Against All Odds/Story

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The giant mushroom cloud rose over the tree line in the direction of Reshlund. Colonel Joe Tylars watched in awe and horror as the massive explosion continued to rise into the sky. He diverted his attention to a squadron of Srav fighters zooming overhead. Thankfully they ignored his tank battalion and continued on their way. The Srav invasion had come as a surprise to most Sinyans, but not to Tylars. After Emperor Yen Balestone rather rudely refused to join the Srav Federation and since Sinya was a growing industrial planet, why would the Sravs decide not to invade? Tylars was now rushing back to Etsako, the town he was stationed in, to defend it against potential landings.

“Grizzly 1 to Black Dog, we’re coming up on the town.” came a voice over the radio.

“Copy Grizzly 1,” replied Tylars, “assume formation W, take the left point.”

“Yes sir.” acknowledged Grizzly 1.

Tylars retracted himself into the turret and quickly loaded an anti-armor round into the cannon of his SAAV-4 light tank. He then looked out at through the gun sight. The tank was just coming over the hill overlooking Etsako where two Srav transports had landed and were unloading troops.

“Accelerate to attack speed!” Tylars shouted into the microphone, “Target the closer transport and wait for my signal!”

The tanks began to descend from the hill towards the town as Srav tank gunners sighting the incoming attackers. Several anti-tank shells exploded next to his tank as Tylars waited for his target to come into range. Finally it entered the range of his cannon, which was much smaller than his Srav counterparts, and Tylars decided to give the order.

“Fire!” he shouted into the microphone as he pulled the trigger.

Two months later…

Verrater Traditore gazed out the window of the old brick building at the skeletal cityscape outside. He smirked at the thought of the hundreds of foolish Sinyans that were now paying for their stupidity. When the Sravs arrived on Sinya, Traditore was the first Sinyan to welcome the conquerors with open arms and he was rewarded for doing so. Now overseer of the rebuilding of Reshlund, Traditore could now command the masses of Sinyans who, not only overthrew a legitimate government in the SSR, but also dared to resist the Srav Federation.

“Comrade,” called out Sergeant Surgut from the doorway, “Commander Khaz is waiting for your report.”

The smile disappeared from Traditore’s face. While his joining the Sravs had its good points; it had almost as many bad points. Occupation command demanded reports nearly every other day and everything was meticulously scheduled. To top it off, Surget, who Traditore considered a stupid thug, was assigned as his aid, but all he seemed to do was make sure that the reports were always made on time.

The annoyed Traditore walked over to his desk, shuffled through some papers and found the report. Without a word he handed it to Surgut and turned back towards the window. The brutish Srav sergeant then left the room to deliver the report as Traditore again began to look over the city. The “dump”, as Khaz called it, was now being rebuilt according to Srav design, but that meant little to Traditore. His only concern was his own personal power and he would stop at nothing to further it. Traditore took one last look at the Sinyan horizon, the sun was now gone and the last bit of light was fading. Perhaps the next sunrise would bring him a chance to get what he truly deserved: full command of the Srav occupation forces.

“Someday, it’ll all be mine.” he muttered under his breath, as he left his office and headed towards his living quarters.

SDF Supreme Commander Dak Chamblers watched the countryside fly by as his vehicle speed towards the forward lines. With the death of the Ken Trallar and the entire General Staff during the invasion, Chamblers inherited the title of Supreme Commander by default. Of course this meant he had to keep the fragmenting Sinya Defense Force united and under control, and thus he was now heading to the front line to talk with General Joe Tylars who had a long history of insubordinates. Tylars was only a teenager, but due to a lot of luck, had ended up as a general. In Chambler's opinion, he was an insolent child who shouldn’t even have been an officer, much less a general. Yet still, a lot of SDF officers raved about his war record during the Sinyan Civil War and his success at Etsako during the Srav invasion, but Chamblers could care less. After all, Chamblers thought, he was running the army not Tylars or the guys at the local officer’s mess. It was his army now and he was going to run the way he saw fit.

“Entering sector Delta 38 sir,” reported the driver, “We’re near the front line, be ready for artillery fire.”

Chamblers tightened his helmet strap.

Joe Tylars franticly shuffled through the many papers sitting on his desk. Everything from intelligence reports to simple notes was mixed up in a jumbled mess. Tylars probably wouldn’t normally care except that the SDF Supreme Commander Dak Chamblers was on his way to inspect the unit. Finally, when Tylars felt it was organized enough, he stood up and began pacing the floor of the old cabin that served as his HQ. A knock on the door startled Tylars somewhat, but he quickly regained his composure.

