by Korza, Jay
He heard a shuffle behind him and whirled in a small arc while dropping to one knee and bringing his weapon to bear, only to find his new friend softly cooing at him from the entrance of the weapons locker. With a shaking finger, he gave the animal a cross look and added, “Don’t ever sneak up on me again. You could have gotten yourself shot.”
Gathering up his cache, he ventured out, using his friend for cover. The grass near the door enticed the nine other animals he brought along: they had just decided to stay for lunch and were now seemingly very unhappy about Seth’s plan to move them once again. After a little bit more nudging, they grudgingly headed towards the fuel dump.
At the fuel depot, he deposited the mines in such a way that hopefully the blasts would be omnidirectional, sending everyone nearby for cover. Too many people were near the command tent and he didn’t think that he would be able to sidle up next to it as easily as he had the fuel depot.
He decided that a small stampede near the bunker would divert everyone’s attention just long enough to set the mines and then blow them all. He was a dead man, anyway, so he might as well give it a shot. It was his only hope. He set the mines to explode in sync with one another and put a dead man’s switch between his teeth so if he went down, they would all go off anyway.
He aimed the small herd at the bunker and then began whipping them on their rumps with a small metal rod he found by the fuel canisters. They really didn’t like that and the nearest of the animals reared on his four front legs and kicked Seth straight in the chest. He went back, knocking over a small pile of fuel cans just as the ten animals started to run into the camp.
Someone heard the commotion and saw Seth but before the soldier could yell a warning, he was knocked over by one pissed-off six-legged deer. Soldiers went flying in all directions—some unconscious, some just bleeding.
As a xenobiologist would later record, these pack animals didn’t stampede when frightened but instead spread out almost an even five meters from one another and began kicking at anything that was in their way.
The rest of the herd saw the commotion and decided that their family members needed help and all fifty or so other animals came running and kicking to their aid. Winded and with two very painful and bloody hoof marks on his chest, Seth made a mad dash for the bunker. He could’ve walked or even crawled there, because no one was paying any attention to anything except those flying hooves.
He set the mines and almost forgot about the dead man’s switch in his mouth. That was close to mistake number three of the day. If that deer had a little bit higher or harder of a kick, KABOOM!! He would have dropped the switch from his teeth and the charges would’ve detonated right in his arms. Seth set the charges and ran for cover. Suddenly, he remembered the mines at the fuel depot. He decided to blow the command bunker first and use the fuel explosion as a secondary diversion to try to get the hell out of there. With the deer attack in full swing, he just might be able to get away.
He let go of the switch and the mines lit up. A laser beam was shot from each one into the sky and an explosion lit up the entire compound. The soldier who had first seen Seth had not given up on his quarry and was now running straight towards him with weapon drawn. Seth began firing and lit off the second volley of mines. A laser beam went straight up from each mine and a huge flash momentarily blinded him.
He began firing his weapon at his unwavering opponent when his rifle abruptly went dry. He reached for a second magazine and was up pulling the trigger in a split second. No shots fired! He noticed his enemy had the same problem.
Only one explanation…the training exercise was over. Central Command had turned off all the weapons, and the holographic explosions emitted by the mines were being disabled as Seth looked up. The lasers from the mines, that signaled a distant computer telling of an explosion, were also disabled. The deer were still kicking the hell out of any soldier who was near but most marines had the sense to find shelter out of range.
The general’s shuttle began a slow descent from above the site to the edge of the compound. The general stepped out of the shuttle, ducking as he passed through the doorway. He was six foot six inches tall and seemed as wide as a tank. He had field dress on with a beautifully custom-made sidearm in his holster.
“Who is the marine who blew up my command post?!” he barked. “And get those damn creatures out of here before they kick everyone to death!” he added.
Seth stepped forward at attention and realized for the first time that he must have several broken ribs because he couldn’t stand straight and it was difficult to breathe. “I did, General, sir!” he said in his most commanding voice. Unfortunately, with broken ribs and all, it came out only as a whisper.
“Get your ass in my shuttle right now! I want to hear about how you single-handedly won the war games after your entire unit got wiped out.” He let out a booming laugh and ordered his personal corpsman to help the cadet into his shuttle.
With a glare towards the commanding officer of the compound, he added, “I will speak to you later and you can explain how a CADET could destroy a whole command center on his own and live to tell about it.”
The CO went white from head to toe. He wished that he had been fortunate enough to be knocked unconscious by one of those deer like so many other marines who lay around him. Then he would at least have an excuse as to why he had lost his base to the cadet.
During the flight back to Operational Headquarters in orbit around 09-675, Seth gave a total account of his operation, including the death of a marine by some indigenous predatory cat. The general assured him that there was nothing he could’ve done about it and those things sometimes happened, even in war games.
~
After being cleared from sickbay, Seth went to his quarters to await graduation the next day. Because of his proven worth in the field, Seth would be graduating as a first lieutenant instead of a second lieutenant like the rest of his classmates. Something to write home about, he thought, and he’d be sure to include how his “expensive” education paid off in the end.
