Robot Wars: Thrown Into the Fray

by Nicholas Haring

  The 2nd Battalion officers were exiting Snow’s office; with Fischer about to be the last through the door.

  “Captain Fischer, can I speak with you for a moment in private?” Snow asked.

  Fischer closed the door and came closer to Snow.

  “I cannot stress this enough, Fischer. You are not to allow those damn robots to cross that river. If they get a bridgehead across it, we’ll have a hell of a time pushing them back across. If they breakthrough -- even if there are civvies on the other side of the river -- blow the bridges, understand?” Snow said.

  Fischer nodded.

  “General Snow, if I or anyone from the 2nd Battalion is still alive those bridges will come down before a single metal foot gets across. You have my word, ma’am” Fischer said, then saluted Snow and exited the room.

  Fischer walked out of the C&C building and found Rhodes waiting for him.

  “Hey, Fish, So what did Snow have to say?” Rhodes asked.

  “Secret business,” Fischer said with a grin.

  “Seriously, what was it?” Rhodes pleaded.

  “Rhodes, can you blow those bridges?” Fischer asked as he stopped grinning.

  “Yeah sure, I can rig those bridges with enough explosive to blow them four times over!” Rhodes said excitedly.

  “Yeah, that might be too much, Rhodes. I would rather those explosives go into blowing-up robots,” Fischer said.

  “Fair enough, how about two times over then?” Rhodes said with a wink and a grin.

  Fischer shook his head and then looked to his right, spotting Harlan leaning up against the wall of the Comms building. She seemed to be deep in thought.

  “Well, Fish, all of this talk of potentially blowing up civilian infrastructure is making me hungry,” Rhodes said as his stomach growled.

  “You go ahead, Rhodes, I’m gonna go chat with Harlan real quick,” Fischer said.

  “Yeah, okay. I guess more Salisbury steak for me … wait, ugh,” Rhodes said as his joyful expression turned to one of despair.

  Fischer walked up to Harlan who was staring blankly at the small flower garden between the Comms building and the sidewalk.

  “Harlan, are you okay?” Fischer asked.

  Harlan took a second or so to respond.

  “Yeah… yeah, Fischer, it’s nothing,” Harlan said.

  “Is this about what we’re going up against?” Fischer asked.

  “No… well, I just have a bad feeling about this upcoming fight. I hope you have a good defensive plan for us,” Harlan said as she looked Fischer in the eyes.

  “Yeah, I think I have a pretty decent one. I’ll pitch it to General Williams when we get out there tomorrow,” Fischer said.

  “It better be a good one, because if I die from it, I’ll haunt your bones, Fischer,” Harlan said half-jokingly.

  “Are you gonna eat, Harlan?” Fischer asked.

  “I would, if they served actual food there. Why? Did you want me to come eat with you?” Harlan asked.

  “Nah, I was just asking. I’m going to grab something from the vending machine in the WS&T building; it stays down better,” Fischer said with a chuckle.

  “Oh yeah, you’re gonna put that new Lieutenant of yours through her paces, aren’t you? You know, you’re gonna wear her out before she even gets to the front,” Harlan said.

  “She did decent out on the range, but I have to see how well she’ll do under stress,” Fischer said.

  “Yeah, okay. Well, if you decide you don’t want her, my offer still stands,” Harlan said with a smile causing Fischer to roll his eyes and shake his head.

  Chapter 11

  “Do you mind if I sit here, Lieutenant Brookes?” Sanchez asked.

  Brookes with a mouthful of something that resembled meat motioned to Sanchez that he could sit down.

  “Cool,” Sanchez said as he sat down in front of Brookes.

  Brookes swallowed what she was chewing.

  “Yuck… it tastes worse going down,” Brookes said with a disgusted look on her face.

  “Yeah, after almost a month of eating only MREs -- actually, I prefer the MREs,” Sanchez said as he held up his speared Salisbury steak and then let it plop back down on his tray. “Just be thankful you actually cut yours …”

  “Lieutenant, is this boy giving you trouble?” Hartford asked as she put her tray down and sat next to Sanchez.

  Brookes was about to say “No” when Sanchez responded.

