Chapter 3

By the time they arrived at the octagonal compound, the sun was already asleep beneath the planet. The green moon had took its reign, bathing the sands in the same color. Even the stars above the night sky appeared to be of greenish hue. Keron stared above in wonder. Despite being there for months, V'rounsthan never failed to amaze him.

Ahead, a pair of Sons of Trident Protectorates stood in attention. Keron knew them personally but none of them were in the mood for a casual conversation. The two saluted and greeted him in the Name of God, which he responded with an appropriate reply.

"Peace be with you, brothers." He said.

The Protectorate on the left harshly banged his fist against the gate of the compound, catching the attention of a Solar ADF soldier from the Division of the Black Squadron SAS. He approached with a weapon at hand.

"Something wrong?" He asked.

"What do you mean 'something wrong'? Sergeant-Commissar Keron's Patrol Team had just arrived. Open the gates for him!"

"Acknowledged." The soldier replied as he unlocked the gate and shoved it open. Keron and his team walked inside, greeted by two more Black Squadron SAS and the three of them saluted. "Welcome back, Centauri Patrol Team."

Keron simply glanced at them before moving on. Beyond was the three-storey building with a satellite dish on the top. It was directed at the orbiting V'rounian satellite that was, in turn redirecting the data fed to it at the heart of the city. To the left was a large garage housing the armored vehicles of both the Auxiliary Defense Forces and the X'arik Guards--V'rounian military's elite forces named after the ferocious, subterranean, predatorial beast that lurked within the southern deserts of V'rounsthan. And finally to the right, an indoor firing range that were adjoined to a mess/recreational hall that looked more like a bar and an arcade place.

He and his team moved towards the central establishment. The doors parted at their presence and the immediate personnel, all of whom are ADF soldiers, saluted at the sight of them. Some of the ADFs were carrying a bucket and a mop while others had dirty rags or shoe polishers. A few handful could be seen in full combat gears, as if they were readying up for a patrol.

The Sons of Trident had never intruded with the affairs of the Auxiliary Defense Forces. They only see them as companions and nothing more. The ADFs had never gave them any headache, to their joy, but the planetary forces the likes of the X'arik Guards were always a constant source of displeasure. It seems to them that their elite 'status' would guarantee them a place in the dining tables of the Protektovare. While the ADF knew and embraced their place, the officers of the planetary forces always thought that they could get away with everything.

Keron thought, he'd rather mingle with the ADFs, who was both honorable in combat and experience, than them, whom who had never even been in the spitting distance of a battle zone.

He navigated the nondescript lobby and ascended the staircase that led to the command room. Equipment and monitors lined the walls, flashing augeries and information that would be of use to the Protectorate or personnel attending to the respective console. Tier-5 Tribune-Commander Farion stood in the middle, facing the three large monitors on the wall while his subrodinates manipulated it with the consoles below it. Barely Keron made three steps forward when Farion spoke.

"Keron," Farion said. "What are you in need of?"

"We have encountered a warband of Dusk Riders, sir. This was the fifth in the last three weeks."

"I am aware, Sergeant-Commissar."

"And we are not going to do anything about it?"

"The word of the Supreme-General still stands." Farion replied. "We carry on with the brushfire skirmishes against the Dusk Riders until--"

"Why? Why do we have to wait? What if we--"

"Until," Farion raised his voice slightly, "we confirmed the rumors about the Dusk Riders making pacts with demons beyond their comprehension."

"But what is keeping the Supreme-General from deploying us in full force?" Keron asked. "Some of our brothers were in the starport, bored to death. I could hear their prayers, sir!"

Farion casted him a sideways glance, his expression was inscrutinable behind his faceplate but he could see contempt within. He faced the monitors for a few more seconds before turning and approached them.

"Let's take this outside." Farion said through a private comms-channel. "Relieve your subordinates."

Keron turned at Razion and nodded. It does not need a vocal command to understand what it meant. He, Vieron and Aran left without a word. Farion walked to the opposite direction, towards a balcony that overlooked the Fighting Pit behind the central establishment.

