As soon as the helicopter touched down everybody in it piled out, a few soldiers practically falling out into the sand. Harry was one of the last one out, falling into the sand with such force that he sank ankle deep. Harry pulled up one leg, while untangling his rifled from it’s strap. While his hands fumbled around the strap Harry yanked his other boot out of the sand, already falling behind the rest of the company as it pressed up the divot towards the insurgent compound.

Sand was flying everywhere as the mad scramble up was happening. It pelleted off Harry’s mask and some even got stuck in his filter. Harry shook his head to try and dislodge the intruding sand, still climbing up the divot. At the top the steep dune the company was spread out, and the captain shouting orders at the Lieutenants.“Yorkshire, take your platoon and circle round to the armory. George move towards barracks over there. Tommy. Hold on, where’s Tommy?”

“In Black Sun-3.” Shouted a private just up the hill from Harry, Jared was his name.

“Shit.Wesley take command of 3rd and takeover for overwatch. Jovan get ready to storm those garage doors. Don’t get close till the air strikes hit.”

The confusion was crushed when the orders were given. Harry climbed the dune a little bit more, and then followed along behind his sergeant. The sand scattered down the dune after every step, a scrabbling clatter from the cascading sand echoing back up towards them. Anytime a soldier’s head drifted up above the ridge line a river of bullets flooded around them, and the heads ducked back down. The carefully rushed movement about the compound allowed them to be taking cover just outside the armory in eight minutes.

The wall of the armory had no windows or cracks in it, and was a short, stout building. The wall that ran around the rest of the compound seamlessly melded into it, providing solid cover and protection to the insurgents. Sounds of confusion and urgency, muffled by the thick walls, wafted across the wind towards Harry’s position. The multi-story building in the center of the insurgent headquarters towered up above the single story of the armory, and it’s backdrop were the three two story barracks, each one arranged in an L shape to form ¾ of a square.

The rumble of jet engines soon drowned out the sounds of hurried defensiveness, two F-15s racing over the horizon. They were spaced out, one in front of the other and to the right. Along the underside of their wings sat two dumb bombs, guided by momentum and detonated by percussion fuses. The front one drubbed it’s bomb, followed by the second.

The first one sailed, almost gracefully, into the top of the command center. The stone roof looked as though it melted under the impact, rolling inwards softly before an orang fireball erupted forth. It blasted what remained of roof into the air, scattering the shattered pieces across the winds. The walls bulged out and folded, the explosion compromising the third floor’s stability. The second floor walls had a fireball erupt out of two, one backlighting a flaming insurgent.

The second bomb hit the garage, but instead of forcing through the roof it exploded on impact, no delay added to the fuse. It brought the roof down, crushing vehicles and fuel canisters, as well as any defenders inside. The fireball, instead of erupting in all directions like the first bomb, was directed almost entirely downwards, with minimal flam going up or out. The fuel and ammunition ignited in the garage, burning brightly and cooking off. Bullets sprayed everywhere, and the third and fourth platoon had to take cover to avoid being shredded by them.

Then the planes were gone, shooting back across the horizon. Now the only sounds were dying insurgents and burning fuel, the orange glow lighting the sand around it. Some burning paper or clothes floated down towards Harry, almost peacefully if not for the set on which it danced.

Then the jets returned for a second pass, this time releasing the bombs directly above Harry’s platoon. One flew into the armory’s side wall, another through the barracks. The explosive for the armory was significantly less incisive than the one used on the central building, just being enough to blast through the wall and send shrapnel into anybody unfortunate enough to be on the other side of the wall.

The fourth and final bomb blossomed a flower of boiling death up above the barracks. A flower that was extinguished just as fast as it bloomed, dust and rubble drowning it, sweeping up and obscuring further vision of the area.

Harry sprang up, charging towards the breach. He was first to be shaken out of the sense revelry, soon followed by two, then three, then the entire platoon. Harry held is rifle slightly in front of him, his barrel pointing towards the hole. Within seconds he was just in front of it, still not slowing down. His feet wobbled and slipped on debris, struggling to keep him stable.

Harry propelled himself through the hole and into the armory. His vision was met by the sight of two bleeding insurgents on the floor. To his left lay a blasted open door, his front an open room filled with firearms and ammunition, and to his right a long hall lined with weapons ending in a door. Harry rushed into the door to his left, followed by the rest of his squad. Harry pressed through, turning to quickly towards his right.

He turned so quickly his should rammed into the doorframe, knocking him off balance for a skittering moment. Harry cast his gaze, accompanied by his rifle, across the room. Two dazed insurgents sat in the room, a third chair empty, behind reinforced glass watching the entrance to the building. Harry shot the first insurgent through his eye, blood and eye juices sprayed out of the hole in his mask. The second one began reaching for his rifle, but was shot through the chest by Thomas.

Carefully Harry’s squad began finish clearing the room, casting calm glances around the room while gunfire sounded all throughout the compound. Harry kicked over a chair and placed his hand on the desk under the security window. He bent at the waist and looked under the desk, rifle held by just one hand. Just a waste bin and a few loose bullets.

Harry straightened up just in time to see Jaxon yank open a steel cabinet in the corner, it’s paper’s and a shelf hastily cast onto the ground. In it a cowering insurgent was crammed into a corner, a pistol in hand. With a small shriek she began to raise her pistol in a trembling grip, before a ear splitting bang sounded.

And the hand went limp, along with the rest of the insurgent. The pistol fell from the hand and the insurgent’s tense body relaxed and toppled out of the hiding spot, a wide wound in her chest. Thomas lowered his rifle, gave a curt nod to Jaxon, and ducked out of the room. Harry followed shortly after, patting Jaxon on the shoulder as he went past. Jaxon, perhaps contemplating how close to death he had come, or maybe just checking one more thing, came out a moment later.

