The rattling noise of a helicopters rotor is numbing, thought Ivan Kozlov as he stretched his legs in the rear compartment of the Mi-8 Hip transport. Looking out the window in the cabin door, which was closed for once, he cast his eyes over the farms below, as the helicopter continued to trace its way up the upper reaches of the Yakov River.

'The time has come for Novistrana to take its rightful place in the New World Order'. What in the world is that meant to mean? Oh well, I guess I'll find out at the end of this flight, he wondered as the helicopter, still at full power as it had been for most of the 40 minute trip so far, began to descend and bank towards a forest below.

Getting up, he walked forward to the cockpit and asked the pilots "We there yet?"

"Yes Comrade General. Just over the hill there", came the reply

"Good"

On the ground, members of the camps security teams, tracked the helicopter with the seeker heads of their surface to air missiles, as it descended through the tree-line and settled on the ground. Immediately a squad of troops emerged from a nearby hut, and ran to the helicopter, forming an acceptance line.

Alighting from the helicopter, Ivan got his first look at the base, which looked very compact. Apart from the obvious accommodation and guard facilities, there were several buildings set away from the others. I wonder what they are? Then he figured if they were important to him, he would find out in due course.

'Stand FAAAAST!', yelled Captain Volkv as his men formed up, in a solid line of men, near the entrance of the Town Hall. He glanced up and down the line of his men as he took a deep breath and turned to the Major pacing up and down the line behind him. 'We are ready, Comrade Major'

'Very well.', the Major then took his turn and raising his right arm high in the air, turned and looked at the group of protestors running towards the line of police, armed with a variety of weapons, homemade or otherwise. Without another thought, he dropped his arm to his side. 'Fire!!!'

A wall of fire erupted from the police line, heavier from the reinforcements from Prismac, who were armed with sub machine guns. The line of protestors seemed to stand still for a moment, before it collapsed under the hail of lead. Only one more salvo was needed before they were all felled.

As he fell to the ground, fatally wounded by a bullet in the lung, the head of the protestors looked up at the sky, where a lone Mi-8 helicopter circled above, a man appearing to lean out the door with a gun. Glancing at the pitchfork in his hand, he sighed and felt the last drops of life run out of him, onto the cobblestone pavement below.