Eternity RPC Board
3rd Penal Brigade
Histria National Airport
1312 hours
![[Image: PN8Qs16.png]](http://imgur.com/PN8Qs16.png)
MT5 Bogand answered the men's questions, then strode briskly back to the assembled penal companies to perform the Ritual of Redemption. Company commanders saluted, and their men assumed rigid attention. Bogand dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
"At ease."
The shuffing boots of the six hundred echoed across the tarmac.
"Men of Vestor and Chiri, MT13s, those who have murdered through action and those who have murdered through inaction, you of the Third Penal Brigade - hear me, and well. Your crimes deserve death, but you will be given a second chance. Your victims cry out from the grave, but you will not join them just yet. We have accepted your applications for penal service, and your one-year term starts today. Survivors at the end of that year will be uptiered back to MT9 and their records sealed. Those who die will die in glory, and your next of kin will be uptiered to honor your death. Consequently, deserters will be shot and those who surrender will be left to robber-baron tortures - and your next of kin will be downtiered for your dishonor. Do not fail them. Do not fail me."
Bogand retrieved another coffin nail from his breast pocket and lit it, puffing as he spoke.
"Our employer has brought us here to redeem these islands from foreign degeneracy, but I have brought you here to redeem yourselves. You will fight men better equipped, better supplied, better reinforced - that is by design. There is no sacrifice without struggle. Where the foe will be savage, we will be swift. Where he is brutal, we will be cunning. Your only reinforcement will be your own mind, so use it well. Follow your commanders without hesitation or question, for it will save your life. I, too, will be with you. Not only advising your commanders with the same cunning of Durak's Pass and Hill 450, but alongside you with rifle butt and bayonet should the need arise. As you will give your lives to our people, I will give my life to you."
The thin cloud of smoke around him reflected the midday light like a halo. The one addressing them was no longer the grandfatherly officer Yuri Bogand, but MT5 Bogand the lionhearted, chainsmoking angel of death.
"Now, you six hundred, go and fight as true citizens would. Live or die, I will see you redeemed this day. Wherever you go, translators, whether to the ports or the airports or the radio stations or the government offices - tell them that no native will be leaving the islands. Your company commanders will follow your words with force if need be. Assemble lists of the pilots, ship captains, radio technicians, police officers, and government officials wherever you go. We will need their services when we dig in. Dismissed."
Bogand took a long, final drag on his cigarette and let it smolder on the runway.
"Tell them to keep their Vestian uniforms in their packs," he said in a low whisper to the brigade XO, gesturing to their foreign uniforms they wore. "We will need every resource for deception if we are to survive this."
The six hundred stuffed their packs with their old uniforms, shouldered their rifles, and followed their Mir handlers onto the ships. From there, they went to Histria, Bradea, and other government-held sites on Caladria and Capidia. Soon the fighting would begin. The specter of war hastened over the islands, not quick to disperse.
Histria National Airport
1312 hours
MT5 Bogand answered the men's questions, then strode briskly back to the assembled penal companies to perform the Ritual of Redemption. Company commanders saluted, and their men assumed rigid attention. Bogand dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
"At ease."
The shuffing boots of the six hundred echoed across the tarmac.
"Men of Vestor and Chiri, MT13s, those who have murdered through action and those who have murdered through inaction, you of the Third Penal Brigade - hear me, and well. Your crimes deserve death, but you will be given a second chance. Your victims cry out from the grave, but you will not join them just yet. We have accepted your applications for penal service, and your one-year term starts today. Survivors at the end of that year will be uptiered back to MT9 and their records sealed. Those who die will die in glory, and your next of kin will be uptiered to honor your death. Consequently, deserters will be shot and those who surrender will be left to robber-baron tortures - and your next of kin will be downtiered for your dishonor. Do not fail them. Do not fail me."
Bogand retrieved another coffin nail from his breast pocket and lit it, puffing as he spoke.
"Our employer has brought us here to redeem these islands from foreign degeneracy, but I have brought you here to redeem yourselves. You will fight men better equipped, better supplied, better reinforced - that is by design. There is no sacrifice without struggle. Where the foe will be savage, we will be swift. Where he is brutal, we will be cunning. Your only reinforcement will be your own mind, so use it well. Follow your commanders without hesitation or question, for it will save your life. I, too, will be with you. Not only advising your commanders with the same cunning of Durak's Pass and Hill 450, but alongside you with rifle butt and bayonet should the need arise. As you will give your lives to our people, I will give my life to you."
The thin cloud of smoke around him reflected the midday light like a halo. The one addressing them was no longer the grandfatherly officer Yuri Bogand, but MT5 Bogand the lionhearted, chainsmoking angel of death.
"Now, you six hundred, go and fight as true citizens would. Live or die, I will see you redeemed this day. Wherever you go, translators, whether to the ports or the airports or the radio stations or the government offices - tell them that no native will be leaving the islands. Your company commanders will follow your words with force if need be. Assemble lists of the pilots, ship captains, radio technicians, police officers, and government officials wherever you go. We will need their services when we dig in. Dismissed."
Bogand took a long, final drag on his cigarette and let it smolder on the runway.
"Tell them to keep their Vestian uniforms in their packs," he said in a low whisper to the brigade XO, gesturing to their foreign uniforms they wore. "We will need every resource for deception if we are to survive this."
The six hundred stuffed their packs with their old uniforms, shouldered their rifles, and followed their Mir handlers onto the ships. From there, they went to Histria, Bradea, and other government-held sites on Caladria and Capidia. Soon the fighting would begin. The specter of war hastened over the islands, not quick to disperse.