At the top of Manswell International Industries headquarters on Zeus Orbital Station, Victor Manswell stared in frustration out the high wide window of his office at the blue marble below.

"The latest reports are here, Mr. Manswell." His executive aide, a young man from Zaire named Dalu Davu, waited patiently as Victor turned to face him. "I'm afraid it isn't good news, sir."

Victor sat back down at his desk, grimacing. "It never is, Dalu. People seem to think things will magically change. The status of the colonies?"

The young African frowned, tapping his smartpad. "So far, things are mostly calm. Despite the UN collapse of the last resupply missions, the fact that we're keeping them resupplied and not charging anything for it has prevented any unrest. The food situation is a bit strained on the mining orbitals… but only a bit. We think the orbital farm concept put together by Kyle Agriproducts will work out."

Victor nodded slowly, his expression easing. "Good. The most recent political support measures are in good shape then?"

Davu nodded. "Yes, sir. The Saturn mining colonies voted 100% for the SSA to take control -"

The older man held up a hand, interrupting. "You're telling me not a single person voted against the procedure?"

Davu gave a sad, small smile. "That is correct. If you recall, the last UN meeting before the destruction of the UN building all but suggested that the Saturn colonies were too far out to be 'worth reaching' and that they should just evacuate. Right now the only source of air, water and food is Manswell missions…"

Manswell rubbed his jaw, nodding. "Very well… but we'll report it at 99%. Having every single person in lockstep out of thirty thousand will make people accuse us of rigging the numbers."

The black man grinned "And to prevent being accused of falsifying we falsify?"

Victor chuckled. "Humans are irrational animals. Continue."

"Luna and the Venusan orbitals are backing you at 98%, the Jovians at 95%. Mars is at 85%, but that is less not backing the SSA and more…being ready to write off the Earth."

Victor grunted. "Idiocy. We do not yet have the required biodiversity needed." He sighed. "While I understand why the Martians feel that way, it is also driven by I suspect watching too much shit sci-fi and not grasping how things work. Terraforming Mars to the point where it can support enough biomass to supply the rest of the Solar System will take decades, and even then it will only be at levels barely above the algae and protein slop."

He looked at his desk, and at a pile of reports. "The plan has always been a stable, controlled and secure transferral of seedstock, biota and the underpinnings of having a biodiverse ecology completed over time. Writing off earth means losing everything from coffee and sugar to silk and cotton to, God help me, decent whisky."

Dalu nodded. "Yes sir. A tragedy."

The older man glanced up at him, snorting. "You're full of sass today."

Dalu shrugged, smiling faintly still."I know their reaction isn't ideal"

Victor tapped his desk. "It's not just that it isn't ideal. Hotheaded idiots talking big has caused more suffering to humanity over the years than mere war. Extremism is the last refuge of the lazy, Dalu."

The young man gave a rueful smile. "I do not think they are entirely 'hotheaded', sir. The Martian Assembly sent an apology for the results of the vote. While most of it reads along the lines of 'the SSA backing Earth means we are once again the second priority', the closing statement was the Assembly declaring they hope that it is understood they do not see themselves as nationals of Earth or even 'Martians' but SSA citizens."

Victor grimaced. "Words."

The young man's voice dipped. "Is not every endeavor launched by such? Have not words caused just as much damage as weapons? What is 'extremism' if not words, sir? My country is lost. My family is gone. My entire life has been…people tearing things down, acting on greed, violence, rhetoric."

He glanced out the window, his expression sobering. "Maybe I was buoyed by the idea that not all of humanity is, as you put it, short sighted and blind to the future. I do grasp the optics are not ideal, but the Martians seem to get what others do not, that the 'way of doing things' that has always been the case before is no longer valid."

Victor inclined his head. "A fair point. Perhaps I am too…dour. But at the same time, we are not in a position to gamble or act on purity tests. If we do not all pull together and fix the problems, the lights of humanity in the vast dark will slowly flicker out one by one. And writing off the Earth - regardless of the problems - is a gamble made of idiocy."

He cleared his throat, and spoke in a drier tone. "Speaking of idiots, what has the UN done recently?"

The black man tapped his smartpadd, then shook his head. "The usual. Speeches, then nothing. The current UN assembly is meeting in Vancouver, but little has been accomplished. They continue to call for cessation of warfare and calls for relief operations to deal with the climate change events."

