Authority Rejected

Part 5
Conclusion

General Edmund Duke and Colonel Simon Burns found themselves on the Docking Bay of the Fredricksburg again. This time they were waiting for the "Little Somethin'", as Duke had put it, from Nova Squadron.
"You've been unusually tight-lipped about this, General," remarked Burns.
"It will be easier to explain once you've seen them first," said Duke, rubbing one of his eyes.
Duke's mind drifted back to the situation down on Korhal. Hardly a single Confederate remained on the planet's surface, and it was now under control of the united rebel group, calling themselves the Korhal Militia. Duke gave a nearly inaudible sigh. He had been feeling very uncomfortable lately. Everyone seemed angry and ready to blame him. In meantime he was ordered to sit on his thumb and do nothing. The new arrivals they were waiting for were also making him edgy.
Coinciding with these thoughts, the thick door to the bay proper slid open, and two boys and a girl entered. The three lined up at attention, and saluted Duke, who returned it. They wore dark purple, the color of Nova Squadron, from which they had arrived. Their suits were form fitting, and bland. They wore heavy boots that went up to their knees. The most notable thing was probably the large canister rifles they held, which fired heavy explosive rounds. In their other hands they held odd helmets that looked to have comms and vision enhancement technology built in. This type of helmet had two tubes running from it to a backpack. It looked like it could be used to breathe in hazardous environments or even in space. Duke told the people from Nova Squadron to be at ease.
One of the boys with raven black hair spoke up in a voice with very little inflection, "Col. Hauler sends us, along with his greetings, sir."
Duke gave a little grunt of acknowledgment. Jackson Hauler was the commander of Nova Squadron, and a man who possessed a great deal of power. This was because Nova Squadron's purpose was to uncover information on the enemies of the Confederacy, no matter how secretive it may be. This meant that it was constantly on the lookout for conspiracies within as well as without of the government. When dealing with Nova Squadron, they usually already knew everything about you, and it was difficult to know if what they said was truth or misinformation. Nova Squadron was also the one involved with the ghost project, and "Ghost" was the only name that these three people had, as far as Duke knew.
"So, as I understand it, your mission is to dispose of the rebel leader," confirmed Duke, "I'm surprised they sent three of you. I didn't think that would be necessary."
The other boy answered, "Apparently, this is a mission of unusual importance to many people."
"It would seem so," replied Duke as he placed his hand on his chin and looked out into space, thinking dark thoughts.
He then gestured toward an enlisted man waiting nearby, "He will show you to your quarters. When you've prepared to disembark to the surface, report to me and I'll make sure that you have everything that you need. Dismissed."
They saluted and left, the waiting area was now empty except for the two. Burns followed them with his eyes until they turned a corner. His face had slackened, and he looked to be mildly shocked. "They're...they're still children!" Burns exclaimed, turning back to Duke, "The boys looked in their mid-teens, but that girl, she looked like she was ten!"
The General remained unfazed, and spoke to Burns with no change in his voice, "Yes, I was a little disturbed when I heard about it too, but once you find out about all of the dirty little secrets that the Confederacy keeps under its belt, well, ya get used to it."
"But..," was all Burns could say.
"Nova Squadron has been involved with something called the Ghost project for well over a decade. Its been largely unsuccessful, but it seems they're about to hit it big," Duke began, looking around to be sure no one would hear them, "They take children, from their parents without giving a reason, kill them if they have to. They do some sort of program that boosts the psychic abilities that they detected in them. Then they start teaching them to kill," Duke looked at the ground with his head turned as he spoke, "They start at an early age, so that it seems natural to 'em. Sometimes I wonder if they have any conscience at all. These ones must be some of the first that they're field testin'. It also means that the Confederacy is willin' to do anything to make sure Angus Mengsk dies. Cause I'll tell you, once they go down to that planet, he's only got a short while 'til he's a dead man." Duke looked back at Burns, "I almost feel sorry for that man, but he's caused us a lot of trouble. Maybe this will work out for the best."
The Colonel clenched his jaw, then spoke in a low, deliberate voice, "I knew they did strange experiments, but that's... just barbaric."
Duke nodded, "Its best to not talk about it," he looked at Burns in a way that meant that he would not be talking about it again. Burns returned the nod and the two men parted ways.

