The Last Patriots

    By most official accounts, the date that the modern Scottish war of Independence ended was the 23rd of April 2032.  Not so coincidentally, this was also the same date of the second largest battle of the entire war and the day before, British Forces finally got the permission to use a thermal satellite in an attempt to discover the Para-militia base.  They had been waiting for many months to get this clearance and on the 22nd April, they attained it.  Using this satellite, the main Para-militia base was discovered; several dozen heat signatures were detected in an old abandoned warehouse and so heralded the beginning of the end of the war.
    Attrition had whittled the Para-militia forces down to less than a hundred soldiers in total by this point.  Most were in small groups, scattered widely throughout the city, but the most concentrated force was about forty soldiers in and around their main base.  The majority of this group was actually in the warehouse with two guard teams stationed in the building opposite.
    The Sun had just gone down on the 23rd of April and in one of the rooms in this building, a guard team was doing what they were meant to, guarding.  Three snipers were positioned, each by a window of their own and the other two members of the team were sitting round a small fire in a corner of the room.
    “I’m freezing,” one said.  “When does our shift end?”
    “We’ve got just under two hours left,” the other said.  “Its spring now, you know, it’s getting warmer.”
    “Doesn’t help me now though, I still feel cold.”    
    “I don’t see why you’re so desperate to get back to the base; it’s not much warmer there than it is here.”
    “Why do we even have to be here?  Our scanners can tell us if anyone’s approaching, we don’t need to be look outs.”
    The Para-militia soldier held up the scanner as proof of that and the other man noticed something.
    “What the hell?” he said.
    “What is it?”
    “Give that thing here,” he snatched it from the other’s hands.
    “What’s your problem?”
    “Look at this; we’re getting pulse beacon readings.”
    “So?  It’s probably just a patrol.”
    “I’m getting over twenty reading so far, not that far away.”
    “Could be the Penal Company.  Should we contact Aden?”
    “Let’s wait and see what direction they’re going in.  Hey guys!” he called to the snipers on look out.  “Keep an eye out, we’ve got pulse beacons near by.”
    “What are you getting now?”
    “I’ve got thirty signals, no wait, fifty!”
    “Where are they?”
    “South.  And North.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “There are two groups; one from the south, the other’s coming from the north.”
    “How many are you getting now?”
    “I’ve got too many reading to count; they’ve all merged into two shifting blobs.”
    “Are they on this road?”
    “Yes, they’re closing in on us, they definitely know our location.”
    “How?”
    “No idea, make the call to Aden.”
    “We’ve spotted something,” said one of the snipers.
    As the soldier made the call to Aden over the radio, the other man rushed to the window.  He could see two groups of soldiers, one coming in from the south, the other from the north.  They were each lead by a Cerberus tank with an army of soldiers behind them.
    “What do we do?” the sniper asked him.
    “Wait until you can get a better shot, then open fire.”
    The British soldiers jogged close behind their tanks in neat columns, the Penal Company at the front of the North column.  The two columns identified the warehouse they were supposed to be attacking and as they began to stop in front if it, sniper fire rained down upon the infantry behind the tanks.
    The British troops all tried to squeeze behind the tanks, using them as cover from the snipers.  Then, the main doors of the warehouse behind them opened and the rest of the Para-militia defending their base appeared and began attacking the British soldiers.
    The two Cerberus tanks began to respond, the Para-militia on the ground were cut down by the point blank machine gun fire as the drivers of the tanks aimed the cannons at the windows the snipers were shooting from.  The cannons fired one right after the other at their respective targets, obliterating most of the building’s wall and causing a shower of debris to cascade onto the pavement, killing both guard teams in the process.
    The British soldiers, together with their support tanks were slaughtering the remaining Para-militia troops by the main doors; they had begun to retreat inside, dragging their wounded with them.  The men of the Penal Company prepared to chase them inside and finish this only to have the door slammed in their faces.
    “Barricade the doors,” Aden ordered her men.  “Then bring the wounded back here.”
    They remnants of the Para-militia blocked the doors with as many heavy objects as they could fit, moving the rest to the back of the warehouse, near the stage, to form defensive barriers that they would use as cover.  Aden looked around at what was left of her army, she counted less than a dozen who were on their feet as they ran back towards her and clambered over the barriers.
