Clear Sky

[The Federation]

CLEAR SKY
"This world has too many people, they consume more than the planet can afford to give them, they do not care to return Mother Nature's favors. Your primary goal, recruit, is the depopulation of the planet so as to return our mother to her proper balance." - Quote from the Clear Sky Guide Book circa 1981

Fifth of June, 1986
Kilkenny, Bantyr
Weylin-Teagan Coke Plant #5

The plant sat on the river near the center of the city spewing it's waste into the sky, in these times the darkened skies meant work and money, it was a proud look to wear in a country that valued industry over everything. Hundreds of men walked toward the plant in their work clothes ready to take the morning shift by storm and continue the stream of money that kept them alive, the young women waved as the strong working men made their way down the avenue. A few would stop for idle chatter and to compliment the way they wore their skirts, an iconic scene one would see during these times during the cities morning routine. The smell of the coke plant was apparent even a mile or so outside the city limits, but they had become accustomed to the constant sulfur like fume that the factory belched out. Weylin-Teagan was the largest employer in all of Bantyr, the government's lax economic policy allowing it to become a monopoly over the iron and steel industry with a very strong hold on the coal market, they paid well to those who would brave the sweltering heat of their myriad of plants that dotted the country. The merging of the clan owned businesses between the Weylins and the Teagans was the greatest thing that had happened to Bantyr in a long time.

Gregg, as he was simply known, was a laborer at the plant the heat of the day coupled with the inversion created by the pollution from the plant made his walk toward the plant miserable. He hated his job unlike the other men who he worked with who saw being part of the great Bantyric industrial process as something to be proud of. His skin was tanned by working in the great heat of the factory and his lungs could feel the gaseous death flowing in and out with every breath. It was just a job to him, something he did until he could get out of dirty Kilkenny and to the universities of the south where he could expand his mind and become something great, maybe a famous ship designer or a civil engineer, he fantasized. His fantasy was broken quickly enough as the rare heat of the day increased as he neared the looming, sooty plant, white clouds billowing out of it's smoke stacks. This close to the plant the beautiful women and their blue skirts were nowhere to be found, the feeling of the environment and the men he walked with becoming much more serious. A man could die working a 'normal' day in this plant, to him it was if hell itself had planted a piece of Satan's own real estate right in the middle of the city. The tall fiery coke furnaces raged as they were opened, the alarm sounding, filling his ears.

The morning shift siren could be heard blowing in the distance despite the noise of the facilities operation amongst the army of men entering the gates were the third shift graveyard workers covered in black soot leaving the plant, their slack tired faces staring into the distance toward home. No matter how much energy a man had when he entered to work his shift, he always came out as a shell of his morning self, wanting nothing but to make towards their homes or the nearest bar. The plant operated 24/7 supplying the massive amounts of coke fuel needed to keep the steel rolling out of the steel plants.

Gregg held his lunch pail tightly as he entered the locker room, a room filled with nothing but pure testosterone as the men put on their safety equipment. Some choose not to wear their safety equipment properly thinking they were invincible, the supervisors did not care to notice this everyday violation of the company's safety protocol as they were to worried about keeping the plant operating at one hundred percent capacity. A sign in the locker room told the number of days since the last accident, the number missing entirely as no one cared to record such a trivial number. Gregg knew it wasn't safe as his mother told him almost everyday, but Weylin-Teagan was the only company hiring that was willing to pay the money an unskilled man like him needed to leave the wretched north. He exchanged a few words with his co-workers before he left the locker room, as he left he noticed a new face among the usual morning crew. He stopped to talk to the pale man, a skin color he would not retain for long working in this plant, however the man spurned his conversation, asking to be left alone. No matter, Gregg did not go out of his way to make friends of the meat heads who worked here. He followed the new guy out into the plants work areas noticing him take his lunch pail with him. It was an odd sight since food was not allowed out into the work area, but Gregg put it off as another asshole who wouldn't and couldn't be bothered to follow the rules around this place.

The day went on and the heat beat on Gregg as he worked to clean a shut down furnace, it had taken a few weeks for it to cool down enough for him to clean it out. The carbon falling to the floor as his shovel struck the walls. He looked down and out of the furnace to see the pale man manipulating a few wires and boxes around the cooling apparatuses, he went back to the shovel, but his curiosity got the better of him and he looked back out again. A flash blinded him and the heat scorched his face. The surprise and shock of the explosion knocked him off the ladder he stood causing him to fall. Thoughts of his future to be flashed in his mind before he died.

Outside

The explosion destroyed the devices needed for safe operation of the plant causing white smoke to pour out of the plant, the coke stored for shipping to close to the plant operation ignited enveloping the entire plant in a cloud of deadly gases, secondary explosions rocked the plant killing many inside. The wind of the day blew the clouds of lethal gases over the city, the white seemingly harmless cloud choking every person who it enveloped. More explosions could be heard from the plant as people ran toward fresh air as fast as they could, most of them succumbing and breathing in the death that surrounded them, their burning lungs shriveling up as the dying crawled on the ground in futility. The girls who had previously watched the young men march toward the factory lie dead on the side walk, their bodies contorted by the struggle of their final moments. The proud city caught fire as the explosions littered the structures around the plant with burning particles. Screams could be heard as their occupants were slowly roasted. The fire crews responded as quickly as they could but their inadequate equipment stopped them from entering the deadly cloud to rescue anyone who could still be alive. The unquenchable fire swallowed the plant as it burned, the sound of sirens and explosions drowned out everything else.
​

