The Future Is Closer Than You Think

by Zaslow Crane

Chato’s blonde hair fell in his face as he bent over looking

  at the readout. It always took so long…talking helped to pass

  the time.

  “Cap?” he asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re from money, right?”

  “If you mean does my family have a few hundred mil salted

  away, well yeah. But that’s not much…Not really. Not anymore.” “But there was money to send you to college…” “I had to take a loan out to go.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. A huge one! But they said I wouldn’t have to pay back

  more than 25% of it if I’d serve here for two years. Why the

  fuck else do you think I’m here?!”

  “Fuck. I dunno. If I went to a Colegio, I wouldn’t be here

  now, no how!”

  “But, Chato, you’re doing the same thing as I did. You’re

  here because when you’re finished fighting, General Mills will

  give you a stipend, a payback. What do most mudhoneys like you

  guys do with the creds? They go to school or start a biz! Either

  way, you’re doing the same thing I did, just in reverse order.” “Well…”

  “Hey Cap, I got a readout!” Bez was finished first. “Great!” Cap looked up smiling, “Send!”

  Cap was quiet for a while as he looked over Bez’s upload. While Cap was reading and re-reading Bez’s info hoping for

  some other answer, the others signaled that they’d finished their

  diagnostics too. Chet shifted and brought his gun up. No one noticed him and Chet didn’t say anything. He

  wasn’t sure there was anything, yet. He looked into the gloom

  anxiously.

  Cap re-read Bez’s info for the third time and then, read

  through Sarge’s and Chato’s.

  He looked at them. “You guys are within parameters. Some

  of your sysops are a little shaky, but we’ve only got 3 hours + 20,

  ‘til extraction, so we’ll do a level one B.A.B. later, and hope you

  all hold up in the meantime.”

  Hope it holds up? Chet looked over his shoulder. He was

  depending on these guys. They were a team.They needed one

  another just to get back out. If their gear wasn’t working… He turned to Bez, “From you, all I get is garbled mush, bro.” The guys all looked at one another. They knew what that

  meant.

  “…musta been damaged at the LZ…You gotta go back.” Sarge jumped in.

  He got in close to Cap. He talked low, but urgently: “Cap.

  This mission was designed for six to seven operatives, min. We lost half our crew before we even got our boots muddy. We might be able to do this with the five we got, these are good soldiers, but you send Bez home, you send us all home. There

  be no way we finish this op with four guys!”

  “Fucked up new “SOA’s!” Bez muttered. He’d surmised

  what Sarge was saying.I ain’t stupid.

  Cap considered. He knew Sarge was right. He considered

  keying on his long range com/link, asking for a directive, but he

  knew what his superiors would say. So, then decided against it. “Awright. We go. But we be careful, yeah?” He’d switched

  to his troop’s common speech patterns in hopes of garnering a

  little esprit de corps.

  Suddenly, Chet’s head exploded! A split-second before there

  had been a muffled crack. His lifeless body flopped to the concrete pad. It shivered briefly before becoming still.

  A marker began blinking in Cap’s p’pilot. Chet was dead. “The guy shooting probably was close by, because he used an

  exploding round, and those ain’t accurate for very far!” yelled Bez. “Even closer, in this rain!” added Sarge. Sarge looked at

  Chet and Cap saw him; knew what he was thinking. “Deal with that later!” yelled Cap as he and the others dove

  for cover and hurriedly put their brain buckets back on! They fanned out in the vegetation adjacent to the picnic

  spot. They were after blood. This fucker snuck up close! He

  killed Chet!

  As they moved forward to where they thought the shooting

  was coming from, they also put more distance between each

  other to cover more ground in the search. Also they wanted to

  make more but smaller and more difficult targets.

  There was a rustling in the bushes. The sound of someone running away, not caring any longer if he stayed hidden.

  They’d flushed him out! All four GM soldiers opened up at the movement and sound. There was a curtain of lead traveling out

  in a solid, hot wave!

  They actually heard their assailant being knocked down by

  one or more slugs! After a few mins more of searching they

  found him – Dead.