He joined his superior, who leaned against the balustrade and gazed at the distant city beyond, surrounded by green sand and illuminated by both the green moon and the neon lights of the establishments from within the Walls.

"This planet is beautiful, isn't it?" Farion said.

"Indeed, sir."

"I would fight for this planet until the very end." Farion added. "Even if it meant expending our forces against these turds who continuously preyed on its inhabitants."

"But what is wrong, sir? Why aren't we conducting a crackdown against the Dusk Riders?"

"Because of the King's orders." Farion said. "He doesn't want the Protectorates to end the conflict."

"What, isn't that treacherous?"

"It's because of glory hogging. And yes, it was treacherous. However, the Supreme-General never wanted another blood to be spilled upon the soil of this planet. Let the Dusk Rider's sanguine mix with the dust of V'rounsthan; it was fitting anyways."

"But we are higher than mere mortals!"

Farion glanced at him.

"You do know of the current state of our Supreme-General, yes?" He gazed back at the city. "We will just see how all of these will go, brother. We will know if the King would be at fault because if he is, then we shall put him to justice before the Court of God."

"Yes, sir."

"Assume stationary duty. Get rest, I will be sending you to Forward Post-131." Farion said as he straightened up and turned.

Keron stepped aside to let Farion leave. He watched the Commander's back as he made a turn to the command room. The Protectorate heaved a sigh and walked inside as well.

His thoughts went pondering about the conflict and how long will they have to be here before the entire fleet moved on to the next planet. For sure, the King has no authority over their departure, otherwise, the Regiment would be very pissed. Not only the King failed to act with initiative, he would also test the wrath of those who only came to protect them. Keron wondered if the Supreme-General has a fault in this. He remembered the Protectorates in other Regiments, most particularly, the Enochian Guards Regiment, who were never known to bow before mortals. He heard from the Solar ADFs how harsh they are and how willing they were to kill even their allies in pursuit of their goal.

Before their planet's Judgment, he heard among the Solar ADFs of New Jerusalem, formerly called Earth, of how they died at the hands of the Enochian Guards, whom now they fought alongside with. The Enochian Guards are fierce warriors and they are more than happy to carry out genocides for the sake of their objectives, which was understandable knowing how violent the history of their planet was. Now, New Jerusalem was nothing but a paradise; the brutality of the Enochian Guards have paid off in the destruction of Satan himself. Many Solar ADF Soldiers wanted to avoid a second death in order to experience true happiness on the Rebirthed Earth.

If they are here, the King would have been dethroned for sure. Now he knew why Saint Michael favored the Enochian Guards than the other Regiments.

He descended the second floor and met his team on the ground floor, who greeted him with nods.

"What happened, brother?"

"Aran's right." Keron said. "That bastard of a King kept us in check." He released a sigh. "There was nothing much to do here but to rest. We will be redeployed soon. Seems like our brothers at Forward Post-131 were requesting our presence."

"Alright then." Razion turned to the entrance. "Come with me to the bar. They've got a carbolic cherry tunic."

"What?"

"The...nevermind, just come with me."

They followed Razion out of the headquarters and towards the indoor shooting range. The sound of rounds firing and pinging were heard even from a far distance. They entered the entrance, walking past a couple of Gemminite Cyber Troopers with goggled eyes and chromed pair of arms, and arrived in an intersection that both led to the range on the right and the mess hall to the left.

"How long does he drink?" Keron asked Vieron.

"When he discovered that his taste buds were functioning, brother." Vieron said.

As humorous as it sounded, it was the truth to most Protectorates. Before their conscription to the Regiment, the Protectorates were Humans requiring sustenance but after their internment inside their Battle Gears, they never need to eat nor to drink. However, they could still do so, and once their bodies produced waste, it would be absorbed by the Battle Gear and recycle it to something else.

It had been centuries since Keron had ate a meal. The sensation of taste was almost lost to him. He never bothered visiting a kitchen or a mess hall because he was always preoccupied with reviewing battle plans, sharpening his skills...or viewing the television because their own planet have not invented one.