Hours Later

The disaster in Kilkenny unfolded on the television as news helicopters circled the burning city describing in detail the deadly scene below. Military helicopters flew over the city dumping water on the fires below attempting to stop the deadly advance of flame. The national guard had been immediately called in when the President had learned of the explosion, uniformed men in gas masks and fireproof suits made their way into the city pulling survivors out by the truckload. Cormack Miles sat in his chair watching in glee as his planned attack had caused more damage and death than he had ever hoped for. He clutched his manifesto as he watched with his brothers and sisters, Clear Sky would rid the world of those who did nothing to take care of it and he would lead a new generation of like minded individuals into the world to carry out acts of terror upon those who spurned away the embrace of Mother Nature, those who looked to profit from her suffering. His would be a worldwide revolution on a scale unseen before. The skies would be clear again and underneath them Cormak's new world would live in perfect harmony with their mother.
​

 

[The Federation]

DIRGE FOR CORMACK
"When you walk through your hometown what do you see? Drones, people who only subscribe to the daily routine that the government and economy has set up for our society. In our new world we seek to break this routine. to destroy the circle of control that we have been forced to travel. Their way of life encourages excess and when they cannot use the excess it is discarded. As a member of Clear Sky it is your duty to use only what you need and even less if possible. Only then can we begin to bring back an ecological balance with this world, if we act like the drones then our principle goal of depopulation will have failed right out of the gate." - Quote from the Clear Sky Guide Book circa 1981

Second of January, 1996
The White Forest Peak
Clear Sky Compound

Cormack sat in front of the television again watching his vision die before him. The retaliation from the Kilkenny attack was not suspected, he thought that the environmentalists would rally around his group but instead they were only sickened by what Clear Sky had done. He was responsible for the death of the environmental movement, peaceful or otherwise. The government as small as it was used every resource it had possible to do away with his brothers and sisters, but they did not talk, they did not give him away. They were trustworthy to the last. He watched as his last recruit walked up to the President and wildly shot at him, missing every time. His last hurrah ended by bad accuracy. What would his mother think of him? He remembered his first vision like it was yesterday, Gaia appeared to him in a white light telling him that his people's numbers were to high, that everyday they carelessly hurt her with their polluting ways. Poison them, destroy their factories, teach those willing to learn to live in harmony with their mother. But they were not ready, had his mother led him astray?

The Weylin-Teagan bastards had made a full recovery last year despite several more attempts to destroy their plants around Bantyr, his revolution never made it out of Bantyr. He made one more final prayer to Mother Nature.

"Why have you forsaken the cause you have given me? Have I not done what you asked? Why Mother? Why?" He screamed aloud in his empty compound underneath the northern ice. "I gathered as many brothers and sisters as I could and we all prayed to you everyday, and you have forsaken us? Allowed us to die!" His near middle aged mind could not comprehend why this had happened.

The gunshot filled the compound for a second, echoing off the walls and hallways, Cormack's vacated head fell to the floor with a dull thud leaking blood everywhere. Kirsten McTavish had just entered the empty compound, braving the slick and icy roads of the mountain it was hidden on. Her white winter jacket now bathed in the spray of Cormack's suicide, she was too late. Only a few of the brothers and sisters remained now scattered across the country, leaderless and defeated by the reactionary public it sought to bring to their side. Kirsten gathered wiped the tear from her face as she took one last look at his dead body now bathed in the light of the television showing the circus that had occurred in the courts for years over the Kilkenny disaster. Clear Sky was dead now, it needed time to heal from the backlash a restructuring. Kirsten wouldn't let the messages Cormack wrote die, she took the bloody coat off and washed her face in the sink nearby. She carried out the writings and materials to be used for the future to her battered truck. Kirsten looked back at the compound, it's first floor protruded out of the ground, built to look like the mountain itself from a distance the rest buried under the mountain rock. It had taken years for Cormack to design and build it those many years ago and now she stood in front of it with a detonation device in hand taking one last moment to pray to the Earth Mother for guidance.

The thud of the truck door closing reverberated across the mountainous landscape followed by the strained sound of an old engine roaring to life. Kirsten drove slowly down the mountain the boxes slightly sliding around the rusty bed of the truck underneath the white tarp. She flicked the switch on the detonator, the explosion shaking the ground beneath the truck. She stopped and rolled down the window and listened to the avalanche it caused, she was safe on the opposite face of the mountain side, the sound of the snow burying everything in it's path filled her with a quick moment of sadness. Clear Sky was dead, for now at least, but she swore to herself that the struggle to bring nature and humanity to balance would be eternal if it needed to be, she would not fail the Earth Mother or Cormack.
​

 

[The Federation]

THE LONG JOURNEY
"My arrival into the port of CarrickTherran was not without a great deal of surprise, the city is a combination of rich and poor, foreign and native. I could already feel the skin on my arms and face react to the new sun I was under. The heat here is incredible, nothing like the temperate climate of home nor the frozen climate of the White Forest Mountain. It still pains me to think of the place where Cormak died, he was like a brother to me and the hole his death left has yet to heal. - Excerpt from the diary of Kirsten McTavish, known at this time as Piper

Fourth of May, 1997
CarrickTherran
The City Proper

The sea was no stranger to Kirsten, who had now been known as Piper fearing government agents would be looking for her, her youth was spent living on large fishing ships with her father and mother working, the sea is where she gained her respect and new view on the environment as a whole. Finding passage to Kayah Tanah was easy as workers on a Bantyric cargo ships were always needed, it also helped and sometimes hindered to be moderately attractive to most men. The amount of times where she had come close to being raped during the first half of the trip were to numerous to count, but a first officers slit throat and the respect of the old captain was enough to end the unwanted advances.