VIctor sighs. "I see. And events from our… so-called allies?"

Dalu smiled. "Mostly on track. So far, all the lab and mining sites are secure and report no real issues, although Mr. Rourke is dealing with a problem near Marrakesh. The zaibatsu have reported that they've… eliminated all remaining traces of their links to the Event. And our meeting with the Archivists is on schedule - they've agreed to come to the Zeus to meet you in person."

Manswell glanced out the window. "The ecological situation?"

Dalu grimaced. "Very bad, sir. The science guys are still working it out, but…the mess in the Middle East has just destroyed most of the world's air circulation patterns. We're still seeing black rain in the mid-US, most of Russia, the Sahara, and almost all of China. The death toll from direct losses just topped a billion, and that isn't counting the sickness from unburied bodies, cancer, or the loss of farmland."

Victor nodded. "...what of progress on the ground? Any signs of common sense, or God and the Christ aid me, decency?"

Dalu sighed. "Far more limited. Governments in South Sudan, Thailand, Ecuador, and Sri Lanka have collapsed. Every day, more groups like the Coordinators in Alaska, or the Revendiquer in France and Morocco are popping up. The EU's collapse, for all intents and purposes, has left the individual countries that once made it up unable to coordinate, a mix of conflicting national interests and of course the economic depression. And the Bowls have only exacerbated issues. Germany is under the control of army units backed by BMW and Deutsche Bank. France is executing police in the street. Africa is…"

His voice had a note of pain, and Victor's tone softened, if only barely. "I am sorry, Dalu. But one does not remove gangrene from a limb with careful and tender care. It must be brutally carved away, lest one lose the limb entirely. Hopefully, what this…general in the Congo agrees to will help with that."

He glanced at the windows again. "And America?"

Dalu checked his smartpad again. "MIxed. Weather isn't helping, and the so-called 'provisional government' is mostly sitting on its ass in Denver. Military central command and communication is gone, but local officials working with military units still maintain control over most of the country in theory. Only California, or what's left of it, is in any way 'organized', the rest are a mix of extremists, criminals, and corrupt military officers. There's some limited reorganization in the New Mexico, Oregon and St. Louis groups, but most of that is just banditry dressed up with fancy words and uniforms."

He continued. "The British report the Ireland flooding situation has cut off all ability to evacuate the island. We…we've lost all contact with Haiti, the Dominican Republic reported massive outbreaks of cholera and the loss of all power. Australia is mostly dead silent. And…well, sir, the Chinese Politburo has…imprisoned General Chu."

Victor looked up at this, and snarled. "Once he's finished in the Congo, get Rourke up here. If things go well with the equipment and weapons, then it's far past time we stopped watching and started acting, I think."

Dalu sighed. "Yes, sir. But you know the remaining governments will resist. There's still fragmented UN forces and -"

Victor looked up, the gray eyes silencing the younger man. "Humanity's debt now is in a broken planet, in dead populations. In a land that cannot produce food." His voice grew harsher. "In the air we cannot breathe. Water we cannot drink or even bathe in! If they dislike it, they should have paid off that debt when I was your age - or hell long before then, even - but the rich and powerful were too busy indulging in sociopathic masturbation. The politicians were having purity wars over abortion and drugs and ethnic clashes and sex. People died over sports games as the oceans sickened and the land died."

Manswell stood. "It's like any other debt. If you default on it, you either restructure it, or you get taken to bankruptcy and have it all taken away. I have tried to leverage my powers to lead to a different outcome, after Ardiente shattered the old order, but it seems the lesson did not take."

He turned back to the window, to the view of the damaged, burning and polluted world below, and his lips tightened into a thin smile. "We will start, I think, with China. And then Japan. Let Rourke's idea of a…guard of iron-hard men and women blood themselves. Then establish security, resource control, and environmental cleanup."

The young man put his smartpad behind his back, biting his lip. "Millions will die, sir."

Victor smiled. "Ethics and morals, Dalu, are luxuries, high-level emotional chains we use to try to prevent the strong from abusing the weak. We are already there, and the strong do not have the vision to see where this is all leading. The Earth is dying…and the colonies cannot stand on their own. They support me. I have the lives of thirty seven million people in my hands, and to let them die to not kill those who have caused this suffering and failure? That is not ethics. That is cowardice."

He exhales. "Extinction threatens us. And it is not an option."