  “Actually, Hart, the Lieutenant and I were having a very educated discussion of the finer culinary arts,” Sanchez said pompously.

  “Ha-ha yeah, only an artist could come up with something so horrid as whatever this is,” Hartford said, chuckling sadly as she looked at her steak.

  Brookes glanced over to the food line and saw Cross and Kazir waiting in it.

  “So is there something between Kazir and Cross?” Brookes asked as she pointed to them in the line. “I always see them together.”

  “Yeah, it’s kinda been that way ever since Cross saved Kazir’s life about six months ago,” Sanchez said as he began trying to cut his steak.

  “What happened?” Brookes asked.

  “We were pulling out of Bethesda, trying to get to the evac area. Kazir was covering us along the way, until he got knocked out by an explosion. Cross ran back, picked him up, and carried him over two-hundred meters to the evac spot,” Hartford said as she gave up trying to cut her steak in frustration.

  “Wow, how did Cross lift him? He must weigh over two-hundred and fifty pounds,” Brookes said, astounded.

  “Yeah, you’ll be surprised what you can do when the adrenaline kicks-in,” Sanchez said as he began to furiously cut his steak like he was using a handsaw. “I just wish it would kick-in for cutting this stupid piece of meat.”

  “So what’s Kazir’s story? He doesn’t seem to talk much, and when he does it’s always in the third person,” Brookes asked.

  “Heh… heh… yeah, his story is pretty interesting, though he hardly talks about it; so we all just piece together what bits we do know,” Hartford said.

  “Oh, I see.”

  “From what we understand, Kazir used to be in an oil smuggling cartel. We don’t think he did any running or anything he was just a strongman or something,” Sanchez said; he didn’t look to be making much progress on his steak.

  “So how did he end up with the Dark Horses? Those oil cartels make a lot of money I hear,” Brookes said.

  “The police busted him during a raid on an oil derrick. They gave him two choices: prison or the military,” Sanchez said.

  “That didn’t really answer her question, Sanchez,” Hartford said.

  “I was getting to that, Hart. It was five years ago at the Second Battle of Jackson -- that was actually my first battle --anyway, we were sent in to stop an HRUO breakthrough in the eastern sector. When we got there, we saw that the breakthrough had already been contained. Kazir was out of his trench mowing down robots left and right with his laser cannon. When Fischer saw that, he had Kazir transferred to the Dark Horses,” Sanchez said.

  Hartford nudged Sanchez on the arm.

  “Good thing he did too. We probably would’ve lost at Dalton that one time, remember?” Hartford said, as Sanchez nodded in reply.

  “Yeah, Kazir, is a crazy, cool bastard when it comes to killing those robots,” Sanchez said as he blankly stared at his steak in defeat, and then looked up at Brookes. “So, Lieutenant, tell us about yourself. You’re not seeing anyone, are you?”

  “Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you?” Hartford said, lightly punching Sanchez in the arm.

  “It’s a legitimate question,” Sanchez said defensively.

  “No,” Brookes replied.

  “Really, no one? I find that hard to believe,” Sanchez said surprised.

  “What the hell do you mean you find that hard to believe? You hardly even know her,” Hartford said.

  “No, it’s fine Hartford. I had a boyfriend for a few years in college, but
I broke up with him before I left for the Academy,” Brookes said.

  Why did you break up with him?” Sanchez asked as Hartford put her palm to her face in embarrassment to the question.

  “I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t see any point in continuing the relationship. He was fun, but he was more interested in keeping up with the latest pop culture and internet references than actually doing something with his life; that and I wouldn’t have any time for a relationship at the Academy anyway,” Brookes said.

  “Yeah, I hear ya,” Sanchez said.

  “Sanchez got dumped and then joined the Army the next day, ha-ha poor sap,” Hartford said, chuckling.

  “Yes, yes, let’s bring up my failed love-life,” Sanchez said sullenly.

  “Well, it’s only fair,” Hartford said as she nudged Sanchez in the arm. “Cheer up, doofus. If she hadn’t broken up with you then you would’ve never had the privilege to get kicked around by me, ha-ha.”

  “So how about you, Hartford?” Brookes asked.