He fell asleep and dreamt of wild cats attacking him and six-legged deer stampeding over his head. The dreams faded quickly into visions of his first command. Where would he go? What would he be in command of? Sooner than he would have liked, the lights came on and he began to dress for graduation. As he finished shaving, he distantly wondered what the future would hold for him.
After long hours of boring and repetitive speeches, his class was dismissed to the crowd of loved ones waiting to congratulate the new officers and take pictures to remember this moment for years to come.
It’s not that Seth didn’t believe in what the speeches were trying to say; he just figured that if you didn’t have honor and love for the corps already, no words could be spoken that would make you stand taller or fight with more courage.
Seth wandered around the great hall, congratulating fellow marines and friends that he had made during the course of his training. Then his eye caught a sight too beautiful to be ignored. Obscured by all the movement within the crowd, the vision disappeared behind a family taking pictures with their daughter. His family was unable to attend to the ceremony due to work, pressing family matters, and a couple other excuses Seth hadn’t bothered to remember.
Seth knew First Lieutenant Kyle; she was smart and very aggressive, which had put her at the top of their class. He wandered in her direction to say hello when he saw the vision again. In the corner a young woman sat with someone Seth figured was her mother. The older woman was crying and a man had just walked up with a priest at his side.
As Seth got closer, his mind began to race through images and he finally remembered. This was a family he had seen before. They were almost in the same positions he had seen in the picture with one exception: Cadet Riley wasn’t beside his sister. Cadet Riley was the soldier who had lost his life during the training exercise.
Seth felt it was his duty to give the family his sympathy as he had been there at the en
d and he still felt guilty about not being able to do anything. They seemed to look up at him simultaneously as he got within a couple feet, Suddenly, he was at a loss for words. “Mr. and Mrs. Riley,” he choked out, “I am truly sorry about your son’s death. I was near when the accident occurred and I wanted to assure you that he felt no pain and didn’t suffer at all.” What was he saying! He couldn’t believe that he was giving Riley’s poor family details about such a gruesome death. “I didn’t know Cadet,” Seth paused, “I didn’t know Robby very well, but the few times we were on missions together, he served with the utmost honor. I knew, as did everyone, that we could count on him if things got tough.”
Mrs. Riley’s tears subsided for a moment and then she stood to face Seth directly. “Thank you,” she whispered, and put her arms around Seth and began to sob uncontrollably. He returned the embrace but didn’t know what to do next. He looked up and saw Riley’s sister standing with a very composed and strong expression on her face. Seth felt ashamed; here he was consoling the mother of a dead marine and all the while he was thinking of how much Riley’s sister moved him. She had such strength in her eyes. She knew that her mother and father needed support right now, so she was determined to keep her own feelings deep inside until the shock of it all had left her parents.
He couldn’t take it anymore and luckily Mrs. Riley’s embrace subsided and Seth was free. “If you’ll excuse me,” he began, “I have an early departure and need to prepare my gear. Again, I am truly sorry for your loss and feel as though the corps has lost a great man and officer.” With that, he came to attention and saluted the Riley family, hoping it would show his sincerity. Performing a textbook about-face, he departed.
Once in the hallway and out of sight, his body became limp. The corridor vanished before him and all he could see was Robby’s slashed face with terror in his eyes and a voiceless cry for help. Seth was bent over with his hands on his knees for support, sweating from every pore in his body and was about to throw up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?” a sweet voice asked. He looked up; it was Riley’s sister. “I just wanted to thank you for what you said back there. I think it will really help them. Should I get you some help?”
Her voice showed concern and Seth didn’t want to worry her, so he righted himself and almost couldn’t speak through the desert that now occupied his mouth.
“Thank you, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to keep you from your family so I’m just going to go lay down in my quarters now.”
“I need a break from that crowd anyway, so why don’t I help you back to your quarters.” It was more of a statement than a question and Seth could see the determination in her eyes. He realized that it would be harder to deny her request than it was to win the war games.
With a slight nod, he began to walk toward his quarters with one arm around her neck. He found that he was surprisingly weaker than he had thought and that she was much stronger than he had given her small appearance credit for.
When they reached his quarters, he placed his thumb on the ID pad and the door hissed open. Once inside, she laid him down on his rack and went into the bathroom. She returned with a cool, damp cloth and placed it on his forehead. “Just get some rest,” she said and started towards the door.
“Wait,” Seth called out, “I don’t even know your name.”
“Emily. And thank you again for your kind words. I loved my brother very much and it meant a lot to me.” With that, she left.
What seemed like only moments later, he heard the door open. He thought that it was Emily returning, but that couldn’t be because she didn’t have access to his room.
He turned on his side to see who was there when a black bag was pulled over his head. He began to fight and threw a punch in the direction of the oncoming bag.
“Son of a bitch!” he heard as the bag slipped from his head and his hand made contact with an abnormally hard face. The room was still shrouded in darkness and judging from the pain in his hand, the assailants were most likely wearing night vision masks. He was at a disadvantage but that never stopped him before. He threw a wild round kick in the direction of a whisper and made contact with his bureau mirror. The crash masked the sound of the two men who had snuck up behind him.
