The Soldier

by Terrance Mulloy

  Four

  Inside the drop-pod, all was still and silent until a homing beacon began to pulse.

  Matt was the first to stir, the other greenies soon followed. They were all groggy and confused; the net result of a rapid drop velocity, and the punishing G-forces that came with it.

  “We made it…” Wilson sighed with relief, looking over the metal breastplate of his exojacket, still fixed to his support bracing and unable to move. “We fucking made it.”

  “Praise be to God,” whispered Akim, sharing the same sentiment of relief. “I do not wish to ever do that again.”

  Lopez’s gaze drifted around the pod, trying to focus on her surroundings. “Yeah… that was hella fun,” she groaned sarcastically, wincing as she tried to move.

  “Holy shit!” O’Donnell chuckled triumphantly. “Am I the only one who thought that was a crazy fun time?” Based on the lack of response he got, it was obvious he was. He turned his head to Matt, flashing a brash grin. “Dude, I think I popped wood. For real.”

  “Congrats, man. Happy for you.” Matt shook his head, now wanting out of this metal bucket, but like everyone else, was unable to move a muscle.

  “You come anywhere near me with that thing O’Donnell, and I will beat your ass to a pulp,” said Lopez, having overheard O’Donnell’s boner remark.

  Beckett, Davis, Maynard, and Wilson all shared a grim chuckle, also relieved to be alive and on the ground in one piece. For now.

  Matt couldn’t help but flash a smile at Lopez. He was starting to like this squad. They were scrappy around the edges – the kind of people he usually felt more comfortable to be around.

  Jackson looked up at the pod’s beveled ceiling, scanning the overhead support bracket he was still attached to. He seemed concerned. “What now? We just sit here and wait?”

  “Damn-well hope not,” Beckett scoffed. “I need to pee, man.”

  “Why are we all stuck here like this?” Maynard protested. “Nothing’s happening.”

  Matt caught small ribbons of code cycling in the corner of his visor. He knew this was the pod’s automated systems firing up again. “Did anyone bother to read our landing protocols?”

  Jackson’s steely gaze landed on Matt from across the aisle. “Nah, I must’ve been busy that day.”

  Matt ignored Jackson’s snide tone. “These drop-pods have an automated discharge sequence. If you look in the right-hand corner of your visors, you can see the pod is loading up some new code.”

  “Yeah, and it’s taking a long-ass time to figure itself out,” Jackson responded.

  “Welcome to the USC,” snickered Wilson.

  “What if that code is corrupted?” said Beckett, now concerned by his own question.

  “Then I guess we just have to wait,” Matt replied, hoping that wasn’t going to be the case.

  Lopez craned her neck over the line to Matt. “You’re kidding, right? We could be dead by then.”

  Suddenly, there was a series of sharp pops, like mini detonations going off. Support cables and connective rivets disengaged, snapping free as the pod’s four walls collapsed like a series of castle drawbridges, each one thundering into the ground in a huge dust cloud.

  Epsilon’s merciless sun hit them like a billion spotlights, the translucency app on their faceplates immediately thickening to shield their eyes. Then, the limbs of each exojacket automatically opened like steel flower petals, freeing the greenies of their restraints.

  The first thing everyone did after stepping out of their jackets was to unclamp their assault rifles from the housing brackets.

  “OK, now we’re in business,” whispered Jackson as he swung his rifle over his shoulder and moved around to the back of his jacket to unlock his haversack.

  “That sun… Jesus.” O’Donnell detached his rifle and checked it over, making sure it did not sustain any damage on the way down. “They weren’t kidding when they said it was hot out here. I can already feel I’m drenched.”

  “O’Donnell, you gonna be one of those greenies who never quit whining?” sighed Lopez, waiting for her rifle’s identification system to acknowledge the subdermal grip pattern of her gloved hand.

  O’Donnell shrugged and peeled off his helmet, squinting as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Nah, I’m just sayin’, my suit’s thermal cooling system feels like it ain’t doing shit.”

  “Yeah, well, just sayin’ someplace else, greenie. You’re a techie, right?”

