Soul at War

by Martyn J. Pass

  There had been no fresh reports from Zion and I was partly glad. The last communication that Burns had received reported that the enemy fleet was still several weeks from the next planet and that Command was confident we would be deployed well in advance. I was in no rush to resume active combat detail, but I had a strange comfort from being back amongst troops again. It was like putting on a familiar pair of shoes, instantly I felt at ease and in my rightful place.

  I'd been billeted on deck six along with the most recent troopers that had been picked up from several planets along the way. Most had a similar story to tell, de-mobbed usually on medical grounds, now conscripted before their contracts ran out.

  "I'd been injured during midnight raids on Telsa III, been laid up for over a year now. Didn't think I'd be back at all. But when we heard about Zion, well, I was glad to be picked," said a young Private, Aaron Green. He was a stocky bloke, cropped blonde hair and tattoos up and down his arms. Most were the names of wars fought. He'd racked up four already. "Of all the conflicts I've been a part of, this one seems... right, but I couldn't tell you why." We'd been talking since breakfast and I got the impression he didn't get on with the others, they made a concentrated effort to avoid sitting next to him in the mess hall. "So have you seen any combat?"

  "A little," I replied. I wasn't wearing my stripes, I was just starting to get used to the new outfits, which had changed over the last six years. My kit had been left on my bunk and black seemed to be the new olive. Black boots, combat trousers, tee, webbing, even the underwear was black. On arrival my 'life can' had been given to me personally, a 30cm long aluminum tube about 10cm in diameter which contained my contract (renewed), rank and insignia plus pips, ident card, dog tags and a small capsule designed to be inserted under the skin manually. The top of the contract named Lieutenant John Shap as the legal property of the Military Office for no less than eighteen months subject to clause C, paragraph 4. Death.

  "I keep tats to remind me, see." He held out his pale arm. "Four wars across four planets.”

  “Some of us don’t need reminding.” I said, looking at the names.

  “I saw them drop the bombs on a chem factory, trying to poison the land. Would have succeeded too if my squad hadn't stopped 'em."

  "How old are you?" I asked.

  "21 next week."

  "The chemical plant bombing, that was Axthon, the farm world, right?"

  "Yeah Axthon, I remember Axthon like it was yesterday."

  "Yeah so do I." His face turned a different colour and he lost some of his bravado. "Although that was six years ago and I'm sure the outcome was a little different. In fact, I hear they still haven't managed to purge the place yet."

  "Well maybe I'm thinking of somewhere else. Somewhere similar."

  "Yeah. Maybe."

  "Look I'd...” He got up from the table, just as the ship sunk to the starboard and sent the trays flying across the room. A siren began wailing and troopers jumped to their feet.

  "ALL HANDS TO ALERT STATIONS. REPORT FOR BATTLE READINESS. ENEMY CRUISER OFF PORT SIDE. BRACE FOR IMPACT," bellowed the speaker above my head.

  *

  The ship was in turmoil. Klaxons wailed everywhere, people rushed up and down the narrow corridors trying their best not to slam into each other. Red lights blinked violently as emergency power sources spun into life.

  "We'd best make for the armory," Green shouted over the cacophony. "Prepare for boarding." He led me to an elevator crammed full of white faced troopers, all heading the same way. None of them looked like they were ready to repel boarders.

  The lift sunk away and my stomach turned with the force. The stink of fear permeated my skin, it was oozing out of them and I couldn't blame them - I could still remember my first taste of war. It wasn't something you forgot although you spent your life trying to.

  The doors slid apart and we burst out into the hallway.

  "This way," Green shouted. Already he'd adopted a leadership quality and people were listening. If we survived he might have a career in front of him.

  Stood handing out small arms was a hulk of a man with a bald head glistening with sweat, a man with three stripes across his rippling arms.

  "Sergeant Phillips, Green and Shap reporting sir."

