A science fiction novel with hints of politics and religion thrown in. Feedback would be so greatly appreciated.
The language of the Democratic Union is as confusing as it is flowing. Many a linguist has tried to understand the subtleties of Uryetska, and even more have tried to understand its complex system of writing.
To this day, no one has succeeded in this task. It is my hope that you will all make progress in this regard.
Address to entering class of New Oxford, 3420 AE
-Professor Thomas Brodham (Executed 3490 AE for suspected attempts of murder against several members of the Royal Family, as well as two acts of sedition, and one act of Class-II High Treason. )
“All right. Stack up. I want breachers at front, suppressors at side, and flashes at back. Go!”
The men in the black jumpsuits silently slid into formation.
“Hold. Listen for movement.”
A faint song could be heard over the low hum of the mens' weapons.
“Vilkyeh, vilkyeh, lahja, lahja dau anjehlikam...”
Sergeant Mills raised an eyebrow.
“You sure he's hiding in there, Nielson?”
“Shut up, Mills. Orders are orders. Everyone wait for my go.”
The song became louder, faster.
“Vilkyeh, das? Lahja, das? Dau toh anjehlikaas...”
The men readied their weapons.
“Lahjet, na, na, e?”
“Doum na lahja? Doum na? Na?”
“Na, jat? Etoht na makalyah... anjehlikai mai grat...”
“GO! BREACH! GO! GO! GO!”
Grenades and bullets tore through the door. Following closely behind, Lieutenant Nielson moved cautiously into the apartment flat.
“Teams of two. Check every room. Mills, you're with me.”
The group split up and advanced into the rank apartment. Mills came to a door and threw a flashbang grenade into the room. He rushed inside to find the room empty of furniture.
“Bloody hell. Nielson, let's move on. I don't...”
Sergeant Mills whipped around. Lieutenant Nielson, his partner of uncountable missions, was somehow attached to the roof by his head . . . blood pouring out of his feet. Sergeant Mills grabbed his headset.
“...the feth? . . . Everyone! Check in! NOW!”
Listening intently he heard nothing, nothing but white noise.
Then a flash of light.
Sergeant Mills found himself stuck to the roof of the apartment. A heavily accented voice was whispering.
“And whot, say ye, have 'a found here?”
Mills tried to speak. All that came out was a groaning mumble.
“Oh, oh, oh, a man, a man, you say?”
Mills noticed his body becoming incredibly light.
“Danyam, danyam, no aht krai?”
The world began to fade.