"Why what?"
"Why does god allow this to happen to his special missionaries out there? That's if there actually is a god. Why would he let an army like ARC butcher his 'children'."
"Why not? I mean, what is ARC? They're people like us, not some spawn of Satan. In the twentieth century Adolf Hitler was deemed the anti-Christ, the devil incarnate. He was a truly evil man, but how could god allow him to do the things he did to the Jews? Go back a few years to his early life. You'll find a young man horribly injured in conflict. You'll find a man who sees his beloved country being brought to its knees by the Allies after world war one, being punished repeatedly by legislation regarding industry and commerce. He does what we're all guilty of - he seeks revenge. He builds Germany back up, creates a booming economy and a powerful army to exact that revenge. Did god play a part in that? No, the Allies did by not learning from their mistakes. Whether you like the fact or not, if you look at history and take god out of it, it wouldn't look any different. Moses and the Israelites, a tribe who fought a bloody campaign to seize and control modern day Israel.”
"Are you saying we’re responsible for ARC?"
"It's possible, somewhere. Rorsch thinks his way of life is better than ours and he's convinced or brainwashed a whole lot of other people to think the same way.
"And ARC was the result?"
"In my opinion? Yes. Now we're just beginning to realise how powerful a belief system is - especially in the hands of fanatics."
“Some of the guys upstairs, the head sheds, they're calling this a war between good and evil.” Burns drained his glass as if in rebellion to the thought. “But can we call it that? Really?”
“They did the same with world war two. But which was which? Hitler bombed civilian targets, so did the Allies. There was torture and guilt on both sides. Dresden. Nagasaki. Hiroshima. Were the Allies really that good? The Russians had the Gulags, the Nazis had the Camps. Down to the core, man is self-centered. I don't mean that in a moral sense, I mean his main interests first and foremost are to his own needs and desires. It's natural, a living being must first seek it's own survival in a hostile environment like this. So everything it does must have, somewhere in it, a benefit or reward to himself.”
“What's your point?”
“My point is...” I thought about it, finished my drink. “...life can be summed up not in terms of good and evil.”
Burns laughed. “But...?”
“The man with the biggest gun always wins.”
CHAPTER 4
The Midian settled into a low orbit of the lush green world of Sidon six days overdue. Sentry drones floating just inside the atmosphere trained heavy auto lasers onto us, kicking off the alarms again. One of the Techs's told me it was standard procedure.
"They sense the damage, relay it to their base and run it through analysis to see probable cause. If it is detected as damage from conflict the guns arm against a possible hijack." I'd grabbed him when he walked past my billet just as the alarms had gone berserk; the guy hadn't even flinched when they'd started wailing.
"So what happens next?" I asked.
"We send them security codes that change on a daily basis."
"Then what?"
"They let us launch landing craft."
"And if the codes are wrong?" He sighed, clearly wanting to be somewhere else.
"Then they blast the craft out of the stratosphere. Have a nice flight." And with that he disappeared down the corridor, just as Green was coming the other way.
"Hey Lieutenant. Sarge says planet fall is at 19:00. Full kit and NBC's to be worn - there's a chemical leak right where we're landing and we can't divert." I took down my chest rig and began to pack away my personal items. Everything else had never left the Bergen since I'd been issued with it.
*
We were assembled in drop-bay four, the great gleaming craft suspended on magnetic locks above a sealed airlock. It was sleek and painted in anti-radar colours that glistened in the artificial light and the gull-wing hatch was open on its port side. Techs milled around carrying out last minute adjustments. It wasn't my first introduction to a drop craft, but this model was new and a lot more sophisticated than the one I was used to.
I was one of twenty-three troops lined up against one wall, NBC masks hanging lazily around our necks and our kit at our feet in front of us. Sergeant Phillips in similar dress marched up and down the line doing random checks as he went. He caught Green's sloppy wrist seals and yanked them into place.
