[b]Northern Russia[/b]

The sharp bitter taste of ash hung in the air. It petrified the other senses, dulling them in a haze of char and gasoline after burn. The stagnant sickening taste lingered in the nose as much as it did on the tongue as the ashes fell down to Earth. Smoke rose in a solid mass for the clear skies above. The area was warm, but not in a regular sense. The muffled sounds of distant gunshots still echoed in the clear wind as Yun-Qi walked through, a ragged cloth pressed tightly to his face; in part to the offensive odor that swam in the milky air.

His boots crunched over the broken brick and timbers of buildings laid to waste my mortar. Glass shards littered the wet slushy concrete from the windows that had been blown out. The brick and concrete behemoth that rose above the Russian wilderness base had been disheveled. By the shattered windows, heavy bullet holes, and thick black char marks it had been quick and violent.

Between the sheet-metal barracks rested stacked bodies of slain Russian resistance. Their uniforms torn and dirties by the mud and smoke. Patches of blood stained the thick woolen uniforms, ribbons drooled out from their mouths as they stared back at the examining officer with glassy eyes. Their skin like parchment as the snow fell on their cheeks as delicate crumbs of black and gray.

Leaned against the side of the command center were laid out the fallen bodies of his men. The Chinese who had given their lives had been laid out and arranged. There was more ceremony in their place than the Russians that had been tossed aside and stacked like chords of discarded wood. Their fallen comrades had been set on the ground like they were sleeping. At their sides lay their rifles and automatic weapons. A heavy blanket had been pulled over them, hiding everything above their ankles. And still their bodies were attended to as the examiners went between the fallen, or recently found were laid out.

“I'd say it would have been more effective if in the end we had not driven in circles around their base.” an officer said, walking up to beside Yun-Qi. He looked tired and pale. His coat had been tattered and a splattering of blood had been painted over a shoulder. A heavy collar of thick gauze was wrapped around his neck, holding in a bloodied wound.

“It certainly ended quick.” Yun-qi observed, looking over the scene of battle, “I had hardly come in with the rest. It was starting to quite. Do you know how?” he asked.

“All I know is that at one point we were making circles around their compound. I was first to tear through the fence in my group. We had it empty and we tore through the defense like I would expect from a tub of butter. But as we filled in I don't think there was much room to keep up maneuvers.” he pointed over to a collection of bent and crashed buggies

“I nearly got blind-sided but another cart passing between the CP and their firing range.” he said, “The Russians packed things hot and heavy in here. I think this place wasn't meant to house that many soldiers in this sort of space. Their command center looks too much like a prison, we broke into their yard.”

“A prison?” Yun-Qi quipped, “I can see that.” he nodded, looking at the parameter. The spindly, wooden guard towers formed an even enough parameter, and it'd explain the barb wire.

“So maybe if we rode you around the edge.”

“Wouldn't have stopped the stalling. I fucking hate those things.” the officer swore. Pointing to the wound on his neck he continued, “As soon as our cart stalled someone clipped me with a rifle round. If it was just a few centimeters off, comrade.”

“A terrible shot then, the Russians.”

“I'd say it was luck if I wasn't in this army.” he quipped.

“Now, why is it burning?” Quan asked bitterly, turning in the kicked up, blackened slush as he threw his hand out, brushing through the drifting soot and ash as it fell back down over them.

“I can't tell you.” the officer said, “After I got stuck and my driver and I took shelter in one of their bunkers we heard explosions. Must have been...” he paused, thinking, “Seven minutes in. If I can get back to my squad then we'll put together an after action report.”

“Good, good. Thank you comrade.” Quan Yun-Qi mumbled appreciatively. He turned and looked over the scene. “Is their headquarters secured?” he asked dryly.

“I believe it is. Man Hu went in with his men to sweep it out. They've been pulling out prisoners since. No word on their CO.”

“Keep looking then.” Quan nodded, “I need to ask some more questions.”

“Certainly.” the officer bowed, “We'll join up later for hot tea under a roof, shall we?”

“Consider it an open invitation.”

“As I would expect.” the lieutenant replied back as he turned. His boots scuffing along the whetted cement as he and his superior parted.

Along the sides of the open court yard sat in park or in salvage the buggies produced for them by the Siberians. Their spartan and open design clearly having not favored the battle well. And with the flurry of fight done, so were these motors silenced. Frames either dented, or blood splattered on the seats they sat quiet along the side. They were not nearly as touched as the smaller Chinese variants, which were looked at with a certain amount of pride by their users.

