Independence

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An innocuous black transit truck pulled into a parking space in front of six concrete bollards, separating the sidewalk from a stately plaza, in front of a towering sage skyscraper. Fountains and a modern art piece ostentatiously glittered under the sun, and crowds of people in suits and ties scurried to and from the other buildings in the plaza.

The main building remained absent any traffic.

The driver turned to the passenger and nodded once, keying the ignition and leaning back in the chair, putting a baseball cap over his eyes. The passenger turned around, banged on the rear of the driver’s cabin three times, and popped the door open with a squeak of the hinges. The back door of the transit flung itself open, as well as the side door on one side, revealing six figures dressed in black uniforms, black shorts, and the same baseball cap as the driver.

To any passer by, the transit was filled with boxes, which the men grabbed, walking towards the entrance of the building beyond the fountains. The boxes jingled with each step they took, the contents rattling around. They appeared to all observers as normal as everyone else.

The passenger of the transit pulled the door to the Aurora Central Bank open, and held it for his teammates. They crowded in the spacious foyer, and walked up to the reception desk. The receptionist smiled at them over his wide-brimmed glasses, and placed his chatter down.

“Morning, gentlemen. Need me to sign for anything?” he asked, folding his hands over his desk.

The men looked around; the foyer was large, complete with mezzanine leading to elevators. The ground floor likely contained storage rooms, and below-ground access to the safety deposit boxes and vaults.

A security guard up by the elevators walked over to the railing of the mezzanine and peered down at them. The passenger shifted his weight from one foot to the other, before smiling down at the receptionist, and tapping his box three times.

“Uh, yes, actually,” he said, reaching for his back pocket. He pulled out a datapad, pointed it at the receptionist, and pressed a button on the side. Two metal prongs shot out and impaled themselves in the receptionist’s left bicep. He began spasming, frothing at the mouth as the electrical current incapacitated the man.

One of the other men pulled a pistol out from under his shirt, and aimed it at the security guard. The security guard reached for his own weapon, carried in his holster. Fumbling with the strap, the man had just enough time to curse before a narq dart hit his neck, and he collapsed.

The passenger switched off his datapad and retracted the bolts. The receptionist continued to twitch—alive, but incapacitated.

He turned to the crew, who were popping the lids off of the boxes they had delivered. They looked up at him, arms full of weapons, grenades, and tools.

“Take out the cameras, deal with the guards, and let’s lock this place down,” he said. He got a flurry of nods from his team, who fanned out into the ground floor proper. The man took a deep breath, before walking around the reception desk towards the rooms in the back.

The Temple Relay sat in the heart of Sangheili-governed Dainari; a towering megalith of purple-coloured nanolaminate and bright lights set into organic curves and spires. A network of tubes and tunnels extended out from the base like a snowflake, sinking into the ground as they went out. The Temple Relay was treated with reverence and respect, with visitors needing permission from the Kaidon of ‘Velnor to sit in on one of the many sermons broadcast from within its vaulted hallways.

More than that, however, it was the single centralised communications hub of the entire Sangheili half of the colony, which is why another transit truck slid to a halt outside the gate, with another driver, and another passenger. They, too, were dressed in unthreatening garb.

The presence of a human vehicle drew some stares from the locals, but nothing more. They were becoming more common as the two governments allowed transport and trade between colonies. The driver turned to the passenger, and nodded.

The passenger turned, banged on the cabin, and the doors slid open.

There were no boxes concealing weapons this time. Those in the back were not dressed in postal garb. They had vests, helmets, heavy jack boots and thick metal gauntlets, carrying burnished steel rifles and gunmetal grey knives.

They hopped out of the truck and immediately brought their weapons up, aiming at the gathered civilian Sangheili. When the first shot was fired, panic erupted at the Temple. They moved through the Temple Square, past a towering statue of a Sangheili reaching towards the heavens.

The sealed doors of the temple hissed open, allowing those outside seeking refuge to pile inwards, and allowing the guards within to rush outside, plasma rifles brandished, eager to defend the seat of their faith.

Bolts of angry blue plasma answered the rattling of human weapons, chewing up the concrete and stone beneath their feet and kicking up clouds of vapourised stone; the humans still didn’t move. Three shots impacted one human, and walked up his abdomen, shredding the vest and melting the metal, burning away vital organs and arteries beneath.

Another human ran afoul of a carbine. Three rounds embedded themselves into his neck and upper chest, and he dropped to his knees, clutching the wounds as they gushed crimson fluid and green smoke.

The humans didn’t move.

Two sangheili’s shields burst in a scattering of blue shards and light. More bullets ripped away at the armour around their chests and sprayed the walls behind them with purple ichor as they dropped.

One elite primed a glowing blue ball and hurled it towards the group; the humans didn’t move from where they stood, even when the grenade stuck to the ground between them. The humans continued to fire up until the grenade whined, brightened, and detonated.