  "You're late!" Phillips yelled, spittle firing off his lips like a frag grenade. "Come join the party." An auto-loading shotgun was thrust into my arms along with a belt of red-coated shells and I hurried to catch up with Green, glad I'd left my pips in my bunk. The last thing I wanted was a rank confusing the situation.

  Then came the wait. We stood at docking arm three, a huge oval room with two sealed doors that kept the void of space outside. There were no hatches to look through to see if they were close enough, just a camera inside the air lock. When the outer door was breached, we'd make ready to repel.

  "This is the worst part." Someone behind us whispered. Green quickly shushed her. All eyes were focused on the monitor above us, waiting for the door to start glowing red as torches cut through. Time dragged out at this point and what felt like hours slid past, but were actually minutes.

  "When the door goes, open your mouths and breath out," I said aloud. "The change in pressure will kill you in the split second it takes for the ship to balance it out." I felt Green's eyes on me, questioning eyes. When he turned back to the monitor he dropped to a firing position.

  "REPEL BOARDERS!"

  There were twelve of us in docking arm three. Four hadn't listened to my advice and fell as the inner door splayed open like a tin can, blood dribbling from their ears. The enemy flooded in quickly, a tide of crimson uniforms that met our firepower head on.

  I blasted the first one I saw, taking his leg off at the knee. Green sprayed the hole with rapid bursts taking down three and showering me with hot brass in the process. The other six moved forward around us and were able to form a line just as the enemy managed to loose a salvo, killing two from my left outright. I caught the arm of one, spinning him round on his heels just as Green finished the job with a lucky head shot. Two were prone and firing, rounds bouncing off the plate steel walls behind us. My first shot took off the top of his head; the second went wide and exploded behind. Another of ours went down as the red clothed men pressed forward.

  "FALL BACK!" Green yelled, arcs of fire blazing from his weapon. Two to my right turned and made for the door, the remaining woman went down screaming as her arm was severed from her shoulder.

  "Covering fire!" I shouted and ran forward, grabbing her by her collar. Bullets whizzed past, several caught my cheek and left a trail of pain. Green did a good job of keeping their heads down and I was able to get the trooper out into the hall, just as he came running out behind me.

  "Close it. Now!" The huge blast door fell down like a guillotine, killing the only soldier stupid enough to get between it. Green released the cover protecting the airlock override and punched the trigger release. There was a hiss as air was pressurised on the other side. "How is she?" He asked me. I felt her neck through the film of blood covering my fingertips.

  "Too late," I said. "She's gone."

  *

  The attack was repulsed successfully. After crippling the attacking vessel, the Captain realised that it had wandered from its original course and saw a troop transport as a welcome trophy to drag back to enemy lines. Had its navcom been working properly, it would have been able to judge the defenses of the Midian accurately.

  With a total loss of sixteen crew members, the crew of the Midian were faced with the arduous task of trying to separate the enemy vessel from the hull, docking arms still clung to the port side. After the defense of docking arm three, Green and I went in search of Sergeant Bill Phillips. We found him near sickbay carrying an injured technician on a stretcher. We had to fall in behind the cue, he wasn't going to stop and chat.

  "Where do you want us, Sarge?" Green shouted over the chaos of the infirmary. Surgeons hurried around the open plan room, passing from one injury to another as tec
hnicians pushed trolleys of equipment around like shopping carts. Blood was collecting in pools here and there and most had trails of footprints in and out. The stench of disinfectant was being pumped out into the hall.

  "Are you still here, Green? Get down to the engine deck and help out with the drive. Hell, I shouldn't have to tell a Tech where to go. Get a move on!" Green saluted, nodded to me and ran back the way we'd come, back to a service lift we'd passed.

  "What's the situation, Sergeant?" I asked though I had to repeat it as one of the techs dropped a tray of knives.

  "Who the hell are you?" He replied. Muscles rippled under his blood stained vest, which on this occasion wasn't regulation issue black. In fact, I guessed it might have even been white a long time ago. As the sweat poured down his brow and into his eyes, he swept it away with a broad arm.

