Serenity Valley

Six Years Earlier

When the explosions finally stopped, Lieutenant Etris Kurdian lifted his head and peered over the rock outcropping that he had ducked behind moments before the Alliance, his damn superiors, had started bombing the valley. The ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng of a Commander hadn’t even given the evacuation order before dropping balls of fire on Alliance and Independents alike. He had heard the screams, felt the heat wash over him, but by some miracle he had been left unscathed. The miracle, however, hadn’t been extended to the rest of the valley.

Flame-eaten corpses lay strewn out as far as he could see, and the smell of death permeated the air. Bile came rushing up his throat, and he doubled over, vomiting. His entire unit, slaughtered, lay less than fifty yards away, killed by the same people they were fighting for.

Bastards.

When his stomach settled somewhat, he made his way down the rise, picking between bodies, looking for any survivors. At one point it was so bad he was moving detached body parts, searching out anyone who was still breathing. After nearly two hours, he confirmed his fear: everyone that had fought under his command was dead. All of them.

He threw his head back and screamed. His insides felt as if they were tearing apart. He had fought long and hard for the Alliance against a foe that his superiors swore would destroy civilization if they weren’t stopped. He had faced seemingly insurmountable odds before and had walked out of them without a scratch. This would have been his biggest victory. His boost to a command post.

But not now.

Tears streamed down his face as he cursed the Alliance, cursed the Independents, cursed everyone he could think of. His future mattered nothing to him now, not after leading forty men and women to their deaths. Not to mention the countless others who lay dead in Serenity Valley. All those people dead, and for what? A cause that he now questioned? Was the threat really bad enough to deserve the slaughter of thousands