Not having been simply left behind, the Personnel Carriers that had so swiftly reinforced the spearhead into the compound were not left ignored or unwashed. Done with battle, their attendees crouched beside them, painting out the scars of war. Or patched what holes had been made in any one of their six wheels. In the aftermath, it was clear what horse the men favored, and which had unlikely bore the blame of casualties.

The piling dead and waiting wounded weren't the only things collected by the end of this. As Quan rounded around the corner of the immense plain brick and cement monster he walked along a gathering of prisoners. Battered, pale, and bloodied those Russians who had laid down their arms – wounded or otherwise – in battle were forced to crouch. Hands over their heads they sat in the cold mud facing the plain exterior of their command's barren gray wall. Patrolling the edge armed guards watched over the clearly tired defense as another dug through their weapons. Checking, counting, and cataloging the day's praise.

Yun-Qi didn't know where they'd go in the end. But what ammunition could not be used would be sent somewhere. The command wanted it so.

Yun-Qi was greeted by salutes as he passed. He returned the gesture in kind as he made his way through.

And beyond where the prisoners were being held, was the source of the ash. At the bottom of a low dip, behind chain-link torn and ravaged was were the Russian garrison had set itself. Flames fielded the shanty camp, chewing into the air and spreading like a field of toxic roses. A hundred trees of black smoke clouded into the air, carrying out over the fallen installation. The remains of the site raining down as the ash.

Standing posed and proud at the mouth of the muddy road leading to it stood Tsien Huang. His coat frayed with burns. Dented tank rested in the dirt.

“My work his done.” he said smiling as Yun-Qi walked up alongside him, “It is art, a victory.”

“An art?” Quan said in awe. He felt the shock in him like the wind that poured over his shoulders. Drawn into the breathing field of flame.

“Well, not all me.” Tsien admitted humbly, laughing. “I had help. But it forced many of them out.

“Comrade, I saw the leaves in the tree shudder and break from their branches!” he cheered, clapping, “I don't know if any cooked. But they ran as we drenched them in flame. These Russians, I don't doubt they were proud. But they are no longer.” he grinned.

Yun-Qi thought of the ragged prisoners. What army were they fighting indeed? Was this what turned them away years ago?

“What happened...” a shocked Yun-qi mumbled. He hadn't see this use of fire in a long time. Even on Mindanao had the flames ever been small and shallow. But there wasn't much the reactionaries could use to cause such fires. Glass bottle fire-bombs and aerosol cans. What was done so violently was for more primal urged to impress upon the enemy. Crucifixions, bodies rigged to explode. But not the unguided, unrestrained flame.

“Fire.” smiled Tsien, “Have you not ever been impressed by it?” he asked, “It gives life. It takes it. In my youth, I saw half of Nanjing burn in Japanese bombing. At a distance, I was awed.

“Now I am them. Now I am the Japanese.” He sounded cheerful, proud. His eyes shone with the same terrifying brilliance as the fire that engulfed the camp below. Yun-qi felt pity, and fear. And he wondered, what had Mindanao done to him that he never experienced.

[b]Train to Perm[/b]

The rails could be felt as the train rode over top. Its weight swaying it side to side as it sailed over the small imperfections in its route. The rocks, the track laid just an intangible distance off. Or just the turning and wear on the tracks as it lethargically trailed through the terrain on slow, gentle turns. Rising up softly carved hills and passed barren farmer's fields. The dark loamy soil poking out from under snow melt.

In the back of a empty cattle car Jun's breath passed through his lips in a silky cloud. Head bowed he turned over the blade of his sword. The smooth polished metal shimmering as it caught the wayward early spring light that dripped through the weathered and wooden boards. He was tired, but he had kept moving. There was no stopping to be had, he had a mission.

Sighing deep he leaned his head against the back of the car. He had been walking for days, finding the tracks west and hitchhiking aboard a west-bound train. This was what was left of the Trans Siberian Railway now. A duel pair of tracks running east to west, but ending short of Siberia. It wasn't anything grand anymore, and the extent of its cargo showed in this.

As long as it was, the train smelled and felt empty. No new hay had been laid out in any of the stalls. What was left had either fallen through the cracks or turned to a wet spongy bed. Too cold to lay in, even for him.

Between floor boards Jun could watch the ground underneath whip passed at speed exchanging between slow crawl, and a brisk breezy speed. The sides let in too much wind, and it tore over him as he sat in the back.

Clearly this car wasn't used, nor would it likely any time soon. But it was there.

He had heard the train coming as he walked down the tracks. He heard its bellowing horn as it plowed west down the tracks. He had bound into the bushes along the side.

