavel's head swiveled toward the door as a few tones emanated from it, and then was pulled open. The most noticeable thing about the man who stepped in was the dark gray stubble on his cheeks and chin. He had cold, dark, brown eyes, and gray streaks through his unruly hair. He looked like a drinker. Not a particularly tall man, but he had enough mass to push around anyone else his size, and probably some bigger than him too. It wasn't all fat either.

"The name's Gaardnar, Benjamin Gaardnar," he added as if he almost forgot.

"Oh, um," Pavel sputtered.

"I'm the guy who hauled your sorry, bullet-riddled carcass here," Gaardnar burst in.

"Oh, thank you," Pavel replied.

"No problem," said Gaardnar with a note of amiability in his voice.

"I thought that you would have been my family coming to see me," Pavel posed.

"They don't even know you're here," replied Benjamin.

"What!" Exclaimed Pavel as he tried to sit bolt upright, but was pressed back down by the pain, a little less now, in his midsection.

"Hate to have to drop this on ya, but when I was bringing you here, the Confederates ID'ed you as part of the rioter crowd, once you're out of the hospital they are going to take you in for some questioning. Probably not the nice kind either. I'd help you and all, but they put a security keypad on the door, and there's a marine guarding it," Benjamin explained in a lowered voice and shrugging.

"But, I didn't have anything to do with that!" Pavel whispered.

"I don't know who the hell you are, but it looks like they've made up their minds, and you don't look like the type that could bust through and take out a marine with your bare hands, especially with your injury, and I'm not stupid enough to try it," asserted Gaardnar.

Pavel tried to think, "If I could get out of this room.."

"Then you might have a chance," Gaardnar admitted, turning to leave, "Anyway, I just wanted to see if you were still alive, good luck buddy."

"Wait, I have a plan."

General Edmund Duke sat in the captain's private lounge onboard the Norad. He had summoned Col. Burns to brief him on the plans for dealing with the Korhalians. Duke left his chair and moved to the windows that surrounded the room. Placing his hand on the rail, he gazed on Korhal, "Things are getin' worse, Simon. There's been a few skirmishes down there. I'm going to be moving a lot. I need to personally inspect and prepare as many Confederate outposts as I can."

"What do you want me to take care of?" Burns inhaled.

"Since I'm gonna be so busy, I can't stay anywhere long. That's why I need you to go to Augustgrad. Take control of the outpost there," advised Duke, pausing and gazing out of the window, then, "I'll give you the paperwork to make it official."

"That's it?" Burns speculated, disappointed.

Duke starred him down for a few seconds, "We can't lose Augustgrad. If that happens, the rioters could become organized rebels, and that would cause a lot of trouble. You have to make sure that doesn't happen, and if possible pacify the rioters. One more thing, keep an eye out for any clues of a non Confederate government. Intelligence says that the Magistrate may have put together a more extensive Korhalian ruling system, and might have been keeping it as his little secret."

"I never knew Korhal was so wary of us," Burns perceived.

Duke nodded, "They've been doing a lot, and its about time for them to be reconciled."

Angus Mensk had been trying to contact people ever since he had returned to the surface. For once he had thought about Arcturus' advice and understood that the path Korhal was on would only lead to ruin. If the rioters couldn't be controlled, then the Confederacy would take steps to make them stop.

He had been hoping that he could contact the Magistrate and convince him to convene a meeting of his secret Korhal government. He tried other people who were involved too, but they were all busy or had disappeared. Finally one of his calls were answered, it was Buller, who served as the defense secretary for Korhal's shadow government.

"Senator," Buller's eyebrows raised, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to make it quick. The Magistrate has been on us to supply him with status reports on the rioters and to find a way to make them stand down."

"I'll be quick then," Angus agreed, "We need to have a "meeting". I want to talk to the Magistrate about a possible solution, and it will be a good chance for everybody to give some input. This is important."

"Everything is important right now," said Buller while staring into space for a moment then addressing him again, "but I'll see what I can do."

"It really is vital that I be heard," Mensk insisted.

Buller just nodded and replied, "Just make sure you don't mention things like "meetings" on the Commsat anymore, OK?" The screen abruptly went dark.

Angus walked out off his study, and saw his fifteen year old son and daughter watching the news in the living room. Too often he realized that he was too old to still have kids under his roof, being just over fifty after all. It didn't seem right for them to have a brother twice their age. Nevertheless, he had twins at thirty five.