A sharp pain shot through his right flank as he heard the sizzle of an electric stunner and felt the jab of its prongs pushing on his kidney. He felt himself losing all ability to maintain consciousness and as a last-ditch effort went for the gun he kept under his pillow. He didn’t even come close. His last sensation was that of a medic spray entering his neck and the crack of his nose as he landed face first on the deck.
What will the future hold? The question went through his mind one last time before total darkness encompassed his reality.
Chapter 3
Coalition Military Installation – Clandestine
Sweat mixed with blood and rain poured into Daria’s eyes as her feet sank in the mud with every running step she made towards shelter. She dove for a boulder and popped up on the other side with her weapon drawn.
She didn’t even know who in the hell she was running from or how she had been wounded. She only heard a faint whisper in the background of all the gunfire: “Screw up. Screw up.” What did it mean? She hadn’t screwed up, and where was all the firing coming from? She didn’t see any other marines and couldn’t raise anyone on her comlink.
Suddenly Daria felt ice-cold claws entering the skin on the back of her neck and her body being lifted from the ground. She tried to squirm around to see her assailant but that just drove the claws deeper into her flesh. Blood was running down her shirt and she heard the demon whisper in her ear, “Screw up.”
The beast dropped her and she swiveled on her feet to bring her weapon to the demon’s face. When she turned, she let out a small gasp. The creature was wearing Mike’s face and again whispered, “Screw up.”
Letting out a battle cry, she rushed the monster and suddenly realized that she didn’t have a weapon any longer. She threw a punch that was caught easily in the demon’s grasp. She was about to pull her knife with her other hand when she saw Davies’ face.
He was holding her fist in his hand, getting ready to block another attack, when she started to remember where she really was.
“Whoa, marine! Calm down, we’re not in battle yet. Come on, didn’t you hear the ‘gear-up’ call on the 1MC?”
“Gear up?” she managed to whisper as Davies let go of her fist.
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to wake you for almost a minute now. I was going to call sickbay in a second if you didn’t come around.” He stepped back to allow her room to stand and added, “What were you dreaming about, anyway? You were mumbling Mike’s name and something about him screwing up. Hey, you’re not believing that stupid story we were fed about that crash, are you?”
Daria sent Davies a glare that made him take a step back and he knew that he had crossed an invisible but very definite line. “What the hell is going on out there, anyway?” she managed as she stumbled towards her gear locker.
“We’re on alert status one, and all base personnel are to gear up and await orders. I guess this means that your leave is terminated.” He looked at her with mournful eyes in an attempt to let her know that he knew she would never believe that lame story about Mike.
“It’s about time something happened around here,” she said with a smile. “I was getting bored of playing solitaire. Let’s gear up and get this thing started.”
“Well, it’s about time Daria came back!” Davies almost roared. “I was starting to miss that little hellfire around here. Let’s go kick the ass of whoever just pissed us off”
Daria looked at her gear and wondered what to take. She hated these general calls to gear up. You never knew where you were going, so how the hell did they expect you to know what to take?
She grabbed her standard-issue marine assault rifle, which was not so standard anymore. She had modified the grenade launcher tube to accept h
igh explosive willey-pete mortars. The mortars were usually launched from a stable platform mounted to a vehicle’s deck plates. She reduced the capacity from six grenades to two mortars but she tended to kill more targets with one willey-pete round than most did with five or six grenades. She had also shortened the length of the barrel for easier carrying with the rest of her gear.
Although she usually spread the medical gear out among the other platoon members to help with carrying it, she still had her med pack that she always carried. A regular-sized rifle barrel always seemed to snag on its front flap or some other part of the bag just when you least expected or needed it to.
Grabbing her water recycler, she checked to make sure that the filter was clean and had a good amount of life left in it. Of course, she already knew that all her gear was in tiptop shape.
After Mike’s death, she did nothing but take apart and clean all her gear every day for almost the first week. You never wanted to go into the field unless you knew for sure that everything was perfect. Something always went wrong, so it’s always best to try to reduce the number of things that could go wrong.
She looked over her comlink and applied it to her neck. This was the best gear improvement she had seen in more than ten years. The new comlinks were a light titanium alloy about the size of a poker chip and only about two times as thick. When placed up against the neck just behind the ear, the wearer tripped a switch that activated an electrical impulse, allowing the device to attach itself to the skin at the molecular level. And the best part was it drew its energy from the bioelectricity created by the soldier: as long as you were alive, so were your communications.
Once attached, you could set it to different frequencies simply by rotating the outer ring until you got the frequency you desired. One click for the whole platoon to hear, two clicks to get a secure channel between you and any other marine within a twenty-meter radius, three clicks for a secure link to the command center, and four clicks to raise the transport ship. The device picked up the vibrations in the mastoid process, the small bony prominence behind each ear, when you spoke and transmitted it as sound. And for receiving, it similarly sent tiny vibrations through the same bone and into the auditory canal for the brain to translate into words. It was so much easier than fumbling with microphones or handheld communicators. And unlike almost every other piece of military equipment issued, it almost never broke down.