  “Good.” Sarge spat on his corpse, “Fucker.”

  “Look at this. Mira his pack. He’s day-tripper,” Bez muttered. “Not out for long duty. He’s got friends around. Close.

  Prob’bly.”

  “Right, Sarge.”

  Cap keyed in a secret sequence. The blinking that represented Chet sped up to double time – then triple time. “Move

  out. I don’t wanna meet his friends.”

  They moved Northwest, parallel to their original path.

  They’d decide when and how to retreat in a few mins. Right

  now, it was time to get away from the scene of the crime. The readout that was Chet, went to quad time, for ten more

  seconds and then there was a dull “whump.”

  They could no longer see Chet’s body, he was already well behind them, but they knew that there wouldn’t be much left after the charge did its work!

  They were saddened by the loss of another good guy. They all had depended on Chet and he them, for a half dozen missions before this. They knew that the same thing could happen to them, anytime. But they also knew that General Mills could not allow the tek to fall into anyone else’s hands.

  Despite the rain, Bez still on point, noticed a strong smell of ozone in his helmet. It was coming from the air/re-circ unit on his back. Ozone meant wires frying. What else could go wrong with this suit?

  Fucking SOA, dammit! From then on, he checked his vitals every few seconds. If anything looked wrong, he was gonna radio Cap that he was okay, and tell him not to believe the vitals/readouts. Was his SOA dying?

  They walked for another ten minutes. It was slow going— crappy paths, mud everywhere.

  Chato started to stumble.

  Sarge was right behind him. Chato was the guy in the best shape in the platoon! Something must be wrong!

  As Sarge drew up to Chato, to see if he could help, and he was shot repeatedly in the head and back. His suit couldn’t take the impacts. Sarge was dead before he hit the ground!

  Bez heard the sound from behind him and froze. An instant later he sought and found cover behind an ancient tree.

  Chato looked back at Cap, holding a smoking weapon, but he was already in the process of passing out. Cap had shut down his ventilation system! He was suffocating! He crumpled onto his back.

  Chato tried to manually open his faceplate, and Cap grabbed Chato’s hand and fastened it to the ground with his knife! Then, he retrieved Chato’s knife from his forearm sheath and fastened his other hand to the ground, driving it through his hand and up to the hilt in the moist, red mud!

  Chato’s movements became less-animated. Bez imagined that he could hear Chato’s moaning.

  By now, Bez had quietly worked his way back. The rain’s noise had covered the minimal noise he’d made re-tracing his steps. He saw Cap stabbing Chato’s other hand. He saw Chato dead or dying, and Sarge obviously dead, his armor riddled and still smoking, despite the steady rain.

  He leaned behind a tree and sighted carefully. He squeezed off a volley. He hit Cap squarel
y in the chest! Cap was launched backwards in the mud! He slapped back onto the moist red dirt with a wet thud! Then, he righted himself and scrabbled behind another tree.

  Cap wheezed in surprise and because he had just survived one of the most dangerous things a person in an SOA could face: A close up frontal barrage!

  He shook his head to clear it and to try to stop the ringing. “Bez!” Cap shouted. “I know you’re there! Talk to me!”

  “You planned this! You killed Sarge!”

  “Looks that way. I pushed for this op on a rainy night. I got more than I bargained for in this storm, though.”

  “You killed Chato!”

  “Yeah…I had to…”

  “Had to?!”

  “Well, yeah! Do you know how many creds the Gas Cartel is offering me for one of these units, still in GWC?!”

  “You sold us out!” Bez was crushed. These were his friends, his family. Now all were dead except for himself.

  “I’m a mercenary, not a sellout!”

  “You’re a traitor, you fuck!”

  “We’re all mercenaries! Bez! You. Me, Chato here. Would any of you have signed up if they hadn’t offered money? No. We’d have hightailed it to Australia, or some other neutral zone. We’d have found a way to avoid the impound and draft gangs if they hadn’t offered creds!”

  “You killed our buddies. Your buddies! People who saved your fucking life!”