"Turn that off," Angus commanded.

"But they're talking about the outpost that was overran by rioters," his blond haired son complained.

"Find something else," Mensk commanded sternly collapsing onto the sofa. He hadn't known about that, but was too tired of listening to it to care. His son began flipping through channels.

"Are we going to be OK?" Asked his daughter.

"It will be fine, darling, I'm doing everything I can to end this," he fell asleep from the jet lag before he could say another word.

One thing Benjamin Gaardnar hated was getting up early, but he felt somewhat responsible for what happened to Pavel. So he entered the hospital as soon as it opened at 7:00, and asked about his status like he had told him.

"I want to check on Pavel Wellington," he submitted.

"And you are?" The nurse fired back.

"His father," Gaardnar lied without the slightest hesitation.

The nurse typed on her terminal, and informed him, "He's stable, looks like they're going to do a quick MRI on him at 8:00."

"What room is that in?" Questioned Benjamin.

"Its off limits to visitors," scolded the nurse.

"Alright, thanks," Ben waited until she glanced down at her desk then walked past her into an inner hallway. He casually walked around until he saw a fairly young man in a white doctor's coat. "What room is your MRI in?" Ben asked abruptly.

"B227 I think, umm, why?" Said the man before he had time to think about the question.

"I have a friend who's getting one," explained Gaardnar.

"Don't worry, these days MRI's only take a little while, if you go to the waiting area, he should be done in no time," he instructed. Ben turned around and left the hospital. B227, so its a basement level room, that's going to make things harder. He could fight his way to the room (as if medical personnel would actually try to stop him), but there was a marine around and he couldn't take on a Gauss rifle with his handgun if he made a scene. He glanced at the car waiting in front of the building, and its driver.

Going around back, he found a deliveries entrance with bits of trash strewn about. There were far too many people that way. He returned to the side alleyway and looked at the fire escape he had noticed on his way to the back. Deciding to try it, Ben crawled up on a trash bin and jumped onto the ladder, pulling it down. The vibrations coursed through him as the iron ladder crashed into the pavement.

Up on the roof of the five story building, the roof access door was locked. The elevator motor room was not. Inside was cinderblock walls and many bars and wheels turning periodically. He noticed the floor was made up of removable panels, and once he had uprooted enough of them, he saw even more of the motor mechanism as well as a ladder running down the wall dangerously close to the motor.

Gaardnar pressed himself against the ladder shimmying down past the motor once it stopped moving, and, two floors down, sat foot on the elevator. Opening the hatch he jumped down to find one old man with an uncertain look in his eyes.

"Emergency maintenance, this elevator's been having some problems, you'll have to get off now," Ben informed, thinking quickly. He pressed the door open button and practically tossed the old man off before he could protest. He hit the B1 button. When the doors began to open on the first floor, he quickly pressed the door close button. A muffled "What the..." squeezed through the door. When the doors opened on the basement floor he pressed the emergency stop button.

Gaardnar was glad that the hospital was an old building or the elevator probably would have had a way to prevent him from going down to the basement floor. There were very few people on this floor and he rushed down the halls at a light jog. His watch told him it was about 8:00. It had taken him quite a while to walk around the hospital and to get to the roof.

He found B227 and instead of opening it, it was opened for him by an MRI tech who happened to be exiting. She took a step back in surprise, and Benjamin smartly decked her right on the forehead. He grabbed her already limp body, and gently laid her on the floor. 'So much for not hitting a lady', he thought.

Inside he saw someone within the center of the cylendrical Magnetic Resonance Imaging machine. "Stay back," he said, "if you come too close, the magnet on this thing will pull you over. Go into the control booth and hit a big red button." Keeping away from the machine Benjamin entered the windowed booth and did so. The deep hum coming from the device ceased. "Find the table extend," he instructed.

The table slowly slid out, and with a little effort Pavel got to his feet. All he had on was a hospital gown which looked ready to fall to the floor. "I knew it would work," he verbally patted himself on the back for the apparent success of his plan.

"Hey you, hands up," ordered an Alpha squadron soldier wearing a gray battle dress uniform with the white Alpha squadron symbol. Pavel dived into the control booth as the soldier fired a couple of bursts while swiveling toward it causing the windows to shatter. Inside, Ben had already crouched to get under the shots.