She was a different woman than the one who had left Bantyr, along with the new name she cut her long brown hair short, her green eyes covered by large mirrored sunglasses and her usually joyous face now replaced by a look of sad seriousness. She stepped off the boat in a new world with the intention of jumping ship, back in Bantyr news about Kayah Tanah sometimes filtered into the news cycle, her interest was peaked by the organization known as the PLF, a purely communist faction who lived in the jungles of Kayah Tanah. Their lifestyle is what had really caught her interest, a people who believe in the equality of man and living a balanced lifestyle absent of the excess of capitalist societies. She knew they wouldn't be open to foreigners as removing foreigners from Kaythnan soil was one of their goals, but she had things to offer, new ways to spread their movement, different techniques of infiltration and terror. The advent of the Internet had done wonders for Clear Sky before the Government came and destroyed them without impunity, most nations did not exert fascist control over the net like Bantyr does.

The smell was the first thing she noticed as she left the docks, it was one of the reason she hated spending any amount of time in cities, the combination of human odors, cooking food, exhaust and animal smells may have been easy to process for a normal city dweller, but for a woman who had spent as much time as she could in the untouched mountain areas of Bantyr it was almost too much. She soldiered on however into the flowing mass of people walking on the sidewalks and across the streets, the rumors were true, road safety was almost non-existent in this part of the world, a mix of old and new vehicles, horse drawn carriages, rickshaws and other myriads of vehicular movement coursed through the poorly marked streets. Many Bantyric and Warreic did not see these parts of the cities they visited, much happier to stay within commercial high rises and dedicated beach-side resorts.

A place to stay was the goal of the day, finding the PLF would not be done in one day, or at least the first day she was here, an inn/bar combo with a name she could not read was the first thing she saw entering it's dusty confines the bar was as expected packed with men boisterously laughing at the various stories of their lives. The proprietor took immediate notice of her as not many white women walked into his bar, at least not without some sort of company attached to their arm.

"Excuse me miss, perhaps you are lost." He said in Warreic quickly walking up to her hoping to avoid a spectacle. The drunken patrons with their backs to them had yet to notice.

"No, I am not." She returned in perfect Warreic, "I am looking to rent a room, I have many Banc's of which I am sure is worth much more than your ringgit."

The proprietor looked down at the few hundred Banc bills and took it happily. "Of course, a room you shall have." He took her up stairs, past the drunken men who had finally taken notice as she quickly walked up the stairs. The room the proprietor had opened up for her was semi clean and only stunk a little bit. "This shall do, you may leave now." The proprietor bowed his head and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Kirsten looked around the room before setting her small satchel on a rickety desk in the corner. The room was small but enough for one persons needs, it had a small closet with a thin door and the bathroom was outside at the end of the hallway. She debated on whether she should strip the sheets off but figured the mattress itself was much dirtier than the sheets that lay upon it. She quickly closed the window in effort to stop the fumes of the streets below from souring the smell of the room any further.

The bed squeaked as she lay upon it still clothed, her body was tired from the long sea journey over and soon she found herself falling into a deep sleep.

Hours Later

Kirsten awoke from her slumber feeling just as tired as she was when she fell asleep. The bed did not offer the rejuvenation she so craved, it was no matter, she expected her time in Kayah Tanah to be a hard one. The sounds of the bar below filtered through the old floorboards she stood on, the window showed it to be dark outside and no doubt the patronage had grown larger since she had entered the bar earlier that day. As she walked down the steps, the smell of cigarette smoke and sweat wafted up assaulting her nose. In the room she could see several uniformed men and many other civilians all sitting at tables or on stools at the bar. She took the end stool at the bar, resting her elbows on the cheap wood.

"What will it be?" The proprietor from before asked.

"Whiskey, Warreic, if you have it." She asked. The man nodded and pulled out a bottle from underneath the bar. He set the whiskey tumbler in front of her and poured. She did not partake of the drink as soon as it was in front of her, opting to let it sit before downing the drink. He poured another before going to attend to his other customers. She sat for what seemed like an eternity, keeping an eye on the uniformed men, they did not look like city police to her. The Proprietor noticed her curiosity, "Border guards from the armistice zone, they get time off to spend in the cities sometimes. Say, you aren't running from the police or something are you?" He whispered.

"No," she simply answered. "Who is the one in civilian clothing sitting with them?" She whispered back.

