The twin suns of Rychter had dipped below the horizon three hours ago, silhouetting the city in darkness.

Beneath that cover, Scout Lieutenant Kaydie Brackenshaw was preparing to cut off the head of the snake. In twos and threes, trustworthy soldiers and Blackwater specialists, hand-picked by herself and Aurelia, had worked their way into the Calida-Terra loading yards, taking up positions according to Aurelia's meticulous plan.

They were not going to wait around for Theikvaal and his supporters to try and overthrow the Commissariat. Tonight they would put and end to it all, by force, and take the former general to answer for his crimes.

Brackenshaw checked her weapon one more time. It was a shorter gun than she was used to when compared to the Scout Cadre rifles. A militia-issue riot suppressor with a square barrel and a low yield power cell, it was designed to incapacitate, rather than kill. At Aurelia's orders, the assault teams had been issued with identical armaments from Brekka's militia armoury. No matter the transgressions of Theikvaal's people, no-one wanted this to turn into a bloodbath.

"Comm check," she whispered. "All teams, sound off."

Her earpiece began sizzling with a series of muted responses from the other groups. Sergeant Hynan had command of the group across from them on the yard's western edge; Blackwater units under Captain Prentice had taken the north and south.

Everyone checked in. Brackenshaw nodded to herself and looked over at Aurelia. The other officer checked the sight of her gun, then peered up over the lip of the low wall they were currently crouched behind.

"All units," Aurelia said. "On my signal. Remember your orders, keep this clean. If they engage us, use your suppressors. Lethal force only as a last resort."

More acknowledgements. Brackenshaw braced herself, and tucked the stock of her gun against her shoulder.

"Three... two... one... mark!" Aurelia hissed into the comm, and the next instant she was moving, vaulting the low wall with practised ease and hurtling out across the concourse.

Brackenshaw was up and over right behind her, suppressor tucked in tight to her body as their attack group advanced in a swift, silent wave. Two Blackwater soldiers were hot on their heels, scurrying fast and quiet. All across the concourse the same motion repeated itself, dark figures emerging from narrow alcoves, maintenance shafts and vehicle shadows.

They got close – closer than she thought they would – before the shooting started.

A cry of alarm went up, before being quickly silenced, and on the far edge of the concourse she saw the sharp, blue flare of a suppressor discharging. Readying herself, she took aim at the hangar, slowing her pace to give a stable firing platform.

The first rebel that emerged took a bolt from her suppressor square in the chest and went down in a convulsing, gurgling heap. The second let loose a spray of gunfire from an old-fashioned automatic weapon that scattered pellets all across their line of advance. One of the Blackwater guards was knocked down with a gasp, protected by their body armour.

Aurelia took the offender down, sliding to one knee beside a balloon-wheeled buggy as she fired. Another bullet clanged off the hull; more blue flares stabbed in the night.

Brackenshaw sprinted for the hangar, skidding into cover behind a row of loading crates as more guards began emerging. Her comm crackled with messages from the other teams as a brief, wild firefight engulfed their little corner of Brekka.

She popped up; fired at a dark figure hurtling in her direction. The suppressor flashed and the woman went spinning into the side of one of the nearby vehicles with a dull bong of impact before falling. Then Aurelia and one of the Blackwaters scurried past her, guns flaring. Brackenshaw ducked out of her hiding place and set off after them.

Their pace slowed as they delved deeper into the hangar, finding themselves creeping through rows and rows of cargo crates. Brackenshaw was very glad she didn't have an armour piercing rifle right now. Who knew what ordinance might be hidden away in this place?

An arm came out of the shadows for her, ramming a knife towards her stomach. The wielder didn't cry out, or yell, or curse – a professional soldier trying to kill her. She twisted aside and instinctively swung down with her suppressor, striking the wrist of her assailant just enough to send the blade skating off her armoured body plate.

She kicked out hard and hit something solid. Eventually she got a look at her attacker as he stumbled backwards, a dark-bladed combat knife clutched in one hand. He crashed backward into a wall of crates, kicked off and came back at her with a growl of frustration.

Brackenshaw blasted him with the suppressor and turned away as he slumped to the ground.

"You alright?" Aurelia called back over her shoulder.

"Armour caught it," she answered, scampering back up to join her comrades. Sporadic crackles of gunfire echoed through the space, punctuated with the snarls of suppressors.

The comms from the other units gave clipped reports – a few injuries among the attackers but no fatalities. Their lightning strike was having the desired effect. She pivoted, moving backwards to cover her companions as they pressed deeper into the hangar.

It didn't take long for them to punch through into the main administration office, and she twisted back around, sliding down to one knee as she took cover behind a cluttered desk. It was a big room, filled with tables and chairs, and soot-darkened windows looking out onto the rest of the hangar interior.

In its centre, a hasty barricade of furniture surrounded Theikvaal and his remaining accomplices. The former general himself sat at the centre, unarmed, but surrounded by a bristling ring of firearms.

Brackenshaw sighted down the barrel of her suppressor, just as a blast from the far side of the room heralded the arrival of Sergeant Hynan's detachment. A heavy, armoured door, that had probably been intended for use as an emergency escape, blew open under the force of an explosive charge, disgorging six dark armoured bodies.

Thiekvaal's defenders kept their weapons levelled, but for the moment, no-one started shooting. She had a moment to actually look at who she'd been fighting for the first time. Most of these had the look of soldiers – she could tell from how they carried themselves – weather-beaten skin and hard, unyielding eyes staring back at her. They were tucked up against their ramshackle defences, bootleg firearms aiming through cracks and firing holes, presenting as little of themselves as a target as possible.