"You wanna die, Green?" he shouted. "You wanna suck some funky dust? Maybe get a little high, is that it?"
"Sir, no sir!" he replied, mask bouncing around.
"How the hell have you made it this far, Green? How the hell have you lived without me wiping your ass for you!"
"Sir, I don't know sir."
"I think I know, Green. I think I have the answer, Green. I think you're momma dropped you on your head and you bounced! I think you have a god-damn rubber skull and nothings gonna kill you."
"Sir, thank-you sir."
"EXCEPT ME IF I SEE YOU DRESSING SLOPPY AGAIN! UNDERSTAND!" Green's face ran red.
"Sir, yes sir."
"Right babies, haul ass into that Mercedes over there." We shot forward up the ramp. "Kit to be stowed in overhead compartments! Nothing loose except your dicks."
Troopers scrambled around inside the cramped cabin trying to find their allocated seats. I found mine near to the cockpit next to the Sergeant and slung my kit into a hole above it. Then I sat down and buckled up.
Minutes later we were launched from the Midian. Out of the window on my left I could see the sentry drones locking onto us. They looked like floating balls with arms.
"I don't like the looks of those drones," said one of the troopers.
"I think that one likes you, Walker," Shouted Green over the engines. "It wants to do naughty things to you."
"He'll have to wait, I'm seeing your mother tonight." The cab erupted in cheers. Private Tony Walker was Green's other half of a long standing double act. If they weren't gluing each others property to bulk heads, they were getting drunk in the bar and chewing over memories of the lunar city they were both raised in.
"Shut it back there," The Sergeant yelled. "ETA 12 minutes people."
"Seriously, Walker. Why would anyone care about you?" Green this time.
"I need all the help I can get, bailing your ass out of the shit.”
"What, like the ambush on that training planet?"
"That was different, I did that for your benefit, you needed it more than I did."
"What about the time you left your belt kit at the brothel and needed me to run back and get it?"
"I left it on purpose you idiot - she'd shit all over it, I didn't want that back anyway."
"You will go for these alien types."
"She was hardly alien, she came from London."
"My point exactly."
"What, like your sister?"
"What about my sister?"
"She used to pee when she came. Three times I got a golden shower screwing her."
"Your sister changed lanes - on me!"
"You shared sisters?" I threw in.
"Sorry Lieutenant, you shouldn't be hearing this," Walker said.
"Why not? He should know what your family is like. Dinner at your house is served outside in the trough."
"Sunday lunch with your Dad means cooking it yourself. Remember the time you got Pizza? Your Dad thought I'd made it!"
"It was that bad even I thought you had at the end."
"Masks on in six." Sergeant yelled. I didn't bother waiting, I got mine ready and on. I'd always preferred the time to get used to breathing in it before the atmosphere hit you like a brick. Walker and Green carried on regardless, though now it was all muffled until the final minute when Phillips called for a digi-com check. Then the world regained its clarity and was pumped in through both ears.
"Hatch drop in fifteen seconds." The Sergeant moved to the back as
the landing feet extended and the belt clips released automatically. Above my head I could hear our kit being ferried away into a sealed crate that would be ejected after we did. It was no good us coming out suited up, only to contaminate our kit carrying it around. The only thing we were allowed to carry was our chest rig and weapons.
Most had been issued with the standard M-4B, a compact automatic rifle with a straight magazine. There was a woman near to the hatch carrying a long Sniper rifle and two brutes carried heavy machine guns with a chain feed coming from their backpacks. All wore the standard side arm and combat knife. I cradled an auto-shotgun in my arms as the cold air rushed into the cab.
"OUT OUT OUT!" Came the order and in sequence we burst down the ramp and assembled in formation.
"Look sharp, people. Spread out and take ground." We moved as one across a high meadow on the edge of a forest that disappeared into the distance behind us. There was nothing but an ocean of green in front and blue skies above.
The drop-craft gunned its engines and shot upwards, returning to the Midian.