"Oh, he doesn't work with the border security anymore, he come in here many times a week to sit with guard friends." He willingly gave her the information hoping more money might come his way in the future, she waved him off for now with a quiet thanks. The ex-guard caught her staring at him and he returned his gaze to his friends, now quietly whispering in the Kayathan language. The uniformed men left and the man she had her eye on walked up behind her, slipping his hand between her arm to feel her breast. Kirsten lightly grabbed him and removed his hand from her, turning to face him. What occurred for the next hour or so was a disgraced ex-border officer trying to impress her with knowledge of his job and how dangerous it was. Kirsten was surprised at the amount of information the man would divulge to her at the slight hope of getting to lay with a white woman. The two walked up to the room she had rented prior, she pushed him onto the foul bed revealing her bosom to him to complete her control upon the man. She turned, he bare back now facing him as she walked toward her bag, she slowly pulled out a perfectly balanced knife given to her years ago when she joined Cormack in Clear Sky. She whipped around to face him, expertly throwing the hard steel knife into his chest, it plunged into his heart with deadly precision. His surprised scream was muffled by the sounds of the floor below and the blood that filled his throat, the man was dead within seconds.

Kirsten covered her bare breasts once more and removed the knife from the foolish man's heart, she now had enough information to find her way into the Armistice Zone and avoid the patrols.

The Next Day

Kirsten had left the dirty inn as soon as she had killed the ex-border guard, she had found a guide who would lead her into the jungle and with the right amount of money, acquired a pistol of which she concealed in the waistband of her now dirty pants. Killing the guide would prove easy now that they were deep in the jungle. The flora and Fauna of the jungle amazed her, the power of the Earth Mother Cormack spoke so fondly of could be felt and heard in this lush dangerous land. She had seen the loggers on their way in, they way the destroyed the trees sickened her, they would suffer for their transgressions soon enough. The massive wire mesh fence that surrounded the Armistice Zone was visible through the trees. Behind those fences lie the people she hoped could help her in turn for her own type of help. She followed behind the guide who spoke only a spotty helping of Warreic.

"You services are no longer required," she said pulling the gun out and shooting him twice in the back and once more in the head to finish him off.
​

​

 

[Havenshire]

Deep Inside the Armistice Zone
Ninth May, 1997

The Cloth bag was removed from Kirsten's head. She gasped, breathing in the air, and wincing as her eyes adjusted to the light. Her wrists chafed from the tight ropes wrapped around them, and her head ached from where it had been hit by a rifle-butt. But otherwise, she considered, she was remarkably intact for someone who had just been ambushed and kidnapped by some of the world's most feared Jungle guerillas, and then force marched through dense undergrowth, blind, to goodness knows where. All she knew was that it had been uphill and through truly dense terrain. They had stopped to camp only three times, so it couldn't be later than the 9th of May.

As her eyes focused, she could see that she was inside a dark wooden shack, a single window of dull ageing glass shedding some dappled light into the room. The room was bare, save for a single straw mattress and hard wooden pallet, and a steel bucket. She was facing 3 men in dull black and grey gi tunics and leather trousers, 1 of whom was pointing an AK-47 at her. The other two had slung their rifles, and were glaring at her. A 4th man stood behind a glaring searchlight, which was being shone into her face, hence the brightness.

"Welcome to Rahasia Benteng, White woman. Not many are allowed to see even this much of it. Why are you here?" the voice was cold and firm,and spoke Warreic crisply with an odd accent. It emanated form the 4th man.
"My name is Kirsten. I am here to learn, and to share valuable infor-" They doused her with a bucket of cold water, causing her to shudder and shiver, spluttering.
"We can do that again, only with the bag over your head, again. I believe they call it "Water-boarding" in the Civilised world." the voice said with a smirk. "You are here to learn? A Niave idealist, perhaps, looking to join the PLF." His voice invited smirks from the others.
She hardened herself, remembering all the ordeals she had been through. She would not let it end like this. "I am a fighter for the cause. I have killed men to be here. I have killed many before, and will kill more again. I demand to speak to your leader. I am Pejuang." she used the Kayathna word with emphasis, with its double meaning of Freedom Fighter...and Terrorist.
The 4th man sighed. "It is a pity that we cannot use such useful idiots now. How many disgusting capitalist Rakasa we could of killed with you as a lure..." The men laughed, and began pacing her. She suddenly realised that waterboarding might not be the only thing they had in mind.

She realised she would have to tell them the whole truth.
"My name is Kirsten of the Clear Sky. I was second to Cormack, our Leader. We read Youh's Book, On Guerilla Warfare. We fought hard to cleanse our land of the corrupting Capitalists. I was instrumental in many attacks on Wylin-Teagan-" she let it all out in a rush. She had endured sexual violence from men before, but had little desire to endure it again.
The 4th man held up a hand, and the other men stopped their prowling. "Your words are long and mean little to us, here. You speak of reading the work of the Great Leader, yet it has been ten years since we last made efforts to disseminate the books. Why should we care, anyway? You are White Rakasa, and they have always been our enemies." Despite the harsh words, he seemed to be listening now.

"Why does the guerrilla fighter fight? We must come to the inevitable conclusion that the guerrilla fighter is a social reformer, that he takes up arms responding to the angry protest of the people against their oppressors, and that he fights in order to change the social system that keeps all his unarmed brothers- and sisters- in ignominy and misery." She quoted verbatim the opening section of the illegal book by Heng-suan Youh. "I fight, just as you, in order to change a system that keeps my people in ignominy no less great, just because it is adorned with material lies and illusions to keep the majority docile."

The 4th man seemed to consider her words. "If you have read the book, then I do not see why you come here. There can only be Death for you, in our Jungles. If you were a true Pejuang, you would know this."