“Yes what is it?” he asked through the door.

“General,” reported the soldier on the other side, “Supreme Commander Chamblers has just arrived.”

“Bring him in.” Tylars replied bleakly.

There was a pause for a moment, then the door opened and Tylars jumped to attention and saluted Chamblers as he entered the room. Chamblers returned the salute and sat down in the chair set across from Tylars desk. After he was seated, Tylars likewise sat down. There was an awkward silence for some time before it was finally broken by Chamblers.

“I think you know why I’m here.” said Chamblers grimly.

“Yes sir.” Tylars replied hoping he was actually wrong with his assumption.

“You’ve have not been following policy and have damaged the SDF’s name with your actions.” began Chamblers, “Might I inquire as to why you have failed to obey orders?”

“If I feel that your orders may put my troops in unnecessary danger, then I will disregard them.” Tylars replied after pausing to think for a moment.

“Unnecessary danger you say? The way you are operating now is what is really endangering your troops. By executing unarmed prisoners you are providing a recruitment tool for the Sravs and driving people away from our cause.” retorted Chamblers.

“That is ridiclous!” cried Tylars, “Nobody will join our cause if we look weak. Besides that, I have no room to accommodate prisoners, nor the supplies to keep them alive.”

“Don’t make stupid excuses; you have more than enough to support prisoners.” Chamblers replied. There was a brief silence, than he continued. “Now if you don’t start following orders, I’ll give your command to Colonel Ergiez and demote you to Lieutenant.”

“Ergiez? That spineless fool who didn’t even have to guts to resist the crims at Stahlon?” Tylars spat in disgust.

“He should have been made general long before you.” Chamblers angrily replied, “He at least knows how to obey orders!”

“All he does is worry about keeping his prisoners comfy.” said Tylars, thinking of the fact that Colonel Ergiez was known for overly-fair treatment of captured Sravs.

“Prisoners are our only source of information.” continued Chamblers, “We need prisoners to interrogate, which usually works best if their alive!”

“My men operate as I command!” screamed a now furious Tylars.

“And you are to operate as commanded!” returned Chamblers, “It’s no longer gonna be all your way, kid. This is your final warning.”

With that Chamblers stormed out of the room and returned to his vehicle, leaving Tylars standing, fists clenched, in front of his desk.

“They're entering your area now, sir; get ready.” reported a man over the radio.

Zenn Mietere spied the Srav staff car coming around the street corner. He turned and quickly glanced at his men who were standing on either side of the road. They began to walk towards the middle of the road behind him as the staff car continued up the street. Mietere’s job was simple: Kill Srav major Leon Spaalev. Spaalev served as an inspector of sorts for Reshlund’s Commandant Verrater Traditore and was one of the most important officers in the city. He always came through this part of Reshlund even though it had been abandoned after the invasion. Mietere and his men were all disguised as Srav soldiers but in fact were members of the Sociamorte, an underground fascist group that was unwilling to submit to socialist Srav Federation. Mietere began to walk forward and signal for the vehicle to stop, which it did. Mietere immediately recognized Spaalev in the passenger seat. After a moment of exchanging words with his driver, Spaalev exited the vehicle and began to walk up to Mietere. The driver also left the vehicle and followed close behind Spaalev.

“What’s the problem, comrade?” Spaalev asked, seeming somewhat annoyed.

“This area is off limits to unauthorized personnel.” reported Mietere, who was trying to mask his Sinyan accent.

“If it was, I would have been notified.” replied the Srav officer.

“Sorry, comrade.” said the disguised fascist, “I’ll need identification.”

“Are you brainless soldier?” he yelled furiously. “Out of my way or I’ll send you back to Sviat in a supply crate!”

“Just a moment sir.” replied an unfazed Mietere. He paused a moment trying to decide whether to keep playing around with the Srav or just to kill him now. Finally he opted for the latter, and crouched down as if to tie his boots. This was the signal for his men standing behind him, who opened fire with their machine guns. The two Sravs crumbled lifelessly to the ground as the gunners ceased their barrage.

“Good work men, we’ve struck another blow against Socialism.” Mietere said as he stood up. “Let’s get out of here.”

They turned and began to head towards the group’s car, which was hidden just down the empty road. Suddenly, Craft, the more experienced of his two men, stopped in the middle of road and stood still for a few seconds as if he was listening to something.

