Darwin's Soldiers

by Ste Sharp

  Delta-Six swam free of the raft and fired on two of the largest beasts as he powered past. The distraction worked and, after a couple more blasts, they were irritated enough to chase him. He set his sensors to maximum and dived deep, pulling the beasts with him. As the light faded, he only had his screen and the feel of his sensors to guide him. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he could feel the readings from his suit’s sensors. And something was getting close.

  Yellow lights blinked on Delta-Six’s screen, followed by a blow to his side and a flash of pain. New lights filled his screen, indicating various pain-reducing chemicals were being pumped into his body, and his legs fell limp. Fighting to stay conscious, he pushed all energy to his propulsion unit and activated his emergency evacuation procedure. A new red sign appeared, telling him what he already knew: Injured. Medical assistance required.

  ***

  John looked out across the mist-layered lake . Broken trunks, vines and purple bladders bobbed in the shallow waves that tickled the stony beach. The seventeen rafts that had survived the journey had disappeared overnight. Crouched down to nurture his fire back to life, John surveyed the surviving soldiers. Scores sat in huddles around fires dug into the stones of the barren shore.

  It had been dark when they had found land. Li’s roll- call suggested they had lost nine men during the attack, which had stopped as quickly as it had started.

  ‘How many days do we have left?’ John asked Mihran.

  The red-cloaked Commander stirred the embers with a stick, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

  ‘ Mihran ?’

  ‘Yes?’ He look ed at John and squinted. Then spoke as if woken from a dream. ‘We have seven days to reach the silver gates and this feels like a centrepoint… the hub, the channels through the cliffs are like spokes leading from the north. ’ He turned and John followed his view to the featureless grassland that lined the southern shore of the lake.

  ‘Halfway then,’ Crossley said and kicked a stone.

  ‘Do we have time to commemorate the dead?’ John asked Crossley , who sat beside him.

  Crossley shrugged, lost for words for once.

  As with most battles, images came back to John as his brain tried to accept what had happened. I mages blurred with the stories from the others: men dragged underwater by beasts with wild eyes and vicious teeth; bodies torn apart; blood and screams; the surviving rafts paddling out of the mist to safety.

  ‘We should have distributed the soldiers more evenly,’ Mihran said to Lavalle. ‘One soldier with a firearm on each raft.’

  ‘And at least one spear man,’ Lavalle added.

  The safety of hindsight was a strange thing, John thought. The next battle would be different and new lessons would be learnt.

  ‘Nobody could have predicted the attack,’ Li said.

  Mihran shot a glance at Lavalle.‘Who have we lost?’

  ‘Nine at the last count . Cruickshanks, Bazhenov, Nd l eleni of the Masai, Marodeen…’

  ‘Marodeen?’ Mihran sighed.

  ‘I found Marodeen’s quiver, but no bow . ’ Bowman held a leather satchel.

  Crossley folded his arms. ‘What does it matter how many we lost? We have to get to the goddam gates in a few days or God knows what’ll happen to us.’ He looked around at the scattered soldiers. ‘We’re in this together and we must decide together .’

  ‘Yeah!’ a few warriors called out.

  ‘Crossley’s right . ’ Li stood up and held her hands out. ‘We need to have an open discussion. Do we stay as o ne group? And who will lead us?’

  Crossley crouched next to John and shook his head . ‘We’ve been through all this before. Hey, where’s your ammo bag?’

  ‘Lost it,’ John replied.

  ‘What!’ Crossley was up on his feet. ‘That was my last stash of smokes. Seriously, can this day get any worse?’

  ‘Enough!’ Mihran’s deep voice silenced Crossley. ‘We have no time for a discussion . I will answer your questions.’

  The crowd held their tongues and stared at the tall Arab.

  ‘We will travel as one group – anyone wishing to travel alone should know they are fifteen times more likely to die. Secondly, we will travel day and night, as our terrain dictates.’ Mihran turned slowly, taking the time to look at each soldier. ‘I will be your leader,’ and he stabbed a forefinger at his ornate chest plate.

  ‘What? We don’t even get a vote?’ Crossley stood, arms outstretched.

  Mihran focused on Crossley for a few silent seconds then said, ‘David Michael Crossley.’