  "Lieutenant John Shap. Didn't have time to grab my rank on the way out of the door," I said, saluting in the cock-sure manner most of my peers would have done to make sure the Sergeant understood who I was. It wasn't my style but I could already feel the bristles on his back. We weren't going to be best buddies just yet I expected.

  “I'm sorry sir, I didn't realise you were on board yet. I wasn't informed...” he replied through what I was sure were gritted teeth.

  “Understood. Situation?”

  “We've steadied the Midian, just trying to remove the docking arm now sir.”

  “Then that's where I will be Sergeant. As you were.”

  I took the service elevator to the docking level, passed by docking arm three where they were just starting to carry out the bodies of the very Red's we'd killed.

  "Hold on," I said to the nearest Tech. I began to collect the dog tags, eighteen in total.

  "What are you doing?" The Tech asked, stunned. "They're to be destroyed with the bodies."

  "I want the bodies kept in storage until I say otherwise. Understand?"

  "What will the Captain say?"

  "Any problems, send him to me. I want these soldiers bagged and examined by the medical team." The Techs carried on towards the Med-Bay "Like I said, send him to me."

  As they disappeared, I looked at each dog tag in turn. Michael Kurn. Jake Lathon. Joseph Freth. The names went on. Under every name though, the fanatic logo of ARC.

  *

  Of the six arms that extended like tentacles into the steel hull of the Midian, four were floating free by the time I reached the fifth. A crew was in the airlock wearing breathers and Tech's were severing electrical connections a wire at a time. A short man in overalls was stood watching over the team.

  "Lieutenant Shap. What's the situation?" I asked him. His hand shot up to salute. I returned the gesture.

  “We can't free the docking arm. The electrics were easy but the steel is imbedded into the hull right down to the sixth skin.”

  “Is there any way I can help?” I said and the Tech's eyes gave me a surprised look.

  "Only if you know how to use that thing, sir!" He laughed and with a podgy hand pointed to a twin headed plasma cutter that rested on the deck.

  "Fire it up then and show me where you want it slicing." The smile turned into a grin.

  "You're kidding, right?" I found gloves and a mask, began adjusting the tungsten electrodes and the gas pressure feed.

  Minutes later he was directing me to a fused joint where the Red's arm met the Midian's. I struck up the arc between the two heads and felt the heat burst across my skin.

  "Cut only as deep as the second layer of the internal skin you can see there, behind it is the breach in the outer hull's skins and we don't want to get spaced here." Sweat began collecting on the end of my nose, dripping inside the mask. The UV given off by the arc was scorching the paintwork behind me, leaving a well defined shadow on the wall.

  "Good, now turn the head slightly, separate the two stanchions and let us get a lever in." I could just sense two Techs move in beside me with long poles as the stanchions expanded apart with the heat. They had to get the poles in quick before they contracted again.

  "That's it, out of the way, sir," he said and I slid backwards on my arse. The Techs swiftly moved in and pulled on the levers. "Brilliant. It's free now, try the control panel." A Tech punched the controls. There was a grinding sound of metal on metal. Then the airlock siren sounded.

  "Let's boogey. One more to go."

  *

  As I finished cutting the final arm free, I heard the boots before I heard the voice. The crew all turned at once as the Captain of the Midian appeared in the corridor.

  "Attention on deck," A voice shouted, though I couldn't tell who, I was still wearing the mask. Rising to my feet I powered down the cutter.

  "Who gave the order to store Red bodies in the morgue?” Lifting the mask I saw Burns behind the short, stumpy Captain who searched the oil streaked faces with beady little rat's eyes. He wasn't what I'd been expecting a Captain to look like. I'd never seen one in the flesh before.

  "I did, sir," I answered. The faces of the crew turned on me. Teeth clenched ready to shatter, the Captain raised a finger straight at me.

