Soul at War

Home > Other > Soul at War > Page 7
Soul at War Page 7

by Martyn J. Pass


  "Then all the more reason to begin preparations to defend the city. It will be another five days before a team is dispatched to investigate, we must hold out."

  "Lieutenant, my security team is made up of no more than one hundred God fearing men and the population of Dothon will not take up arms regardless of the consequences. They simply don't have the heart to take life."

  "Regardless, sir. We must repel at all costs." Frakes looked weary, forlorn in his tidy uniform.

  "I see no point." Burns shot to his feet and the line of troopers surged forward. I joined him, cutting in before he could lose control.

  "God-damn it man, you would sooner put your faith in a miracle?” I shouted, slamming a fist into the table. “Are you saying you will throw down your weapons and let them take your women, your children, hoping some silent entity in the sky is going to save you? Let me tell you this – I’ve been in towns and cities just like this one, who refused help and relied on this 'god' and I watched all of them burn to the sounds of babies and children crying out for their mums and dads. Is this what you want?”

  "He who lives by the sword shall die by it," said Titus, defeated.

  "Inaction is the greatest sin here. In five days a ship of hardened troopers shall arrive to support us. Defend the city and at least we might have a chance." He motioned to Phillips who rose to his feet, followed by the rest of us. "Will you supply us with the schematics, Commander?" Frakes just looked at his clasped hands. Eventually his eyes moved up from them.

  "I will see that you get them."

  "In the meantime my unit shall go to where they are needed, we are at your disposal." We began to leave, but Titus grabbed my arm on the way out and gave me the same look he'd given me on the landing pad – disgust.

  "You will have to give an account for all your deeds, Lieutenant. This day and all the others to come.”

  “Maybe. How will you defend a life spent in cowardice, scared of losing your 'reward' in heaven at the expense of the lives of people you're supposed to be protecting?”

  “You don't understand...” he said, angry and furious.

  “You see, Frakes, I do. More than you know. Tell me this, would you still follow this god of yours if there was nothing in it for you – no heaven, no reward?”

  Frakes was silent. “I thought not.” I said and walked away.

  CHAPTER 8

  The view from the outer wall was as impressive as Nineveh's must have been. Its construction had allowed a walkway six men wide to encompass the entire city, separated every hundred metres by a rampart where in the frontier days massive artillery pieces would have been mounted. Now all that was left was a collection of rusting boltholes and fractured concrete where the great recoil dampeners had been fixed into place.

  "It's a shame we don't have a couple of those," Green whispered as Burns surveyed the area, comparing it with the wad of schematics in his hands.

  "Somehow I don't think it would do much good," Walker replied. Already Brand seemed to be eying up spots for her sniper's nest while Wulfgar looked on in silence. Tekoa could be seen down amongst the people, moving in between the farms and the modest housing, making notes on a paper pad.

  "Glad to see the optimist shining through, Walker," Green retorted, booting the solid concrete blocks that made up the five-foot high wall on either side of the walkway. "With all this stone, you'd think we were pretty safe in here."

  "Wait until that dead ground out there is teeming with cannons and plasma shells. Then we'll see how long these walls last," Replied Walker, peering over the edge. Green shoved him and he gasped, grabbing onto the lip. "You idiot!" He cried, but Phillips pounced.

  "Shut the hell up back there or I'll throw you over myself."

  "Listen up people," Burns shouted. "I want Walker, Green and Wulfgar on weapons detail. I want MPMG's every fifty metres, two rocket launchers per ten and grenades in bags at each rampart. Anything that burns or explodes, I want it on these walls. Brand, you're on an ammo hunt. Then carry out anti-artillery drills because that's what I want you targeting. I want the ten best nests you can come up with and easy access between them at a seconds notice. You'll be deployed to where the fighting is worst via digi-com."

  "Yes sir," they all replied in unison.

  "Report back to the briefing room at twenty-two hundred hours. Dismissed." Once they'd gone, Burns looked at me and sighed. "Well, Lieutenant. What do you think?"

  "I wish we could be sure that ship was coming.” I said.