"I know that the struggle of one people is the struggle of all. On page 61, Comrade Youh speaks of the Three Worlds- the First World, of Imperialists, the Second, of Revisionists, and the Third, of the Enlightened. I would say instead that all 3 Worlds are One World- Gaia. Once you believed in Revolution against the First World. I believe in Revolution in all Worlds, for all Humanity. A Victory won in one world, is a victory for all." she shot back.

The 4th man seemed taken aback by her conviction. "You have given us something to think about. We will return." One of the men cut her bonds, and roughly shoved her into the corner by the Mattress. Whilst still covering her with the AK, the others took the searchlight away as soon as the 4th man had left.

They then slammed a heavy iron door, bolting it shut as they left. She was alone. She ran to the glass window, but could see that there was a guard immediately outside it. He glared at her, and rapped it hard with his AK. "bullet-proof." he mumbled in broken Warreic. "Try not."

Sighing with fatigue, she sat back on the mattress. It seemed she'd have to play a waiting game, but for how long?

 

[Havenshire]

ONE YEAR LATER
MAY 1998


At first, they had left her alone, for a week, feeding her and checking up on her. That had been the hardest, alone, not knowing what was going on, with nothing to do but stare at blank walls. She had retreated inside herself then, dwelling ever more on memories of happier times. On the sixth night alone, she had wept like a baby, the pain she had held for so long over Cormack's death flooding back into her. She realised then what it truly meant to be Human, and not just an Agent of a Higher Cause. She remembered Cormack's gentle eyes, the passion and conviction in his voice. She realised also that she had loved him, and she wondered why she had never acted on these feelings.

On the Eighth day, they opened the door, and they took her pale, much thinner self out of the building, and into the bright, humid jungle clearing. As her eyes adjusted to the bright morning light, she looked around, and saw that she was in a wooden village that seamlessly blended with the jungle around her. She had assumed she would have been taken to an armed encampment, or some kind of mountain fortress. But this place was virtually identical to the kind of rural rice-farmer villages she had passed through to the Armistice Zone. It had been only eleven days ago, But it felt like a lifetime already.

In the middle of the village was a bamboo chair, into which she was guided. She sat with weak, wobbling knees. Sat across from her, were 5 aged men, all wearing faded millitary uniforms that she recognised as being the so-called People's Army of Kayah Tanah. Mass produced in Vangala between 1969 and 1974, these uniforms were quite rare, and had been worn mostly only by PLF officers and elite soldiers. She realised these men were most likely the surviving High Command of that nominal entity.

They began to speak, and a younger PLF member off to the side translated for her. She was grateful, as although she had a smattering of Kayath, it was clear these men spoke a very thick tribal dialect version of it.
"The Generals Executive have come to a decision about you, Kirsten of the Clear Sky. They have accquired intelligence about you from abroad, and what you have said about yourself seems to bare out." The translator's voice was clipped and formal, and without emotion.

"They have decided to teach you the ways of the Penjang."

For a moment she simply sat and stared mutely, unable to believe what she had heard. It seemed almost unreal, after all she had endured, to finally be given a second purpose.

They cut her bonds, and helped her out of the chair.
"From now on your name is Jelas Langit- the Clear Sky. You will be trained and educated in the same way that we train all of our community chose to become a Fighter of the People. But do not mistake us. When your training is complete, you will not be assigned to a Cell. Instead, we will escort you outside the Armistice Zone, and you will accquire for us the equipment that you promised. You will do this, or we will find ways to make you and your family suffer. We have agents in Bantyr."

The words overwhelmed her. It was too much information, coming too quickly. But that was ok, they would repeat it again for her. She had time. First, they would feed her, then wash her, then clothe her. Then, her new life would begin.

The first few weeks were harsh, brutal. She didnt speak their language, their code, their dialect. She did not act in the way they did, she found their simple rustic diets difficult to adjust to. She had to give up on her Vegetarian ways, and eat meat the same as them. It was necessary to survive. It was also how she learned of their Punishment. Failure to finish a bowl of food, wasting resources that could have been better used elsewhere, saw her being rapped across the knuckles like a naughty schoolchild. The pain smarted, but the greater pain was the laughter that everyone in the mess hall was encouraged to direct towards her.

Life with the PLF was harsh, but fair. She had lived a difficult life before, but the PLF way was...clearer. It seemed more rational, closer to the balance humanity must strike with the Planet, completely free of the excesses and the comforts that a consumerist lifestyle encouraged. She grew leaner, tougher. She proved herself more than adept with their small-arms, so they gave her a sniper rifle, and then a LMG, and then they trained her in the use of grenades and improvised explosives. She had finally been able then, to prove herself as more than just an extra hand. For all her striving and skill, she had still felt like she was a burden to these people, an unwanted white person imitating them, trying to be one of them when she could never be. But in explosives, and other subjects, she could teach them. She could be of use to them. She taught them about the many modern chemicals now available. They knew all about fertilisers, crude pipe-bombs and making landmines. But she taught them about more sophisticated stuff, like Semtex, specialised liquids, and ways to improvise in the field. She taught them about laser-tripwires, about specialist security systems.