In the aftermath of the Confederate retreat from Korhal, Angus Mengsk secured the former Confederate base that the Korhal Militia had won. It contained valuable equipment, and served as a staging point against any Confederate counterattacks. In the nearly two weeks that followed the victory, Angus had been thrust into position as the leader of the world, and the voice of the people. It was a responsibility that he had resigned himself to, but it also brought a great deal of danger to him, and anyone he knew. To gain some measure of security, Angus took his family, left his house, and moved to the mansion of the magistrate. His advisors joined him, and a contingent of militia was brought in to guard the mansion. While the military base served as a center for their forces, the mansion was the command center.
The term "mansion" was somewhat of a misnomer. The building had been constructed long ago, back when Korhal was a young colony. This was a time when it served not only as a center of power, but was also the center of defense for the colony and was more of a fortress than a mansion. The main building was several stories tall with a sensor system on the roof for early warning against air attacks. It could hold many men and supplies against invasion. The perimeter of the grounds was a thick metal wall that was wide enough for two soldiers to walk along. All around the wall and at the gates stood watchtowers. Inside the grounds there were many trees and bushes, and this tranquil scenery contrasted heavily with the nature of the structures surrounding them. Alongside the foliage, ran a wide main road to the fort, and small footpaths that threaded their way throughout the grounds. On the grounds and in the buildings existed many types of security devices. Most of these had been unused by the last magistrate, as there had been little danger, but now it proved to be an excellent defense, with men on the walls, grounds, and in the towers, and with all the security active.
The compound was on the top of a hill, and none of the surrounding buildings were tall enough to permit a person on any roof to gain a view without shifting their gaze upward. This was despite the fact that many of the surrounding buildings were also several stories tall, but not nearly high enough to be called skyscrapers. This allowed Mengsk and the others to breathe a little easier, but they knew better than to completely let their guard down.
After Mengsk had said good night to his family, he entered a common room that was a couple of floors below the top. Buller, Ben, and Pavel waited inside for him, as had become custom in the week and a half that had passed. The room had a snug, contained atmosphere, even though it could contain a dozen people. There was bright burning Vespine fueled fireplace on one side. Six chairs were arranged in a circle, so that the fire illuminated the very center of the room where a low, currently unused, circular table sat. The space reeked of brown. The walls and ceiling were a milk chocolate brown. The shaggy carpet was a darker moose brown. Even the chairs, which had just enough padding to relax and support, and the night stand sized tables next to each one, were shades of brown. The walls displayed outdated bookshelves, maps, and city design plans. In this room one could pretend that one was in an earlier time, when early colonization was an innocent survey of the unknown, and quite the adventure.
As Mengsk took a seat facing the other three, who were seated next to each other, he noticed that Ben had a glass of liquor on his little table. Even though they now had Ports, Vodkas, Wines, and other things found only on Korhal, Ben still stuck to straight Whiskey. He didn't dilute it with ice either. Pavel had nothing, which was probably the best thing in his condition. Buller was dry too, but Angus knew that nowadays he only drank alone.
"How are you feeling, Pavel?" Asked Angus.
Pavel had only come out of his coma a few days ago, and while he put on a strong image, it was obvious that he was touch and go, mentally and physically. Even after the coma, Pavel had bags under his eyes, and only now were they beginning to subside. It was a miracle he had awoken at all.
Pavel had been staring at the fire, and took a moment before recognizing the question. He whipped his head around to focus on Angus, "As well as possible," he said in a voice that was half sound, half gravel.
Angus just nodded and continued, "Anything new to report?" It was the standard opening question.
Ben knocked back the last half of his glass and half tossed it onto the table causing it to slide a little. He seemed unfazed, which was not a surprise given all the practice he had with holding his liquor. "We're stuck on this planet with a bunch of cocked guns and not a thing to shoot at. All the boys think they should be shooting at stuff, and I have to agree with them. We need to find something to shoot," Ben enlightened.
"I don't really think that would be considered new, Ben," responded Buller with a sullen tone as he shifted in his chair.
Pavel just glanced at Buller with the same haggard look in his eyes. Angus responded with frustration apparent in his voice, "I know what you mean, Benjamin, but we can't really do anything about it. Even if we could take the fight up there to them, we'd be no match for the Alpha Squadron fleet. As it is we have no ships that would be effective in a space battle. We don't have many space-worthy ships to begin with."
"We have to just sit here, and wait and see what kind of hell they rain down on us next," added Buller relaxing into his chair again, "so I wouldn't be asking for a fight, 'cause when it comes, its going to come hard."
Pavel gathered his mental reserves and put his opinion out, "The Confederacy has made this a war of attrition. We need to outlast them, as long as we can stay dependent on Korhal's resources we should be fine for now."