“What is it Craft?” asked Hans Gurtez, the younger of Mietere’s men.

Craft motioned for him to hush and resumed listening. Mietere also tried to listen for whatever it was that Craft was hearing. After a few moments of silence, they began to resume their walk. A sudden sound froze them in their tracks; it was the click of a gun cocking behind them. Quick as a flash, Craft whirled around and let out a burst of bullets in the direction of the Srav staff car. Mietere turned just in time to see a third Srav soldier fall lifelessly to the ground, a pistol clinched in his hand.

“Nice shooting Craft,” Gurtez said quietly, “but obviously he was just a rookie.”

Craft ignored him; he was immune to wisecracks by his comrades. Mietere opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the lookout man over the radio.

“You better get out of there sir!” he said franticly, “We got Srav troop trans…”

He was suddenly cut off by a burst of gunfire and the radio went dead. Within seconds, two army trucks came barreling around the corner at a breakneck speed.

“Get inside!” ordered Mietere.

The three fascists quickly jumped inside the staff car only to find that the engine had been damaged by a stray bullet. Craft exited the car and fired several shots at the incoming trucks while Mietere and Gurtez dashed towards the nearest building. The lead truck stopped and deployed its troops, who opened fire on the fleeing resistance fighters. Gurtez cried out in pain as several bullets punched through his chest. Mietere took out his pistol and fired at the incoming Sravs but to little avail.

“Go sir!” yelled Craft, “I’ll hold them off!”

Without a second thought, Mietere ducked into the building.

Traditore paced furiously back and forth in his office. He finally exited the office and went into the hall outside.

“Has Major Spaalev reported in yet?” he asked to the secretary.

“No, not yet comrade.” she replied.

“What about Surgut? Where the hell is he?”

“He left five minutes ago to report to Commander Khaz.”

“Blasted Sravs.” Traditore muttered under his breath.

Just then, the phone on the secretary’s desk began to ring. Traditore held his breath hoping it would be Spaalev as he waited impatiently while the secretary answered the phone. She answered and listened to the man on the other end for a few moments.

“Colonel Grimlokin, from the intelligence bureau sir.” the secretary finally said.

Traditore wondered what the intelligence officer could possibly want as he took the phone.

“Commandant Traditore speaking.” said Traditore.

“Commandant Traditore, we have very unfortunate news,” Grimlokin began, “Major Leon Spaalev has been murdered in the south side of Reshlund today.”

“Murdered?” Traditore asked, somewhat surprised.

“I can’t go into the details over the phone but I would like you to come to the Bureau’s office so we can discuss this.”

“Fine, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

With that Traditore slammed down the phone.

Tylars examined the map spread across his planning table which showed the plans for an offensive aimed at the city of Stahlon. The highest ranking officers under his command were also there to study the plan. The assault was divided into three columns; two entered the city at different points while the third was tasked with capturing a fuel depot in the outskirts. Tylars was assigned to the third column which seemed to be the one that would see the least action. Chamblers probably didn’t want him to screw something up.

“What’s the guarantee that there aren’t Srav reserves stationed near the city?” asked one of the officers.

“There is no guarantee.” replied Tylars, “We just have to pray there isn’t any.”

The sound of engines outside drew their attention away from the map for a moment, most likely the transport trucks arriving from the main base. After a moment the officers turned back towards the map.

“Where’s intelligence when you need them?” muttered the officer.

“Chamblers blames me for that.” Tylars scuffed, “He’ll find anyone to blame for his own stupidity.”

Some of the officers smirked while others shook their heads in disgust; most everyone agreed Chamblers was unfit for command. Tylars again studied his course on the map then turned away in annoyance.

“How many of our vehicle units are ready for action?” Tylars asked.

“Two of the SAAV-4’s are still in need of track repair and half of the stupid clankers are in need of engine fixes.” reported one of the officers.

“Well get the SAAV-4’s fixed first.” Tylars ordered. “Don’t bother with the clankers until later since they’ll just break down a dozen more times before we even get moving.”

The officer left the room to relay the order to the mechanics while the rest of the men continued to look at the map. Tylars had had enough of it so he went to his quarters to get some rest.