  "What the hell for!"

  "For examination before destruction sir. Reports have shown genetic modification and part of my remit is to make sure every body taken is examined thoroughly by the medical team.”

  "Don't make me repeat myself, Private."

  "That's Lieutenant Shap sir. The man I was telling you about," Burns said with a hint of trepidation.

  "That still doesn't give him the right to decide what happens to the rotting corpses of my enemy." There was silence.

  "Answer, Lieutenant," Burns ordered.

  "I was enlisted under Military Office orders and take authority in this area. Please allow me to go on with my work. Sir.”

  "So you're the M.O special boy then?" The Captain spat. His face had turned a bright cherry red and veins bulged out of his left temple, shooting a glance at Burns.

  "Sir, I've read the files. There is more to this than we thought, these bodies must be examined for genetic alteration. At least then we might have an idea what we're up against." The Captain chewed it over like a bear does with a bee in its mouth. Burns just grinned and looked up to the ceiling.

  “Burns here might think you're special, Shap. But I've read files too. I'll be keeping a close eye on the man who walks out when the fighting gets too much for him. Once the reports have been sent back to M.O I want these bodies spaced and that ship destroyed. Are we clear?”

  “Yes sir.” I said as he turned to storm away down the corridor.

  *

  The following day, the Midian had resumed it's course for the Zion group, leaving the fragmented remains of the ARC ship in its wake.

  "I think you made as many enemies as you did friends today, John." We were sat in Burns private quarters on deck twelve, a bottle of sixty-five year old scotch between us. Burns held his up to simulated candlelight and i swilled mine around the glass.

  "The Captain's an aresehole. He knows why I'm here he should just let me get on with it," I replied a little too coarsely.

  "There's a lot of hatred towards the Reds but I suppose that goes for their side too. The Captain has more reason than most to hate them. He served under Rorsch when he was on our side. He felt the betrayal more keenly than most."

  “Fair play.” I said. “But the only way we're going to have a chance is to out think Rorsch because he sure as hell will out think us. He was one of the best and he will now make a formidable enemy. I can't think of anyone else I'd NOT want to be up against.”

  “You were there, you served under him. Why do you think he turned?”

  “He was a little bit mad to start with. His genius on the field came at a price. He was quick to adopt what ever the Chaplain said – what ever the denomination. He was always looking for the answers to the big questions and every victory on the battlefield brought him closer and closer to believing he was blessed by deity.”

  “I never served near him. We always
ended up on other sides of the galaxy. He was a legend though. People rushed to briefings just to hear what he'd done that month. A lot of people were devastated once news broke from the M.O.”

  “I was there at his peak. It was he who got me the Lieutenants stripe.” I downed my drink and poured another.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. We'd just made planet fall when we were ambushed. Our drop ship put us down on the outskirts of a major stronghold we'd been given intel on. As Rorsch' ship landed on the north side he and his crew were fired upon almost immediately. He lost several troopers before I took the decision to divert off mission to support him. When we arrived he and a single private were the only survivors.”

  “Wow. I'm surprised you didn't get a medal for that one. You crawled right up his arse.” Dan laughed but there had been nothing funny there at the time.

  “Looking back I was in serious trouble. I'd ignored my orders and gone off mission. It was Rorsch who put a stop to me being arrested the minute we returned to the ship. I didn't think it was important at the time but he put a hand on my shoulder as we left the hangar and said 'boy, when the time comes I will need people like you by my side'.”

  “So even then he was planning to betray us?” Dan said. I nodded and we were silent for a while. You could hear the gentle hum of the engines far off into the distant bowels of the ship. Boots marched outside the door, moving towards the aft decks.

  “Religion eh? We're saving crackpots from crackpots.” Dan said softly.

  “You know it's not polite to talk about religion and politics in company.” I said, laughing.

  “Well Rorsch counts as politics in my opinion. So why not go double or nothing?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Okay then. Why?"