"He's shooting at us!" Cried Pavel.

"Yep," Benjamin confirmed, flashing him an annoyed look

"Dammit," yelled the soldier, "You almost made me kill you, you know how pissed they'd be with me if I killed you?" He began to step toward the booth with his gun raised across his left shoulder, ready to use the butt of the weapon. "I don't think they'd mind if I beat the shit out of you, though. Tell you what, come out now and I won't beat you quite so much, OK?"

Pavel had been around a few MRI's in his time as a lab tech. Pavel stood up with his hand near the controls. Ben looked up at him like he was the highest level of moron.

"Get out of the booth and on your knees!" ordered the soldier. Pavel pressed a few buttons and after a series of lights turned green the hum returned and the soldier's gun was ripped out of his grasp to clang onto the side of the machine. "Shit!" He remarked. Benjamin noticed this and saw his chance. He ran out of the booth and toward the soldier who put up his fists and forearms to defend himself, but Ben charged into him with his right shoulder, and they both fell to the ground. The handgun in Gaardnar's pocket was attracted by the magnetic field, and he was pulled by it to the MRI.

The soldier got to his feet, and Pavel landed a strong punch to his cheekbone causing him to stagger back a few steps. Pavel held his fist in pain, and, recovering, the soldier buried his own fist in Pavel's bandaged abdomen. Screaming at the top of his lungs he staggered back onto a wall. Ben had slid the gun out of his pocket, and coming up behind the soldier, used his left arm to put him in a choke hold while pummeling him into semiconsciousness with the right.

Dropping him to the ground, he told Pavel to suck it up, and they began jogging down the halls to the elevator. Gaardnar could tell Pavel was hurting with every step he took. They ran past a doctor who had moved to let them pass while staring at them in curiosity. Reaching the elevator, Ben reactivated it, and selected the first floor. Through the closing doors he saw a marine aiming at them from down the hall. Ben pushed himself and Pavel to opposite sides of the chamber. Streams of hypersonic metal spikes that the Gauss rifle used as bullets punched holes through the gleaming metal of the back wall. Then the heavy doors sealed them off like a tourniquet.

Pavel clutched his side, "Where are we going?"

"Right out the front door, "answered Ben. The doors opened, and they began to jog again with Pavel following Gaardnar. Down the hall was another marine, and they took a turn just as he noticed them. They both started to run now, Pavel didn't really care about the pain as much.

"I'll shoot," was the only thing said by the marine. They turned another corner as he made good on his promise, and filled the wall at the end full of holes. After a few more corners they ran through the main waiting room where receptionists and patients stared at them. Then they left the building, and jumped into a waiting car in front.

As the car began moving forward, Pavel curled into a semi fetal position from the pain his wound was causing him. "Thanks Ed, I owe you one," said Ben.

"Don't worry about it, you've helped me out plenty of times," Ed waved off.

"Why did you help me?" Asked Pavel of Ben, through gritted teeth.

"Not quite sure, I guess I felt responsible for you, 'sides I've never been one to stand by and watch somebody get screwed if I can help it," Ben rationalized.

"Anyway, I live at..," started Pavel.

"Whoa, wait a minute, nobody said you're going home. That's the first place they'll look," Ben interrupted.

"But, I.." Pavel tried to break in.

"Just lay back, relax and take a nap or something. We're going to drive around for a while, and make sure nobody's following us," Ben ordered.

"Thanks again, I just keep thinking back to what happened at the military outpost, and I feel so helpless. If I had some way to fight back, now I can't even see my own family," Pavel lamented, rocking back and forth.

"That's why you should always keep a gun on you, I always do. You get a little more comfortable having a gun after serving in the Confederate militia," advised Ben.

"You were a Confederate marine?" Inquired Pavel, the pain starting to subside.

"Most of my friends were too. We all got guns, just gotta know where to look. There's a lot of Korhalians that end up marines, one way or another," Ben informed, nonchalantly.

"Sounds like you could make a little war of your own," Pavel chuckled.

"I suppose so. Never thought of it like that," Ben considered.

"I was expecting General Duke, why'd he send you," was the first thing Commander Norbert spoke to Col. Burns as he stepped off of the drop ship that had delivered him from the Alpha Squadron fleet.

Walking side by side, Burns notified him, "I'm under direct orders from the General." They continued toward the command building in silence.

