29: Opening Shots

Toron Kavellan greeted the early morning with a heavy degree of trepidation. The attack force from the home-world was a short time away, bound to emerge from hyperspace in orbit in an hour or two. Captain Varollon had left him at some point during the night, likely to go and tend to her own duties elsewhere. As such, Toron was alone when he woke up in the vacant living quarters on the defence force base, and he dressed quickly before the Major barged in and informed him of the latest crisis. Specifically, a force of about thirty Union military soldiers had holed up inside a spaceport outside of the city and were refusing to surrender their position. They were loyalists, aware of the impending attempt of secession and as a result they had ambushed a defence force convoy on the road, killing about a dozen, before retreating to the garrison. They had expelled those soldiers who did not swear loyalty to the Union and were, from what the technicians working the planetary communications had uncovered, in direct contact with the home-world on a subspace frequency.

Toron accompanied the Major to the main gate of the compound. The sun was only just rising, the sky a deep orange in colour, the air cool. Toron noticed that the compound had seen some changes during the night, more specifically a range of gun turrets of both the anti-personnel and anti-air variety, which were scattered about the compound and the surrounding city. A steady train of civilian vehicles took up the road, heading on out into the countryside. Those people not wishing to take their chances staying behind were evacuating, although it would likely be a temporary measure. Regardless of who won the coming fight, those civilians would be free to return to their homes once the fighting was over. The only question there was if their homes would still be standing by the end of it. Toron felt some solace in the fact that his home was not here, that he need not have worried over losing anything dear to him. All that was dear to him had been left behind on Calshae Prime. At least, everything save for a certain young female Captain who had occupied his thoughts a great deal in the past couple of days.

He searched for Lahea amongst the crowds of soldiers and militia as he left the compound with the Major, but he caught no sight of her. Seated next to the Major in an open-top all-terrain rover, he found the old veteran's words descending into background noise as Toron's own thoughts wandered. They were heading the opposite way as the civilian vehicles, traversing the city of Rokasham at a speed that was far from legal and very dangerous. Major Voska drove like a maniac, to put it lightly, although the situation was far from normal so Toron figured such drastic driving was understandable. The garrison in question was situated within an old fort, one that dated back to the civil wars that had been frequent before the time of Visala. The fort had been refurbished over the years, serving as a reserve outpost for the contingent of Union soldiers stationed in Rokasham. Now it was to be the sight of the first real conflict of the Varganian insurrection, as there was no denying that a rebellion was exactly what this was. In the eyes of the home-world, they were all traitors and those soldiers in that fortress were simply doing their duties by keeping loyal to the High Protector.

Fort Sovnar was the name of the place, and it was situated upon the cusp of a lake on the edge of town. The shell of the ancient fort had been filled in with more modern structures, appearing as a squat, grey box on the lake shore with a sturdy concrete wall around it. The road leading to the gate was taken up with a handful of damaged vehicles, including one flaming all-terrain rover that had evidently taken some direct plasma weapons fire. Soldiers of the civil defence force, some of them Union soldiers themselves and even civilian militia were scattered about the clearing that surrounded the old fort, taking cover behind rapidly erected barricades and parked vehicles.

Even as the Major brought their vehicle to a halt closest to the largest group of soldiers, weapons fire darted from the walls of the fortress. The blue heat of plasma bolts sliced through the air, burning holes across the barricades and vehicles. Major Voska hit the brakes hard when one plasma bolt hit the front of the rover, leaving a smoking scorch mark upon the sturdy metal chassis. Some of the soldiers surrounding the place were firing in response, soaking the outer walls with plasma fire. However, it did little against the solid structures.

The lake water was a deep blue in colour, seemingly clean of any pollutants. The other side was taken up with brown-green forest, as well as an old brick house that stood over the water's edge, surrounded by an overgrown garden. A group of planetary defence soldiers were there at the bank of the lake, readying up a small, motorised dinghy. They seemed intent on taking it to the rear of the fortress, but their attempts to do so were quickly stymied by a stream of plasma fire that shot across the lake and saturated the far shoreline (which was about four hundred metres away). It was not too accurate, but it was enough to send the soldiers running into cover. They had little hope of getting across open water to the fortress, whereas those on the land-based entrance were faced with large walls and entrenched opposition. Toron could see it was a standoff, and from the look on the Major's hardened features, he had reached the same conclusion.

"This is a mess," he said, and he climbed out of the rover. Toron followed, joining a group of about four Union soldiers who were crouched behind a stationary truck. They were all rank and file, with a Corporal in charge. They were quick to salute when the officers approached.