Angus could tell that they were all getting down about the state of things, so he decided to mention a secret to them, "I'm going to let you in on something, but there can be no mention of it unless I say something first," the others nodded before Mengsk continued, "I've received correspondence from a power outside of the Confederacy." Already ideas and theories of who it could be were flashing through the minds of the three. Angus continued before they could question him, "No, I'm not going to tell you who, because if the Confederacy ever found out, it could lead to a far more destructive war. They have informed me that if we can hold on to our position long enough, they will do what they can to help supply us against the Confederacy. As you all know, most organizations outside of the Confederacy have an interest in anything that could weaken their dominance over the Koprulu sector, and having an independent territory in the heart of Confederate space would do just that."
After spending a minute to take it all in, Pavel asked a question, "How long would we have to wait?"
"I have no idea," was Mengsk's best answer, "but this shows that we have a very real chance to be independent. We're not alone, and perhaps, in time, we will be able to actively fight the Confederacy. But remember that we are fighting to be free, not to take down the Confederacy. That is a suicidal goal right now, and as unlikely as it may sound, I still hope that we can make peace with the Confederacy someday. Otherwise we will be trapped in a never-ending conflict. I'm going attend to some business before I go to bed." With those words Angus pushed himself off of his chair, and made his way out.
"That came out of nowhere," noted Buller.
"Eh, doesn't mean anything, just 'cause he got a message doesn't mean anyone is gonna help us," said Ben, shrugging before he too left his chair for bed.
"I think there might be something to this. It would make sense. We have to use every opportunity to our advantage," said Pavel to the contrary.
"Yes, but you can't rely on others. You do that and you're just asking to be backstabbed," reasoned Buller, "You look horrible, Pavel, you should get some sleep." Buller left the room.
Pavel remained in the chair a while longer, staring into the green Vespine flames, and whispered to himself, "But when I fall asleep I never know if I'm going to wake up again."

The three ghosts had the cabin of the dropship to themselves. They sat away from each other, and talked little. One of the boys had cleared his thoughts in preparation for the upcoming test. The raven haired boy remembered the circumstances that placed him here. Several ghosts were beginning to put their skills to the test. Col. Hauler and the others overseeing the project had agreed that it was time to begin the test phase. They kept them in groups to minimize losses. Every ghost was valued. The general had informed them of the insertion method before their launch. Confirming that they still had a satellite link to the military base's computers, the Fredricksburg alone, left the fleet, which had pulled away from Korhal's orbit after the retreat, returned to high orbit, and used the link to shut down the base's radar. Their target, the magistrate's residence, had a separate radar that could not be controlled, so they would have to approach low and insert in the surrounding city. The rest would be easy. The residence was an old Confederate building, so they had a full set of maps and complete knowledge of the security systems.
The young girl was contemplating different circumstances that had led her up to this point. She thought of times long past, of the men taking her from her family, though because of her age at the time it was a faint memory. That had been so long ago when she was still nearly a baby. It elicited a sadness, but not the desperation that she had felt at one time. There were others at the place they took her. "People like her," they said. In that place other people were all they had, they had stuck together. Soon the tests began. She was connected to machines, and asked to use her abilities to guess things or read thoughts. It seemed easy to her, nothing new. Then they exercised her mind, asking her if the thoughts she read were lies, if pictures she saw were imaginary. Over time she began to be able to do these things, but the challenges always grew more complex. Over time she learned to use her abilities actively, causing people to not look at her or not notice, it didn't always work, but they were less likely to see her. They all began to communicate by thinking to each other, but then they performed the surgery that allowed them to dampen her powers. It was like a limit had been imposed on her, like a muscle being restrained. She couldn't think to others any longer, or impose her mind on others, but she could still sense other's thoughts and give subtle suggestions. It was like the bond that they had formed with each other was broken, and whatever unity they had was gone. They rarely even spoke to each other after that.
Their programs of aerobics, gymnastics, hand to hand combat, and strength training were very strict. They introduced her to every weapon imaginable and taught her the correct way to use them. One day they placed her in a room with a man who was gagged and blindfolded. They gave her a knife and told her to put her skills to work. She knew what to do, but refused. He was shocked as a result. It looked very painful, the man was crying it seemed, and making noise. He spasmed, but was bound to the chair. They told her that when people are alive they feel pain, and that when they were killed it released them from that pain. No matter how or why people died, in the end it brought an end to their pain. As the man continued in his torture, she could read his thoughts of pain. When it became unbearable to her, she took the knife and reached up to place it on the back of his neck. At first the blade entered easily, and the man sat bolt upright, as much as the bonds let him. She pressed deeper as the blade received more resistance from the connective tissue between his vertebra, just as she had been trained. The man must have started to scream at the top of his lungs, because it was quite loud, even through the gag. Then, as she cut through the fibers of his spinal cord, his head snapped back, and he went limp. His heart had stopped instantly, and his sounds died away as his brain died from a lack of oxygen rich blood. On that day, still a young child, she had become a murderer. That man had been the first of several others.