The mess hall looked more like a nightclub or a gloomy diner illuminated only by neon strips of blue, pink and purple lights. At the end of the mess hall stood the bar; a barista was busy concocting drinks behind the counter and distributing it to the patrons sitting beside. None of the drinks were alcoholic, but were exotic juices made of fruits that were mostly found off-planet. A long buffet arranged vertically could be seen on the right side of the room, displaying delicacies that were both native and foreign to the V'rounian pallatte.

The buffet emanated a scent that would have enticed all with a grumbling stomach but Keron's enhanced olfactory sense had picked up not only the overall aroma, but also each and every granules of spices used that made him sick. He decided to shut the external filters off to stave the smell away.

Ahead, Razion was already walking to the bar and spoke to the V'rounian Regular Infantry soldier on duty. With a frown in his face, he immediately mixed a drink before grabbing four empty mugs and filled it up to the brims.

"You spend your time here often?" Keron asked as he neared Razion. The 8-bit sound music emanating from the arcade cabinets on their left could be heard. Keron frowned when he caught sight of the screen where a gameplay was repeated in an endless loop.

"Yeah," Razion replied. "When I found out that my body isn't broken as it seemed to be."

Keron's eyes were still glued at the video game. He made a fist with his right hand and pumped it in front of his face. The gesture was recognized by his Battle Gear's sensors, prompting it to detract his headgear and release his head. Cool air from the room's air conditioner embraced his bare face. His features were typically islandic Tritonite--dark tan, glowing light blue eyes, tribal tattoos and a shaven head. The insignia of their tribe was imprinted on his left cheek: a snake encircling his left eye like a cane.

Razion made the same gesture as he deactivated his headgear. It revealed a pale white face beneath and a hair that was black as midnight. His features were commonly found on Tritonites who lived underneath the sea in domed cities. In other words, he was a Dome-Dweller before he became a Protectorate when the Angels culled the population for conscription.

His skin, untouched by Triton's natural disasters and poverty, was now a map of scars and scratches in their centuries-old service to Heaven as a Protektovare. Pampered by birth, he was oblivious to the hardships of reality until he learned the hard way, in their adulthood, how things were done in life outside of comfort.

Vieron also possessed the porcelain-white skin of a Tritonite Dome-Dweller, but like Razion, he also matured in service. Aran was a different one. A red-haired islander with blue eyes, tan skin and tattooed cheeks; the look of a fierce hunter was evident in her face. She was quiet and downright cruel, but deep within, she was of noble heart.

Keron grabbed the red drink on the counter and heard the tiny popping sounds it made. He frowned; the surface frothed and bubbled. He decided to take a swig. It doesn't matter if it was poison or not, his body would cancel its effects anyway. As soon as the liquid made contact with his taste buds, his eyes widened. He decided to guzzle it down mightily.

Keron placed the empty mug on the counter and approached one of the arcade cabinets. He frowned at the animated scenery. He noticed a red joystick on the console before it, accompanied by two green buttons beside it.

He wondered what it was for so he reached for it and pressed one of the buttons without hesitation.

An introductory text appeared, scrolling from beneath the viewing screen travelling outwards. Out of curiosity, the Protectorate looked beneath the console of the arcade like an ignorant but found no text within.

"What on hell are you doing, brother?" Razion asked.

"You've encountered an entity like this before?"

"Never had I," Razion replied. "Well, I'm not sure if I remember."

Keron nodded. A level of the game was displayed. Keron decided to manipulate the consoles to see any differences. To his joy, there was. He interacted with the joystick and the buttons. It was like watching television, but he gets to decide what will happen next.

He made the space man on the screen to move across. Tiny red multi-limbed creatures crawled across the floor. Keron shot them all with rapid pressing of the button.

"Ha! Razion, look at this! They looked like Krakzians!" Keron exclaimed.

"Lower your voice, brother. Yes, indeed they are." Razion stood behind him.

"Why didn't you told me that these things exist here?"

"I never paid too much attention." Razion said.

"Are you being humorous? This is sorcery!" Keron said.

Razion simply laughed as he walked back to the counter to grab more carbolic drinks.