  “Yep. Combat-sys-engineer.”

  “Then how ‘bout you go give the old man a hand.”

  The others looked up from what they were doing to see the digital camo pattern on Davis’ combat uniform was malfunctioning. He was fidgeting to no avail with the small control panel set into his forearm plate. The camo pattern just kept flickering between Woodland and Arctic.

  “It’s desert combat, not a snowball fight at a ski resort,” scoffed O’Donnell, putting his gear down to go give Davis a hand.

  “It’s not my fault. Piece of shit won’t cycle.” Davis was now wrestling with the panel, tapping furiously, but the suit’s camo pattern was frozen on Arctic white. He looked like a human refrigerator. The panel on his forearm controlled all aspects of his standard USC combat uniform; everything from digital camo patterns to his internal hydration system.

  “Here, let me take a look.” O’Donnell gave Davis a quick smile, taking his forearm and squinting at the small screen. “Ah, I see your problem.”

  “What is it?”

  Without warning, O’Donnell slammed Davis’ forearm hard against the arm of his exojacket.

  “Hey! What the fuck, O’Donnell?”

  “Try it now.”

  Davis tapped the control panel. The pattern on his uniform flickered to the correct desert camo design.

  “You’re welcome, old man.” O’Donnell turned and trudged back over to his gear, slipping his helmet back on.

  Davis stared at his control console, a little stunned. “Thanks…”

  After securing his rifle, Matt zipped open his haversack and pulled out his hydration pack, turning on the water purification system. There was a slight whirring sound from the device as he connected it to a small bladder inside his uniform and placed it into a pouch on his supply belt. He then stood again to take in their desolate surroundings.

  The afternoon sun was getting low, but it was still beating down on them with relentless brutality. Three times larger than the star they were used to back home; it painted the sky a sickly yellowy color. Their pod had landed in the middle of what looked to be an open crater basin. Beyond it was a tundra of black rock that stretched for miles, reaching the feet of some steep bluffs on the distant horizon. This place looked like hell after the flames had gone out. The oppressive heat also played tricks with the strange light, creating imaginary pools of water on the surface. The auditory landscape was nothing but the constant whistle of a scorching wind.

  Matt grunted as he threw his haversack over his shoulders. He bent over, picked up his rifle, and stepped out of the pod, scanning the weirdly colored sky above.

  Jackson, Davis, and Akim joined him, with Maynard and Lopez trailing behind. Lee, O’Donnell, and Wilson were still inside gathering their gear.

  Davis studied the alien landscape that surrounded them. “To think this planet once had oceans and continents. Now look at it.”

  Lopez nodded in agreement, taking in the endless yawn of tortured rock. “Why couldn’t we have started a war on some tropical paradise, with palm trees, white sands, and blue water?”

  “Technically, we didn’t start this war,” Lee added.

  “Technically, it makes no difference,” Lopez replied. “I’ve been here less than a few minutes, and I can tell this place already sucks.”

  Lee nodded while adjusting a shoulder strap. No argument there.

  Jackson walked up and stood next to Matt, following his gaze up to the sky. “What’re you thinking, Reeves?”

  Matt could tell something wasn’t
right. “I’m thinking we should be seeing some other pods by now, but there’s nothing up there. The sky’s empty.”

  Despite his faceplate polarizing the second he tilted his head up towards the sun; Jackson still narrowed his eyes as he tracked the boiling clouds to the ruddy horizon. “Maybe some of them were knocked off course.”

  “No… we were.”

  Jackson turned to Matt with an incredulous look, then to the others.

  They all stood in muted silence, eyeing each other nervously, the horrible realization dawning on them. They had come down in the middle of nowhere, way off course, now totally exposed and alone.

  “Um… dude, you sure about that?” queried Beckett.

  “We were struck by something on the way down. You didn’t feel it?”

  Beckett took a suck of the hydration straw inside his helmet before answering. “Sorry, I was too busy trying to stay conscious.”

