This is the same as what I did on rt.com just edited for better structure, and put in the things taken out for the rt.com version. Its still a short story, but its fun none-the-less
Phantom Factions: Complete and Total War (2nd Edit)
In a time where a call for unilateral peace is heralded, there will always be those minorities who disagree. How these individuals disagree can dictate the entire fate of not just their surroundings, but the entire population. Despite the growing advancing technology and the mass destruction it can ultimately bring, there are those who seek to fulfill their own agenda regardless of the risk and consequences.
This form of logic; a form of twisted ideology, no matter how far it spreads out, it will always lead to one singular action, complete and total war.
On a quiet, peaceful evening, somewhere in the Southern Indian Ocean. The clear white shimmer of a full moon beams down to a pair of vessels. The Modified Escort Carrier, the MCVE 79 Las Vegas, with a destroyer escort, is heading towards the newly formed United Earth Government’s Naval Yard in Madagascar. The ship and her squadrons being veterans of the Global War, she was a shining display of power and might for the South East Asian Fleet. The destroyer along side was also a known and welcomed ship of the fleet. Already upgraded to the highest standards, she was one of the most advanced units of the fleet.
She was heading to Madagascar for an eventual refit as a program of newer technology was being implemented throughout the branches of the armed forces. The deck was littered with neatly positioned F204 Fighters, the current mainstay fighter of the Earth Forces, shimmering in their glory as the weapon that was once the face of the allied forces. There was little activity on the deck. The odd few people checking components, and the planes. There was no flight schedule planned for this trip as there were no real threat to the ship on its course.
However, on the deck, was a rookie Flight officer, out on his first tour after graduating from flight school. Lieutenant Junior Grade Peter Hart, who was looking a little on edge, was carrying a small bag, and sweating. He brushed passed the other crew members without acknowledging, heading straight towards the central section of the deck, far opposite the Coning structure and Bridge. Looking down, periodically over the edge of the deck, he began to get noticed by the rest of the crew on deck. They probably feared he might be attempting to commit suicide over the edge. One crew member put his tools down and screamed, “Hey, you! You ok there buddy?”
As another one of the crew approaches Hart, the claxon sounded, with the Captains voice. “General Quarters. General Quarters. Set Condition 1. This is not a Drill. Scramble the Alert Fighters.” This could only mean one thing. Unknown contact heading straight for the ship. In the bridge the Captain, a Captain Donald Legan, began to prepare the ship for possible hostile intent. Despite the Global War ending, and a more stable society was implemented, there was still a threat of hostile action by various factions who disagreed with the Earth Government. However, this sort of action had seemed to be localised to just the North Pacific region.
Giving the Air Boss the go-ahead to launch the alert fighters a huge explosion erupts inside the carrier, blasting a hole on either side of the hull and on the deck underneath both catapults. Exploding in the Armoury storage various secondary explosions rock the ship, almost forcing Hart to stagger off the deck. Pausing to get his bearings, Hart looked on as the two crew members, turned towards the exploding sections. One of the alert fighters was taking off when the catapults exploded. The flaming wreck was swiftly slung off the ship, scraping the ships bow. The other fighter was still in its position. The tail had been blown off, and the cockpit was in flames. The pilot inside was desperately scratching at the cockpit glass, as he was being burned to death.
Along the ships various access hatches, people were running out, with smoke slowing seeping through. Some people were running out in flames, dropping down, and trying to put them out. The crew members were torn on what to do. Grab him, or assist the others. As they turned back to Hart, he unzipped his bag, and pulled out a compact assault rifle, and a bandolier of grenades. He quickly began shooting them both, riddling their bodies with bullet holes. Turning down to his watch he whispered to himself. “Shit, I’ve still got 3 minuets until they arrive.” He grabbed the one of the men and pushed him onto his back. He took out a grenade, and placed it under his shoulder and pulled the pin. He then walked out in open view and shouted, “Medic! I need a medic here!”
Someone saw him and motioned for people to run to his position. Hart quickly walked back and dodged the incoming people, walking round one of the undamaged planes. Seconds later the distinctive sound of the grenade was heard, and a few people moaning in pain. It didn’t go to plan and a surviving crewman started to scream out Hart’s name as the killer. Still with a few more minuets to go, Hart decided to run to the edge of the deck and into some cover. As the armed marines ran nearby, Hart stood up and screamed like a true fanatic, “Death to the Unified Fuckers” as he began to shoot the surprised Marines with lethal flailing weapon fire. Reaching for a grenade, he threw it towards an undamaged plane. It lands near the nose and explodes ripping the front wheel carriage, forcing the plane to fall, nose flat, on the deck.
The ensuing confusion and the covering Marines, Hart looks at his watch again, “Time to leave this hellhole.” He pulls down his bag again, while throwing another grenade to keep them down. He pulls out a few random objects, until he pulls out a small orange case. Discarding everything to the floor, he held the case tight to his chest, while pulling the pins on the remaining grenades. Stepping backwards he falls off the side of the deck, pulling a cord on the case. It unfolds into a small, one man flotation device. Grabbing onto it, he pulls himself out of the water and on the raft. Looking up, the grenades explode, setting off the remaining ammunition in the bag and rifle, to form a light firework display.
Laying on his back with his feet in the water, kicking gently for propulsion, he holds up his watch, and speaks softly to himself, “This is for the Anti-Unification League. Shall my action be swift and true to our cause.” Pressing a button on the watch, a second explosion rips through the crew section, causing significant damage to the bridge and the ships power source. Floating, drifting away he smiled as he watched the survivors clamber to rescue, as the destroyer tries to latch on to the side for ease of rescue. Some people were falling into the water, some were lifeless, some were screaming, and some were being burned alive. Hart turned away, feeling vindicated and successful.
From the far horizon a small seaplane landed in the water; just far out not to be noticed yet far enough for Hart to swim to. Climbing into the seaplane, Hart was met by four heavily armed soldiers, chanting his name, “Hart, Hart, Hart. Hart.” Taking off, with a good view of the carrier ablaze and keeling, a voice on the radio tunes out of static. “This will send a stark warning to the Imperialist Earth Government. Their line of democracy is a false peace governed by bigots. They want peace through disarmament, yet we know they are researching new weapons in the South Pacific. We need to expose their façade to the innocent citizens of the world. What you have done, is halted one of their warmongering advancements. Soon we will have resources to hit them head on. Continue in your work.”
Hart replied with a simple smile, knowing that he couldn’t transmit back. Turning to one of the soldiers, Hart laughs. “I wonder if I’ll meet any of the survivors in Madagascar.”
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