"And? What orders are these, Colonel?" Asked Norbert, impatiently. They entered the building.

"Perhaps, we should wait until we are in your office," Burns suggested. They took the stairs.

"I want to know, now," was Norbert's reply with a dark look on his face. Burns shrugged and handed him a sealed envelope. They stopped between the flights of stairs while the Commander opened the envelope and processed the contents. His head whipped up, and he glared at Col. Burns. "Follow me," was all he said. They now went much more quickly to the Commander's office. As soon as Col. Burns closed the door behind him, Norbert started, "Where the hell do you think you get the authority to take control of my base?"

"That signed letter," Burns nodded toward it on the desk. Norbert balled up his fists in anger. "I'm not going to take control of the base from you," explained Burns, "I'm just here to make sure things are done the way Alpha Squadron, and General Duke, wants them to be. As long as my orders are obeyed when they are given, I won't get in your way too much, and don't try to pull rank. We're both colonels, Commander."

Norbert realized that being angry wouldn't do anything for him, "If you go back down the stairs, right, and all the way down the hall, you will find your quarters. The keys should be in the room."

"Thank you, Commander," Burns said plainly as he left the room.

Norbert remembered who this Col. Burns was supposed to be now. He always hung around General Duke, leeching off of his position. They had some sort of partnership going, like Burns was Duke's secret policeman or something. Apparently, to cross Burns was to cross Duke too. Cdr. Norbert knew that he didn't want that to happen. Maybe Burns wouldn't give him much trouble, but he guessed that he would.

Benjamin Gaardnar's place was actually fairly tidy for a run down apartment complex. Except for the scattered bottles of hard liquor, and some mysterious stains, it was much better than what Pavel had been expecting.

"Make yourself at home I'll get you some clothes," invited Ben, gesturing toward an old, grayed sofa. Pavel plopped down on it, and was nearly swallowed by the old weakened cushions before pulling himself out and sitting more evenly.

I appreciate you letting me stay here and everything. I wish I could compensate you somehow," Pavel reiterated, "Should I go to work tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't, they'll probably think of that too," Ben advised.

"What do you do for a living anyway?" Pavel questioned.

"I'm a custodian at the mall downtown," Ben answered shamelessly.

"But, with your military experience, you could have a hundred better jobs!" Pavel asserted.

"I've never been one to want to have responsibility, I don't mind the way things are," explained Gaardnar. Possibly to change the subject, Ben walked over to his T.V., one of the few things still in good condition, and switched it on in the middle of something before taking a seat next to Pavel and handing him a T-Shirt and jeans.

"...and that's why rat poison can actually help your baby grow, not kill it!" Informed the television, "Now for a special transmission." The screen displayed the banner of Alpha Squadron that hid an otherwise bare gray wall. A man with a blueish tuft of hair, and blocky head stepped in front of the camera.

"Colonists of Korhal, this is General Edmund Duke, Commander of the Confederate Alpha Squadron. I address you tonight to inform you of our presence. The Alpha Squadron fleet is in orbit over Korhal, interplanetary traffic to and from the planet has been suspended, and any violators will be met with deadly force upon sight. Recent and unprovoked violence against Alpha Squadron's Korhal outposts has forced the Confederacy to send military reinforcements. Due to the scope of this violence, and the unpredictable nature of Korhal's populace, I, General Edmund Duke, under the authority placed in me by the Confederacy, am ordering a state of martial law over the Confederate colony world of Korhal. This means, that for the duration martial law is in effect, I am the sole governor of this colony. All other ruling bodies, such as the Colonial Magistrate, are temporarily dissolved. This action has been taken for the safety of the colonists as well as that of Alpha Squadron. Good evening."

After the speech the news came on, but Ben and Pavel were too surprised to notice it. "Dammit, they're taking advantage of us again," Pavel was the first to talk.

"Doesn't look like anyone is going to stand up to them," concluded Ben.

"I bet you could, Ben," Pavel encouraged hypothetically, "If you know as many men and have access to as many weapons as you say you do. That's all it would take to get started."

"Even if I do, I'm not the organizing type. Maybe you are, but not me," Ben said.

"So if we got together," pondered Pavel.

"Eh, but that's a crazy, suicidal idea," Ben reasoned.

"Yeah, maybe," replied Pavel.

"Maybe."