War for the Zitar Nuo HTML version

Drean hiding in a well-placed bunker, the guns of the Nenthar in the distance and rear of their
positions, barking back into his suit microphone, “Abreon, I’m in authority over you!”
Abreon pushing himself through the mud, screaming, “I'm going to die!”
Drean, “l am your superior officer! Hold your position, dig!”
Abreon falling into the mud, standing as the flashing red helmet indicator grew even more
urgent. Once power shut off he would not be able to filter the poisoned air. He would suffocate to
death. Abreon wiped his mask off with a muddy forehand, soaked in thick, brown mud, water from the
river seeping into the corporations defensive line trenches. Abreon struggled into still another trench,
the computer within his suit whispering more subtle warnings:
“Warning, you have twenty seconds of remaining power.”
Abreon screaming to his commander, “You used me and you’re going to let me die!”
Drean, “No! You wasted yourself! You're a Nenthar solder!”
“You have ten seconds of remaining power.”
Abreon finding a bunker, “Come on!” pulling the airlock door open and grinding it closed behind
him. Abreon punched in the detox codes on its key panel the airlock drawing any residual air remaining
inside then refilling it with a fog of cleansers.
Abreon, “Please!”
The airlock cycled through the cleansing procedure, pulling back out the cleansers, finally
depressurizing the unit with clean purified oxygen.
Abreon’s suit shut down, now without power. He gasped for breath while snapping his helmet
off. He fell back to the floor of the airlock chocking but recovering as he took deep breaths of fresh air.
Through those gasps, he spoke into his helmet, “Drean?” You deserve all the hell you get! You know
that! I'm alive, damn you!” He pulled himself up, opening the second internal door open as he looked at
the outside door's portal window. He could see several other men, outside clawing at the door. He
closed the second door behind him, as one of the eight men grabbing Abreon and his helmet. One yelled
into it, “Save us! Save us! There is no food or water here!”
Another one snatching the helmet, as Abreon stood, then fell back to a bunker wall, the other
one screaming into his helmet microphone, “We're all going to die! The gas is thick outside! The mortars
push us down further, every day!”
Finally, Drean speaking through Abreon’s helmet, “I am your commander. You will speak to me
with respect! Have patience, your time will come .”
Abreon standing there amongst them, shaking, “Let me see that!” stumbling over, taking the
helmet back, the words of Drean reverberating as the bunker shuttered and as a mortar impacted the