  Matt’s fingers skated across his forearm panel, bringing up a miniature orrery of field apps. He selected his holographic compass. The orienting arrow was pointed north, but the magnetized needle swung southwest. A small icon pulsed in the northwestern corner of the azimuth ring. “This is a rough guesstimate… but based on this… I’d say we’re about seventy to eighty miles off our DLZ.”

  The others groaned with defeat.

  Maynard huffed sarcastically and shook her head. “Yay, go us.”

  “If we’ve been knocked off our vector, we better verify our location quickly,” warned Davis as he swung to Beckett. “You’re our Geospatial Analyst. Where the fuck are we?”

  Beckett brought up a small topographical map on his forearm plate. “What was our DLZ grid again?”

  “For fuck’s sake, Beckett,” growled Lopez. “Get your head in the game.”

  “64750,” Matt responded.

  Beckett studied the 3D hologram as it gently rotated above his forearm, trying to locate their DLZ grid in relation to where they were. No dice. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Reeves is right, man, I’m not seeing anything referenced here… yeah, we’re way off any active fields - smack-bang in the middle of Nowheresville.”

  Matt turned to the other greenies, his face now bristling with concern. “Who’s our NET-COMS operator?”

  “I am,” answered Akim, tightening a thick support harness on his haversack.

  Matt spotted the small wideband unit and thick cables attached to his haversack, along with the stubby tactical antenna perched behind his right shoulder. “Are you hearing any chatter?”

  Akim keyed his forearm plate and tapped some commands, carefully listening to the secure audio feed inside his helmet. “I’m only hearing background static.”

  Davis peeled off his heavy haversack and dumped it on the ground, squatting next to it. “Well, this is fucking great. We haven’t even reached the war yet, and we’re already dead in the water.”

  Jackson knelt beside Davis and scooped up a clump of the earth in his gloved hand, rubbing the dead soil between his fingers while his mind churned. “You all heard Major Barbee, right? This planet is full of magnetized rocks and minerals. Our communication was always going to be sketchy. He warned us about that… but maybe if we head out a little further, we can find an area that’s not affected.”

  Matt did not like that idea at all. He looked out at a distant ripple of mountains.

  They were many miles away and barely visible in the heat haze. The burning star above them had slashed the horizon with daggers of bleached-out light, so there was the good chance he was looking at nothing but false summits.

  He brought the scope of his weapon up to his right eye and slowly panned across the basin.

  Through the circular view of his scope, he could just make out the faint shimmer of three structures in the distance. Gunmetal grey and weathered, they wobbled in the heat-haze, looking reminiscent of the old grain silos he remembered seeing while driving through Nebraska once. There was no visible activity, and the structures looked old and abandoned. His scope panned onward, and beyond the three structures, the desolate landscape rippled.

  Matt lowered his rifle and gave Jackson a grim look. “We could be walking aimlessly for hours out there, Jackson. Not a good idea.”

  “And you think landing here was?” Jackson replied with a cynical smirk.

  “Come on, man. That wasn’t anyone’s fault,” said Beckett in an attempt to calm the situation a little. “No point beefing over where we landed. Let’s just work the situation.”

  “Each of us are hauling forty pounds of body armor and gear, Jackson,” Matt continued. “Not all of us have shaved our heads yet either. Remember what they told us about Sesame Seed?”

  “You think I give a shit about head lice right now?”

  “Jackson, wherever you think you’re going, you’ll never make it.”

  “Look, all we gotta do is find somewhere to make the call and head straight back.” He turned and pointed towards a distant sliver of rock. Eons of harsh weathering and erosion had caused it to protrude slightly above the surface of the basin like a craggy fang. “We push to that ridgeline - make for some higher ground.”

  Matt saw where he was pointing and snickered. “That structure must be at least two miles away. It could also be riddled with Hellstings.”

  “Then we find somewhere in-between. Reeves, our pod is still emitting a signal beacon - this will just help speed things up. As long as we’re back here before they arrive, we’ll be good.”

  Matt still wasn’t convinced. “What happens if we get lost?”

  “We already are lost.”

  “Yeah, with limited water, rations, and ammo,” O’Donnell interjected. “This shit feels spooky, man. I don’t like it.”