  "Hell, me too. I also know that Earth is being fed a long line of bullshit. They probably think that the Zion group is tickety-boo and have turned their entire force around. Lieutenant we've been sold down the river."

  "The Avalon?" He just shrugged.

  "What can I say? We can't trust the relays; we can't trust they're not being intercepted. We're cut off. ARC has got this whole system sown up and here we are - right in the middle of it."

  "What's the weapon situation?"

  "There isn't one," said Phillips. "Shotguns and short range rifles. Some close combat weapons, knives and other such equipment. This is a post-frontier fort designed to house a handful of civilian God-botherers. We're lucky they still had working machine guns and a handful of explosives.”

  "But if we're to defend this place indefinitely, we're going to need some more weapons."

  "And they are coming from where?" I looked out across the fields, the dense forestry, and the tall trees. A man could get lost in there.

  "From ARC of course."

  Tekoa came running up the outer rampart and arrived in front of Burns, clicking heels as he stopped.

  "I have finished my assessment, sir." He handed the note pad to Phillips.

  "I've got a job for you, Tekoa. One that fits your talents wonderfully," Burns said with a sly grin.

  "The acquisition of enemy weapons, sir?" Burns frowned.

  "What makes you think that?"

  "Well, it seemed like a logical step, sir. We have no weapons, they do. I'm sure they would be glad to be relieved of a few. Sir."

  "As you were, Private. As you were."

  *

  Night time came swiftly but the city of Dothon was restless. In an emergency Church meeting, Eric Titus had explained to the people the danger we now faced and asked for prayer and steadfast faith in deliverance. He also, reluctantly, called for volunteers.

  "If any man here feels moved to stand at the wall, do so now. I ask this not as a preacher, not as your leader, but as a brother. The decision to bear arms, to take another man's life is not one to be taken lightly. It goes against all we know, all we believe. The Lord Jesus Christ came to us to preach peace. We all know who ARC is; we know their goals and their motives. We know without a doubt they are the enemies of our Lord. But the facts are clear - diplomacy and negotiations have failed, they fall on deaf ears. I cannot make this decision for you, nor can I find the words to guide you. I can only suggest that you consult your hearts and pray. Pray for us all."

  I took the first patrol of the east wall. The night air promised rain, but gave only a few drops here and there as I walked from one rampart to another. At each of the two-man firing posts, chilled volunteers and green-faced troopers waited nervously for the klaxon, the harbinger of war. The silence didn't help much and only added to the tension.

  I walked past Green who was talking to one of the volunteers, a pasty-faced youth with a mop of blond hair and the legs of a runner. They nodded as I stopped, overlooking the wall.

  "Evenin' Lieutenant," said Green.

  "How goes it?" I asked. The volunteer looked up from the ammunition he was holding and tried to grin, but his nerves were out of control. "Easy brother, they aren't at the gates yet," I said to him and he managed a smile.

  "Who's on lookout? Who's got the finger on the bell?" Green asked.

  "Wulfgar, he's up in the spire with a portable transmitter. Walker's up there too, he'll take over on the shift change."

  I nodded once more and
moved on to the next post, two troopers from the Commander's security detail who waved when they saw me.

  "Good evening, sir," they said in unison.

  "How goes it?" I asked.

  "Could do with a drop of the foaming ale, sir. Other than that, we're doing just fine."

  "Hell, the drinks will be on me once we get out of this mess. Ale and communion wine on Frakes." They laughed a little. "In the mean time...” I dug into a pocket on my rig and handed them a small red sweet that when eaten gave a feeling of warmth like liquor - used a lot by hikers in extreme cold. "Might keep some of the cold off."

  "Thanks, Lieutenant."

  "No problem, catch you later in the mess eh?" Then I carried on to the end of my section of wall and saw Phillips coming the other way, him reaching the end of his.

  "Evening Sergeant."

  "Lieutenant."

  "Any news from Tekoa, Sergeant?" I asked before he shot off at double time.