Mietere winched as a blinding light flashed into his dark cell. He felt the powerful hand of the Srav guard drag him to his feet and pull him out of the tiny dungeon. Mietere then found himself being escorted through the high-tech insides of the Srav Intelligence Bureau’s headquarters. When he had first been brought in he had marveled at it all. The shiny steel walls, the many colored lights and the flashing computer screens were something Mietere had never seen before, it certainly wasn’t Sinyan technology.

“Alright; get in there, swine.” growled the guard as he pushed Mietere into a rather spacious room, or at least compared to his prison cell.

Sitting in the room were two Srav officers. Mietere instantly recognized the first man as Kas Grimlokin, the head of the Intelligence Bureau; however, he had never seen the second man before. He was tall with an average build, blond hair and had cold, piercing, blue eyes.

“Sit down Mr. Mietere,” began Grimlokin, “We have plenty to talk about.”

Mietere slowly took a seat on the hard wooden chair positioned across from the Sravs. After a moment of silence, the blond man leaned forward and began to speak.

“Why did you kill Major Spaalev?” he asked a clear Sinyan accent.

Mietere was stunned for a moment, but quickly regained himself; this was most likely one of those Sinyans who collaborated with the Sravs.

“Spaalev deserved to die,” Mietere coldly replied, “as do all these Srav swine.”

“And why did he deserve to die?” the blond man asked.

Mietere didn’t respond, but rather just decided to keep his mouth shut and ignore the questions. However, the man’s stare began to unnerve the normally cool-headed Mietere.

“Mr. Mietere, you haven’t answered my comrade’s question.” spoke up Grimlokin, “It will do you no good to be silent; we have already discovered who your organization is and what their motives are. It is only a matter of time before we find them.”

“You know nothing.” Mietere said, partially trying to reassure himself that Grimlokin was lying.

“Oh really?” Grimlokin replied sarcastically, “We already know your group is called the Sociamorte and that their goal is to ride Sinyan of Socialism. We know they’re active in Reshlund, Stahlon and several other major cities. All we need is names.”

“You’ll never get anything from me.”

“Oh but we will. We will.” Grimlokin said in a sinister tone.

Vince Ergiez watched confidently as the country-side began to disappear and turn into suburbs. Ergiez had every reason to be confident; he was leading the main column in the Stahlon offensive, which was a grand task to be sure. It didn’t look like it would be too difficult to take the city anyway, since, according to information he had gained from one of his prisoners, the garrison was made up of the worst of Srav troops. On top of everything, Commander Chamblers had promised a promotion should the operation turn out to be a success.

“Entering the city limits now sir.” reported the driver.

Ergiez turned again to look out the window; they were now entering the city. The bodies of Srav soldiers, killed by the advance force, were strewn on the side of the road. The staff car rolled up to a command post made in the middle of the street and stopped.

“Best not get any closer to the action, sir.” the driver said.

“So right.” Ergiez agreed as he exited the vehicle.

A young lieutenant, who was the highest ranking officer at the CP, approached Ergiez and saluted.

“Sir, our troops have reached the city center and linked up with the second column.” he reported enthusiastically.

“Good.” Ergiez replied, “I want a map of the situation.”

The young officer quickly dashed off the get a map while Ergiez lit his cigar; visions of his promotion ceremony began to creep into his head.

Tylars and his column had now reached their target: the fuel depot in the outskirts of Stahlon. It was piled high with barrels full of precious fuel. Most of the guards fled in terror at the sight of the advancing tanks, however; a few of the more experienced ones attempted to set the fuel afire. These efforts were quickly stopped as Tylars forces moved in and secured the depot.

“Grizzly 1, take your platoon and post on that hill to the east.” Tylars said into his microphone.

“Aye, sir.” came the reply.

With that, Tylars hopped off of his tank and began to direct the troops on the ground. Most soldiers quickly began to load the supply trucks with fuel drums to be taken back to base while others began searching for Sravs hiding amongst the piles of barrels. Tylars then established a command post in the depot’s only building where his men set up radios and maps to monitor the other parts of the offensive. After this was done, Tylars decided to report to command.

“This is Black Dog to Central Command,” Tylars began, “we have captured the fuel dump intact and have begun the loading process.”

“Good work Black Dog.” the less than enthusiastic officer replied, “Carry on.”

Tylars put down the mouthpiece and turned his attention back to the movement of the other columns. At the moment they were well ahead of schedule, having already reached the town center. Tylars was still studying the map when Grizzly 1’s voice suddenly came over the radio.

“General, we’ve got a whole bloody tank division approaching!” he said in a frantic tone, “We need to withdraw!”

