I looked up into space and watched the fall of the Lunar Commonwealth. The dome over the capital had been breached during the initial landing of the Martians and I was surrounded by thousands of dead civilians, thinking the Titan Code would have spared them from the hard vacuum of space. Laser bolts still flashed throughout the city as Imperial assault troops eradicate the last pockets of resistance. I hide from a passing Skimmer, search lights emanating from its sides as it continues its recon.
The radio has been silent for an hour, the last message a desperate cry for rescue from a wounded Marine whose squad had been killed around him. I have been left with my thoughts for an hour, an eternity. I know that millions of citizens had survived the dome breach and had escaped into pressurized dwellings, shelters and warrens of the City. I know that they may be only a single wall away from me, but I feel so alone.
Hours earlier, I watched the last fleet that the Lunar Commonwealth forms up in Lunar orbit. The ‘Purity’ virus implanted into our system by the Lunar Humanity Front traitors had crippled our AIs and cybernetic defenses. When we received news about the ‘Jupiter Massacre’, we knew that the Martians were coming. The Lunar Commonwealth had endured for 600 years, standing as a beacon of hope for Humanity through the Collapse and the Dark Ages. We held the line against the mad AIs of the Dominion during the horror of the Rim War and saved the Solar System. I was never more proud than at the end.
Three hundred warships of the Lunar Navy, outnumbered, met the bulk of the Martian Fleet and thousands of missiles, torpedoes and countless millions of particle beams were exchanged. Point defense clusters fired desperately trying to stop incoming projectiles and the electronic noise fouled communications on the Lunar surface. Lunar vessels, holed and crippled, valiantly rammed Imperial Cruisers. Citadel Station, flames along its kilometers long axis, fell from the sky and impacted somewhere to the east of us, raising a cloud of Lunar dust that has obscured sight of our ruined home-world.
The end was appropriately climatic. The breaching of the Dome and hundreds of assault craft depositing tens of thousands of genetically superior Imperial shock troops into the city. Skimmers were locked in aerial combat under and outside the Dome and Martian and Lunar armored vehicles traded fire in the streets. I stood on the roof of Tombaugh Memorial Hospital, my men dying around me as I watched a missile impact upon the side of the Martian Skimmer and it spiraled into the school building that I attended as a little girl. I saw the Lunar Knights engage in their suicidal charge across the roofs of the Royal residence, attempting valiantly to rescue the White Queen. And now, I am witness to final throes of a dying Commonwealth.
If I stay here, I am dead. I look into the distance at the burning building that was the Imperial residence and I turn away. I know a few blocks away is a warren that will take me out of the city and to Wyoming Landing, where the foreign merchants have been holding up and waiting for the end of this war. For all I know, I may be the only loyal citizen left alive who saw the end. I owe it to the fallen that the true story of their deeds is never forgotten.
© Copyright 2016 Christopher Otero. All rights reserved.
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