  Crossley’s eyes widened.

  ‘A leader should know his team’s weaknesses and strengths – how to bring out their full potential and when they are likely to fail.’ Mihran swept his cloak back and rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. ‘Your strengths have yet to be realised. We need explosives. As for Sicily…’

  Crossley gasped.

  ‘…we will talk about that when the time is right.’ Mihran turned to Mata. ‘Mata, your new skills need to be refined, but you are a formidable warrior.’ He passed Randeep with a squint and looked to Olan. ‘We must talk of your past also, my friend.’

  Murmurs cascaded across the beach , where soldiers made wisecracks or smiled like children watching a magician.

  ‘And what of food?’ Li asked.

  ‘We will glean what we can from the sea but must move quickly. Ah…’ Mihran gestured to a whirlwind drifting towards them along the beach.

  Althorn’s shape appeared next to Mihran and he looked concerned. ‘I have found something you need to see.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ Crossley had his hands on his hips. ‘Another obelisk?’

  Althorn raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, yes.’

  ***

  ‘I don’t trust them,’ Crossley said as he and John bagged up rations. ‘I mean, Lavalle put Cruickshanks on the same raft with Bellvedere, for God’s sake!’ He made his usual fake laugh.

  John pushed more dried seaweed into the bag hanging off his gun-arm. The shore of the lake was strewn with the black strips that Li had analysed for their nutritional value. Good stuff apparently.

  ‘Who do you think gave Cruickshanks that black eye?’ Crossley asked.

  John guessed, ‘Bellvedere?’

  ‘Damn right it was! Then there was Foxhole and Rodriguez – they can’t stand the sight of each other, but they put them on the same raft. Ha! I’m surprised Lavalle didn’t put me on his raft!’ Crossley dumped his bag on the pile of rations and picked up the last bag of red roots. ‘Hey, Mata. You think this gave you your er… powers?’

  ‘Yes.’ The Maori spoke without looking up.

  ‘Euryleia said it must have seeped into his blood from the poultice,’ John added.

  Crossley looked at John’s gun-arm. ‘And that wasp sting sped up whatever’s going on with your arm?’

  John nodded.

  ‘So what’s to stop me cutting open my arm and squeezing some root juice in?’ Crossley asked.

  ‘Nothing, go ahead.’ Lavalle appeared on the bank with his arms crossed. ‘In fact, let me help you.’ He leapt forward with his hand on his broadsword.

  ‘No!’ Crossley stepped back. ‘It was just hypothetical, you know.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure it would be fine.’ Lavalle grabbed Crossley by the wrist.

  ‘Get off!’ Crossley shouted, wriggling like a bullied schoolboy.

  Lavalle pulled Crossley forward then let go, sending him stumbling head first into the dusty bank.

  Crossley coughed and rolled over, brushing the dust out of his hair. ‘Bloody Limey.’

  ‘Are you alright?’ John asked with a smile.

  ‘Yeah, sure, I just–’ Crossley sneezed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll–’ He sneezed again then stared at the ground. ‘That’s strange.’

  ‘Well,’ Lavalle said, wearing a smirk. ‘Now you’re sure I can’t assist you with any bloody enhancements, your presence is required – all of you.’ Lavalle looked at John and Mata. ‘We wil
l all see the obelisk Althorn has found.’

  ***

  Althorn, Samas and Mihran were already at the black obelisk when John arrived.

  The soldiers were silently reading the message, or having it read to them.

  Warriors. You have faced enemies past and present. You are now entering a land of foreign enemies who must be defeated for safe passage through the silver gates. Many tests lie ahead and only the greatest will be victorious.

  ‘Great!’ Crossley turned to John. ‘Basically, there’s nothing but trouble from now on.’

  ‘Well, the last obelisk did say we were leaving a safe area,’ John said.

  ‘Is there anything we have missed?’ Mihran asked Li, whose mask flashed with green lights and red dots.

  ‘One obvious difference here.’ Li swept her visor back and pointed to the script. ‘The first message called us humans but this one calls us “warriors”. It’s less personal – more generic.’

  Althorn spoke from the back of the group, ‘There are more stones.’