That memory also brought a sadness, but that mental conflict was long resolved. She was fully versed in the art of killing. Every time she killed she felt regret, but every time also lessened that regret and replaced it with apathy. Now was her chance to show her skill, to demonstrate her trustworthiness. It was her hope that after proving herself, they would allow her to leave the installation unsupervised. She had been allowed to walk among people, but always under watch. They told her to pay attention to people, listen to their thoughts, find out their strengths and weaknesses.
She had to correct herself, she may never go back to that place, they were spreading throughout Koprulu on their missions. She could be sent anywhere, but she knew she would not miss the installation.
The red speaker light switched on and off indicating their arrival and the other smaller lights that usually kept the cabin partially lit also shut off, leaving the cabin in darkness. The ghosts activated the nightvision mode on their goggles and swung their harnesses above them. The bay door opened halfway so they could stand on it as the dropship used minimal thrusters to rotate ninety degrees. The only sounds were the air motion of the ship's hover, and the purr of its barely operating thrusters as the ghosts jumped out. They could see the bay door closing as the dropship coasted back down the street they were on. They quickly spread out to dark places and surveyed the area. It was a city street, and other than the periodic street lamp, mostly dark. Bits of trash stagnated in the gutters. Cans rattled around every so often, but otherwise silence.
The ghosts were equipped with silenced pistols and highly sharp diamond tipped knives. If necessary they could use all their strength to stab the knives through the militia's bubble helmets and into their heads. They did not carry canister rifles or any large caliber guns. The mission was about infiltration, and the ghosts were still too small to move effectively with that much weight. Their nightvision was self-adjusting, a system electronically detected the level of voltage created by the available light passing through, and adjusted the strength of the vision to prevent eye damage from all but the most sudden changes in light intensity. Staying to the dark sides of the street, they made their way toward the fortress on the hill in the distance.

Trista Zaone was the first to notice. Trista was the best comm. person the Korhal Militia had. She hadn't been able to fight, she didn't have much experience in that, and even if she had wanted to before, the Space Marines didn't enlist women. However, she did know her way around communication systems, and when she saw a way to help out the militia, she jumped at it. Before the revolt she had been with the colonial comm. service for the area, keeping all of Augustgrad's, and a few other city's, comm. systems in tip top shape. One of the most important things for the Confederacy was to maintain constant contact with their colonies. After all, how could they control a colony if they had no knowledge of what it was doing.
Trista had an average height. Her skin was of a light chestnut tone with hair to match that was usually kept in a folded ponytail. She was possessed of a most unusual smile. When she smiled with her white teeth, it was not the shy downcast type that some thought all women had. This was a deliberate and direct smile. She looked people in the eyes and projected it. Most found it difficult to not reciprocate the gesture as well as the feeling that she sent their way. Her figure was mildly athletic, she enjoyed long walks especially when they were in new places that she could explore. This was normal given her healthy sense of curiosity that sometimes got the best of her.
At the moment she was quite curious as she sat in the tactical room of Augustgrad's former Confederate base. She had been working on bringing the Confederate communication systems under full militia control. The problem she had found was that there was a satellite protocol embedded in the system. This allowed any Confederate system with clearance to enter the base's systems and control them via satellite. Trista was having trouble cutting off this protocol as it had been built in as one of the system's foundations, and she was worried that she would have to rebuild the entire system. Then the protocol became active and a command to completely deactivate the base's radar was received. It happened too quickly for her to stop, so she began working on reactivating it right away. However, that still left several minutes that the majority of Augustgrad was radar blind. The radar on the Magistrate's mansion would still be working, but it was outdated and had relatively little range.
"Excuse me, Sir," she called to a senior officer in the militia who was currently overseeing the tactical room.
He responded as he moved to her workstation, "What is it."
"Our radar just shut down," she notified.
"Well turn it back on," he ordered.
"I working on it, but it will take a little while, looks like the radar software was tampered with. I noticed that someone used the satellite link to shut it down from outside. I thought you should know," Trista looked up at him with a slightly regretful expression.
"Just keep an eye on that radar, I have to report this," answered the Officer, returning to his position.
