This is my new story, the first in a series of four. This is not based on a Civ III or any other game (though it is, somehow, inspired by Civ III and Alpha Centauri), nor is it based on the real history.

Dedicated to all the people who believe in their ideals, no matter how immoral these ideals can seem from the point of view of people of different ideology.

PROLOGUE

It was a very dark evening on the port of Hasch. It was quiet, as everyone there was strangely silent. Well, they were ordered to be silent and they obeyed, thought Mitten as he double-checked his automatic rifle – just to be sure. He and numerous other people in black suits, capes and hoods (they did not need to blend in with the crowd for this mission, but rather needed to hide their personality and to have less chances of being seen in the twilight which quickly was becoming complete darkness).

A ship signaled, breaking the silence. It was made very easy for them to reach the docks – all the other ships were docked in such formation that there was a clear way towards the docks. The ship, a transport, has sped up and docked in the center of the dock, and quickly the people there begun to leave it, while the carriers were unloading the cargo. A group of carriers and three other people had large black crates. One of Mitten’s colleagues, Voresch (dressed like an official), approached them and asked them something (as the people from the ship were not informed, they broke the silence and Mitten could not make much out). A tall young man with short black hair replied, apparently positively, and said something else. Voresch again asked them something, the young man replied impatiently. Finally, Voresch moved aside and the men continued moving, one of them making a sigh of relief. Too early.

Mitten grabbed his automatic rifle, knowing the others did the same, and soon the weapon smugglers were surrounded. The “Democratic Liberation Front” was not going to get these weapons in the crates. One of the smugglers tried to protest and was shot, and died soon after. The rest understood that resistance was futile.

Order was preserved, and the remaining smugglers would soon be questioned then disposed of. The Black Guard, as it was known, has proven once more that it cannot be tricked. As they walked away, Mitten looked again at the corpse. Another young man, like Mitten’s brother once. He didn’t kill this one, though he killed many others who threatened the order. For the first time in years, he felt a strange feeling, not guilt, but rather regret. But he shook it aside and continued on his way to the HQ.

Chapter One: The Marshes.

The Marshes, was the simple name for the secret prison camp of the Darschen “Republic”, the “police state” as it was called by outside press. Inside, the press was far more obedient...

There lived and worked on drying out the swamps the hard way despite all of the equipment that could have sped that work up by years, the secret prisoners – politics, who disobeyed and had an “accident” that did not kill them, spies, rebels and other such who were arrested without protocol. They threatened Order – the highest ideal of the Darschen Republic.

Ofcourse, this was just the place for a group of weapon smugglers from Eastern Federation – who valued Liberty above Order.

To Arthur Nold, a volunteer for the failed smuggling operation in Hasch, The Marshes seemed even more horrific then he thought they are after hearing the briefing. It was way too late now, ofcourse. They were here, and probably will stay here, though Arthur persuaded himself that somehow, rescue will come. The leader of the operation, Dave Tanner, was alot more pessimistic about it.

The guards shoved the two of them in into a dirty hut which still held together by a miracle, it would seem. There were three other people there, dirty and bitter. They ignored the newly arrived, it seemed.

Weeks passed. Arthur was a young man and persisted, but Dave, who was a veteran of the World War, quickly became ill. The task was truly pointless, removing the swamp plant by plant. But then again, it was meant to keep the prisoners busy – nobody really cared about that old swamp. As for the people, most of them were probably distinguished and most interesting people once, but now they seemed pathetic and broken.

Until one day, when one of them approached Arthur after the disgusting mess the guards called “meal”.

To be continued upon feedback...

Not bad, can't wait for the next update...

Chapter Two: Wakupatama.

Wakupatama was yet another prisoner of the Marshes, but he was different from the most. While on the outside it was barely visible, inside he still had great willpower. And he actually acted. He slowly but steadily gathered information about the huge prison camp, and finally, he came up with a plan of escape. Escape to the wilderness, where he would be less likely to be stopped. He never had any hope for the others – they probably wouldn’t make it – instead he planned to somehow rely the information about the Marshes to the HQ of the Worker Covert Security Militia. How? He did not know at the moment, and had little hope for that. But he planned to die free, and he knew he could get that.

Now, he waited for a moment. And just then, he found another prisoner who could make it out alive yet – a young man from the Eastern Federation. As much as Wakupatama despised the bourgeois regime in the control of the Eastern Federation under the cover of democracy, he held nothing against the peoples who have formed the Federation.

Wakupatama was a dark-skinned man with a very long black beard. Ofcourse, he looked like a one hundred year old savage, but he was only 53. He was muscular and rather short. He was one of the three prisoners in the hut Arthur was thrown to.

After the disgusting mess the guards called “meal” was brought in and the guards left, Wakupatama approached Arthur Nold, and whispered to him.

“Lad. Do you want to get out of here?”

Arthur was startled at first, then whispered back – “Ofcourse. But how?”

Strangely, Arthur somehow believed that this man could lead them out of the marshes. There was something strange about this man. Like an aura of sorts.

“I will explain.” – whispered Wakupatama, looking at the door cautiously and then at Dave who was sleeping, somehow moaning – “But we will have to leave the old man behind.”

“WHAT?” – Arthur almost shouted, but stopped himself and tried to calm down – “In Eastern Federation, we never abandon our people.”

“This is not the Eastern Federation.”

“And what about the other prisoners?”

“Be quiet. They will not make it. However, one or two can escape.”

“Are you that egoistic?”

“If I were egoistic, I wouldn’t be offering this to you. Hush.”

A guard, dressed in the black “Inner Security” uniform, opened the door and eyed the prisoners suspiciously. Time seemed to slow down for Arthur (but not for Wakupatama). Finally, the guard closed the door and walked away.

Arthur spent another week in the camp. He thought over Wakupatama’s offer several times, but decided to stay loyal to poor Dave, whose health was getting even worse.

A week later, Arthur had finally agreed to Wakupatama’s offer. That happened because several Black Guard officers arrived to interrogate Dave and the others.