    Most of her able soldiers were carrying the not-so-able to the back of the warehouse so they could share in the Para-militia’s Last Stand.  Most of the wounded were unconscious, but there was one young soldier with a Cerberus bullet lodged in his gut who was still awake.  Duncan, the large bald man who had once tried to kill Colin, had collected more than his fair share of scars and injuries throughout the war, so had gotten through this recent battle unscathed to make up for it.  He was now crouching over this wounded man.
    “Aden,” Duncan called.
    Aden rushed over and crouched next to him.  “What is it?” she asked.
    “Andrew’s badly injured,” he said.
    “So go get him a medic,” she said.
    “There’s none left,” he said.  “They’ve all be killed.”
    She sighed and leant down to inspect Andrew’s wound, it was large and wouldn’t stop bleeding, she pressed her hand down on it and the thick red juice seeped through her fingers.  Andrew’s eyes were wide open and his breathing laboured, he looked up at Aden and moved his lips in an attempt to speak.
    “I think he’s trying to say something,” Duncan said.
    Aden put her free hand under Andrew’s head and supported it as she leant in closer to listen.
    “It hurts,” Andrew whispered.
    Aden slowly looked back at his face, his eyes were closed and his breathing still.  She lowered his head back onto the ground and stood up to address what remained of her troops.
    “Everyone who can do so, on your feet!” Aden commanded.  “We need set up our defensive positions.”
    She looked around at her soldiers, they didn’t appear to be following her orders, the healthy ones just continued to sit around and made it hard for Aden to distinguish them from the wounded.
    “What are you waiting for?” she shouted.  “I doubt boxes and some old furniture will hold them off for very long.”
    “What’s the point, Aden?” a nearby soldier said.
    “There’s no way we can win now,” another said.  “I think it’s time to give up.”
    “Where will that get you?” Aden said.
    “We’ll be alive,” one said.  “Let’s just turn ourselves in, we’ll probably go to prison but at least we won’t be killed.”
    “Duncan?” Aden said.  “What about you?”
    “I’m with you Aden,” Duncan said.  “I’ll keep fighting.”
    “What about you, Dominic?” Aden asked him.
    Dominic was sitting quietly in one corner and remained that way.
    “Do you all honestly think that there’s a chance we’ll live through this?” Aden asked.  “Are you all that naïve?  There won’t be a prison cell for us, we’re not criminals, we’re enemy soldiers.  If you don’t fight back, all you’ll get is a sooner death.”
    “You’re lying,” a soldier said.  “You’re just trying to get us to keep fighting for your stubbornness, we have a chance at living through this but you’re too selfish to accept that.”
    Then, a loud and constant banging noise, coming from the main doors, echoed throughout the warehouse.
    “You’re wrong,” Aden said.  “Do you hear that?  There’ll be through those doors soon, we’re already lucky they haven’t found the side entrance.  When they break those doors, they won’t show us any mercy.  The Penal Company waits for us out there and they aren’t soldiers, they’re animals who are about to be let out of their cages.  When they come for us, we will only have two choices left.  You can either die begging for some more of your so far insignificant lives.  Or you can die fighting for it!”
    It wasn’t the most inspirational speech, but it worked.  Dominic got to his feet, picked up his rifle and walked over to join Aden.
    “I’m ready,” he said.
    Outside the warehouse, the Penal Company were being forced to use a makeshift battering ram to open the main doors, so far they were having limited success.  The British officer in charge of the assault was overseeing the siege while being talked at by his second-in-command.
    “They’re not having much of an effect, sir.  Maybe, we should try a different approach?”
    “Such as…?”
    “We know their location now, why don’t we just leave and call in an air strike?”
    “We can’t risk them escaping and besides, we have strict orders to keep damage to the buildings of the city to a minimum.”
    “Well, we can’t carry on like this; we’re going to have to resort to a more invasive method.”
    “What would you suggest?”
    “Why don’t we use the tanks?  Get one of them to ram the doors.”
    “Those tanks are expensive; we are expected to return them intact.  We can’t risk damaging them.  No, I have a better idea.”
    “Sir?”
    “Order everyone to fall back.  Then send a round from a Cerberus cannon at the doors, that’ll open them for us.”
    “Very well sir.  And then send our men in?”
    “Wait, do you have live thermal images of this area?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “Can you tell me how many hostiles are left in the warehouse?”
    “We counted fourteen heat sources.”
    “Good, it’s not many.  We don’t need to send in our soldiers, just order the Penal Company to take the warehouse.”
    His orders were carried out, the British forces surrounding the warehouse withdrew to a safe distance and a Cerberus tank was positioned at the main entrance with the remains of the Penal Company, just over 25 men by now, waiting behind it.