She kept a display of the now blank radar screen on her monitor as she fixed the simple bugs in the radar that had obviously been put their to slow her down, but quickly became engrossed in her attempts to sever the satellite link once the problem was taken care of. It was the only way to stop these things from happening, and it would give them all that much more freedom.

Privates Laine and Reeman were the only prisoners captured by the militia after the military base had been captured. They had been kept in the brig of the base, but Mengsk had them taken to an old jail under the magistrate's residence. He was interested in what they might know and wanted to talk to them personally.
The concrete and steel jail was dark and dusty due to neglect. Angus and Buller walked down the hall filled with stale air. A circular lamp lit the hall in front of the cell to ward off the claustrophobic darkness. Their shadows fell upon the two men in the cell who stood up straight once they were aware of the others presence.
"So, you're the two," identified Mengsk.
"You two are awful lucky to be around," added Buller.
The two prisoners simply stood in silence. "Do you have anything to say?" Posed Mengsk.
"What do you want us to say?" Returned Reeman with a blank stare.
"We know who you are, and what you did," Angus explained simply.
"Since we've been hospitable enough to let you live this long, we feel you owe us some answers," insinuated Buller, then in a lower voice,"especially after trying to kill us." Laine shivered from a chill in the old jail, and possibly fear of his eminent demise. Now that he got a better look at Angus he thought that he did recognize him from the night at the courthouse, but he hadn't noticed Buller then. Reeman was not sure what was happening, but he decided to keep silent.
"What do you want to know," replied Laine.
"Everything you know," Angus quickly responded.
Laine stared back. He knew that he had been left behind by Alpha Squadron. Col. Burns would probably throw them in the stockade if they returned. There were no other choice for them now. He glanced back at Reeman, who looked as clueless as he was. Laine didn't know what their future would hold, but his mind told him that whatever would keep them alive longest, however remote the possibility, was what he must do. Laine clutched at one of the cold cell bars with his hand and kept it there, feeling his body heat warm the bar as it cooled his hand.
"A man named Burns put us up to it, but from what we heard, the General, Duke, is the real guy calling the shots. He said the magistrate was hiding something from us. When he sent us out, we figured it was to take out some armed anti-Confederacy group or something. When we saw that the Magistrate was one of them," he paused and exhaled, their interrogators were listening intently, "We didn't know that they were cleaning out their old government. We were just soldiers doing what we were told...being used as cheap assassins."
"Why don't you tell that to the pile of bodies you left behind, those people you murdered, because that's what it was!" Yelled Buller taking a step forward as he pointed a finger at them. "All the blood, the warm flesh pressing against you...you...you motherfu..," Angus reached out a hand and gripped Buller's shoulder, tightly. Buller went silent and stared at the floor.
"What else?" Pressed Mengsk.
Laine thought a moment while he let go of the bar and sat on a bench that was ready to fall apart. "Burns was really pissed that we didn't take you out," Laine said, looking directly at Angus, "I guess they really want you gone, I think you're their number one target now."
That had given Angus something to think about, not that he was surprised. His shoulders sagged a little and he started to walk out of the old, dry, dark hall. Buller followed him.
"What should we do with them?" Angus questioned Buller.
"Kill the assholes," Buller put it bluntly as his features hardened.
"Maybe, I have to think about it. I'm more worried about the Confederacy's next move," Angus brushed off.
"We need that outside help you told us about. We've done fine so far, but I don't know if we can hold out if they make a big counterattack," insisted Buller, admitting the precarious position they were in.
"We can talk more about it tomorrow. Good night Buller."
"Good night, sir," said Buller. Angus nodded his head and walked back to the elevator they had descended on. A man came from behind Buller and attracted his attention.
"Sir, there is an urgent com from the base." Buller followed him down a couple of corridors to the nearest comms terminal where he transferred a feed of the face of a senior officer waiting.
"Commander Buller, we have just had our radar deactivated by someone using the satellite link that we have been unable to cut off. We are bringing it back online, but the nature of the shutdown has delayed us. There will be a ten to fifteen minute window of radar silence."
Buller responded, "Understood, thank you for the notice." The officer gave a salute and ended the transmission. Buller turned back to the man that summoned him, "I don't like this, but we can't do much. Make sure the walls are fully manned, and have people scan the skies. We can at least try to spot any light their thrusters give off.

The ghosts had ascended the hilltop from a side that kept them away from the main gate. They were surprised to find the militia alert and actually patrolling the walls. It was an indication that they may have been expected. The funny thing was, they thought, that they still would never be detected despite any level of watchfulness.