  "I doubt he would contact us before morning, Lieutenant." Then he disappeared back down the south wall, barking remarks to the volunteers stationed at the firing posts. No doubt he was angry at the use of volunteers and felt the need to express this at every opportunity. Looking at my watch I had three more hours before shift change and I was ready for that bed. Resolved, I popped one of the sweets in my mouth and began walking back the way I'd come.

  *

  As the shift began to change and tired, weary men began to drag their feet to the billets, the sun was starting its slow rise on the horizon. It was much colder now than it had been during the night and I rubbed my hands together as Green began to climb down the ladder to ground level.

  "I'll be glad of that pillow," he said, boots clinking on the rungs. "Who's taking over?"

  "Who cares?"

  "What time are we back on?" he asked, reaching the bottom.

  "Ten-hundred," I shouted down. I walked back down the wall to make sure my shift had changed and had been replaced with fresh troops, reached one of the ramparts and stepped up to the look out post. Across the clear fields was the forest, dark and foreboding. It would hinder movements of any vehicles; make them more visible as they trampled down the trees. Troops could get in though, hiding in the scrub - waiting, but I put faith in the infrared sight of Brand and her keen eye to spot them.

  "Lieutenant Shap?" said a voice from behind. Coming towards me was my counter-part in a clean pressed uniform of dull gray. When he got close enough I realised who it was.

  "Titus?" The outfit hung loose on his thinning frame, but he didn't seem out of place in it. "What are you doing here?"

  "Well so many of my congregation have taken up the fight it seemed only fair that I meet their level of commitment." He looked down at his uniform. "I was once a Captain in the Navy, but I was a bigger man back then," he laughed.

  "Did you ever get a commission?"

  "For eight years I was the Captain of the Iliad, a fine vessel." His mind wandered into reverie. "I've seen many a conflict - both physically and spiritually. Thank-fully all I Captain now is my congregation."

  "Well I will leave you to your men, Captain. Good day." I turned and walked away, descended the ladder and took a deep breath at the bottom. I'd known the Iliad during the battle of Turth when I'd first signed up; it was a legend amongst the troops - for all the wrong reasons. In the third year of the conflict the planet of Turth Primary had been overrun by the enemy leaving a small group of civilians and troops defending the last jetport. After several days the Iliad eventually arrived to rescue them, but when the survivors used a captured vessel to escape the planet, an arrogant Captain blasted it out of the sky. Blaming the heroic survivors for not identifying themselves in correct protocol, the Captain had evaded a court marshal. It had left the ground troops very wary of the Navy and morale had been severely affected. Like so many before, perhaps Titus had turned to Zion to escape the guilt, or come face to face with it and repent. I had a feeling only time would provide the answer to that one.

  *

  I woke from a peaceful slumber to a screaming siren and nearly fell from my bunk. All around troops dived into their boots, slung weapons and ran for the door, some charging into each other in the chaos. I jumped down and pulled the straps tight on my boots, grabbed my rig and shotgun and followed.

  "What's going on?" I shouted as we hit daylight. One of the security staff on the wall was waving to someone, directing their view to the west but the low sun obscured him.

  "An incoming vessel, westerly flight plan. Radar picked it up early," said someone who melted into the throng. I found the nearest ladder and began to scale the wall. At the top was Phillips who directed people this way and that.

  "Do we have any details?" I asked and followed him to the third rampart. I could already see the Lieutenant with a set of binos, scanning the tree line.

  "A small cargo vessel on a direct course, several larger craft in tow," he replied.

  "Is it Tekoa?" We reached Burns who was accompanied by Commander Frakes.

  "If it is, he's taking one hell of a risk." In my short time knowing him that was exactly his style. Phillips put a finger to his ear, his digi-com unit spitting out noise.

  "Lieutenant, he's signalling. One word...” Phillips listened again, asking it to be repeated. "Trojan." Burns cursed and passed the binos to Frakes.

  "Order the pad to be activated and ready the men. This is going to be messy."

  "Lieutenant, what does that mean?" Frakes said, but Burns was already out on the wall and began pulling every third man from the fire posts sending them down the ladder.