  ‘Where?’ Lavalle asked.

  ‘Along the coast. They have the same message.’

  Mihran’s eyes narrowed. ‘They are here to welcome whoever crosses the lake, so the entrances to the lake must come from other islands.’

  ‘Which means?’ Randeep asked.

  ‘Which means, we aren’t the first here and we won’t be the last,’ Mihran replied.

  ‘So it’s a race!’ Crossley beamed. ‘Well, come on then – let’s keep moving! If we get there first we’ll get through the silver gates and–’

  Lavalle cut him off: ‘The obelisk says we have to fight.’

  John saw fear in the exhausted faces of the soldiers who, he knew, held back the questions he wanted to ask. Where next? How far? When do we fight? And the same question they’d been asking from the moment they arrived here – who brought them here?

  ‘What about these changes to our bodies?’ a voice shouted out.

  Randeep looked to Mihran. ‘We should create a list of everyone who has changed since arriving here.’

  ‘I agree,’ Mihran said. ‘Li will do so, but we must focus on our journey. We have new challenges ahead and must adapt. We have all fought wars – a thousand wars in a thousand different ways, yet we need to find new ways of fighting. I believe this is why we have been given our powers.’

  ‘And what about those who don’t have powers?’ a voice called out.

  ‘Survival of the fittest,’ Crossley whispered to John.

  ‘Do we all have to change in order to survive?’ Bowman added.

  Mihran looked unsure.

  ‘The truth is, we don’t know.’ Samas spoke, his broken arm hidden under his cloak. ‘We can’t tell what our strengths and weaknesses are until we know the enemy we are facing.’

  ‘Whoever we fight will have powers too,’ Sakarbaal said, leaning on his trident.

  His comments sent a wave of murmurs through the crowd.

  ‘Listen!’ Lavalle held his hands high for silence. ‘We cannot allow ourselves to be disheartened. We are soldiers marching a warpath! Battles lie ahead and we must unite as one force if we are going to survive!’ He stared at the quiet mass.

  ‘Whose orders do we follow?’ someone shouted.

  Samas looked at Lavalle and then Mihran. ‘We need an organised command structure.’ He looked around the group. ‘We need to have a clear chain of command if we are going to form a solid fighting unit.’

  A few friendly cheers backed Samas up.

  ‘We need an archery captain!’ Bowman called out. ‘Samas commanded the infantry but we need someone to take control of the archers.’

  ‘And the spearmen!’

  ‘And slingers.’

  John shook his head. With so many varied fighters, it was going to be impossible to rank soldiers side by side with anyone of similar fighting style or power.

  ‘Enough!’ Mihran held up a hand. ‘Our armies have different ranks and reporting lines, so I have created my own. You will be grouped under your respective captains and they will report directly to me, as Commander. Seeing as we have no cavalry, Lavalle will be in charge of resources.’

  ‘Quartermaster? Comfy job,’ Crossley whispered to John.

  ‘Samas will command the infantry,’ said Mihran.

  ‘I guess that’s us.’ Crossley looked at Mata.

  ‘Li will command the archers and other projectile warriors. Riflemen, spearmen and so on.’

  ‘And Althorn will be in charge of scouting parties,’ Mihran finished.

  ‘I thought you’d be in that group, Crossley.’ John smiled. ‘I mean, what exactly is it you do?’

  ‘You know very well, my friend.’ He looked at Mata, who really had no idea what a sapper was. ‘Let’s just say, those toadstools were fun but you guys are going to be in for a treat when I get my hands on some decent explosives!’

  Mihran pointed to the vast hinterland ahead. ‘Now we move.’

  ‘Ah, good old Shanks’ pony.’ John grimaced, swinging his bag of rations and satchel over a shoulder. ‘At least my blisters have hardened up.’

  Crossley looked down at John’s feet. ‘It’s a pity our boots haven’t evolved too, eh? What are your feet like, Mata?’

  The Maori turned a bare foot over to reveal a mat of wiry, twisted roots protruding from his sole.

  ‘Jeez!’ Crossley leant in for a better look. ‘That’s just plain weird.’

  ‘But comfortable.’ Mata gave a broad smile.

