A/N

The idea for this oneshot came after watching the thirty-second trailer for Killzone 2. Sticks pretty close to it, though the bullet time is distinctly lacking. We're entitled to stretch the laws of physics, but I can't see a 24th century bullet taking thirty seconds to reach its target. :)

Thirty Seconds

Thirty seconds is a long time.

At first glance, it may not seem to be. After all, what is thirty seconds in the grand scheme of things? In the billions of years since the dawn of creation, in the hundreds of thousands of years since the rise of humanity, in the centuries of space colonization and even the generations after the beginnings of the helghast, of what significance is thirty seconds?

For the most part, very little. In normal circumstances, thirty seconds is not even a drop in the vast ocean of time. But with war having gripped the galaxy, with the war machines of Helghan and the United Colonial Nations on a collision course, circumstances are far from normal. On Vekta, on Sorin, on Helghan...depravity has gripped the galaxy, has gripped the spirit of Man. In thirty seconds, millions can perish. In thirty seconds, a weapon of mass destruction can be detonated and the innocent and guilty alike can become nothing but vapour. From ashes to ashes and dust to dust, the scale of time is altered.

This has not happened though. Not yet. But it is close...so very close...

It is close because the situation on Helghan calls for it. It is close because timeframes of thirty seconds are repeated all over the world.

In seven seconds, a pair of ISA troopers sprints to a pair of barricades, braving the fire of their enemy. Not out of a sense of duty, not out of a sense of self-preservation, but from a sense of hatred. To them, the past is nothing. The helghast are the enemy. They must be destroyed. The present calls for it, regardless of the events of history.

Five seconds later, a helghast achieves victory, killing his enemy with his bare hands. He watches with satisfaction as the weakling's corpse falls down into the soil, into the filth where humanity belongs. They are an old species. A weak species. The helghast are the inheritors of the galaxy and will claim their rightful place. All that remains to be done is cast aside Earth's imperialist government.

Within six seconds of this victory, it is clear that this will not be an easy task. Within six seconds, a proud mech of war has been destroyed by fire from on high. Like avenging angels, humanity has come to purge this world, to erase this mistake. The helghast are an aberration of all that is descent. They started the Second Extrasolar War but it will be by the hand of Man that it ends.

Three seconds. Three seconds is all it takes for a helghast sniper to ready another round. He can see the fear in the eyes of the would-be conquerors, a fear that cannot be smothered by imperialist propaganda. Humanity has come to size by force what it cannot claim by right. And as the body count mounts, as their weak soldiers throw themselves at that which cannot be defeated, the oppressors will back down. The helghast will see to it.

Another three seconds later, that might be a problem. Because another sniper, this one of humanity's guardians, the ISA, has found his mark. The helghast commanding officer lies on the floor of his makeshift command post, dead. Not that the helghast are lacking in dictators, but the defenders of democracy are willing to wait. Wait for the line to read them right to Visari.

Within six seconds, it's become clear that might be a problem. For the helghast are united. They act as one and fight as one. And lifting their voices in a unified war cry, a cry against the totalitarianism the UCN represents, they charge. They charge down their foes, their eyes locked in with their enemies. No quarter will be asked for by these criminals and the armies of the righteous have no intent on giving it.

This is what can happen in thirty seconds.

And if such a short timescale wasn't constantly repeated, perhaps its significance would be recognized...