“Negative. We have to hold them off until the fuel trucks are done loading.” Tylars replied, “Stand down until I arrive with reinforcements.”

“Yes, sir. But I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“So do I.”

Mietere screamed in pain as electric currents jolted through his body. Traditore couldn’t help but admire the young man for his loyalty and dedication in refusing to cooperate with the Sravs. He and Grimlokin had tried everything to make Mietere talk; from “friendly persuasion” to “enhanced methods”, all of which failed. Traditore had even made Sergeant Surgut come in and beat him but to no avail. Now Grimlokin was using his favorite interrogation method: electrocution. But even this wasn’t working. Grimlokin finally stopped the machine and Mietere’s body stopped vibrating from the jolting electricity.

“Now Mr. Mietere, perhaps you will be willing to answer my question?” inquired Grimlokin.

Mietere remained silent which seemed to only excite Grimlokin; he would rather have the interrogation take as long possible so he could inflict more pain. Even Traditore, who had served under cruel regimes, was disturbed by Grimlokin’s near-psychopathic tenancies. Grimlokin was about to turn on the machine again when there was a knock on the door.

“Don’t bother us now!” Grimlokin roared, “We’re busy!”

“Sorry comrade,” replied a nervous voice on the other side, “but this is important! Imperium forces have launched an attack on Stahlon!”

“What?!” cried Traditore as he jumped to his feet.

Both men bolted to the door leaving Mietere strapped to a chair in the interrogation room. The soldier then led them down the hall into the main room where several intelligence agents were listening to reports on the radio.

“What’s the situation?” asked Traditore.

“They’ve already taken most of the city as well as several command posts in the outskirts.” replied one of the agents, “The 7th tank division reports its engaged Sinyan tanks just to the north of the city.”

“Is there any indication that this may spread to other cities?”

“No comrade, it seems to be only directed at Stahlon.”

“Hmm, I better return to my post just in case.” stated Traditore, “Postpone the interrogation for now Colonel.”

Grimlokin nodded in agreement, although he seemed a bit disappointed. With that, Traditore left to return to his HQ.

Mietere sat in silence for a few moments after the two Srav officers had abruptly left the room. Although physically exhausted, Mietere knew this was the best chance he would get to escape so he went to work. There was a small knife hidden in his lower undergarments that the Sravs hadn’t noticed Mietere began to try to work it out. Eventually, he was able to get it out by rubbing against the chair which worked it out of its little pocket and into his hand. He then began to cut away at the straps that were holding him down. The work was seemed to take forever, not only because the Sravs may return at any moment, but also because Mietere was so tired from the physical strain he’d been put through. He was finally he was able to free his arms allowing him to simply release the other straps on the chair. Just as he had gotten himself completely free, the door began to open and Grimlokin stepped inside.

“What in the name of Yuiln…?” he exclaimed upon seeing Mietere free from the chair.

Mietere acted quickly, stabbing the Srav colonel in the chest with the knife. The tiny knife was unable to puncher any organs, however. Grimlokin, shrugging off the pain, landed a powerful blow into Mietere’s gut. Mietere stumbled back into the chair for a moment, but hurriedly regained himself. The bloodied Srav charged forward but Mietere was able to dodge and trip him. As Grimlokin fell to the floor, his opponent took advantage, using his arms to put him into a powerful stranglehold. Mietere then used his powerful arms to snap Grimlokin’s neck and end his life. The young fascist then looted the Srav’s pistol and quickly dashed out into the hallway where two Srav guards were standing.

“Prisoner escape!” cried one of the guards.

Those would be his last words as he received a pistol round to the face seconds later. The second guard fared no better. However, the noise from the shooting drew the attention of other guards who came dashing down the hall. Mietere knew he wouldn’t be able to hold them off very long so he retreated into the room at the other end of the hallway. It appeared to be no more than a nearly empty storage room with only a few crates inside. Mietere quickly barricaded the door with some of the crates then looked for an escape route. The room had no windows and only one door, however; there was a large grate that lead into a ventilation shaft on the floor. He was able to break the fasteners by shooting them several times with his pistol. He then lifted the grate out and jumped into the shaft. He had no light, and the shaft was pitch black inside. Regardless, with the Sravs breaking in the door, Mietere crawled into the darkness.

“Yahoo! I got one!”

“Incoming!”