The city of Kinshasa was burning.

The always fragile and fragmented United African Coalition, barely functional and formed on the basis of trying to protect themselves from Chinese, American and European predation, had once been headquartered here, in what was the largest city in Africa. The partially constructed walls of the arcology assembly were, aside from Cairo, the only ones on the continent.

The UAC had consisted of only a dozen nations, but between them they had started to turn things around for the entire continent. Strife decreased. Militaries were cross integrated, coups defused. Border rearrangements let some ethnic populations resettle and the future had seemed bright. But between the wars, Ardiente, the detonations of the Bowls and worst of all the actions of China and the US in blatantly invading and occupying entire African nations while the UAC did nothing, it had collapsed.

Nation states came apart in a blaze of hate and ancient ethnic and tribal conflicts, as the UAC armies only attempt to repel the Chinese that took over Ethiopia as a 'resource protectorate' were literally massacred at the Battle of Nazret, where Chinese units dug into the mountainside rained down anti-aircraft flak fire on the massed UAC infantry and then dropped over ten tons of pyroclastic bombs on the mountain passage behind the troops. South Africa suffered multiple riots and the entire government, already in shambles after a Bowl detonation in Pretoria, simply died in bloody coups by the police. Namibia, Gabon and Angola collapsed. Kenya, without food and under attack from Rwandan pirates, surrendered to the Chinese, while Liberia sold out the UAC forces to the Americans.

Now the Democratic Republic of the Congo was all that remained, besieged by now stateless fragments of American and Chinese forces. The American federal government was no more, and the general of the American Ninth Army, one General Anthony Ngubane, had declared himself 'independant' and rapidly conquered South Africa, Botswana, Angola, and now set his eyes on the Congo. His ragtag forces were intermixed with rogue Chinese units, tribal fighters, mercenaries, criminals and the kind of detritus all too common in the African paramilitary scene, and their idea of law and order was brutal.

Kinshasa and fragments of UAC and Congolese military forces were fighting back, but half the city was in ruins, the arcology construction site at risk of collapse and the massive automated farms - built at great cost merely a decade before - were in danger of destruction. Ngubane's assault had stalled, however, when mercenary and military units from the Central African Republic, the only other member of the UAC that was still stable, reinforced the city.

Mount Mangengenge rose southeast of the city, once a famous national park, now festooned with abatis and sandbag walls. Hastily thrown up AA guns and cell towers made of scrap ruined the once beautiful slopes. The two men at the cliff edge overlooking the burning city looked down on it with very different expressions.

The man on the left was tall, powerfully built but with a ragged leanness that somehow fit his craggy, rugged features. His hair was tied back into a ponytail and his fatigues were iron grey, his only decoration a red armband with a black star on expression as he lowered his binoculars was grim and sad, imagined screams rose from the city below as a makeshift Pantsir truck converted to a missile battery launched yet more fire into the metropolis.

The man on the right was even more massive, topping him by more than a foot, dressed in unrelieved black and wearing a plate carrier vest and a bandolier of ammo for the massive machine gun slung over one shoulder. His head was shaved bald, the cruel face disfigured by an eye covered with a patch, and twisted by the sick grin on his lips. He grunted, his voice accented but clear. "When is the fucking darkie showing up, Rourke? I wanna get stuck in."

Michael Rourke shook his head, but was careful to keep his disgust out of his face and voice. "For the last time, Oberon, cut the stupid racist shit. Victor hears you talking like that he's gonna put a bullet in your head. And he should be here any minute."

Both men turned as faint headlights appeared on the gravel road leading up to the overlook. Oberon gave a smirk, sitting down on the weathered picnic table after kicking away the desiccated and decaying corpse seated there, his voice calm but amused. "You think I give a shit? Purification doesn't care about political correctness, Rourke."

Rourke ignored him, tapping the walkie-talkie clipped to his own gun harness. "Rodeo to Big Iron, contact is here. Continue?"

There was static then the voice of Victor Manswell. "Ja. Alle Bedingungen sind akzeptabel, wenn er zustimmt und kooperativ ist. Ich habe keine Verwendung fur Afrika."

Oberon chuckled. "So much for progressive values, neh?"

Rourke said nothing, as the lights came to a stop - a new-model Hellfire 7 jeep. Two men in MARPAT with red "A" patches and carrying Ruger SFAR-III rifles leaped out, then one opened the backdoor.

