The Siege

"I mark a bittersweet anniversary today in a way that none of us could have ever anticipated. Who could have known that 15 years ago, when mankind first ventured out of the solar system, we had started a countdown on our very existence. How could I have known then that I was commanding a mission, not to the stars, but toward Armageddon instead."

- from the journal of General Duncan Sinclair, January 13, 2125, the tenth year of the Kustani siege of Earth

A high-pitched buzz pierced the silence of General Duncan Sinclair's office. His dark, chiseled features, which had led many to describe him as roguishly handsome, scrunched into a scowl that he aimed directly at the intruding intercom.

Setting down his stylus, the same pen he'd carried with him on his ill-fated mission beyond the solar system, Sinclair closed his journal and pushed it aside. With a sense of foreboding, he activated the intercom's receiver.

"Sinclair here, go ahead Westbrook."

"I'm sorry to disturb you sir," the apologetic voice of Sinclair's aide began without any surprise at his superior's clairvoyance, "but you said you wanted to be informed if we heard anything from Mars."

Mars Base had been silent for over three days now, having gone quiet without so much as an explanation or a "mayday". The sense of foreboding increasing in leaps and bounds, Sinclair steeled himself

for his aide's next words.

"Sensors show six patrol fighters Earth bound. We've confirmed they're part of the Mars Base detachment. We haven't been able to establish radio contact," the aide paused uncomfortably. "It looks like they've taken a lot of damage, Sir."

As we had feared and much more, Sinclair thought bitterly to himself. Even Lieutenant Westbrook, who always found a way to put a positive spin on any situation, was struck silent. Mars Base was the keystone in Earth's defense, if it had fallen to the enemy then the demise of humanity was all but sealed.

"Dispatch a wing to escort them in and inform me when they arrive," said Sinclair somehow keeping an undertone of defeat from creeping into his voice.