It was a massive monster of a turn-of-the-century engine. The smoke that coughed up out of it thick and black. Cars of faded red and brown trailed after it. Much of it had looked like it was being used. There were cars packed with coal, and tanks of gasoline or oil. Above the loud clacking and crashing of the wheels along the tracks he thought he could hear the sounds of animals. The bellowing of cows and the whinnies of horses.

He had hoped at the least there would be a warm bed between two cows. But when he jumped aboard, he had forced his way into an empty car. Now he could not hear the sounds of animals. Perhaps it was an illusion based on shallow hope. Or the cold had frozen them. Or it was the groan of the wood and metal.

Jun felt naked without his gear. But under fire he wasn't going to spend time looking for it. Without his pack he was reduced to a few rounds for his revolver, and hardly a edge to tune his sword on. In his pocket was a single canister of pills he'd need to register pain; it was probably why he wasn't freezing. And he had a small knife. But bandaging, communications, maps, and intel was all in his bag. And someone had grabbed that before he could.

The failure made him feel better. It was a hot rage. Anger tensed him as he looked at the glowing steel of his sword, teeth gritting. The light shone off it like liquid silver. Somehow he knew he'd have to get it back. Somehow. Somehow he'd re-establish contact, re-organize. Maybe after he killed his man in Perm. Maybe.

Through the boards he watched the countryside pass by. Hills and forests were giving way to more and more farms. And distant buildings could be seen over the terrain. Electrical poles marches along the tracks. He was drawing close to something. With a steady breath he sheathed his sword. He'd need to make the jump soon. And then came the tracking game.

[b]Omsk-Kalachinsk, Russia[/b]

Farm fields stretched for miles in a smokey haze brought down by war. The rumble of engines and orders became a foggy blur between the sounds of weapons fire as the Chinese and the Siberians pushed west-ward. The roar of the weapons doomed to echo out everything else. Even through the narrow plate of thick ballistic plastic that made up a window, war was becoming a blur.

Push forward, pull back. Wait for return fire. The fields around Omsk had been churned to mud beneath the treads of the Chinese armor and the craters of artillery and mortar shells. What few stalwart men the Republic could produce were thrown like rats into the countryside where they dug in. Throwing over their heads nests of sticks and branches as they lay down in the wooded groves between the fields and between the corners. Tracer rounds lit up the grime that clouded Tsun's vision. It was the only thing clear in the mess.

But in the long days and nights spent driving the countryside. Moving from location to location to uproot a wooden pillbox the conditions of war was becoming as blurred and mundane as the orders shouted by his commander. At night, he lay behind the tank as it rested in the same trees they turned to shards. He stared into the cold, starry sky. And he was afraid. It was an unspeakable fear. He was afraid to go out, and then afraid he cared so little being in it when he came out.

Now again in the front seat he floated along on the sea of war. Riding over the waves of craters and earthen walls as they hunted the skyline of Omsk. Between the barren trees and the leveled forests the faint ghosts of the city lingered in the distance across the perfect flatness of Russian Siberia. Smokey clouds plumed over the horizon in the gray afternoon.

In the turret Song rode silent. Hui and Lin rested back against the walls, leaning against the gun as they waited out the deadness of travel. The clattering of the treads against the ground and the systematic rumbling of the engine blurred together into the same ambient song. They drove along the side of the railroad, what was left of the Tran-Siberian rail. The sound of the tank was almost in itself a train. Low, monotone. Constant.

“Friendlies at three and nine o'clock.” Song reported in a soft voice. He sounded as enthused as Tsun.

As they rocked up and down the gravel berm the tracks rode on Tsun felt almost sleepy. It was back again to long train rides from home to visit the relatives who had gone east for work. And those long rides back. It was all free, for the most part. There was no reason not to. When his parents could find the time off.

He had always slept well at those long rides.

Even the tank was starting to smell like the train. The light clinking of the shells sounding like the clattering of glassware as the food trolley was wheeled along the cabins. That same sound high note a drink made when in its coaster.

It was enough to make someone's eyes go heavy.

He leaned back into his seat. Fighting himself to keep awake. He'd need to be. But, he also felt he needed shut eye. The ride was smooth, for the most part. They'd been driving in a straight line for the better part of the afternoon. The sound of machine guns had waned. If there was anything left of external simulation, it was in the low distant thunder of larger guns. But the steel and the engine dulled this sound.

Tsun leaned back into himself. The cradling movement of the tank and the droning sound of the engine playing into that distant inspiration of sleep. If he could ignore the diesel, he could almost smell the tea. His grip on the controls relaxed. His shoulders dropped as he leaned his head to the side. His vision fogged as his lids dropped tired.

Song's voice said something. But it was distant. It almost sounded like the trolly-man’s. It almost sounded like the kick of a horse.