    The final command was given and the cannon fired, the shell tore through the metal doors like paper and the resulting explosion blew them off their hinges.
    The Para-militia inside all ducked down when the doors exploded in front of them.  Aden looked up, only to see a fiery gap where the doors once hung and burning debris scattered about the floor.
    “Prepare yourself!” Aden shouted.  “They’re coming!”
    Aden stood between Duncan and Dominic, ready to combat whatever appeared the smoking portal.  Around them were seven more Para-militia soldiers on their feet, crouching down behind their hastily built barricades.  Even some of the wounded had regained consciousness and were now sitting upright against walls with rifles in their hands.
    As they all waited, guns pointed at the smoking crater in the wall, a long enough time expired to make them all just slightly anxious.  Then, the final battle began.
    They could all make out faint muzzle flashes in the smoke as bullets emerged and struck the barriers in front of the Para-militia.  The shots were blind-fired and most missed, but one didn’t.  One bullet hit Duncan right in the throat and he fell down instantly.  Aden glanced down at him and saw that he wasn’t moving.
    The first sign of the enemy that Aden saw were the bright yellow arm bands of the Penal Company.  The first wave pushed through the smouldering wreckage but before these Penal troopers had time to collect themselves, Aden had already lobbed a grenade at the opening.  The blast hurled these unfortunate first three soldiers out of the way of the next group.  More Penal soldiers poured through the breach and began shooting at the Para-militia.
    Aden immediately shot all these soldiers in the head before anyone else got a chance to.  However, this didn’t stem the flow of the Penal Company, more entered and the sounds of gunfire became the common background noise of this building.
    Dominic crouched down and shot at the Penal Company in controlled bursts without blinking.  Aden kept on firing as the sound of unfriendly bullets whizzing past her continued until the time when she filled the empty space that one bullet was meant to pass through.  It hit her in the left bicep and she ducked down behind her cover, hand over her wound in pain.
    She took a quick scan of her allies, all around were the falling bodies of Para-militia soldiers, there was just her, Dominic and four others left.  Aden reloaded her pistol and jumped back up to rejoin the fight, there was a lot of them by now, she took out her last grenade and flung it out of the opening.  
    An explosion followed soon after, she wasn’t sure if it had hit anybody as she was too busy handling the ones already in the warehouse.  As she finished off a Penal trooper running for some cover, another bullet pierced her upper right thigh.  The pain really hit her; she inhaled sharply and killed the soldier who had fired the bullet.  Now she had to shift her weight to the left, while keeping her injured arm close to her body and still focus on fighting the Penal Company.
    Dominic fired at the latest arrival but nothing happened, he was out of ammunition, he quickly patted himself down in search for some spare but he found none.  He dropped the weapon, pulled out his sidearm and continued shooting as a Penal soldier shot a Para-militiaman standing next to him.  The shooting continued, and then it stopped.  The last enemies in the warehouse were dead, but the small Para-militia force didn’t let their guard down.  They all hunkered down, guns still directed at the opening.
    Aden was breathing deeply; she turned and smiled at Dominic crouching next to her.  He turned and smiled back, it was the kind of smile that looked like it would never leave his face, and it didn’t, not even when a bullet passed through his head.
    The few other Para-militia soldiers started firing at the new group of Penal soldiers.  Aden looked at them, less than ten Penal troopers were being lead into the warehouse by a blond man.  She stood up and began shooting again, a Para-militia soldier fell down near her but she didn’t notice, she just kept firing.
    Aden shot two of them in the head before she was shot again herself, this bullet came from the blond man and it entered the lower left part of her stomach, causing her to fall down.  She looked around to see her last two soldiers be shot and fall backwards as their blood dripped onto the concrete floor not far from her.
    Then she looked down at herself, she had contributed quite a bit to the bloodstains on the floor from her stomach wound.  A grey haze began to appear around the edges of her vision, she tried to shake it away but it just kept getting harder and harder to see.
    Aden could still se well enough to recognise the general shape of an enemy soldier coming round the barriers, she raised her arm to shoot the figure, only to have her be shot first, right through the forearm.  Her arm collapsed in pain but she tried to raise it again, this time her resistance was halted by a heavy boot stamping down on her new wound.  She looked up at the man, in the centre of her vision, where it still wasn’t too blurry, she saw a general face with blond hair on top.
    “Hello there,” it said.