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| - "Prisoners, up, now!" In the officers' section of a United Nations Space Command prisoner of war camp on Venezia, Insurrectionist Lieutenant Alexander Smolek's eyes shot open as the gruff voice of a guard echoed through his barracks. Knowing from the guard's voice that he was one of the few sadistic guards in the POW camp, Smolek quickly got up, knowing better than to stay in bed, a concern that was validated as a zap and a scream from a fellow rebel prisoner sounded through the building. As the guard, clad in his uniform, with an MA5D slung over his shoulder, paced between the prisoners, counting them off, Smolek resisted the urge to spit or choke to death "the little bastard", as the diminutive guard was called by many of the rebel prisoners behind his back. "Fifty!" the guard said as he finished his count. "Outside, in formation, now!" The rebel officers began to shuffle towards the door. Then came another zap as the guard hit another officer with his Humbler. "I said, MOVE!" he yelled again, and the rebels, fearing the man's wrath, moved outside much faster. As he walked out into the light, Smolek wondered how the man had not been court martialed yet, although many said it was due to the fact very few personnel were available for prison guard duty, and they had to make do with what they had. Unfortunately, their guard was one of those who were unable to continue fighting due to injuries sustained in battle, and so was assigned to guard prisoners. As the rebels formed up on the dirt outside their barracks, Smolek took a moment to survey his surroundings. Looking around, everything was the same around the perimeter. Same barbed wire and electrified fences, same guards with machine guns, same everything. But, on the road in front of the gate to the camp were several lengthened M12 LRVs, their elongated rear sections blocked off, with guards in all black uniforms and armor, all but their eyes covered in an enclosing helmet. And, as he looked to the other barracks...they were empty. But he had little time to ponder these things, as another UNSC officer walked in front of the officers, cleared his throat, and began to speak. "Prisoners, you are being transported to another camp. Board those Warthogs now!" he said, and walked away. With the shouts of their guards, the rebels were herded into the 'Hogs. Stepping into one, Smolek's world turned black as their guard closed and locked the rear hatch, leaving the rebel officers in complete darkness. As the vehicle started, it moved forward. The rebels were silent through the whole ride. After about what Smolek estimated at about half an hour, the ride became much more bumpy, the 'Hog most likely taking a detour to avoid traffic, he thought. But, as time went on, the feeling of the ride didn't change, but Smolek just passed it off as the camp being secluded. He wouldn't put it past the UNSC. He had heard rumors about recent prison breaks, but he didn't know if they were true or not. As the vehicle ground to a halt, Smolek pressed his ear to the rear hatch, and listened. Although the voices of those outside were muffled, he managed to get one snippet of the conversation: "Here is the next group, Captain Dare." "Good." was all Smolek heard. As he heard the lock to the hatch being undone, he quickly drew back, and as light spilled into the cabin, a female ONI officer, clad in what looked like cut down ODST armor, with an angular helmet that had a much smaller visor than usual, pointed at Smolek, who was the closest to the door, and motioned. "Outside, now." she said, and he slowly stood up and walked outside. Almost as soon as his feet hit the ground, two ONI agents grabbed him and took him over to a pit. There, nearly a hundred officers lay dead. He tried to struggle against the two men, but it was too late. As he heard a bang sound behind his head, Smolek toppled into the grave. Smolek's eyes shot open. His head felt as if it had been split in two. He tried to move, but found there were more bodies on top of him. In the distance, he heard the ONI agents talking. It was now and never. Mustering all the strength that was left in his body, Smolek shoved the bodies off of him, and jumped onto the lip of the mass grave, pulling himself out from the dead. Although he took one final look at his dead comrades, there wasn't much time, evidence by the fact a round whizzed past his head only moments later. Smolek broke into a dead sprint, and ran with what little strength he had left in his body. After a good several minutes of running, Smolek collapsed at the foot of a tree. Looking up, he saw a nest of birds above him. At the sight of him, they only chirped a few times. That was all they had to say. Only they, and Smolek knew what had just happened. Alexander Smolek's life had changed in less than a few minutes. And it would never be the same. "BANG" Captain Dare's pistol fired one last shot, and the final, 201st man to die that day, toppled into the grave. "Cover the grave." she said. "And tell no one what was done here today." the Captain continued. In his head, Office of Naval Intelligence agent Walter Coxton began to process what had just happened. As he tallied off the number of men he had just killed...no...killed wasn't the right word, he thought. Murdered was a better one. When he first joined ONI, he thought, he didn't do it to kill defenseless prisoners. Yes, they were rebels, they were thugs, they were traitors. They were all of those things, but looking into the eyes of a defenseless man and shooting him through the head was unthinkable, even if that person was a rebel. Picking up a shovel, Coxton continued pondering as he helped shovel earth onto the dead. He was never a religious man, but, if there was place called Hell, he thought, he and his cohorts would be heading to it. As an ONI agent, having been in action against the Insurrection for about seven years, he had killed many men. But he had never executed prisoners, let alone fifty of them. He thought it was wrong, he felt it had to be. But he did not speak. He feared the wrath of ONI, and knew what they could do. So he continued his work. A few saplings were planted on the site of the grave, and that was that.
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