But it did not feel like a hammer to the head. With a bolting start Tsun was awoken from his daze as he was launched from his seat. The low hanging roof of the cabin was short at hand, and with a splitting crack it connected to his head. Pain shot down through his head like a spike of lead driven deep into his skull. His neck shuddered as a fiery splitting roar boomed in the empty drum of the tank and metal squealed outside. Loud bangs crashed against the right side of the tank. Outside he saw the world spin by as the Tei Gui swept to the side.

Shock washed over him as the dam in his head broke and he shuddered alert at his post. With a jolt he stepped off the controls and the vehicle was brought screeching to a halt. Debris pattered against the metal like rain as blood dripped through his hair and down the side of his face. He felt his face go gaunt and pale.

“DAMN IT!” Lin screamed. She leaned out of her chair, clinging to the side of her turret with bare white knuckled. Her shoulder inches from the sharply pointed tips of the explosive shells below her. Tsun leaned to the side, shocked and angry as Hui clung to his seat.

“Tread out!” Tsung screamed. He threw himself out of his seat, throwing open the turret hatch as the familiar sting of bullets smashed against the side of the hull. Sharp sparks and stinging pings of recoiling bullets hurried him back into the turret.

“Under fire!” he cursed, doubling back.

“From where!?” Hui shouted.

“On our left, eleven-fifteen.” Song called back.

“What about the treads though!” Tsun shouted back. He fought panicking with the tank controls, but only sluggishly turned the tank around drunkenly. He could hear gravel being kicked up against the underside of his carriage.

“For fucks sake stop!” Song roared in anger. “Lin, I want you to see if you can reconnect the treads. Hui, on her gun!” he boomed. “Tsun, get the hell up here and collect Hui's shells!”

Tsun stuttered shaken and shocked. His arms felt like rubber as he fought to climb out of his cramped seat. Already Lin was bounding out through the turret hatch, dodging a spread of fire as she vaulted the side. Hui was moving over. Tsun struggled over the rounds as the ensuing skirmish poured with thunderous applause through the open patch.

“Hostile target, two-hundred degrees, hundred meters! HE!” Song screamed.

“Wh-where?” Tsung stammered, confused. He looked at the targeting systems at his side, but could not make sense of the dials, or read half the labels and readings.

“Don't you fucking mind, put a shell in the chamber!” Hui barked, stuffing his hands into the side of Li's auxiliary machine. The turret turning as he made the adjustment.

Tsun leaned over the loader's seat, fumbling for a shell and grabbing one at random. Craddling the heavy cone of brass and explosives like a newborn in his arms he wormed back through the turret.

“WHERE'S MY ROUND!” Hui screamed over the cacophony.

“I- W- Ee-” stammered Tsun has he fought the chamber open. Hastily stuffing the loaded round into the gun and closing the breech.

“L-loaded!” he stuttered fearfully.

“This is Q-41I!” Song yelled into his radio, “We're damaged and incapacitated. We're taking fire!” he shouted. The sound of the firing canon briefly drowning out his voice as he bellowed their position into the mic through closed hands.

“Comrades!” Lin yelled from above, poking her head above the turret, “I need my tools!”

“Hui, crawl down by the engine and get Lin's tools.” Song ordered, “Tsung, on the machine gun. I want suppressive fire on those trees.”

“G-gun...” Tsung stuttered weakly, searing around him for the armament in question.

“It's in front of you for fuck's sake!” Song roared.

“Got Lin's kit!” Hui shouted. A brown bag soared past Tsun's face as he lay his hands on the turret's secondary gun.

“Tsun, I need fire on those trees!” Song continued to roar.

The sights of the machine gun were foamy and faded. A scratched and clouded scope in all cases. He felt hesitant to pull the trigger.

“Give us cover!” Song yelled, whipping the young driver on the back of the head. He was urgent, channeling his own fear to anger.

Tsun gave in, pressing on the trigger and firing. It clashed and rattled in his hands as he swept it. Firing outward. He watched as trees splintered and broke as each bullet bit into it. Faded figured got up to run, scattering from the chain of fire that he swept across.

“I think I can patch it up temporarily!” Lin shouted. She was barely audible over the sound, “But we'll need to pull back for permanent repairs as soon as I'm done.

“Get it done, we'll hold cover!” Song roared back, “I got help coming now.”

[b]Hong Kong, China[/b]

There was a palpable curiosity as the auditorium filled. Bright young faces taking advantage of the distraction stepped in through the doors. Butting shoulders with the politically active older generation and the news crews. Light chatter filled the air. But all of it was hushed. Under dim lights they milled about, taking their seats.