The smoke cleared, and the last four corpses smoked in a crater on the ground. The elites kept their weapons up until the smoke cleared, when they finally saw something that made their boiling blood freeze.

The truck was poised at the end of the square, engines revved and both driver and passenger braced. With the doors open, they were wide enough to drive the truck straight through.

The Elites hurled themselves out of the way as the transit barrelled towards them, but that didn’t save any of them when the thirty eight pounds of shaped C12 in the back detonated, and levelled the entirety of the Temple Relay.

It didn’t take long for Agetha to get the call. She was on the other side of the world, where night had not yet given way to day, when her chatter began ringing. Within the hour she was on a transport, and within two she was in ‘Velnor.

Now, three hours after a blast levelled the central Sangheili comms relay, and six hours after a band of terrorists took over the Central Bank, she sat outside a conference room with twenty-eight other diplomats, twiddling her thumbs, and clutching a faux-leather briefcase.

The Sangheili diplomats, dressed in luxurious gold, purple and red gowns, eyed the humans with wary eyes, and even outright disgust. The Humans, on the other side of the corridor, eyed their counterparts with nervousness, dressed in snappy suits and white shirts.

The doors to the main chamber opened, and a stately Sangheili Seneschal exited. Two honour guards and Kaidon Ursol ‘Velnor himself followed suit. He bowed, pleasantries were exchanged, and the entourage entered the chamber, where they each took a seat around a table. Humans sat on one side, Sangheili on the other, and the Kaidon at the head of the table.

The Kaidon turned to his Seneschal before they left, motioning down the table. “Might we have some refreshments brought?”

The Seneschal bowed and shut the door.

Agetha cleared her throat, and leaned forward, bracing her hands on the table. “Kaidon, we—”

“Oh, please,” he waved a hand at her. “Nothing so formal. This is a crisis, and crises can only make bonds of allegiance stronger.”

Several of the Sangheili shifted in their seats, and even Agetha blinked back some form of emotion from showing on her face. “‘Velnor, then. As you said, this is a crisis. We should be focusing on our course of action, and our response, and not wasting time—”

“Our response?” one of the Sangheili leaned forward. The movement made Agetha draw back, reminding her of the way a cobra might strike.

“Forgive me,” the Sangheili said, motioning towards his Kaidon, “but, as far as we are concerned, the Humans just blew up our Temple Relay! A source of religious expression, home to countless artefacts, and now a smoking crater in the dirt!”

“And a human team just took over the Aurora Central Bank,” one human diplomat bit back, “and are threatening to detonate explosives in the vault that will bankrupt the entire colony. This isn’t our fault.”

Before the scenario could degrade, Agetha stood up and held her hands out, calming both sides down. “My colleague,” she gave the man a pointed glare, “means to say that this was not a government operation. This is the work of terrorists, that are clearly highly trained, well organised, and well funded,” she nodded to the gathered diplomats.

With one hand she motioned to the Kaidon. “Now, we, all of us, together, need to find a way to bring them down before their next move.”

One Sangheili leaned forward, a wizened old reptile with heavy, studious eyes. He clasped his fingers in front of him as he levelled Agetha with a serious gaze. “What will be their next move, then?”

Agetha shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. But you can bet it’ll come very soon.”

“With respect, Governor,” a man beside her said, reaching down for his bag. “I believe I may be able to shed some light on what they may do next.”

A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd.

Agetha turned to face him, nodding expectantly. “Yes?”

The man laughed and took off his spectacles, folding them up onto the table. “Well, it got you all in one place, which is exactly what we were hoping for.”

The briefcase opened, and Agetha saw the flash of grey metal reflecting the overhead lights. She just had enough time to dive under the table before the SMG began coughing up shots. Agetha crowded herself under the table, mashing her hands to her ears to try and block out the shouts of surprise and the gunfire.

After a few moments it stopped. Agetha took a second to try and calm her heart, and failed. Shaking, she peered up over the table, to find the Sangheili diplomats dead, and the Kaidon riddled with bullets.

The humans were cowering in their seats, and the man with the gun looked absolutely ecstatic, a wide ear-to-ear grin on his face.

Agetha stood to shaky feet and looked around the room. Every sangheili was dead.

The doors to the council chamber opened, and the Seneschal stepped in with a silver tray filled with obscure Sangheili foodstuffs. He took one look at the scene and dropped the tray, rushing away from the scene.

“What…” Agetha tried to speak, but gave up. Swallowing down her fear and disbelief, she tried again. “What did you do…?”

“I did what no one else was prepared to,” the man replied, tossing the gun onto the table, and reaching into his trousers for a pistol. “Today,” he said, smiling at Agetha. “Aurora declares independence.”

He put the pistol in his mouth and fired.