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A short story, written by myself. Peace.
Ghost of Humanity
Nestled peacefully at the bottom of a valley sat the Terran mining base Theta. For years the base had served as a rich source of minerals for the Terran Dominion, but recently it had been discovered that rebels and terrorists have been operating through its facilities. Perched up on a distant ridge overlooking the base sat a single man. His back was against a tree and his rifle lied at his side, his hand quivered as he looked out at the setting sun. Its warmth was eluding him. He was fresh out of the academy and had been assigned this mission personally by Emperor Mengsk. Mengsk said that the roots of anarchy are like a plague and that the only way to cure it was to burn the carrier before it can spread. His orders were simple. A tactical nuke was standing by; when command gave him the signal he was to help exterminate tyranny. He was to be the instrument of liberty.
The man's radio sprung to life with the go ahead. The man stood up and grabbed his rifle. He looked down the scope, aiming for the heart of the base. As he took aim, he noticed he could no longer hear the songs of the birds in the trees, his skin no longer felt the cold evening breeze, and even the colors of the world around him no longer seemed as vibrant. He breathed in. His soul called out one last time. His hand stopped shaking; it was time to play God. He exhaled the last of his humanity. Nuclear launch detected.
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