From behind the heavy back-stage curtains stood Zhang Auyi. He fiddled nervously with the cuffs of his white suit. He fought to keep his breath steady. It wasn't the largest group he held court to. But no matter the size, he still felt nervous. The anxiety before stepping out before cameras would never go away. And he never believed it when his contemporaries said they didn't care, or notice.

Looking at the lights and the cameras he wondered if he could truly win this. His rivals were likely much well built. And that nagged him. It ate his guts like a insect. It only made it worse. Some had gotten a head start. He was only just beginning.

“Nervous?” a voice said behind him. Auyi turned, one of the stage hands. His simple jumpsuit was tied tight with a number of tool bags and pouches. Hanging in his lips a loose cigarette.

“A little...” he said.

The stage hand laughed softly. Leaning over to get a view of the small congregation. “They don't like that vicious.” he joked, “The young one's teeth are too unformed, and the old one's don't got one any more.

“But I don't imagine you've fought off worse sharks.”

“I have...” Auyi said, “But that was usually more personal.”

The man nodded, smiling quietly to himself. “You got a few more seconds. You ready?”

“I am.” Auyi nodded, pulling his suit down flatter, clapping his hands together.

They couldn't be that fierce a tiger. They were always more violent demons in the forest. He fought the thought into his mind. Planting it there. It would bring comfort. As much as the exercises in the back did. Deep breaths. Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale. The sun rose in the east, set in the west.

Set on Europe. He was in the east. Where the sun rose. He would be fine. Always.

“Comrades, Minister Zhang Auyi. Open press conference to Hong Kong University of People's Law.” an anonymous figure read as the lights in the audience dimmed. It was his cue. He took the stage with a confident stride. Turning out to the audience and smiling.

They at least were ghosts in the darkness.

There was a light pattering of applause as he took the podium at center stage. It was modest. Humble. Subdued. Not likely anyone knew enough to care. Just here for the sights.

“My brothers and sisters of Hong Kong,” he started, “It is with the grace of our beloved Hou that we now choosing a new path. As much as I'm sure we would love to see him continue, we must accept this as it is now. It is in his graces we seek for ourselves a course to the future. One to progress forward. One to meet our enemies on the doorstep, and to safeguard our Revolution in its finality, and in its continuation.

“We are the electors and the people's voice! We are the proud ones, and I do humble admit that now I request your assistance.

“It is today that I do announce my candidacy for the position of Grand Secretary of our New China. I, Zhang Auyi shall set his ship to sail to the waters of a better future. But the wind that steers me forward is not one made from divine right as others in less free nations will claim. I will not steer my ship from blood. I will not build it from gold stolen from the people.

“No, my ship shall be piloted by the people for the people. I understand this virtue and this necessity.

“We have only gone upwards in our last twenty years. I have fought for this present as many of you – or your fathers – have in the past. And I have not stopped fighting! Even with war no longer dividing us and preventing us from being a unified people there is still much work to be done. We have a status quo, but there is no use in maintaining this. We should push on! We shall build onto the Status Quo!

“China and her people deserve a brighter future! For the darkness we have been through. The people we have lost and the blood spilled we need better! It is not to say we now still live in such conditions still. Any person who might see can look out and find more rice on their table. They have their bread. They have their pork. We have our family. We have our hope. And we have our future.

“Our enemies say we are suppressed and ineffective. But it is only because they fear our own success.

“When I look at China now, I see a land of expansive hope and promise. We have come this far in twenty years, have we not? Now imagine, how much further can we go in a twenty more? How can I improve the nation? I shall promise a land in which every man is master of it.

“Congress now looks into this. And I accept their fight to expand the representation of everyone. To bring balance in our nation. Hou said so. And there is no man nobler than him. And if the nobelist of men say it is right, then it is.

“But there are parties who do not think so. And I refuse to sit by and let them not see this happen. To stifle our diversity and our common heritage. We are a rich – united – people and I will not sit by and see it squandered away in Beijing. The light of millions will be glow equally fierce, and none will no brighter than the rest.

“And the world will see us, and we shall be a model! And they shall see our wealth, and they will wish to be us! And the world as diverse as it is, it is not unlike China. Here shall be the testing ground for the world of tomorrow.

“And we will all grow. Even here in China. I promise that we will seek to expand our avenues. We will expand the wealth. And in it our influence. I make this no secret. We know it will be healthy.

“Openness for our country will be the way to the future. We are ready now! There is no threat the outside can have to our success. And there is no danger they have to fear in us.

“For Spain, we will prove we are a peaceful people. For our allies we will prove we will always be there. I promise we will reach for the stars.

“Brothers and sisters. Comrades. Let's build a new world for everyone.”