This could get messy, she thought uneasily.

For a few seconds the standoff continued, the air crackling with tension. One squeeze of the trigger could ignite a bloodbath on this little patch of dirt. Then more footsteps filled the air, and Prentice's troops arrived, some of them dragging along captured members of Theikvaal's revolution. The prisoners were roughly shoved to their knees, held at gunpoint by a few of the newcomers, while the rest spread out to train their suppressors on the final bastion.

"Enough!" Age had done nothing to dull Theikvaal's voice, his stentorian bark cutting out across the air and making everyone in the room freeze. He held a hand up to the dozen men and women surrounding him. "Enough. Lower your weapons."

"General!" a weather-beaten woman hissed back at him. "If they take you-,"

"They already have. They're here. There's no sense in further violence against our own." With a grunt, he stood up and placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, easing her back from the barricade.

Her face twisted with anger, but she gave him a stiff nod, lowering her rifle and stepping aside. He sniffed, rolling the wrist of one hand as though working out stiff joint. Then he shuffled past her, out of the ring and into the open.

Right at them.

Brackenshaw rose slowly out of her crouch, keeping her weapon aimed. The others around her did the same. Theikvaal kept walking, unperturbed by the guns pointing at him. The old man's face was firm with resolve as he faced them down, coming to a halt just a couple of meters away.

"Ramus Theikvaal," Aurelia declared after a moment, detaching herself from the group and moving forward until they stood face to face. "You are under arrest. You and your companions will be charged with treason, for conspiring to undermine Brekka's commissariat, and in so doing, endangering the lives of the citizens of this city. You will be remanded into the custody of the Forge, where you will await trial and sentencing."

"If it pleases you." He inclined his head to her respectfully.

He seemed very, very calm, and that set Brackenshaw's teeth grinding with worry. This was meant to be the decisive blow to decapitate the old fool's crusade, but it didn't feel like it.

"Whatever you think you're going to accomplish," Aurelia told him icily. "I'm afraid to say that you're wrong. The northern forces are staying outside the city and the commissariat has been secured. There will be no revolution today."

"Won't there?" He fired her a wolfish smile. "I might be an old soldier, Lieutenant Belisarius, but I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

That took the wind out of Aurelia's sails a little. She wasn't from Brekka; didn't move inside any of the military structures here. Most of the people in the city didn't even know she existed. Her eyes narrowed, and Brackenshaw edged forward, seeing the twitch of the woman's trigger finger.

"We'll see," she grated eventually. Her attention shifted briefly and she nodded to the Blackwater guards and scout troops that had accompanied them. "Secure their weapons."

Hynan and the others moved forward cautiously towards the remaining guards. Brackenshaw let her gun rise just a little, not entirely convinced these loyalists wouldn't just start shooting.

Despite obvious reluctance, however, they handed over their guns like sullen teenagers, before being ushered away to join their comrades. At another signal from Aurelia, the two looming Blackwater guards strode forward to take the general himself into custody.

"I'm aware you've been watching me, Lieutenant," Theikvaal told them, sounding positively nonchalant, even as the soldiers took him by the shoulders and started to guide him away, "and I have planned accordingly."

Brackenshaw felt a sour taste in her mouth, looking sharply to Aurelia. Theikvaal was a seasoned campaigner and a skilled tactician whom she'd taken orders from for years. The only reason he would bait them in such a way would be if he truly thought things had gone too far for them to stop it.

"Something's wrong," she hissed.

"What?"

"This was too easy." Brackenshaw didn't know what else to do, so she stepped in front of Theikvaal, glaring into her former commander's eyes. "What's going on?"

"Brackenshaw, isn't it?" he replied, searching her face thoughtfully. "I hear you had a promotion. Congratulations."

"What is happening?" she snarled.

"I know you're a good soldier, Lieutenant. I know you're doing what you think is right. I'm sorry to see that we're on opposite sides." He smiled sadly. "I hope, when this is over, you'll be able to see things as they truly are."

And that was when her radio transmission erupted with an emergency transmission. Aurelia swore at the sudden surge of static that overran all normal channels, clapping a hand to her ear, and all around the other soldiers cursed and grimaced. Then the white-noise died away, leaving a clear message to stampede over them.

"To all standing forces within the perimeter of the city of Brekka," boomed a refined voice. Brackenshaw recognised it, and a jolt of fear went up her spine. "This is Marshall August Llewellyn. It has come to our attention that there are elements within your ruling body that have been planning to undermine the mission that our expeditionary force has been given. Furthermore, they have sided with Scraegans, choosing them over their fellow soldiers.

"As a result of this misguided action, I have been authorised by joint Commissariat bodies of nine northern cities to take steps to safeguard our southern reaches. Action is now being taken by our forces to ensure that those responsible cannot lead Brekka further down this path.

"I appeal to all loyal Brekkan soldiers to lay down their arms, and not interfere with the work being undertaken by your northern allies. When this unfortunate incident has been dealt with you will all be reincorporated into Rychter's armed forces. Llewellyn out."

Silence hung in the air like a storm cloud. For a moment she didn't quite believe what she'd just heard. She'd been so out of the loop with the cut and thrust of the military manoeuvring recently that she'd almost forgotten about the northern army camped on their doorstep.

But it was out there, with that spit-swilling, son of a bitch Llewellyn at the helm. The same man who Thiekvaal had stood alongside in his final campaign as overall commander of Brekka's forces. Evidently they'd parted on better terms than anyone realised.

"Friends in high places," Brackenshaw muttered bitterly, glaring at the former general. "You old bastard."