INTO THE PAST
Unity Collective, Zone 7, Area 14.
February 14th, 2054
A tense atmosphere envelops a straight line of military personnel. The rhythmic echo of a solitary military boot fills the air as it paces back and forth, a stark contrast to the quiet tension among the soldiers. At the end of the line stands Major Michael, his demeanor calm yet resolute despite the palpable unease.
A deep, husky voice breaks the silence, addressing Major Michael with an air of authority. "What were the orders you received, Major Michael?" The voice, though calm, carries an unmistakable weight.
Michael, a young man with a ruddy complexion and a semi-handsome face, responds promptly, "Sir, the orders were to eliminate all resistors sighted at the capital."
The voice remains composed but probes further, "Then why does it appear that the orders were not executed as instructed?"
Michael hesitates briefly before answering, "True, sir, but some of the individuals designated as resistors were barely above the age of fifteen, with frail physiques."
"And what is your contention?" The voice takes on a hint of sternness.
"I believe the orders were unnecessarily harsh, Sir," Michael replies. "Children barely in their teens, deprived of necessities, were labeled as resistors. Strangely, no weapons were found on them. It leads me to question the thoroughness of the investigation conducted before issuing such orders…"
Before he can finish his thought, a sharp slap cuts through the air, striking Michael's face with force.
"Not only insubordination but now questioning the directives of superiors," the voice, now laced with anger, accuses. "SOLDIERS!! What are your duties?" The question echoes through the ranks.
"To safeguard the interests of the Collective. To execute all orders without hesitation. To serve as the shield of the Collective. To live and die in service to the Collective," the soldiers respond in unison, their voices echoing the creed ingrained in their minds.
"The creed serves as a reminder of our responsibilities as guardians of the state. Just four duties, and yet, you have defied them all in a single operation!" The voice booms with indignation. "Do you fail to grasp that these youths, whom you pity, are potential assets for rebels seeking to disrupt the peace of the Collective? Given time, they will wield weapons against us, unleashing chaos upon our citizens."
After a brief moment of silence, the voice speaks again, this time with a calm finality.
"You are suspended."
"But Lt. Col. Adams…" Michael begins to protest, only to fall silent as he realizes his superior has already departed.
"The meeting is adjourned," Lieutenant Colonel Adams declares, signaling the end of the confrontation.
"Yes, sir!" The soldiers salute in unison before filing out of the room, leaving Michael to contemplate the repercussions of his actions in solitude.
Michael waits for a moment, his gaze lingering on the broad back of his supervisor as Lieutenant Colonel Adams strides away. He salutes a silent acknowledgment of authority, before turning and walking briskly down the worn walkway.
"Humanity cannot quench the fires of war, Michael. Only brute force can," Adams's voice echoes behind him, a solemn reminder of the harsh realities they face. "Your attitude is right, however, it's the wrong time."
As Michael exits the supervisor's office, he notices stares directed his way, but he pays them no mind. Three sergeants block his path as he approaches his cubicle, their presence a barrier to his peace of mind.
"What's the issue, Owen?" Michael directs his question at the pale figure in the center, evidently the leader of the trio.
"Oh, nothing," Owen responds sarcastically, his tone dripping with disdain. "It's a pity, though. You know how hard it is to be promoted in this line of work, but because of some things, you just had to forfeit it for the time being."
"Things? Sergeant Owen!!! Did you just refer to fellow humans, who bleed the same color as you, as things?" Michael retorts sharply, his voice cutting through the air with intensity.
As tensions escalate, another Major, positioned to Owen's right, interjects with a chilling remark. "They're nothing but war machines, ready to be deployed once they reach a certain age. They lose all semblance of humanity and turn against their own. Can they even be compared to the people of the Unity Collective?"
Before Michael can respond, Sergeant James, on Owen's left, adds fuel to the fire with a smirk. "I guess we have Major Michael to thank for the promotion I'm sure Owen will be receiving in due time. Perhaps he'll even be your new captain, Michael," he taunts.
As anger simmers beneath Michael's surface, a voice suddenly booms over the P.A. system installed in the sergeant's room, cutting through the tension. "Major Michael, report to my office in thirty seconds," Adams's voice rings out.
Michael's heart sinks at the summons, realizing the implications of the call. Ignoring the jeers of the trio, he hastily makes his way back to the office of his superior.