  “I did what I had to do. The money has become too important. There just isn’t enough of it. I needed more. I bided my time in this joke of an army; this corporate police force with assault weapons! I bided my time until there was something worth stealing; something that the Gassies would pay dearly for: My S O A and Chato’s S O A! Two working suits!”

  “There will be no place you’ll be safe, you bastard.”

  “I’ve already got a nice condo picked out in Corporate Park, in Houston. The most heavily guarded city in the world!” Cap let that sink in for a moment, then, “I could put in a word for you, too…”

  “What?”

  “Well, if you come along, willingly, I- I mean “we” could turn in three suits. Three working suits. I’m sure they won’t double their price, but I’m certain that I could get you enough to make you comfortable in HouTex for the rest of your life! Interested…?”

  Bez said nothing, but continued attempting to find Cap in his sights.

  “Better make up your mind there, man’o. I got friendlies coming to this spot. They’ll be here very soon. I tripped a beacon, just now. They’re set up to look for me, but if they find you crouched behind that tree still holding your Abrams M-116, well, I doubt they’d listen to reason.”

  Cap worked feverishly in the rain trying to access Bez’s suit; to shut it down, to blow it up…anything to cripple or kill this glitch in his plans! Fuck! He couldn’t get through. Regardless of the “Function”, or “Freq”. Nothing! Bez’s suit wasn’t addressable!

  How is that fucking possible!? he thought feverishly. I’m so fucking close! I can’t let this fraggin’ bozo fuck this deal up!

  Bez was going to remain a problem. Maybe if he surrendered, Cap could get at his manual kill switch in his fanny pack.

  Well, he thought, I can’t trip the kill switch from here, dammit. Gotta get him to come to me. Otherwise I could be “meat” caught in the crossfire! The Gassies sure don’t love me!

  Lightning briefly lit up the sky and a second later came the “boom” of thunder.

  He lifted up on one elbow to yell to his ex comrade.

  “My friendlies are as close as this storm, Bez. What’re you gonna do? Be rich, or be dead?”

  Bez considered.

  Then, he spoke. “Rich!”

  “Say Again, Otra Vez, Babe!”

  “I wanna be rich…And alive!”

  “Good man!”

  “So, now I’ll need a little proof of your change of heart and allegiance. Throw out your weapon!”

  “You’ll shoot me!”

  “If you’re going to help me, why would I shoot you? But, if you’re lying that’d be a good reason to want to keep your fucking weapon…Verdad, eh?” Again, he’d switched to the soldier’s colloquial to attempt to gain some credibility.Had it worked?

  Thunder & lightning boomed again.

  Bez decided that time wasn’t going to be his friend, but still he hesitated. He fished out some of the C-11 from his waterproof pack on his thigh. He yanked out a golf-ball-sized chunk and stowed the rest. From the pocket on the other side, he extracted a detonator.

  “Well. C’mon, Bez! Before I change my fucking mind!” shouted Cap over the storm’s fury. “You’re running out of time! My friendlies are close, vato!!”

  A small baggie of detonators spilled out on the grass. He searched frantically for the red one. The one that would go off on contact. If only he could turn on a headlamp.

  “I’m…hurt.” Bez cried out, stalling for time. “Don’t know if I can stand. I’ll try…Here’s my Abrams!”

  He tossed his weapon out of concealment. It clattered to the mud.

  Lightning flashed again! The thunder crashed almost immediately, almost as if it were God’s afterthought. As the raucous flash lit the area for a moment, his eyes fell on a red button in the grass! The detonator!

  “Watta!” he thought in triumph.

  He tore off the protective seal and smashed it gently but firmly into the plastic explosive. He allowed more rain water to fall on the congealed mess of detonator and C-11. Up to a point, the wetter it was, the better it stuck to something—especially things with hard slick surfaces, like SOA’s—Suits of Armor.

  From now on, he had to be extremely careful. From now on, it was extremely, extremely volatile!

  “I’m coming out…,” he made a show of painfully lifting himself up and wobbled out into the path.

  Cap’s position was a mere ten meters away. So close. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t been able to fucking ace him from thirty fucking feet! Damn!