The figure who stepped forward wasn't anywhere near as big as Rourke or Oberon, but his bearing projected power nonetheless. He was wearing fatigues and an armor vest, with a web-belt and a holstered Colt 334 HV pistol, and his eyes were concealed with dark, circular glasses. His voice crisp and precise, his tone cool. "Good evening, gentlemen. I trust your arrival was not complicated by the rabble?"

Rourke shot a glance to Oberon and spoke. "No, General Ngubane. This is the first time we've been deployed forwards, but we have practiced extensively the orbital glide procedure for our landers. We are pretty sure the local resistance is unaware."

Ngubane nodded, gesturing something to his two soldiers. They headed back to the Jeep's back end and began unloading something. "And the offer from Mr. Manswell that was discussed?"

Rourke folded his arms. "If you fully agree to back the SSA and submit to the duly elected officials, Mr. Manswell is prepared to accept your sovereignty over the area. That includes food, medical support, processing from our orbital factories, and military support. In return, he asks for the rights to mine various substances and for a list of science and other persons of interest to be turned over to us, to preserve knowledge and scientific understanding. Once a formal part of the SSA your enemies are our enemies, but the reverse also applies."

The general ran his finger along his jawline, his dark skin making him difficult to read in the dim lighting. The two soldiers carried over a crate, setting it down and removing the top. Inside were clear plastic containers full of diamonds. "I trust that what we seized from the De Beers colonizer thieves will be sufficient to buy my way in?"

Oberon chuckled. "You're from America, invading Africa, you complaining about 'colonizers' is pretty rich."

Ngubane shrugged. "My grandfather was a bishop in South Africa. We were driven out by the corporations who seized power in Pretoria - my family has been in the Congo and South Africa for decades. I joined the military hoping the US would stabilize the chaos, and the UAC formation only illustrated to me the corruption Mr. Manswell rails against is indeed everywhere. The worst war criminals and terrorists this continent has known, as well as Boer murderers, British thieves, French rapists and worse make up all of the UAC's steering committees. I am merely saving my homeland."

Rourke raised a hand. "Not here to talk politics, but yeah. Do you agree to the terms?"

Ngubane nodded. "I do, without reservation. Manswell may be the only hope of turning things around before the entire planet drowns in war."

Rourke exhaled, tapping his radio. "Rodeo to Big Iron. Hunter agrees. Authorization?"

The voice on the radio was hard. "Ober-Zerschmettern, you have your orders. Firing in fifteen seconds."

Oberon's face split into a grin as he lifted his own radio. "Splashdown in a few seconds."

Ngubane arched an eyebrow. "What is...Splashdown?"

Oberon's voice was laced with a dark glee. "Purification via fire."

A few seconds later, four streaks of light fell from the heavens, smashing into the city's raggedly fortified borders, and the night turned to day briefly. When the flash faded, a good two miles of the city was nothing but crumbling buildings, fire, ashes and smoke. Less than thirty seconds after that, a dim, rumbling hum was heard. Ngubane gasped as from behind the mountain dozens of elongated VTOL craft appeared, flying overhead, each one little more than engines, a pilot area...and gantries holding bulky humanoid figures, clutching weapons, that dropped from the platforms as it reached the city. Parachutes opened and minirocket packs fired as the things landed, and then they lifted their weapons, stabbing blazing lines of red searing through the night.

Ngubane's eyes widened. "Lasers...how in the..." He stopped himself, then exhaled. "What happens to the city?"

Oberon's voice was laced with satisfaction. "It will be a lesson, General. One others will heed if they have any sense. The only path forward is unity, behind Victor Manswell, or death. If they won't bow, then we are doing them a kindness."

Rourke glanced over at the pair of bikes he and Oberon had ridden here. "If you wish, General, we can head to the Zeus now. The units on the ground don't really need our oversight."

Ngubane shook his head, his expression sad. "...this was not entirely what I wished to happen, but if the price for my people making their own way is this, the least I can do is watch, Mr. Rourke."

Michael Rourke hesitated, then nodded. "We'll leave you to it then. Our rep will drop down to your headquarters tomorrow morning with details and frequencies and all that. Welcome to the SSA, General Ngubane."

The man's sad smile haunted Rourke all the way back to base, along with the light of Kinshasa's death throes.