Upon his arrival, Michael salutes smartly. "Sir, you sent for me?"
"Yes, I did," Adams responds, his expression unreadable. "I just received a call from the Brigadier General." He pauses, studying Michael's reaction.
Michael remains silent, but a flicker of surprise dances across his features.
"He has commanded that we both see the General without delay today. Prepare yourself; we leave in three minutes."
"Sir! Yes, Sir!" Michael acknowledges with a crisp salute before stepping out of the office to ready himself for the unexpected summons.
As they waited for the barricade to open, Michael took a moment to reflect on the superintendent and the mysterious connection he seemed to have with Adams. The puzzle pieces eluded him, leaving a sense of curiosity lingering in his mind.
"Let us go," Adams's voice abruptly disrupted his contemplation.
Exiting the military base, the sight of their departure surprised onlookers. Even on suspension, the superior and Michael were an unexpected duo leaving the zone's military premises. The military van rolled smoothly through the streets, enveloping the occupants in a cloak of silence for the next ten minutes. It came to a halt in front of a formidable two-story building.
"We have arrived at the home of the superintendent. Come down," Adams's voice sounded once more.
Stepping out of the van, Michael observed over twenty other military vehicles parked, indicating a gathering beyond their expectations. A subtle frown creased his forehead.
"It looks like he knows what we came here to do," Michael mused internally, sensing an undercurrent of awareness in Adams's demeanor.
The residence resembled a mini military fortress, with soldiers stationed every fifty meters around the premises. The building's history, from a renowned architect's masterpiece to the drug lord Saul Joy's dark exploits, added an air of mystery. The military takeover following the disaster had transformed it into one of the residences of the thirty-six zone masters, also known as the Generals.
A brisk soldier approached them, demanding identification. "Name and Area."
"Lieutenant Colonel Adams, Area Thirteen," Adams replied, prompting a salute from the soldier.
"At ease," Adams commanded, and the soldier turned his attention to Michael, anticipating his identification.
"Major Michael, Area Thirteen," Michael stated curtly. The soldier nodded, acknowledging their shared rank.
"Open the barricade," the soldier called, signaling the beginning of their entry into the superintendent's domain.
As the barricade creaked open, Adams kept up his steady stream of whispers to Michael, a hushed warning threading through each word as they navigated past the barrier.
"You've got to tread carefully, Michael. This isn't just a courtesy call," Adams murmured, his tone more talkative than usual, betraying a sense of unease. "Even a routine checkpoint has a Major at the helm."
Michael's surprise at the Lieutenant's sudden chattiness was overshadowed by the gravity of his message. He understood the weight of his superior's concern.
"Yes, sir," Michael replied, his voice low but resolute, his apprehension simmering beneath the surface.
As they moved past the meticulously tended garden, the imposing silhouette of the main house loomed ahead, a three-story structure guarded by a regiment of soldiers on patrol. Approaching the entrance, they encountered more soldiers stationed at the door, awaiting their arrival.
Adams exchanged nods with a select few, veering off to one side to avoid drawing too much attention. Michael followed suit, keeping a cautious distance behind him.
"Let's put your deductive skills to the test," Adams said, his words a measured challenge. "What conclusions can you draw from the sight before you?"
Michael pondered for a moment, his mind racing to analyze the scene. "There are roughly twenty-eight military personnel present, fourteen of whom hold the rank of Major, equivalent to mine," he began, his voice steady as he processed the information. "The remainder appears to hold the same rank as you, sir. It seems I'm in good company. The General likely has a classified matter to discuss with us. We're still awaiting the arrival of four more Majors."
Adams nodded, his expression grave. "But there's more to it than that. Each Area seems to have sent a representative, save for a select few, ourselves included," he added, his gaze lingering on Michael with a hint of concern. "What troubles me is how you were singled out for this."
A tense silence settled over the gathering, a collective understanding hanging thick in the air. In the ensuing minutes, eight more military personnel joined their ranks, bringing the total to sixteen Lieutenant Colonels and sixteen Majors.
Suddenly, as if on cue, the massive doors swung open without warning, revealing the commanding figure of a Lieutenant-General flanked by eight Brigadier-Generals on either side.
"At ease," the Lieutenant-General commanded, his sharp gaze sweeping over the assembled officers with keen scrutiny. Michael met the gaze of his assigned Brigadier General, offering a subtle nod of acknowledgment amidst the charged atmosphere.