The spotlights were not being used, and it made it much easier to reach the wall unseen. All three of them focused their minds. Those patrolling the wall above continued, but they all thought there was something away from the area where the ghosts were, an unexplainable sound or presence perhaps. Soon, all the militia were looking away from the section of wall that the ghosts were under. The two males made a human tower that the female used to get on top of the wall. She only glanced around for an instant at the patrollers, who all had their backs to her, while tossing down a light but strong length of material and walking off the other side of the fortification to the safety of darkness. Though she fell roughly fifteen feet or so, she landed on the soft cold grass with her feet like a cat. As she had fell she had focused her mind on slowing her descent, and it seemed that the rate she fell had remained constant instead of accelerating out of control. At the bottom, with the other end of the length still in her hand, she fastened it around the base of a bush then tugged the other end to signal the others who took the strand of material with them after climbing up to ward suspicion off. Behind them searchlights had been turned on to find the phantom presence.
Inside the walls they found plenty of cover from surveillance in the foliage. They moved toward the front entrance which had a militia and a camera on each side, they checked to make sure that all of the other cameras were not watching the front, and flanked the position again focusing on the minds of the militia. Soon, the two guards were looking at each other.
"You make a sound?" Asked one.
"You're the one making noise," said the other.
Around the helmets of each appeared a pair of legs, and the male ghosts, now perched on them, held their diamond blades high before using their strength to stab down through the protective bubble helmets and into their foreheads. "Glaa!" Was all one managed to utter before dying. The males stabbed out the lights on the walls next to them and backslapped off of the suits before they clattered onto the cold ground. The area around them was now in darkness and that section was largely blind to all the cameras. It took all three of them to drag the bodies to spots that they would not be found in.
They used small special drills to get through to the inside door hinges. A high voltage current was ran through them and through the hinges shorting out a system that would have alerted people to their entry. The door was opened a crack and a small EMP charge was tossed into the entryway to knock out all the electronic security within. If asked what the interior had looked like, they would have reported the layout and basic features, but they did not have the time or extra thought available to notice anything else.
Most of the occupants of the building were in their beds. Those still up were tired and easily manipulated by the thoughts of the ghosts. Their knowledge of the security allowed them to quickly reach the stairwell. Another, smaller EMP charge took out the security lock. Inside, one of them produced what looked like a spraybottle and placed it to the metal wall at the bottom of the stairwell. The lightly pressured acid within corroded a square outline allowing them to remove a square of the wall away. A bundle of wires within was cut, and all of the lights, cameras, and door locks of the stairwell shut off. They moved quickly now as there was a chance that the small power loss would be noticed. One of the males exited the stair a level below the top while the other two continued.
The now unlocked door opened easily, and they entered a well lit anteroom. It was grossly decadent, and looked more like the reception room of some ancient king known only in the mythical tails of their former home on earth. Carpet of scarlet with hints of pale yellow gave beneath their footsteps. Wood moldings surrounded the edges of the floor and ceiling. White and red patterns with dewdrops of green ran along the walls. Where the Confederate flag once was there now was nothing. The dominating feature was the fountain in the center of the room. It had a diameter of ten feet and was ivory white. The center tower sent water up in arcs that produced light babbling noises when hitting the pool. At this point they had passed the security, and causally went toward the wooden double doors on the other side of the fountain. A small terminal indicated that the door had a coded lock. The spray bottle allowed them to remove the terminal, and after a few minutes of wiring using an electrical diagram they had been provided with, and the sound of the bolt sliding back, the last barrier was opened. They quickly shut the small crack they had slipped through, and the darkness inside returned. They parted to different rooms silently, each now focusing on their assigned targets.
The female now entered the master bedroom, and for the first time saw the people she would kill through the clear green of her nightvision. While her fellow ghost took care of the children in the other bedroom a few yards away, she slowly drew her silenced pistol, and placed three shots into the heart of the woman on the bed after placing the weapon between her ribs. The man next to her had not awoken, and that would make things much easier. The wife seemed to be sleeping as peacefully as ever. It always comforted her to know that their deaths were peaceful; just ending their pain as she had always been told. Indeed, sleep seemed only the smallest step from death itself, she had only given her the smallest push into everlasting respite.
Now only the man remained, this Mengsk who was so important, but in reality he was just another man, no one person was above another, her similar ease in killing all types of terrans had taught her that. She replaced her pistol, and removed the diamond knife. Those who had sent her to this planet in the first place wanted her to bring back a token from this man. Just so they could be sure the job was done. She stood just to the side and over him now, it was time to complete her mission.

Pavel had finally become tired enough to sleep, but his dreams haunted him. He saw the image of his wife in front of him. She seemed like something more than terran now, something better than he was. Every part of his body yearned to join her, and he was so close to doing just that, but his spirit was unwilling. It held him back for some reason.