  They set off in an arrowhead formation, with John and his pals at the front of Samas’ group and behind Li’s archers, who had Bowman on point.

  ‘So, Crossley,’ John said, ‘why did Mihran mention Sicily?’

  Crossley’s jaw clenched. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ He looked back through the crowd. ‘Just something that happened a few months ago.’

  ‘Right.’ John didn’t want to push it further. ‘Well, what happened with Lavalle on the beach then? That was odd.’

  ‘Nothing, no, it was nothing.’ Crossley glanced at John and sighed. ‘Okay… look, I don’t want everyone knowing, but when I sneezed I… I could see underground.’

  John studied Crossley’s face, waiting for a smile.

  Mata looked over with a scowl. ‘Do not mock us, Crossley.’

  ‘Look, this is why I didn’t want to say anything. I mean, come on!’ Crossley kept his voice low. ‘There I was complaining about no adaptations and, wham, the next second I can see through rocks.’

  John shook his head and looked away. Crossley was quite convincing this time.

  ‘I’m not kidding.’

  ‘So, what’s it like then?’ John decided to humour him.

  ‘Well, I need to practise,’ Crossley replied.

  Mata raised an eyebrow.

  ‘It happens when I sneeze, okay? And it works a bit when I cough and… well, it’s like a three-dimensional image of what’s beneath the ground, you know? Like when we were back at the wasp nest and we could see the forest below?’

  ‘Yes.’ John pictured it.

  ‘Only there’s no forest underground. Just different rocks and animal burrows.’

  ‘How far can you see down?’ John was beginning to take him seriously.

  Crossley shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Three or four metres?’

  ‘It might come in useful,’ John said, struggling to think of examples.

  ‘Yeah right.’ Crossley shook his head. ‘I finally get a skill and it’s a dud!’

  ***

  John cast a look over his shoulder, past the host of soldiers walking behind him. It hadn’t taken long for the haze of the lake to merge with the ever-present shimmer of the sky. Off to the flank, the flat, featureless landscape spread out as far as the eye could see, and John couldn’t truly say whether they’d been walking in a straight line or in a circle for the past few hours.

  ‘It never ends,’ he said.

  ‘It has to.’ Crossley spoke with a hoarse voice.
/>   John heard him coughing every few minutes, testing out his new skill. Maybe he was telling the truth after all?

  ‘Another crater!’ a voice at the front called out and the group parted, walking around a black and perfectly symmetrical circle some fifteen paces wide.

  John shivered, remembering his crater. ‘Anything under there?’ he asked Crossley to distract his thoughts.

  Crossley cleared his throat. ‘No, just compressed earth. If anything died in there it was burnt to a crisp. One hell of an incendiary.’ Crossley shook his head and smiled. ‘I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on some of that!’

  Twenty minutes later, a new call came from Bowman, ‘Objects ahead!’

  ‘Single file!’ Mihran shouted from the rear.

  Each soldier peered around the person ahead, trying to get a view.

  ‘What on earth?’ Crossley said when they passed the first, bleached carcase.

  John swallowed. ‘Like some kind of dinosaur.’

  The twisted bones lay cracked in a pool of grey ash. The teeth, horns and eye sockets in a monstrous skull sent shivers down John’s back. Then they passed a mass of intertwined bodies: a skeleton like the first, covered with four or five dog-like bodies.

  ‘You can still see the fur,’ Crossley said.

  But no flesh remained on the corpses.

  It reminded John of when his battalion had charged the German lines after a barrage of heavy artillery. In the mud and coarse grass of no-man’s-land, bodies had lain untouched for weeks. The rain, wind and sun had weathered the clothes while the rats, beetles and flies had taken care of the flesh. Ghastly white skulls had grinned at John as he passed: their helmet straps holding their jaws tight.

  ‘Why doesn’t it smell?’ John asked but no one answered.

  The number of bodies along the path increased as the line of humans filed through the remnants of a battle. Shattered weapons lay next to splintered skeletons and torn, isolated limbs told of the violence that had taken place here.

  Crossley darted out to pick up a shining object and slipped his find inside his coat.

  ‘My readings show the battle took place two months ago.’ John could hear Li ahead.