  “Me? Meh, romantic relationships are more trouble than what they’re worth. You’re pretty much just setting yourself up for heartbreak later,” Hartford said.

  “Yeah, in that regard, I envy the robots,” Sanchez said.

  “Brookes, I saw you talking to Jonesy earlier, you know he has a huge crush on Aki, right?” Harford said.

  “Yeah, but I thought I was the only one who knew about that. He said I was the only one he told,” Brookes said.

  “Actually, I didn’t really know, but you just confirmed what everyone around here thought they knew for the last year now, heh,” Hartford said, amused with herself.

  “So does Akiyama know then?” Brookes asked.

  “Probably, but we’re not sure. We never really talked to her about it. I just wish Jonesy would get around to telling her himself. He acts all nervous around her; it makes everyone uneasy and Aki probably two-fold,” Hartford said.

  “Martin and I hatched a plan a few months back to give Jones some liquid courage, but he – Jones -- doesn’t get drunk. He’s either sober or he passes out, there’s no in-between with him. He’s like the dry ice of drinking,” Sanchez said, throwing his arms up in frustration as he finally gave up cutting his steak.

  “Wow, the dry ice of drinking? You were waiting all year to say that one, weren’t you?” Hartford said, chuckling.

  “Whatever,” Sanchez said with a scoff. “I know the Cap has plans to order Jones to tell her. He’s tired of the awkwardness too.”

  Brookes looked behind her to the left and saw Akiyama sitting alone as she was trying to cut her steak.

  “I’ve noticed Akiyama likes to keep to herself,” Brookes said.

  Yeah, she’s kind of a loner, most snipers are; I’ve noticed,” Hartford said.

  “I see. I was talking with Jones earlier about why she prefers to use a fifty-caliber sniper rifle over a laser one, but he just went on and on about how great she was and didn‘t explain why,” Brookes said.

  Sanchez sighed and shook his head.

  “I asked her the very same thing a few months back; after all of her shots started bouncing harmlessly off a couple of Mark Threes. At first she didn’t say anything, but a few days later she pulled me aside and told me about her grandfather and how he was a Marine Corps sniper during the first attacks. It was a pretty harrowing tale. Apparently, he was in an emergency ad-hoc unit with General Snow who was a Lieutenant at the time, anyway, they were stationed in Kuwait when the attacks began and both of them fought their way out. They were just a handful of the soldiers in Kuwait to make it out and back to the states. The rifle she uses was her grandfather’s, apparently,” Sanchez said.

  It made sense to Brookes now, why Akiyama would prefer that rifle over a laser one.

  “Well, it may’ve been her grandfather’s, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s becoming less effective. I think once those Mark Fours start having more armor on their point defense lasers, then Fischer will have no choice, but to order Aki to switch -- assuming any of us would be left alive, heh,” Hartford said.

  “I can see how Akiyama might get a little upset by its decrease in effectiveness,” Brookes said.

  “Yeah, but probably not in the way you’re thinking. Aki is a perfectionist when it comes to sniping, and her rifle, while it holds great sentimental value for her; it’s still just a tool. She’ll switch if she needs too, I’m sure of it,” Sanchez said.

  Brookes looked over at Akiyama who had forgone the use of her utensils and started gnawing on her steak.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right, Sanchez. I just hate to see anyone get hurt because of it though,” Brookes said.

  “Lieutenant Brookes?” a voice behind Brookes said.

  Brookes turned around and saw First Sergeant Martin walking towards her table.

  “The Cap called and informed me to tell you and the rest of the squad, that we’re to form-up outside of the WS&T Building at 1330 hours, ma’am. That means you two also, Sanchez and Hartford,” Martin said as he eyed them.

  “Thank you, Sergeant Martin,” Brookes said as Martin went around the mess telling the rest of the squad.

  “You’re in for a treat, Lieutenant. We’re going to the WS&T Building,” Hartford said with smirk.

  Chapter 12

  “…Unified Nations Military Command has claimed a major victory today in the former Washington D.C. area. Early reports suggest that as many as one-million…” Lander turned off his car as he arrived at his Company’s fitting area.