"Captain, Major." The Corporal sounded relieved. "We haven't got the hardware to get in there."

"It should be on its way." The Major checked the communicator at his wrist, where the time of day was displayed among other things. "It should be here by now, actually." He paused, and he briefly regarded the Corporal and his cohorts with a curious eye. "Are you from the garrison?"

"We're the ones they kicked out, sir." The Corporal sounded almost amused by this. "Didn't stop us from getting some new guns. They're in there communicating with the home-world right now, coordinating with them. They'll be a problem when the main force arrives."

"Were you born on this colony, by any chance?"

"No, sir." The Corporal shook his head, young blue eyes wide with excitement. "I just don't agree with what our leaders are doing, that's all."

"Someone with principle." The Major nodded his head in agreement. "Not many of those around these days." He turned to Toron, who once again felt a little out of place here. "Captain, you're our resident Union forces officer. Get these people organized. I'll see about what's taking our big guns so long to get here."

Another streak of plasma fire darted across the open clearing, striking the ground just past the truck. Toron ducked on impulse, as did the others, with only the Major standing tall and unfazed.

"So, we got about thirty in there?" Toron asked the Corporal. The young soldier nodded.

"Maybe a little more. Some of them might surrender, not all of them are fanatics. It's just the officer in charge, he's a fanatic. He threatened to have myself and others executed if we aligned ourselves with the Varganians. Some of the others talked him down from that. Still, he's the one in direct communication with the high command. He's waiting for their attack force to come before he makes any serious moves."

"Makes sense." Toron looked about the line of barricades. They had maybe fifty fighters here, mostly civil defence, with a smattering of disorganized militia types and only a handful of actual Union soldiers. Toron had seldom been in charge of so many people. Lieutenants might be in charge of squads, certainly not fifty soldiers of all kinds. As a Captain, he now had much greater responsibilities, and it seemed his first role as a leader was here at this disorganized standoff. Exchanging pot-shots with an entrenched opponent was a waste of time, and he figured most of the people here knew that. They simply did it for lack of anything better, and certainly because of a lack of proper leadership.

The Major had disappeared for the time being, no doubt to find the heavy armour that would be necessary to break open the fort. Toron counted five vehicles in the vicinity, one of which being the rover he had travelled here in. The others had been damaged to varying degrees. The truck he was standing behind had taken some fire, but it was otherwise in one piece.

"What's in this truck?" Toron asked, as he turned to the Corporal again. The soldier shook his head.

"Almost nothing, sir."

"You got any grenades? Remote charges?" An idea was forming in his mind, however haphazard and reckless it was likely to be when executed.

"Some."

"Throw them in the back of the truck." Toron pulled open the door, relieved to see that the ignition key was still in place. Someone had abandoned the truck in a hurry. Behind him, the Corporal and his three compatriots were pooling their explosives, which amount to five anti-personnel grenades and one remote charge. They all tossed them inside the rear of the truck whilst Toron started the engine, the power cell humming to life.

Plasma fire cut into the opposite side, and Toron ducked as a few shots glanced across the reinforced windshield. Being a military grade vehicle, it was hardened against incoming fire to an extent. However, the windshield, comprised of a sophisticated transparent and sturdy glass-like material, was beginning to show some distinct cracks. A few more hits would see it broken.

At the driver's side window, the Corporal knocked on the door, giving the go-ahead. He handed Toron the remote charge's detonator, having figured just what the Captain had planned.

Toron hit the accelerator and spun the wheel sharply. The Corporal and his cohorts ran for cover behind the closest barricade as Toron swung the truck around, putting it onto the dirt road and on a direct path for the fort's main gate. Now the weapons fire came in heavy. Toron pushed the engine to its limit, ducking down behind the dashboard, heart pounding in his chest. Plasma fire shattered the weakened canopy, showering him with thick, sharp shards of the material. Keeping his foot down, he sent the truck barrelling straight for the gate. In his left hand, he clutched the remote charge's detonator. He could hear the grenades rolling about in the back, unarmed for the time being.

He managed a glimpse over the dashboard, seeing that he was closing on the gate. Plasma bolts cut through the front of the vehicle, wreaking havoc on the engine. Smoke plumed and an unhealthy grinding noise started somewhere at the wheels, not that it mattered now. Momentum would be enough to finish the journey.

Toron, having left the door open enough to keep it from latching shut, kicked it hard and flung it wide open. He threw himself out of the truck, landing in a grassy ditch by the gravel road. The impact left him partially winded, but he otherwise kept his senses and his grip on the detonator. Plasma fire lanced over him, searing the top of the long grass close by. Watching the truck slam against the main gate, Toron hit the button on the detonator and covered his head with his hands.