In the central room the rest of the platoon was gathering, the new squad already at the entrance and firing at insurgents in the courtyard. Bullets bounced and ricocheting off the walls, an occasional one piercing the wall and spiraling through the room. Lt. Yorkshire shouted over the din of gunfire, his voice stressed and hoarse, “When the fire dies down we get over to the central building. Remember, the door is just on the other side from us.”

The seconds of waiting were agonizingly long, growing longer as the concrete wall weakened, more bullets punching through. Mcnab, who was standing right beside Harry, was shot through the shoulder twenty seconds in, falling over from shock and clutching is in an attempt to slow the blood flow. Freeman rushed over, medical kit in hand, and guided Mcnab back into the hallway and began treating the wound.

The a grenade sailed by and exploded, forcing the insurgents to dive for cover, giving the perfect opportunity to dash out of cover. Berisho led the way, followed by his squad. And Watson joined the fray, Harry close behind. They charged past the insurgent sandbags, and fired at the cowering soldiers. After the quick executions they continued this push towards the center building’s entrance.

Windows were situated along the wall, each one closed and boarded. Berisho led them across the side, decided it the windows posed no immediate threat. They stayed near the wall, using it as cover from anything directly above them. Their steady pace took a fireteam across the building, everybody else providing cover. Insurgents still held controlled of the barracks, but most were preoccupied with third platoon’s advancement.

The heavy fighting across the compound let many dead insurgents and nevexicans alike, their bodies still and lifeless. Gunfire was permeated the air, thicker than the Gas all around. Has Harry watched a brutal melee broke out, knives slashing flesh while rifle reports were heard. Masks were shattered, throats sliced open. Shotguns had a field day, shredding entire crowds in quick succession.

The second fire team made their way across slowly, not wanting to draw fire from the bloody brawl across the clearing. They passed by the boarded windows, staying low to avoid crossing the line of sight. Once they reached the other side the next fireteam crossed. Then Harry’s crossed. Followed by two others. Soon everybody had crossed the wall to the other side of the wall.

Everybody began preparing to go through the wall, stacking up tightly against it. Harry felt the hand pat his shoulder, nodded silently, then patted the should in front of him. The wordless signal that he, and everybody behind him, was ready. Once the front of the stack received the pat, he shot open the door with his shotgun, while the man right behind him hurled in a flash-bang.

An ear shattering bang rang out from the room, a flash washing the doorway in a blinding white. The entire file sprinted through the door, rounding corners, and bounding through the wide-open space. A couple of shots rang from unfamiliar weapons, and wo Nevexicans went down. The insurgents that were behind hastily erected sandbags, and a well-placed machine gun, and most were clutching their ears with their eyes squeezed tight behind their masks. The few who were not were quickly shot or skewered by the tide of well trained infantry pouring into the building.

Harry rounded the corner to the left, dodging the body of a comrade and vaulting a group of sandbags in his way. Gerald and Jaxon followed right behind. Gerald made it over the sandbag wall with ease, but Jaxon’s leg got caught on it and brought down several bags on top of hisself. Not slowing down Harry bounded over to a stunned insurgent and cracked them on the head with his rifle, knocking them unconscious.

Gerald shot another incapacitated insurgent through the eye, killing him instantly. He and Harry then began moving along the wall, dodging around walls of sandbags, and checking the corners for insurgents.

Two more insurgents were shot by Gerald once their area was cleared. Jaxon had managed to extricate himself from the pile of sandbags and joined the two in their efforts to clear their corner of the building. Gunfire still sounded occasionally, short, and concise bursts of noise followed by silence.

Emerging from the little sandbag ridden area Harry approached his squad lead, a dazed insurgent being dragged by Gerald and Jaxon. The two bodies of Nevexicans were neatly laid side by side near the door. The dead insurgents were being dragged outside, where the fighting had stopped. Weapons were being collected by other soldiers, being carried outside carefully.

“Sergeant, we managed to capture an insurgent.”

“Thank you, corporal. Prisoners are being gathered in the courtyard near the garages. Take him there.”

“Yes sir.” With that, Harry led Gerald and Jaxon, plus the insurgent, out the door and past the Nevexican bodies. Looking at them, Harry recognized it was Harold and Jack. One had a neat little hole through the center of his forehead, while Jack had a ragged line of tears tracing from his upper left chest, through his neck, and terminating on his chin. Both of their masks were shattered and useless.

Out in the courtyard it was much of the same inside. Soldiers were carefully piling weapons up in the center of the courtyard, while all the dead insurgents were being laid out in rows near the barracks. From just outside the door Harry couldn’t see the captured insurgent collection point, so he kept walking. He led his fireteam around the left corner of the building and spotted it. Five or six unarmed and battered people sat, their arms restrained behind them, in the sandy ground.

Harry placed his insurgent with the others, giving a silent, respectful nod to the private from first platoon watching them. Harry returned to central building just as the last of the bodies were removed. Harry led his fireteam back into the building, glancing around as he entered. In there the captain, his lieutenant and two soldiers holding a charred green, blue, and yellow cloth.

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Outside of an imposing building on the Great Plains waves a blue flag with a swallow tail. Green trim is all around the flag, and a sunflower with thirty four petals rests in the center. Above the entrance to the grand limestone administration building is a Latin phrase, carved in stone, “Ad Astra, Per Aspera”. And atop this building sits a copper Native American, his bow shooting for the heavens, green with age.

The Capitol of an Empire.