Still he reached his hand out and felt...the cold touch of iron as his hand pushed it away from him. The sensation jolted him awake as the silenced gun he had just pushed away went off, missing his head by centimeters. The small amount of light that came in through his window allowed him to make out a figure and smoke from a gun. All this happened in an instant and Pavel reflexively made a fist and swung it where he had felt the gun before. This time he felt the gun and what was a gloved hand. After flying across the room the gun made a thud sound against the wall. He could make out the motion of an arm and a flash in the hand as the assailant drew out the diamond knife. The attacker was so short that just sitting up in his bed, Pavel was able to grab the wrist holding the knife. The sudden shot of adrenaline had quickly roused him, but the situation had not allowed him the time to feel any other emotion or think any other thought than the small shot of fear that had driven his current actions. A foot came up and gave him a heavy blow behind the kidney. He gave off a wincing groan from the deep pain it caused him, and rolled off the bed still holding the wrist of his would be executioner. This forced the latter down with him and stabbed the blade into the floor, where it became lodged. Pavel rolled over the back of the attacker, and onto the floor. The ghost pounced onto his waist and, putting all of its weight on its hands, flipped its body over, and pulled Pavel's head back with one foot under the chin while placing the other beside his head. He knew that his neck was about to be broken, and grabbed the legs, pulling the ghost off balance. It landed on him and rolled off. He got to his feet and was at the door when he sensed the ghost was just behind him. Still thinking it a full grown terran, he elbowed where he thought its chest would be, but hit a pair of goggles instead. It was enough to send the shadowy figure clattering to the ground, and Pavel exited to run down the hall, now in the full grip of panic.
Pavel sprinted down empty corridors without looking behind him. The simple white walls with circular lamps above were not threatening, but the silence made him feel like he was in hell. One meaningless hall after another passed, and then, without even knowing it, he was in front of Ben's room. His subconscious must have led him there because from what he could remember he was running in mindless fear. He knocked several times quickly, sounding like a woodpecker with a jackhammer. He did it again and again.
Ben opened the door slowly, either to let his eyes adjust or to see who was on the other side first. He in boxers and a blue and red striped shirt, he always slept in his clothes. His hair was still in good condition, but his whiskers were becoming tuffed.
"Wha," was all Ben said.
"Someone just tried to kill me!" Pavel exclaimed, almost yelling.
"Whaddya mean," said Ben, not really knowing what he had just said in his sonorous fugue.
"Someone just tried to kill me!" Pavel repeated, yelling this time.
At this Ben shook off his fatigue, threw on some pants, and grabbed a sidearm from inside his dresser, "Where?" He asked with much more precision in his speech.
"In my room," answered Pavel now more nervous than anything else. He was more aware of the ache in his lower back now and was holding his side.

"Go raise the alarm. We gotta lock this place down and sweep it," Ben instructed. Pavel just nodded his head and ran off. Ben hiked down the corridors to Pavel's room. The door was ajar and there was a silver twilight inside. With one hand holding his gun, Ben kicked the door open and used his other hand to press the light switch. He paused and scanned the room. At the far end were billowy white curtains that allowed just a center crack of the window to be seen. A modest wood table stood to the left with a recessed television in the wall to its left. A queen-sized bed was on the right, and its covers were twisted up and half on the floor. He stepped into the room.
"You want to kill someone, why don't you take me on you bastard," Ben said to the room in general. He glanced around and inspected where the covers had fallen to the floor. There was a long thin gash in the carpet that looked like it could have been made by a knife, but there were no weapons to be seen. Closing the door behind him, he left the room and went down the hall. The most important thing was to make sure Angus was safe.
The stairway down the hall was almost completely dark, and Ben had to use his hands and the railing to just make it up the one level to Mengsk's floor. The added realization that his security card to open the stairway doors was unnecessary made the understanding of just what was happening sink in. His stomach had knotted up with dread. At last he felt the top story door latch and cautiously pulled it open. Buller was already on the other side of the fountain with a group of militia.
"Sir," said one of the militia beckoning at the exposed wiring and the access panel laying on the floor.
"Well, don't just stand there, check it out," Buller ordered. The militiamen activated headlights on their suits and entered the double doors. All the lights inside soon turned on.
"Where's Pavel?" Asked Ben while walking over to Buller.
"He's on his way up. I was already on my way up when he called in the security breach. We noticed that several security systems had been knocked out and I thought it best to check on Mengsk as soon as possible," Buller addressed Ben while turning to face him.