In her fourth month, now already tanned, her hair cut back brutally short and bunking regularly with the Women's Unit, they took her away from regular training, and gave her a crude 1980s computer they had, amazingly, managed to smuggle in. She tried to turn it on, but it failed to boot. She rooted through it, and found that, whoever sold it or stole it, had neglected to bring vital chips.

By now her Kayathna was improving. She communicated as best she could that the machine was defective. They muttered angrily, and said that they would get her a better one. The following week, they brought in a brand new copy of the Doors 95 OS, on a state of the art Personal computer, for 1997, at anyrate. Of how, form who, and why, she was given no details.

She then began to teach them in Computers, but they lacked access to the Internet. Nonetheless, she taught the PLF, who adapted quickly, to the ins and outs of the technology. She asked for more machines, and, somehow, more were procured. She taught them about the different OSs, the common features and functions, how to assemble and strip a PC, how to make viruses. She taught them of the importance of Information Warfare.

Winter soon came. Monsoon rains lashed the village, and they moved to higher ground. She was stunned at the place they took her too. High in the most remote Mountains of the hinterland of Kayah Tanah, beneath the ruins of an ancient Buddhist Temple, they had somehow built or appropriated a massive bunker complex. It was filled with rusting, rotting computers from the 70s, and there was even a Hangar filled with grounded, rusting Helicopters. They even taught her, as best they could, how to fly such a vehicle, though it was a ludicrous excercise, as they could not simulate the true experience of flying, unable to waste precious fuel or risk exposing their hideout to ever watchful capitalist spy planes.

It was then that she felt at her loneliest, living in a cold, remote, millitary complex, completely devoid from the life she had once known. She had once considered lying with other PLF men, but they all seemed completely disinterested in her, raised to hate those with white skin as capitalists and oppressors. True, they had come to grudgingly accept her, but true love seemed impossible. Instead, she had lain in bed, and dreamed of Cormack, who now seemed an ever more distant memory. Sometimes she had nightmares, replaying his suicide over and over again, driving her to near-madness and frustration.

Instead, silently, born out of mutual understanding, she had lain with some of her Women's Unit Sisters. Apparently such things were a common practice, even though many did or soon would have husbands, and be re-assigned to housewife duties, raising children and providing essential domestic services for the commune.

Spring came again, and finally, it was time to leave.

On the same day that she had been brought into the camp, they took her back to the house she had been imprisoned in that first time. Inside, waiting for her, was an aged man in a uniform again. But it was not one of the Generals Executive, who she knew by name now. It was a man she had not seen before, which was odd, given how she had been with the PLF for a year now.

"Hello, Jelas. Or should I say Kirsten. You have greatly fascinated me these last few months. We have had White recruits before, but you certainly are exceptional." He said in perfect Warreic. His voice seemed familiar, somehow.
"I have served the People as I was instructed. I have learned what was taught, and given in fair and equal exchange all the knowledge I could, with the resources available, on new developments outside the Zone." She replied, in equally perfect Kayathna. She too had grown and learned. She deferred to this man, as had now become habit, as she would to any PLF officer.

"At ease, soldier. You need not be Jelas Langit anymore. You are done here, with us. We have taught you all we can. I am certain you are aware how much trust has been placed in you. How much we have compromised, as we have never done so before, to you. Yet I do not consider our bargain complete, at least not yet. You will accompany a squad of our most skilled Infiltrators beyond the Zone. We believe that there is a Laptop manufacturing plant roughly 80 kilometers southeast of the edge of the Zone, near the coast by Penjarah Sarang. You will go there, and you will accquire Laptops for us."
She cut in. "With all due respect, sir, but such a mission is very far behind enemy lines, in territory I am unfamiliar with. I would stick out like a sore thumb."
The old officer smiled, and laughed croakily. "Ah! You truly think like a Penjang now! No, you will not be going as a Commando. You will be going as a fresh immigrant from Bantyr, to procure a job there, and get us direct access to the Laptops. You are Kirsten MacConlan now. We have procured the paperwork and passport neccesary. I apologise for returning you so abruptly to a world you have grown unfamiliar with. I can see you have truly become one of us, in your heart. But know this, Penjang Jelal. You are not, and never can be one of us. It was I who ordered the men to be so cold to you. I could not risk them- or you- forming attachments to them. I know you are Human, like us. But you have a different destiny, Kirsten of the Clear Sky. You will, after this mission is completed, return to Bantyr. You have your own dream to pursue, your own destiny. Destroy the Capitalists there, and we shall forever remember you with true warmth."

Kirsten stood there, stunned. His words, though spoken with emotion, cut at the self she had constructed for herself in that long, difficult year. She had celebrated her birthday in the Communist way, sharing a cake she had baked herself- with difficulty- with all in her Unit. She had, against all the odds, made a real connection with these strange, harsh, but fanatically driven people.
"Thank you, comrade. May I fetch my things before I depart for the Mission?" She said, holding her welling emotions back.
"You may. And- Kirsten? Thank you for quoting my own words back at me, and helping an Old man remember what it was all about." He smiled, and it was with sudden shock that she realised she had been talking to Heng-suan Youh.

"But-I mean- it was you?"
"Yes. I wanted to see for myself what would bring a decadent white westerner to go to such lengths to enter here. I half thought you might be another Warreic spy, but you have since proven to me otherwise." His eyes flashed, and his tone suddenly became more grave. "However, if you ever betray us or the cause to anyone, we will find ways to revenge ourselves upon you, no matter what was proven here. Do you understand?"

