2050: A Time of Courage

Chapter 19: Commander Petrovich/Lilian

Commander Petrovich

During my time in the military, I had never considered deserting. Desertion always seemed like the worst possible offense to me, and it angered me to think that people could do such a thing.

Why, I used to ask myself, would a soldier walk away from a war? Fighting is the ultimate honor; not everyone gets a chance to do so, and the lucky ones should be proud of where they are and what they are doing.

Soldiers have power. We take over cities, bring down regimes in order to make the world the best place it can be.

Now, I am beginning to realize how wrong I was. Soldiers have no power. We fight, and that is seemingly all we do. High-ranking soldiers give orders, yet we are still forced to take them from officials who have never in their lives walked onto a battlefield.

I have the power to tell my men where to go, what to do, though now that seems insubstantial.

I had real power for those few minutes, the span of time after I injected that Superior girl's blood into my own arm. For a brief time, I could not feel pain. I may not have truly been, but I felt invincible, and I want to feel that way again.

I want answers. I want to know what causes Superiors to gain their abilities, what causes Inhumanes to change the way they do.

These answers will be worth a fortune, much more than fighting in a war that will eventually end. The power struggle will never cease to exist, and if I find Kristenson, I may stumble across the information that will give me the upper hand in the fight for world dominance.

There is no question in my mind now.

There is a reason I chose not to kill that pathetic Superior boy, a reason I listened to the traitorous Orlov and took that journal from the Polish girl.

I am meant to have this book, and I am meant to find Kristenson.

The hands of the clock rest in an identical position on the two as I begin to gather the necessities. I collect my backpack from its position next to my bed, searching through it to be certain the first aid supplies are in order. Shouldering the pack, I cross to the door and silently pull on my boots. My gun is last to be collected as I quickly take it from its resting place next to my boots.

At this hour of the night, the hallways of our makeshift compound are eerily silent, and I have no issue making my way to the supply room. Taking a second standard-issue backpack from one of the shelves, I begin gathering a collection of ammunition, bottled water, and dried fruit.

There is a chance this could take longer than I want it to, and if I find myself in that position I plan to be prepared.

This last task complete, I stalk down a maze of corridors. The entryway is guarded at this time of night by two soldiers, both of whom are looking as though they would much rather be in their beds. If I were still playing my role as commander, I would chastise them, but tonight I am relieved.

The taller of the two surveys me, gesturing for me to continue on my way and bidding me a good night.

Being the imbecile he is, he must assume that the two packs I carry are empty, that I am going out to replenish supplies.