Written by Jorge "Vino" Rodriguez

A mess. This whole thing has been a complete mess.

Arlan peered around the side of the brick wall he had made his temporary cover. He didn't chance more than a moment before he yanked his head back. Sure enough, a flurry of bullets answered his curiosity, breaking off chucks of the wall as he tried to fit himself better into the small corner of mortar that meant relative safety.

His brief glance accorded him some information on the location of his enemy. Across the clearing there were three of them, positioned behind cover around a large assembly of fountains and statues in the center of the square. But there's a problem, Arlan realized. Now they know I'm still alive, and I'm outnumbered three to one.

Arlan mentally reviewed what he had been taught in Officer Candidacy Training. Ancient rules of war which had been passed down since the dawn of time. Rule 1: Know your enemy.

The enemy in this case were a proliferate organization of forward thinking technologists called the Machindo. Initially this organization had only the purpose of developing new sciences to make life easier, but eventually they came face to face with the dominant religious sect, which proclaimed their inventions as heresy. At this point the Machindo became violent and rebellious. That meant that those three soldiers on the other side of the square were not fighting because they were told to, they were fighting for an idea that they held of their own volition. That made them more dangerous, but it also gave them a weakness. That weakness is...

Arlan furrowed his brow. Maybe I should have paid more attention in OCT. Then I would know what their weakness is.

Rule 2: Know your environment. Arlan was at the edge of a large clearing in an otherwise urban landscape. That was an advantage, because it made it relatively easy to withdraw, should he need to. He had many resources at his disposal, but most of these Arlan had to procure himself. Captured insurgent bases made good supply depots. The Numeni did not know how to fight a war, and had gotten themselves into a mess trying to supply troops fighting guerrilla tactics in an urban area. Their newly formed military had insufficient experience to try to deal with that sort of thing. But that wouldn't help Arlan now.

There were two ways out of the square other than the place where Arlan stood, but the Machindo insurgents had been caught in the very center of the square. They were behind good cover, large statues and fountainheads providing adequate protection from attack, but it was a good run over open ground before they could get to any safety. If Arlan could --

Arlan's equipment signaled that a friend was approaching. Thank the Archon, someone could help. Arlan's Heads-Up Display identified the solider as Parim. He had been apparently drawn by the earlier gunfire which had killed Arlan's former squadmates. Arlan didn't know Parim all that well, but he had a weapon and training, and would help even the odds against the three hostiles which were growing increasingly impatient about having not killed Arlan with their previous attack.

Rule 3: Know yourself. Arlan looked in his left hand, which was clutching a pistol. Arlan looked at his right hand, which was clutching a long, elegant-looking blade. But Parim carried with him only a small knife. Looking closer, Arlan saw runes decorating the blade, meaning Parim had chosen to defend himself with magic. With the three weapons, surely they could find some way to assault the enemy. Except that Arlan had no idea how to do it.

Arlan grinned. Heh. Who am I kidding? I failed OCT.

Arlan looked at his friend, whom he discovered was staring at the pistol in his left hand in obvious disapproval. Numeni were not supposed to carry firearms onto the battlefield, it was an affront to the Archon. Arlan, however, didn't really care, his pistol wasn't as bad as the automatic rifles those Machindo over there had. He signaled to his friend: Two on the left, one on the right.

Parim nodded, and signaled back: Give me covering fire. 3... 2... 1

Arlan popped up from his crouched position and immediately began firing upon the enemy. His pistol became suddenly cold in his grip, as high-pressure propellant expanded and cooled. The pistol began ejecting these cartridges and throwing up cold sprays into the air. A flash and a burst of heat on the left side of his face contrasted the freezing pistol in his hand, and Arlan realized what Parim was doing. Parim had thrown a fire spell down at the ground so it would give him concealment as he moved to another position. Arlan concentrated on finding targets for his pistol, but his pistol's magazine, he knew, was almost empty.

Parim reached the a fallen statue next to the fountain and hit the ground like a ton of bricks. He had sprinted the entire length of the square and was now within meters of the three enemy combatants. He then turned to Arlan and gave a signal: I'll cover you. Arlan knew what he had to do. He strapped his pistol to his leg holster and prepared for a run.

Powerful magical blasts began to shake the ground as Arlan began his own sprint towards the center of the square. Arlan could see the insurgents completely surprised by the strong counter-attack that the two of them were mounting. He could only imagine what was going through their heads. Maybe they thought there were more than just two Numeni. Maybe they were trying to figure out what to do about it. Maybe they were just rebellious machine-loving dogs that had to be put down.

Arlan arrived at the rim of the fountain. The fountain had stopped flowing and dried up when war broke out in the city. The water supply had been diverted for use by the Numeni to supply troops. The fountain was subsequently empty, and its waist-high rim made for a large, circular cement bunker. Arlan had seen the first two Machindo directly across the fountain from him, and the third 90 degrees to his right. Without waiting to see what Parim was doing, Arlan launched himself over the rim and ran directly at the third. Jumping over the wall he came upon the third, choking and gasping for breath, grabbing at his neck. Blood spilled out in gobs, and was making a mess flowing out between the cracks on the floor. Arlan could hardly stand to watch. He grabbed the man by the chest, and ran him through with his sword. The body was still.

Looking up from the corpse, he noticed the explosions had stopped. In its stead, screams of pain were emitting from the other side of the fountain. Parim was no longer in his previous position behind the fallen statue. Arlan unholstered his pistol and ran to the location of the two remaining enemies.

When he got there, he found Parim standing over the two men. One was clearly already dead, and the other had been burned by one of Parim's blasts. His arm was still smoldering. He was howling in pain. Parim put his knife to the man's throat.

"No!" Arlan's first impulse was to scream.

Parim looked up. "What?"

Arlan felt foolish. The man was an enemy, and he deserved to die. He tried to kill Arlan and Parim. The Machindo were the ones who started this mess in the first place. The man spat blood on Parim's leg. "Do it," he croaked.

Parim grinned. "Maybe I won't. Maybe I want to see you writhe in pain."

"Screw you," came the answer.

Arlan winced. "I don't know, maybe we can just take the guy in as a prisoner."

"Shut up, Arlan. This man is a heathen. He and his kind are disrupting the flow of the Numinous. The Archon has condemned them all to die."

"You lie. The Archon wants us to live in peace, but you bastards have warped that --"

With a smooth motion, Parim plunged his knife into the man's chest. As the knife slid in, it lit up in fire, burning him from the inside out. The man fell backwards, mouth open but no longer capable of screaming. Soon the entire body was consumed with flame.

Parim spat on the body and turned away.

Arlan gazed for a moment. Something in his mind was trying to make reason of what he had just heard. What was it that the man was trying to say? It was as if he thought that the Archon didn't want him to die, but... but that's insanity. The Archon was the primary detractor of machines and their users and inventors. How would the Archon want these people to live in peace? The thought had never crossed Arlan's mind.

In fact, even thinking about that sort of thing grinded against everything Arlan had been taught about what the Archon is. No, the guy was just crazy. There's no way Arlan could entertain those sorts of thoughts. Clearly it was nothing but propaganda, half-truths that the man believed so blindly that he uttered them even in his dying breath. Thank the Archon that Parim finished the job when he did, releasing the man from his own web of lies. Imagine if those infernal Machindo were actually right... that'd make this whole damned war an even bigger mess than it already was. No, the guy had to be just crazy. Arlan could see it no other way. Arlan muttered a short prayer for the man's soul, and then turned away from the body, bringing his thoughts to the tending of his fallen comrades.