  "Phillips, get me a link to Wulfgar and Brand. Shap, take a team to the landing pad and get ready to off load the weapons as soon as he touches down."

  "Lieutenant Burns, I demand to know what is happening!" Frakes spat like an upset toddler.

  "Commander, my man is flying in a ship loaded with weapons. Behind him is a fleet of ships to stop him. If one of those ships realises how little we are defended and reports back, we're finished. Right now the ARC forces have a good reason not to storm this place, they think there's a chance it's been reinforced by large numbers of troops. As they fly past they'll scan the city, realise we're bluffing and this afternoon they'll hit us with everything they've got. We must keep the advantage if we're to stand a chance of surviving."

  "Sir," interrupted Phillips. "Wulfgar and Brand on channel three."

  "So what do you intend to do?" asked Frakes.

  "Destroy them all."

  Tekoa came in hard. From my view on the landing gantry I could see he wasn't going to hit the brakes until the last possible minute and I ordered the six men behind me to pull back into the control room in case he failed. I began to twitch as the slick black craft banked upwards, grav pads moaning at the strain they were being put under, arcs of electricity striking out at nearby steel work. As it hit the magnetic grapples he dropped the power and the ship ground to a halt on the pad.

  "Forward!" I yelled and sprinted down the gantry, cocking the shotgun. Already the hatch was springing open and I saw someone moving in the darkness. I dropped to my knee and raised my weapon. "Identify!" I shouted.

  "Do you still fear the Greeks when they bring you gifts?" Tekoa emerged from the hatch and threw out the first box. I sent two troops forward into the ship but held the rest back until they'd cleared it. When they emerged I ordered weapons to be slung and began loading a floating trolley with the gear.

  "You took your time," I said, laughing.

  "I stopped off for a coke and a sandwich." As we emptied the vessel, the sky lit up in cobalt flashes. As I looked up a craft the shape of a paper aeroplane and the colour of night itself scorched the sky, it's flanks ablaze from a well placed rocket. Two others followed but they appeared undamaged.

  "Hurry up," I urged the team. "We need to get inside, this thing's a sitting target."

  We worked fast and with only the last two crates inside, Tekoa and me ran back to the control room to seal the hatch
once they'd brought them in. But as the sky began to burn again, a single laser bolt sliced the ship in half, setting the cockpit on fire. A gulf of flame swept across the pad incinerating two of the team, another was flung to the floor, his clothes alight.

  The rest of us ran forward as more beams of crimson light cut into the pad. The gantry was severed at the magnetic buffer and sparks of molten metal rained down on us as we fought the flames on the trooper's back. We lifted him up onto our shoulders and made for the control room, but the platform collapsed and we went down face first. The world became a place of searing heat. I felt myself sliding backwards, I realised I'd lost grip of the trooper and was free falling. Then I suddenly jerked to a halt as someone grabbed my chest rig.

  "Grab the rail!" shouted Tekoa. "I can't hold on." I looked down and saw the ground below. It looked like a gateway to hell, a circle of fire where the ship had fallen from the pad and slammed into the field beneath it.

  I reached out and grabbed the ruptured pipe, pulling myself up. Tekoa got to the top and held out a hand which I took, then he pulled me the rest of the way and we dived into the control room just as the gantry broke away and fell into the fire. Looking around I saw only two others, the rest lost to the explosion.

  "At least they didn't die in vain," someone said, but I couldn't really hear much more over the sound of rockets being launched into the sky. My eyes stung from the heat, they felt dry like I had sand in them. My hands were black, my hair scorched.

  "Come on, grab that crate," Tekoa said and pulled me to my feet. "They'll need that."

  We took the lift to the top of the wall and emerged in the middle of a chaotic firefight. Machine gun fire stuttered across the stone as fighter craft swooped past and one of the security staff was instantly maimed by the ferocity of it. On the top of one of the University buildings the gigantic shape of Wulfgar stood as he launched rocket after rocket into the skies, seemingly tiny troopers reloading the launcher behind him. In the belfry of the church streaks of brilliant white heat shot out from one of the windows, definitely Brand with her trademark rifle.

 

‹ Prev