The thunderous boom of the explosion filled the air for a moment, quickly followed by the concussive wave of air that blasted across the clearing for some way, pushing the long grass to one side before it all swayed back the other way. Toron, head down, did not see the fireball that resulted from his makeshift ram. He did feel the heat of the detonation, and he did see the blue flash brought on by the vehicle's ruptured power core. Further heat washed over him with that, blackening the grass closest to the gate. The gate itself had crumpled, metal bending and scorching, both halves of it falling over backward in their crippled states. Part of the surrounding wall crumbled, dust billowing forth in a heavy cloud. Blackened pieces of the truck rained down all around, some of them clanking about Toron.

He lifted his head up, breathing a sigh of relief. A thick plume of smoke wafted from where the gate had been, and the front driver's cabin of the truck had been pushed off the road, overturned and now burning, taken up by searing orange flames. Toron felt some remorse at having no doubt killed a bunch of his own people; the opening shots in the Calsharan Civil War.

At the end of the day, what choice had he had? What choice did they all have, when faced with a regime that was out of control? Either stand and fight or roll over and die, that was the choice he was presented with. And he was not one to roll over, never had been and never will be. The fall of Fort Sovnar was only the beginning of the struggle.


The fortress did not take long to fall after that. Most of those soldiers inside surrendered and save for a handful of fanatics inside the main building lead by the garrison's commander, the surrender itself happened without many shots being fired. The commander and his holdouts put up a fight, and it was Toron who lead a group of about a dozen into the central building to put an end to this holdout. It was a brief gunfight, preceded by a couple of stun grenades that were hurled straight into the command centre. Toron and his followers put an end to the commander and his associates, leaving most of them dead and a couple alive, if wounded. And just like that, the fortress went quiet. Losses on the Varganian side had been few, and Toron himself, a little dirtier and a little more tired than before, was greeted by Major Voska outside the main complex.

"You know, I didn't think you'd be much," Voska said, slapping him on one shoulder in a firm, if sort of affectionate, way. "An up-and-comer from the home-world, an outsider. But what you did was impressive, not to mention it took a great deal of reckless stupidity to do it. If you're going to fight that hard for Vargania, then you've got my support, Captain."

"Thanks, I guess." Toron was not entirely sure what to make of the Major's overall demeanour. Should he take what he said as a compliment? He supposed that was the intention.

"Still, that's only the start. That taskforce from the home-world is going to be here any minute." The Major looked up to the clear blue sky then, as if expecting to see the ships arriving in orbit right at that instant. Of course, the sky was empty of ships in general, with only a few scattered white clouds taking up the blue.

"What counts is that you rallied these soldiers," the Major added, as he returned his attention to Toron. "Most of these planetary defence troops have never been in combat before. To them, it's just a job. A way to make a living with a minimum of actual soldiering. That's why we need people like you, Toron. Proper officers to lead the riff-raff."

"And yourself, Major?"

"I've done a lot of soldiering in my time, Captain, and that's been all over the Union. I've fought humans and makalvari all across our frontier. Planetary defence seemed like a quiet job for my later years. I'm not as young as I was. Breaking into forts is a young man's game."

"You don't look that old, sir."

"I don't look it, but I feel it." Voska's gruff voice was filled with something Toron thought was regret. "I've got several metal plates in my bones because of wounds I've received. They all ache, some days are worse than others." He watched Toron carefully, his mouth a grim line. "If you're not careful, you may end up as old and tired and sore as I am."

"I don't know about that, Major." Toron had rarely thought about getting old. He was young, and given the typical lifespan of a Calsharan, he had a good ninety years ahead of him. "Maybe I won't get old? I mean, I don't want to see my body fail me."

"Careful what you wish for, Captain. The universe has a funny way of giving us what we want." He gave Toron a grin, bearing a set of slightly crooked pointed teeth (with one or two gaps suggesting missing incisors). After this remark, the Major turned and walked away, heading for a group of civil defence soldiers who were busy picking weapons, equipment and any other odds and ends off of a few dead Union soldiers. Toron did not loot the dead; it did not feel right to him given that they were all Calsharan here. Most of those lying dead about the fortress had simply been doing their duties, even if that had put them at odds with the Varganian forces.

It was a civil war, there was no denying that now. The start of one, and as Major Voska had done, Toron looked up at the blue sky above: their next fight was imminent, and this time it would be much more than a few loyal holdouts inside an old fortress.