by Saxon Keeley
“As close as you are going to get,” replied one of the women around the table.
A map of the city is laid out on the table. It has clearly been drawn from memory as the satellite imagery highlights so many inconsistences.
The colony is divided into three zones, sectioned by canals. Their current position is in the northern region of the colony and the second largest. The largest is Southside, the Western residential district. In the middle is the Foundry, an unregulated industrial powerhouse which dwarfs the productivity of the Industrial District back on Shanxi.
Crosses and whole regions have been blacked out, marking the loss of the colony and failed assaults. Carefully Sun Tzu studies the map, a gesture of courtesy as opposed to learning anything meaningful.
“We have as many people as we can spare along the canal,” said the woman, pointing at the line that separates the Lotus Gardens from the Foundry. “But we have lost a lot of people holding that line. There are people trapped in the central district, but we have no way of getting to them.”
“When did you last have contact?” asked Li.
“A few days ago,” said a young man. “It sounded like they were being hunted. Then nothing.”
Hearing that sends a shiver down Wesley’s spine. He glances around to see if the others are as equally spooked, instantly reminded that none of them can see each other’s faces.
Against the murky backdrop, each of the Shanxi soldiers stand out in their pristine mossy green armour. They all stand out as clear targets.
“There must be a weak point in their line,” Li checked with Sun Tzu.
“Here is as good as anywhere else,” another woman said.
Sun Tzu marches off alone to the barricade. Climbing as high as he can, he scouts the nearest bridge. Beyond the ruins of the Lotus Gardens, Western colonists have taken cover behind a similarly built blockade. A few have taken shelter in the warehouses on either side of the street. Jumping back down, Sun Tzu rounds up his squad.
“Tell all stations to hold their position until back up arrives,” Sun Tzu instructed the colonists.
Stray bullets fly as Yong Squad make their way through to the front line. It becomes quickly apparent that they are up against an enemy with no real training. The kick back from each round makes for a terrible shot. Regardless, Sun Tzu is not willing to take any risks and darts from cover to cover. Wesley follows close behind Li.
Resting his back against the wall of the canal, the two of them take a second to catch their breath.
“Li and Jung, you are with me,” ordered their general over the coms.
Stepping out onto the bridge, the three of them are completely exposed. Wesley’s heart beats so fast it feels like it might burst. Heading straight down the middle, the rest of the squad pull up the rear, laying down covering fire.
Targets are identified on screen, tracking their movement. Aiming for the shoulder, Wesley squeezes the trigger. Falling to the ground, the first of the Westerners is neutralised. Screams pierce through the volleys of gunfire.
Along the canal the fight intensifies as the Chinese colonists are joined by Shanxi and Thuỷ Phủ troops. Flickers of light burst as other squads advance towards the Foundry.
The Yong Squad are supported from behind as Shanxi soldiers secure a defensive line. Seeing the strength of the force, most of the Western colonists fall back, only the brave and foolish stay to fight.
Clearing the bridge, Sun Tzu orders for the injured Westerners to be rounded up and ferried back to the resistance camp to receive medical attention. Though the Westerners protest, they are too incapacitated to put up any real struggle. Their weapons are confiscated and dismantled. The sophistication of the rifle surpasses their own Dragon Crescent. For Sun Tzu, it seems unlikely that there would be the expertise on Maia to develop such technology.
Wesley finds the man he shot in the shoulder propped up against the barricade. A trickle of blood runs down his thick jacket. Spluttering something unintelligible, Wesley offers his hand out to the Westerner. Instantly it is slapped away. Kneeling to the man’s level, he hopes to reason with him.
“Do you speak English?”
“Bits,” replied the man bemused.
“There is a medical centre being set up in Lotus Gardens. We can get your shoulder seen to.”
“I do not need help, Chinese dog,” spat the man.
“We are not here to fight. We want peace on this colony as much as you do,” explained Wesley.
“Lies,” shouted the man desperately, shocking Wesley. “Lies which have already been told.”
Despite Wesley’s best intentions the man continues to protest. Soldiers come and carry him away, he thrashes about with all his weight.