The radio was filled with all sorts of messages, everything from victorious gloats to death screams. They were sure in the middle of it now. Tylars and his tanks had engaged the Sravs just two miles away from the fuel depot that they had they had captured earlier and were now in a heated battle. Despite the Srav’s superior numbers and tanks, the Sinyans were more than holding their own. Tylars scanned the battlefield again looking for potential targets. A brightly painted tank caught his eye; obviously it was an officer’s tank. He moved the turret into position, sighted the enemy vehicle and was just about to pull the trigger when the Srav tank burst into flames.

“Sorry about that boss!” came a gruff voice over the radio, “I couldn’t resist!”

“That’s okay Grizzly 1, nice work.” Tylars replied.

“These guys are pathetic! Either these are their worst men or Sravs just don’t know anything about tank warfare!” joked Grizzly 1.

“All their best men are busy fighting the Necasians.” Tylars commented, “These are just the leftovers.”

Tylars turned his attention back to the battlefield and began to search for more targets. He located a tank that was showing its soft side and was just about to fire when another message came over the radio.

“Black Dog this is Wolf 3. Do you copy?”

“I copy Wolf 3, what is it?”

“Our guys in Stahlon have been surrounded by the Sravs and command has ordered any remaining troops to withdraw.”

“Curses! How could command not see that this was going to happen?”

“I don’t know. All I do know is you better get yourself out of there now! Wolf 3 out.”

Tylars slammed down the microphone in disgust but quickly picked it up again. Rather than call for a full retreat, he had a different idea.

“All units this is Black Dog, fall back to the depot!” he yelled into the mic, “Don’t ask any questions, just go!”

2 days later…

Traditore was again gazing at the half-empty Reshlund skyline. Although the Sinyan attack on Stahlon had failed miserably, the Sravs had been unable to deal the death blow to the resistance. A Sinyan column had come out of nowhere to rescue their surrounded comrades. Also, on the same day, Zenn Mietere made a miraculous escape from the Srav Intelligence Bureau and managed to kill Colonel Grimlokin. Regardless, Traditore was in good spirits.

“Comrade, Commander Khaz is…” came the voice of Surgut.

“Waiting for my report. I know.” Traditore cut him off.

Traditore then went to search his desk.

Tylars shifted nervously in his seat. He was seated in a waiting room outside the makeshift office of Emperor Yen Balestone. Seated across from him, in an even more nervous mood, was Dak Chamblers. They both sat silently in worry about what may become of them after the fiasco in Stahlon. Tylars was afraid Chamblers would blame him for impeding the intelligence agency and for insubordinates. Even though he had been able to rescue a great number of embattled troops with his supply trucks, he still figured Chamblers would find a way to pin it on him anyway. On the other hand, Chamblers knew that he was responsible for launching the attack and thus, nearly all the blame could easily be placed on his shoulders.

“Alright you two, come in.” ordered a rather sinister looking man wearing black suit and thin-rimmed glasses.

They both quickly stood up and walked half-heartedly into the room. Balestone was seated at his rather large desk that was cluttered with all sorts of papers.

“Ok gentlemen, I don’t like wasting time so I’ll be brief.” he began, “Chamblers, you’re irresponsible decision to launch an attack without proper intelligence is a disgrace to the Sinyan Imperium!”

“Sir, intelligence had every reason to believe that Stahlon was poorly garrisoned!” stammered Chamblers, who was slightly taken aback by Balestone’s abruptness.

“But from whom did you get that intelligence?” the emperor shot back, “My sources state you relied solely on reports from Vince Ergiez. Is this true?”

“Yes sir, but he’s a very reliable man!” Chamblers replied as he tried to defend his position.

“Indeed?” Balestone returned in a sarcastic tone, “Ergiez has been investigated and been found guilty of criminal inefficiency!”

“What?” Chamblers said in disbelief, “Ergiez is a loyal and obedient officer!”

“You’re the worst excuse for a general I’ve ever seen!” Balestone exclaimed.

“But Sir I…” began the disgraced SDF commander before Balestone cut him off.

“Shut up Chamblers! You’re relieved of your command!” he declared.

Balestone then turned to Tylars.

“General Tylars, for your proven success on the battlefield and for your loyalty to the Imperium, I am making you the new Supreme Commander of the Sinya Defense Force.”

Both Tylars and Chamblers stood in stunned silence of a moment. Finally Tylars spoke up.

“Thank you, sir.” he began in a shaky voice, but then declared in a more confident voice: “Well, time to get to work!”