"I do, Great Leader."
"Please, do not call me that. I am simply...Youh."

================================================================

 

[The Federation]

THE VOYAGE HOME
I miss them all dearly, 1997 may have just been the most eye opening year of my life. It is sort of the same feeling as when I was abandoned by my parents as a child. My real parents may be dead now but it's good to know that I have a sort of surrogate family somewhere on this planet. - Excerpt from the Diary of Kirsten McTavish

Twenty-second of August, 1999
Haskell Corporation Cargo Ship, The Highlander
The Long Sea, Thirty miles south of Zadar-Istrian

The next year had passed quickly, Kirsten had amazed herself how easily she was able to lie and cheat in her mission to supply the PLF with fresh new laptops. The offer of flesh alone had done wonders to allow a many laptops to be pilfered from the assembly line, the rest were stolen from trucks traveling on the roads or in simple administrative 'errors' and fudging of production numbers. No matter the successes of the infiltration mission she was refused re-entry into the PLF's home. In the year she had been there she had been ready to give up the Clear Sky movement to join in the PLF's valiant struggle against the consumerist and decadent capitalists who threatened to destroy the lives of innocent people. She returned to CarrickTherran, to the ports, to find her way home the way she returned. As she prepared to board the ship as part of it's crew she promised herself she would someday return to Kayah Tanah, to keep in contact with the PLF somehow, to find out how it's mission to overthrow the capitalists was going.

On the boat life was hard, it was once again an all man crew, molestation was frequent but she endured it. Through every moment of abuse and overwork the vision of returning the Clear Sky movement to it's former glory was the only thing that kept her going on. Her training with the PLF allowed her to fight off the advances of the men, broken noses and a short stay in the ship's infirmary were common for the men who inappropriately touched her. It was in these moments when she noticed how much physically stronger she had become, she hadn't took notice of her own body for a long time, when she had arrived in Kayah Tanah she lacked strength but in the time with the PLF where fitness was paramount to their goals she had become lean, much of the small amount of fat she had a few years ago was completely gone. It was then where she realized that to be truly one with nature one must treat the body as they should treat nature, to keep it clean of impurities and maintain it in peak condition. The food she had eaten in the Armistice Zone was free of the impurities one would find if it was processed in a factory, it was much more natural and healthy. Kirsten had determined that the new Clear Sky organization would be much more military in it's way of doing things, Cormack's Clear Sky lacked discipline and in that lack of discipline it was defeated by a disciplined Bantyric police and military force, a force which at that time would not retreat in the face of sustained opposition. This new Clear Sky needed to be much more fanatical, ready to lay down their lives to bring about a harmonious world.

These experiences hardened her, the destruction of Clear Sky, the constant threat of rape and molestation on the voyages to and from Kayah Tanah, the abandonment by her parents, and the inability to return to the PLF, they all shaped her into a woman who could take much punishment. On the last night of the voyage home she killed a man who cornered her in the engine room, the engineers had left to allow this one to have his way with her. The mess had been quickly cleaned up and the body stealthily dumped into the ocean, as she watched the lifeless body plummet over the side of the cargo she looked up and saw the towers of Port Fiona gleaming in the distance. She smiled to herself the next morning as the crew frantically searched for the missing crewman, the road to a world where man lived as one with nature would be a long and arduous one. Even finding the right people would be hard enough; she was starting from scratch but she knew it in her heart that the journey would be worth it, the skies would soon be clear and underneath the ever lasting blue would the world finally in balance.
​

 

[The Federation]

WHERE GREEN LEAVES DARE​

Tonight is the night we reveal ourselves to the public, the night we return from the dead, resurrected to fight once more against those who purposefully pollute and destroy our planet. For the last twelves years I have rebuilt this organization from the ground up and now we finally are ready for our first strike. If I planned it correctly we will catch the lecherous Alan Weylin with his pants down and kill him. It's interesting to note the lack of security Weylin has surrounded himself when comparing him to his corporate counterpart Rose Teagan, it's as if she is expecting someone to attack her or perhaps she knows we were scouting her daily routine which I highly doubt. I believe it may be indicative of a serious split in the clan relations of the corporate co-op that is Weylin-Teagan Steel, however it is of no matter we must strike now or risk being caught trying to wait for a time where they are together.​

-excerpt from the diary of Kirsten McTavish​

1:00AM, Twenty-third of July, 2011
Ocean View Luxury Apartments
Port Fiona, Bantyr​

In the streets of Port Fiona the cold An Lyric ocean breeze somehow found it's way through the avenues and streets of the towering city, neon lights pushed away the moons natural light, bathing the entire city in a myriad of colorful lights and flashes. A Police van weaved through the midnight traffic toward the southern district of the city where the affluent rich lived in luxurious high rise apartments looking down on those less fortunate. Inside the van the clatter of weapons loading and equipment being prepared could be heard. Kirsten sat on the passenger side, a pistol in her lap, going over the plan in her head over and over again. It was easy to obtain the van and uniforms after the economic difficulties the country brought upon itself, some police departments disappeared in the budget restructuring and uniforms and vehicles were stolen and sold on the black market created by the troubles, the hard part would be pulling it off and convincing those who needed to be fooled just long enough to breech Weylin's security detail long enough to get in the perfect positions for taking them out.