The elevator gave off a cheery tone and the doors opened to reveal a haggard looking Pavel who joined the others. Before anyone could talk, the militia returned. The security squad leader didn't look at Buller as he reported in a dry voice, "Its all clear. You might want to take a look." Buller went inside. "They got the kids too, we'll continue our sweep," the leader called out, purposely not explaining his words. As the squad went to a separate, still lit stairway, Ben locked eyes with the leader for only a moment. The fear and uncertainty in them answered all of his questions.
Ben entered Mengsk's rooms and turned to see Buller framed in the doorway to the master bedroom. Buller looked at the bed and toward the balcony, neither of which Ben could see from where he stood. Buller sat in a wicker chair next to him. He looked very pale from the doorway, and he folded his hands together and put his elbows on his legs before resting his nonexistent chin and his mouth on his hands. One by one tears of despair silently slid down the sides of his nose as he stared vacantly at the floor.
Ben entered, his gut about ready to burst with tension, and looked at the bed. The covers had been thrown over what must have been the body of Angus' wife. On Angus' side was a trail of dried blood that ran along the bed and the floor toward the balcony. Ben took a few steps in that direction and looked out of the open balcony doors. The only sound to be heard was the faint trickle of the fountain in the other room. The cold air blowing in causing the curtains to wave about chilled Ben, and a shiver of dark anticipation coursed through his body. Out on the large balcony lay the body of Angus Mengsk, in his nightclothes, decapitated in a pool of his own blood.
Ben stepped outside and stared at it, exclaiming, "Where the hell is his head!" Buller didn't notice, and seemed completely oblivious of the outside world.
Ben went a few yards to the balcony railing and grasped it like he was going to break it in two. "Where the hell is his head!" He screamed in rage at the lights of the city below which surrounded the hill they were on.
The tension had passed. The moment had come and the worst had proved to be true. Now he felt an ever increasing worry. New thoughts began to enter his mind. He wondered what would happen to them all now. The rebellion had been successful up to now, but there had not been enough time for it to become stabilized. It would fall to pieces in less than a week. Angus had been the one that had held them all together. These people needed a strong figurehead, but now they would feel powerless again. Ben felt nauseous, and his hands and face became chilled by the breeze that had started to blow.

Pavel had remained outside, alone by the fountain while the others were inside. He had heard Ben scream out his enraged question and it was obvious what had happened to him. The realization made his face flush, and he could feel the blood pounding through his head. He tried to think what it meant, but in the end he knew. 'What am I going to do' he thought, 'The Confederates are going to come back and what am I going to do. They'll hunt us all down, they'll kill us all. I'm going to die.' That last sentence echoed in his mind a million times in rapid succession.
It may have been that phrase that started it, but nevertheless the pounding in his head strengthened, and he felt the pain of his concussion return. His breathing quickened and felt the pain in his abdomen, where he had been shot, return. In fact all the pains of all the cuts and scratches, bumps and bruises throughout his life, no matter how big or small returned. The pain forced him to sit on the ring of the fountain. He braced himself with his hands. His skin became reddish and hot as his entire body tensed.
Deep inside, Pavel knew that he should have died on that day when he was shot, and his body knew it too. Now it was trying to complete what should have been completed quite a while ago. However, his spirit was not ready.
He resisted his end, but it gripped him, a pain in the core of his body. The exertion cause the sweat to drip down his skin, and he was beginning to lose it as the conflict ravaged his body. His eyes became bloodshot and tears of blood ran down his face. His nose, ears, and mouth began to bleed. His skin became pale and he stopped producing heat. All of his senses left him. In the end all that he could see, in his mind's eye, was his heart beating with only the slowest, softest spark of life.
He thought to that pain now at the core of his being, 'I can't die, I'm not done. I have to do what is right. I have to do it still. I can't die.'
Then the pain, as much as it wanted to consume him was forced to recede, and though Pavel knew part of it was his own resolve, he felt an outside force that had helped as well. His heart regained its spark and his senses returned. The chill of death passed and his skin regained its color. The last drops of blood fell from his face and dispersed in the water of the fountain, like a red mist. Pavel lay prone on the ring of the fountain with one hand in the pool. He was exhausted but even now would not sleep for the constant fear of death, and his eyes, half lidded, looked at the doorway of a man who met his fate while he had yet to meet his own.

Still, Pavel could only wonder how he would ever bring justice to the Confederacy and avenge all of the people it had killed, especially his family.
'What will I do,' he thought again.
His mind only gave him only one simple answer, 'Do what you need to live.'