The fires of the neighbouring buildings cast dancing shadows through the broken planes of the cold apartment as the sound of sirens and gunfire filled the freezing air on this moonless Denon night. Small-scale fighting has been occurring throughout the suburb since what had newly become yesterday, and small holdouts and pockets were still trying to cling to individual buildings. It was in yonder nite that Lieutenant Millemm found himself back in the same apartment he had called home ever since the first battle of Dennon.
With a sigh, he forced himself to sit down on the bench near the long cold furnace, his blaster rifle and helmet, not even an elbow-length away from him on the cooking plate. He hadn't had electricity here ever since the bombardment through the chancellor and never spent enough time on Denon to search for alternative lodging. More importantly, the apartment had grown on him. His company had run its command post just across the street in a now all but derelict market complex. Furthermore, the windows had given him a nice view of the city. Now their broken state only allowed the night breeze inside and with it the sound of the ongoing battle.
He had fallen low. After the First Battle of Denon, it had seemed that a bright future ahead of him, career chances, maybe even Battalion command. Then it all turned for the worse. The catastrophe at Cabal, an invasion in whose planning he had conducted personally, had failed. Only half of his company ever reached the ground, and of the half, only a hand full of men had survived until the order to retreat. Then the pressure on Dennon was further increased, and his career came to a standstill. Finding himself in command of a company on Denon, his task had been to eradicate resistance and saboteurs, a thankless and grinding job in a never-ending house for house combat. When the planet fell back into the hands of the enemy, no one had cared to get his own dilapidated company out, and superiours had put him off with promises of later extraction. Up to now, that had not happened. And by now, there were only four men left under his command.
The sound of a siren ripped him from his thoughts, and he marched up to the window. The flames of a nearby burning building lit the speeder responsible for the noise. Its anti-theft siren had gone off, yet there was no sign of any perpetrator. Reaching for his rifle, he studied the street, angst that maybe one of his enemies had tracked him down after all. Loading the blaster, he kept it in a ready stance, surveying the streets below.