This city had changed much since she had arrived back in the country. When she left it was in the midst of a transition from a dirty gray industrial and naval port to the gleaming symbol of Bantyr's rise as a competitive economy. The economic crisis had yet to wipe that away and appearances stayed the same but the impending failure could be felt, the rich could not prop the city up forever. It did not matter to her though, the turmoil it caused helped her keep Clear Sky hidden while she recruited and rebuilt the organization; it made the acquisition of weapons and vehicles easier.

Kirsten looked over at the driver and sensing her gaze upon him he glanced over to her. “Not long now, we will be there in two minutes.” Kirsten knocked her fist on the see-through grate separating the driver's cab from where her fighters were sitting in the back, they all collectively looked up at that moment, the clattering of preparation stopping momentarily so she could speak. “You all know what to do,” Kirsten reminded, “Two minutes.” A wave of silence washed over the vehicle as confirmation that they were really doing this entered their minds. The excitement levels could be felt rising as the silence continued. Some of them stared at the floor, others faced straight ahead with their eyes closed, perhaps praying to the gods to watch over them and ensure a successful operation. Two minutes felt like two hours before the vehicle finally came to a stop in front of the apartment building.

PENTHOUSE LEVEL
OCEAN VIEW LUXURY APARTMENTS​

The sixty year old Alan Weylin giggled drunkenly as the two young women slowly removed their clothing revealing their young flesh to him. To his left a silver platter was filled with a mound of cocaine, to his right a selection of expensive alcohol. His heart pounded quickly in his chest and he felt like he had unlimited energy from the constant ingestion of cocaine. The girls slowly walked toward him, stopping just short of where he sat and fell to their knees. Weylin took some cocaine and created several lines upon a small mirrored surface he had produced from a bag next to him. “Come on girls, feel the world like I do.” The girls took rolled up bills and snorted the cocaine.

GROUND LEVEL
OCEAN VIEW LUXURY APARTMENTS
​

The strike team exited the back of the van, all of them wearing stolen police uniforms. They weren't worried about drawing attention to themselves, after the passage of the Eugenics bill not long ago, roving bands of police officers could be seen rounding up individuals who had refused to be tested for diseases and defects that could be passed on to their children. The doorman had walked over to the group asking if there was a problem. Kirsten who had taken the lead assured the doorman that there were no serious problems and that they needed access to the building to detain a man who had refused testing. The doorman nodded and smiled allowing the group of six 'officers' to enter the building and returned to his desk.

“Where does this elevator lead,” Kirsten asked the doorman.

“Oh, that goes to the penthouse,” he answered nervously, “Mr. Weylin asked not to be bothered, I can't let you up there without his permission.”

“Is that so,” she said walking over to the doorman.

The doorman stood up and sighed about to tell her once again with a little more courage this time, but Kirsten struck before he could answer, punching him directly in the throat collapsing his trachea. As the doorman fell back clutching his throat trying to breath, she produced a silence pistol and shot him in the head, ending his struggle. The muffled report slightly echoed in the stone lobby and blood squirted out from behind his head. The desk hid the sight from the view of anyone passing in front of the doorway. Kirsten removed a set of keys from the doorman's pocket and threw them to one of her comrades. “Lock the door Patterson,” she ordered. After Patterson locked the door he threw the keys back to Kirsten and she quickly found the key to the private elevator. As they entered the elevator two bags were dropped on the floor and they huddled around it arming themselves with silenced automatic weapons, body armor and gas masks. The elevator climbed to the top floor opening into the penthouse's foyer. As the elevator doors opened the guard standing next to the entrance of the penthouse looked up in horror before being ripped to shreds by a burst of automatic fire. The strike team exited the elevator and took positions around the foyer. Several guards burst through the door opposite of the elevator, the first guard throw being ripped apart by gun fire, however the other guards were much more lucky taking positions behind granite support poles and firing from cover. The strike team threw tear gas at the guards flushing them out of their positions, they advanced taking out the disoriented guards.

The door to Alan Weylin's bedroom flew off it's hinges followed by a cloud of drywall dust thrown up from the explosion. He screamed pushing the naked girl's heads out of his lap and falling out of the chair he sat in. Kirsten walked up to the frightened man and pulled her gas mask off her face. “You bastard, even in your private life you display no respect for humanity or this planet.”

“Who are you to judge me you fucking cunt!” he yelled in his heavy northern Bantyric accent despite being outnumbered by six heavily armed individuals. He reached for a button, knocking over the mound of cocaine from it's stand covering him in white cocaine powder. The strike team laughed at his clumsiness and then unload their magazines on Alan Weylin and his call girls. Their bodies were ripped apart, blood, brain matter, silicone gel, alcohol and cocaine littered the floor after the firing stopped. Kirsten opened a pocket on her vest, pulled out an old book and threw it on the dead bodies. The strike team returned to the elevator and proceeded back to the lobby. The plan worked, no one had heard the invasion or had even noticed the lack of a doorman at the desk, humanity's inherent ignorance working to their advantage. Before leaving they rigged the lobby with incendiary explosives as they piled into the stolen police van they detonated the bombs, bathing the bottom floors in fire. The fire department would stop the fire and the police would be delayed in getting to the penthouse, by tomorrow morning they would find the scene and the news agencies would be heralding their return across the nation and perhaps the world.