  Matt gave O’Donnell a small nod of affirmation, relieved to finally have at least one greenie on his side. “Plus, it’ll be nightfall in a few hours,” he added. “We’re better off waiting here.”

  “For what?” snapped Lopez, now stepping into the debate with her usual brawny and scruffy style. “A Wraith patrol to show up? We could be sitting here for days, man. That’s assuming anyone bothers to come for us.”

  “They’ll scan all the corresponding grids if we’re not where we’re supposed to be.”

  “Oh, really? What makes you think that?” she chided. “You know that for certain, Reeves?”

  Matt could see Lopez’s soft features hardening underneath her faceplate. She was simply reacting to fear. Matt knew this because he was too. He was just doing a better job at suppressing it. “They won’t leave our empty jackets out here without destroying them first. Secondly, they won’t leave us out here to be captured by the enemy. That’s not how the USC works.”

  “I bet your ass they can, and they will,” Lopez replied, now visibly annoyed at Matt’s Boy Scout optimism. “If we’re too deep in enemy territory, we’re on our own, baby. That’s a fact.”

  Maynard, Wilson, Lee, and Beckett shared more uneasy looks. Lopez did have a valid point. Maybe they truly were alone out here with no chance of rescue. Despite the USC doing everything to control the uplifting and hopeful narrative about this war back home, everyone had heard the news reports of entire squads disappearing on Epsilon without a trace. It had been revealed via leaked cables and intercepted relays that many of them were combat infantry squads waiting for support, which by the time it came, was too late.

  Despite also knowing this, Matt shook his head dismissively. “Lopez, this entire planet is considered enemy territory.” He could tell by her annoyed glare she did not appreciate that response. “All I’m saying is, there’s strength in numbers. Besides, we have no direct line of contact with any Tactical Op Command, let alone our designated extraction unit.”

  “That’s exactly why I need to make sure we do,” Jackson replied.

  Matt turned to Jackson again, deciding to humor him a little. “What makes you so sure you’ll be able to?”

  “I don’t know, Reeves. Call it a greenie’s hunch. Shit, even
call it faith. Whatever works.”

  “Has it occurred to you maybe our long-range comms are down because we’re actively being jammed?”

  “Now you’re just speculating.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “This is bullshit.” Jackson snickered and turned away, visually plotting a course into the sparse yawn of desert. “You all wanna stay here, that’s fine. But I’m outta here, folks.”

  Matt turned to the others for one last attempt and reasoning with them. “We’ll have a better chance of holding out if we dig in.”

  “He’s right,” O’Donnell said. “You walk out there for too long, Jackson; you’ll bake yourself into a Turkey.”

  “The fuck does that even mean, O’ Donnell?” jabbed Lopez, her patience now clearly evaporated.

  “It means walking off could be suicide,” Matt replied bluntly on O’Donnell’s behalf. “Aside from the Wraith, we don’t know what else is out there.”

  “Sorry, guys, I’m with Jackson,” Beckett confirmed. “But I think we should split into two teams, just to be safe. One stays here, the other sets out to try and re-establish comms with HQ.”

  Wilson now had some reservations of this own. “Yeah, but if we split up, how are we gonna maintain a comms window?”

  “We can’t. That’s why splitting up is a stupid idea to begin with.” Matt could feel the heat from Beckett’s glare. He pivoted to Akim. “Try it again.”

  “But there’s no signal,” said Akim.

  “Try it again. Maybe someone’s listening.”

  Beckett dropped his head and shook it. “Yeah, the enemy.”

  Matt wheeled to Beckett, tired of all the verbal sparring and speculation. “I think it’s safe to assume they already know we’re here.”

  “Oh, that’s comforting,” Beckett snickered.

  Jackson flicked his faceplate up to wipe some sweat from his forehead. “You’re wasting your time, Akim.” He spat at the ground before closing it again, his HUD flickering back to life.

  Matt ignored Jackson and stepped closer to Akim. “Just try it.”

  Jackson was now glaring bullets at Matt, the pale digital glow of his HUD making his eyes glint like hard diamonds. “You’re not in any position to be issuing orders, Reeves.”