"Walker and Tekoa, forward in squads," Phillips ordered and the two squad leaders broke away taking six men each. "Wulfgar, covering positions around the box." One of the enormous troopers carrying a heavy machine gun took seven from the unit and spread them around the kit box, leaving myself, Phillips and Lt. Burns at the head of the defensive line. Burns had been in the cockpit trying to raise the Avalon for the duration of the journey down and had been the last off the craft. He was in a standard black smock; boots and a baseball cap perched on his head. On his thigh he wore a pistol and a knife.
"Anything from the Avalon, Dan?" I asked as I scanned the horizon. Tekoa and Walker's units had disappeared over the horizon, separating as they hit a tree line.
"Nothing, John. That means either a simple delay, or they've run into more enemy ships."
"I understood that the one we'd encountered was a lost cruiser off its flight plan?"
"That was only an educated guess, one that only time would prove. With the delay of the Avalon, it would seem to suggest otherwise," The digi-com crackled as Walker reported in.
"We've reached the edge of the farm. No signs of life, sir."
"What about the farm house?" Sergeant Phillips replied.
"Negative. Abandoned - in a hurry. Looks like there's been some small arms fire."
"Casualties?"
"Negative, not even a trace of blood."
"Secure the building and wait for further orders."
"Received." I looked at Burns who was running a finger down the face of a plastic coated map. Without saying a word, he nodded to Phillips who looked like he'd been waiting for an answer to a question I hadn't heard asked. Already the efficient relationship they'd built up over previous conflicts was starting to show.
"Okay Wulfgar, we move." The giant with the machine gun directed his unit forward, lugging the supply box between them on floating grapples. Burns turned to me and said,
"We'll set up operations at the farm house. Out here we're sitting ducks and according to the map it offers the best position for us defensively. From there we'll try to reach the Avalon or the city, see why our welcoming committee hasn't arrived."
"We haven't been here five minutes and already it's turning to shit," I heard Phillips mutter inside his mask, digi-com off of course. As the towering shape of Wulfagar steamed ahead, we took up positions at the rear of the line and began to move.
*
Walker greeted us at the steps of the rotting building, face free of the mask.
"Sniffers say the air is clean. Always was," He stated. He looked like he was holding up a beam and that wouldn't have been a ridiculous idea looking at the condition of the farmhouse. Its walls were a crumbling mess of plaster and straw and there were a few holes dotted about on the first floor. The roof looked in poor repair and on the east side a section had collapsed inwards. It looked like a huff and a puff would bring this house down easily enough.
"So why the false report?" Burns asked, me and Phillips behind him as we entered. Wulfgar and his unit were securing the perimeter, the supply crate safely inside. Through the gaps in the walls several of Walker's team had set up sniper's nests overlooking the dead zone around the house and the woman I'd seen earlier was sticking out of the hole in the roof. As the kit was being handed out I took up my Bergen and found a nice corner to sit down in. Phillips raised Tekoa's team on the digi-com and asked for a situation report, or 'sit-rep' as he liked to call it. He spoke too fast as it was, why abbreviate?
Sat in the gloom of what was probably the dining room, I watched Green as he began duct-taping the glass windows shut, and another trooper who was setting up a long-range transceiver as far away from him as he could. Burns was looking at the map again with Phillips, tracing lines I couldn't see.
"Tekoa inbound, west side. ETA two minutes," snapped the earpiece.
"Sign alpha. Sign alpha," Phillips replied and went to the doorway to watch. From my position I could see past him and out across the land, and as the door opened I saw Tekoa emerge from the high bushes.
I'd heard his name around the mess hall simply because he commanded the most respect from the rest of the unit. He was an excellent scout, someone who the troopers had nicknamed the 'Phantom' because he disappeared in any terrain. A life spent growing up on a world where the past time was hunting had been an asset to the slender man who's browning skin looked haggard from days out in the sun, almost as if his body had started to take on a forest-esque look. He approached the camp with his weapon slung, his troopers a little behind.