  He limped toward the position he thought Cap was and discovered that he was wrong. Cap wasn’t there! Near his feet was Sarge’s Abrams, maybe he should pick it up…

  “Behind you!” It was Cap. He’d doubled back. He now stood off to Bez’s side in the underbrush.

  “I saw you limping, but I see no damage to that quadrant of your armor. What’s wrong?”

  He stepped up onto the path.

  “Don’t know. Intense pain in my thigh!” He winced for affect hoping that the exaggerated body language would show though all this protective clothing.

  “Put your hands behind your head. Turn around.”

  Bez did as he was told; he stood with his back to the killer, the C-11 cupped carefully in his right hand.

  Cap walked over and popped open the watertight cover on the hard drive, housing Bez’s kill switch, among other things.

  As he flipped the cover off. Almost a litre of water spilled out!

  “Hah! Watertight! My Ass!” Cap almost laughed!

  This was probably why he wasn’t able to access Bez’s vitals and controls! Water leaked in and shorted some of the mechanisms out when we got out in the rain. It had nothing to do with the explosions he’d planned at the LZ.

  The plan had always been to walk his suit in and take his reward. Chato’s suit was an extra that he may or may not utilize. But this crap with Bez…Something wasn’t right.

  “What’re you doing back there?”

  “Checking your electronics. Stay calm.”

  “You’re looking for my kill switch, you fucker!”

  Bez spun around, and Cap lifted his weapon.

  Before Bez could find shelter again, Cap unloaded a burst into Bez’s chest!

  Bez dove for cover, while throwing his C-11 at Cap’s chest. He had to be right on the money. There was no second chance! It connected! It hit Cap with a wet splat!

  For a heart-breaking split-second Bez thought that he’d unwrapped a “dud,” because nothing happened.

  Cap
looked down at his chest just in time to see the fireball erupt from it! The explosion knocked them in opposite directions. Again, Bez’s suit saved him.

  “Hah!”

  He was still fucking breathing wasn’t he?

  He got up grunting, even with the help of the servos. He crawled over to Cap and, judging by the absence of anything in Cap’s midsection, he’d guess that Cap wasn’t going to HouTex anytime soon.

  As he looked down, he noticed blood pooling in the bottom of his faceplate.

  He keyed it open, and when it only moved partway, he realized that it was blood from a cut on his forehead. The faceplate had broken, but not shattered, and the C-11 had knocked him down, but he was still alright!

  Damn!

  This SOA is alright!

  Something bumped his ankle.

  He looked over and saw Chato weakly trying to kick him again!

  Chato was alive!

  “Vato! Babe! You alive?”

  Bez scrabbled over to his buddy and forced the faceplate open. Chato gasped in relief!

  “Amigo! I thought you were toast!! Fuck! You ‘Live?! Watta!”

  Then, Bez pulled out both knives, and Chato moaned with a soggy deep voice, and rolled-up into a fetal position.

  Bez fished out a couple of compression bandages and affixed them to Chato’s hands. They wouldn’t work as well over the gloves but there wasn’t time to do any real first aid!

  “Fuuuuuck, Dude. You gonna be ‘K?

  “I be good as nu, soon, Amigo!”

  Then, he took out some more C-11 stuffed some under Sarge. He reached into Chato’s thigh pocket and extracted another identical baggie full of detonators. He sorted out the ones he wanted. He tossed the rest into the brush.

  He carefully lifted Cap’s body. He was careful to select a compression detonator (the blue ones) for each. He backed away carefully.

  “C’mon, Chato. We gone,” he said as he gathered up his comrade.

  He drew Chato’s arm over his shoulder and started back the way they came. “Conmigo, Babe,” he grunted, “You heavy, you sabe?”

  Chato grunted, all but spent. “Lo fucking siento.” He answered after a long moment. “Sorry about that!”

  “Hey, Man’o. What about the SOA’s? We can’t leave ‘em!”

  “We had to leave ‘em, vato. Besides, I left a surprise for the Gassies, if they pick up the suits.”

  “Oh yeah?”