  He saw the tents were already set up on the High School football field as he exited his car and walked across the slick dead grass; the frost just having recently melted. There was a line for the check-in and there he saw Thompson.

  “Hey, Paul, did you get any sleep?” Lander asked, but judging by the look on Thompson’s face he already had his answer.

  “No, I was so tried, I couldn’t even sleep; if that makes any sense,” Thompson said.

  “That sucks.”

  “Heh… I’ll probably pass out if they let us rest for a moment. If that happens, you wake my ass up, okay?” Thompson said as Lander nodded.

  Lander and Thompson along with a hundred other reservists were waiting in line to receive their uniforms.

  “I hope we get those cool new thermals, like the ones the commando squads get,” a chubby, antsy guy behind Lander said.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Lander said to the guy behind him.

  Judging by the grumbling he was hearing from the reservists up front that’s exactly what was happening.

  “Next! Info slip?” The soldier helping hand out uniforms asked.

  Lander handed her his info slip and after looking at it, the soldier yelled out some numbers and another soldier handed him his uniform bundle and boots. He was then waved down the line.

  “I can’t believe we got these ACUs! Same damn uniform that my great-grandfather had in Iraq, I bet! Jesus, they could have at least given us the GEN-One thermals. We might as well wear t-shirts with targets painted on them!” Thompson complained so as to get the attention of the soldiers handing out the uniforms, but they didn’t seem to hear or care about his complaints.

  The antsy guy behind Lander seemed disappointed as well.

  “The military must be scraping the bottom of the barrel when it comes to outfitting the reservists,” Lander said as he looked at his uniform, it seemed like it was used.

  “Yeah, you’re not joking about that one,” Thompson said.

  The line snaked down to where they were handing out weapons, and the grumbling was much more vocal and louder than before.

  “Next! Name and Id?” the soldier at the log book asked.

  Lander gave him his name and id. A soldier grabbed a rifle out of a crate and read the rifle’s serial number to the soldier at the log book.

  “Here’s your rifle, magazines, and cleaning kit. If you need any other accessories fill out a requisition form with your CO, next!” the soldier
yelled waving Lander down the line.

  “Son of a shit!” Thompson said as he turned to look at Lander. “What are we going to fight? The Taliban? This gun is fifty years-old!”

  “Well, it could be worse; they could’ve given us one of those M41 Lasers. At least these won’t malfunction and explode,” Lander said.

  “What kind of rifle is this?” the antsy guy behind Lander asked.

  “It’s a SCAR-H; it fires a 7.62mm full steel jacket, lead core bullet. So yeah, we’re basically going to be shooting metal at metal. Just be thankful you didn’t get the L model or an M-16,” Thompson said to the guy behind Lander.

  “Why’s that?” the guy asked.

  “Because… they fire a smaller bullet,” Thompson replied, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “I’ve never fired an actual bullet gun before. Seems kind of primitive,” the guy said as he curiously examined his rifle by looking down the barrel, causing Thompson to shake his head in disbelief.

  “What’s your name?” Lander asked.

  “Ellerby, umm… Private Frank Ellerby. And you guys?” Ellerby said.

  “Nice to meet you, Ellerby; I guess now, I’m Sergeant Chet Lander and this here is Corporal Paul Thompson,” Lander said as he pointed to Thompson.

  “Are you guys in Bravo Company too?” Ellerby asked.

  Lander and Thompson both nodded.

  That’s good, me too and nice to meet the both of you,” Ellerby said.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Ellerby,” Thompson said somewhat sarcastically, though it looked like Ellerby didn’t seem to notice.

  An hour later the reservists were assigned to one of four platoons within Bravo Company. Lander, Thompson, and Ellerby were all put in the same platoon, 3rd Platoon. A young Lieutenant walked into the 3rd Platoon tent causing everyone to come to attention. Lander had to hurry and get Thompson awake and on his feet.

  “At ease, I’m Lieutenant Diane Forsythe, your Platoon Leader. I know that some of you know me, seeing as how we’re all from the same town and all, but don’t expect any special treatment from me, got it? I expect every one of you to perform to the best of your abilities, do I make myself clear?” Lieutenant Forsythe said.