"Anything?" Phillips enquired.
"Nothing. We've checked a two-mile radius that included the main road towards the city. Nothing. No cars, people, troopers. Nothing," Tekoa replied.
"Good work. Stand your squad down and find your kit. Wulfgar is on first watch." Tekoa walked past me, threw me a saluting nod as he retrieved his Bergen.
*
As night time drew in, Burns gave up on the transceiver. He'd been working the controls for over an hour and could neither reach the city nor the Avalon. Most of the troopers not on watch had settled in for the night, or were already asleep.
I felt restless, unable to relax. I reached into my rig just as Burns came over to me with a mug of stale tea.
"I think you need that more than I do," I replied, but took it from him anyway.
"I've had three already."
"No joy with the radio?" I asked as he sat down next to me. Walker and Green were sat on the opposite side with a deck of cards.
"Nothing. The city isn't giving off any kind of transmission and there's nothing up there." He indicated the sky above with a finger. "We'll try again tomorrow, then make our way into the city, twelve miles maybe."
"What about the Midian?" Phillips asked, coming over with a similar mug.
"Orders were to leave orbit immediately. They were out of range once we'd landed." Taking out a slender tube of steel, Burns laughed. "You still carry that damn thing?" he said. I took the battered copper penny whistle out and wiped the mouthpiece.
"Soothes the savage beast they say," I said and began to play a gentle ballad as softly as my lips would allow. Burns shook his head.
“Can you play anything other than that same damn tune?” I nodded, grinning.
After a few minutes some had dropped off in their sleeping bags. An hour later and they were all asleep.
All except myself who sat in the dim green light shining from the radio's control panel. I seemed to be the one beast that couldn't be soothed.
CHAPTER 5
The morning came too soon. The last thing I could remember was the little yellow light that flashed on the radio to say it wasn't receiving a signal. Then I woke abruptly to Sergeant Phillips yelling at his troopers.
"Get up you girls, time to earn a bit of that oversized wage packet." At some point in the night the watch had changed and led dribbling in front of me were Wulfgar and the rest of his uni
t. Green and Walker could be seen outside walking the perimeter and I felt slightly guilty for not taking a post. The rank could be its own burden sometimes.
"Comms?" said Burns coming in out of the morning sun.
"Nothing sir. We're still not receiving." Tekoa was behind the radio desk playing with the dials.
"Then pack up, we're moving out."
"Sir, what are you thinking?" Phillips asked.
"I think we're in a hot zone. I think we arrived a little late and they've started the party without us."
"But we've not met any resistance?"
"The drop crafts are designed to avoid detection, whether we're trying or not. I think we've stumbled into something and it's only going to get worse. My guts are telling me." Burns turned to me. "What do you think, Lieutenant?"
"I'd have to agree," I said getting to my feet. "But either way we'd better get out of here as fast as possible." Burns' brow knotted.
"You afraid of something, sir?” Phillips muttered.
"No, but that radio has been sending out tracer signals all night and if we are in range of an enemy receiver they'll know our position by now." As if waiting for its cue, the digi-com burst into life. It was the Sniper, Brand on the roof.
"Sarge, we have incoming, the west wall."
"How many?"
"A dozen at least. Possibly armour. Heat signatures are amber."
"Sarge, incoming from south side. Light armour and troop movement." Stomachs dropped into boots so fast you could almost hear them. Burns shot a glare towards Phillips who rushed out into the fields and began organising a defence line.
"This is a bloody ambush!" he spat and stormed up the stairs to get a better look out of one of the windows. I slung my weapon over my shoulder and left the Bergen where it was; then took up position behind sandbags looking out through the window. From here I had a good clear field of fire over a ten-metre area. As I settled in I listened to the digi-com reports as they came in frantic bursts.
"Sir, tank, closing in along the road side," Shouted one trooper who sounded like he was wrestling with the desire to break ranks and run.
Soul at War Page 4