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every scar and crag on his face into sharp relief. The golden highlights on his black
body armour glinted in the half light of the observation/launch bridges consoles.
The other squad members were arrayed in positions of interest and thoughtfulness,
nodding along as Strachen traced a path through the ravines of their next target, a
desert world bearing the name Gobi, a reference, as far as Malachi could tell, to
the desert of the same name in Monghei.
Gobi was a Cyborg world, and had been for several months of brutal fighting
between Federal and Secessionist forces that had cost almost thirty million hostile
casualties and eighteen million friendly ones. The situation, as such, was one that
Super Earth command could no longer ignore, and thus necessitated the
deployment of Helldiver units for hardpoint demolition to ensure the liberation of
the planet. Democracy was at risk, and the planet had to be saved from its hateful
undemocratic occupiers, even if everything on it was to die.
Strachen cleared his throat, before speaking in clear, unaccented English,
showing his roots from Seatcouver, Were ready to begin, Captain.
Malachai to bridge, op commencing, prepare coordinates for jump.
Yes, sir, engaging engines for freedom.
Malachi felt nausea briefly in his stomach as the drives spooled up for jump.
Space and time was folding, and the effect on the human body was that of a brief
moment of intense vertigo, and, as much as Malachi hated to admit it, fear. The
drives engaged, and suddenly, the ship was thrown forward, as evidenced by the
stars blurring past it. Malachi counted down mentally, and the ship, once again, was
in realspace. A mere five seconds had passed. Malachi once again gazed out of the
observation plate.
Malachi blinked.
***
Malachi couldnt believe his eyes. Instead of a warfleet orbiting a heretofore
freedom-less desert world, the scene that confronted those on the observation
bridge was one of a terran world, with no signs of fleets or war of any kind. Whether
or not the planet was actually free was another question, one possibly requiring the
usage of many, many democratically approved warheads. Malachi once again
turned to the comm, grimacing in annoyance, sure already that the day was going
to be entertaining, and not in the safe, sarcasm thoughtcrime free fashion.
Bridge, what is the meaning of this? Malachi queried.
Sir, I dont know. The coordinates arent showing, and broadcasts are being
jammed by the planet!
Yes, Malachi decided, this was a planet requiring much liberation for defying
mankind. He turned to the Helldivers, who were staring out the window in confusion.
The black and gold armoured defenders of humanity now turned their confused
gazes to him. Malachi sighed. This was going to be a long day.