"What I need isn't a ticket out of here, but a gun."
Gennal von Lorasga's voice rang out in the command room at the top of the Hive City, calm and firm, without a trace of hesitation.
He stood before the enormous viewing window, gazing out at the sky stained red by war.
The flashes of explosions flickered among the clouds like ominous lightning, bathing the world in an orange-red glow.
His reflection formed a clear silhouette in the glass: a middle-aged man of average build with broad shoulders, wearing a governor's ceremonial uniform and the insignia of the Millennium World on his chest.
"Guards! Get a Lasgun from the armoury! Now!"
At his command, a guard froze for a moment, then quickly turned and ran toward the armoury.
The Agri World of Hesoral.
This planet was an important source of food for the Millennium World. Vast farmlands and pastures covered most of its habitable regions, feeding tens of billions of people.
But now those farmlands were burning in the fires of war, those pastures were soaked in blood, and those once-peaceful villages and towns were turning to ruins.
The rebel Fleet had already breached the orbital Defense Line and was deploying landing forces to the surface, while Hesoral's defenders—several million professional soldiers and tens of millions of Militia—were fighting desperately to hold them back.
The guard soon returned, carrying a standard Lasgun.
The rifle was well maintained, without a speck of dust on its body, and its charge indicator read full.
Gennal took the rifle, expertly worked the bolt to check the chamber, then slipped the sling over his shoulder, leaving the rifle slung diagonally across his back.
"Send the children and those with useful skills away first." He turned to face the officials and guards in the command