The cease fire was a short but welcome break for all. The reinforcements have given much-needed relief to the exhausted civilians. Already in the camp, abandoned buildings are being converted into medical centres. Comfort and nourishment will be provided to the colonists with the second wave of Grey Herons expected to arrive shortly. Joining them will be Wesley’s brothers.
Rounding up his squad, Sun Tzu informs them that they have received intel on a potential location of Chinese colonists trapped in the Foundry. Knowing the bridge has been secured, Sun Tzu leads Yong Squad deeper into the occupied territory.
An abrupt drop in Maia’s temperature freezes the moon. Thick snowflakes fall over the city. Ditched belongings of fleeing families, abandoned industrial vehicles, bodies caught in the violence, and other remnants of the beginning of the conflict are buried. Even their exoskeleton struggles to safeguard them against the cold. With each step, the snow crunches beneath their feet.
The silence is unnerving.
Bullet holes scar the surrounding factories and warehouses. The squad stick close to the edge of the street, moving in single file. No activity is detected. Satellite imagery shows nothing. Sun Tzu grows increasingly anxious, something that is felt by the rest of the soldiers. Each of them grip their rifle tight. Their fingers on the trigger. Wesley expected to be in the heat of a frenzied battle, not this.
“Where have they gone?” mumbled a soldier over the coms.
“Keep focused,” snapped Li, sounding just as anxious.
A flicker triggers Wesley’s targeting system. Behind the collapsed scaffolding something hides. Halting the soldiers behind him, he steps out from formation. Raising his rifle, he heads over to investigate.
“Jung,” barked Sun Tzu.
Peering over the toppled metal platform, what he finds is utterly perplexing. Pecking at the snow is a black and white bird. It is the first creature Wesley as ever seen. The bird tilts it’s head, acknowledging Wesley’s presence. Totally fearless, it hops towards him, squawking loudly. Before long it spreads its wings and flies high over the warehouse.
“Wesley,” cried Li.
A sharp thud hits Wesley in the chest. The same place Sun Tzu stabbed him with the Jian. The impact sends a shockwave through his body. His on-screen vitals go haywire. Losing the strength in his knees, Wesley collapses to the ground.
“Take cover,” commanded Sun Tzu.
Yong Squad dive to safety as a barrage of bullets sweep down the street.
A visor shatters and a comrade’s body falls limp. The mess is contained in their helmet. Sun Tzu watches helplessly at his two downed soldiers. This is not the same type of encounter that they experienced on the bridge. Before it was desperate. Here they are organised. Resourceful. Sun Tzu struggles to make sense of it.
With Wesley reading as only offline, he orders Li to investigate. Blindly firing back, Sun Tzu creates an opening.
Sliding along the snow, Li manages to reach his friend intact. Checking over his body, he finds a dent in the chest plate. Wesley grips Li’s arm, hoarsely coughing. The two can’t help but laugh with relief.
Finding cover behind the scaffolding, Wesley resets his systems. While most of the functions are restored, his vitals fail to calibrate. Looking up, his targeting system loc
ks on to more civilians boxing them in from the other end.
“Sir!” called Li.
Without hesitation, Sun Tzu orders the squad to split in two. Severely outnumbered, Yong Squad entrench themselves in defensive positions. The civilian force gain ground and panic sets in. Shots are fired indiscriminately. Casualties become fatalities.
“Control your fire,” Sun Tzu screamed as civilian bodies fall dead.
“We are surrounded,” panicked a soldier as their situation intensifies. “There are too many of them.”
“They are civilians,” he said, their general doing his best to remind them.
Pulling back into cover, Wesley reloads his clip. Sparks fly as bullets ricochet off the metal platform. From above he notices a figure perched atop of the warehouse, watching the carnage. The figure pulls out a small device and holds it so that Wesley can see.
“Get down!”
Explosions blast through the walls of the adjacent buildings. Bricks and concrete are launched into the air, raining down onto the squad below. Sections of the building collapse, stranding the divided soldiers. A cloud of dust and snow make it impossible to see.
A gargled shriek comes from under the rubble. Wesley rushes over to find an arm sticking out from the debris. Despite his best efforts, he cannot pull this comrade free. The concrete above is dislodged, caving in around the trapped soldier.
“Fuck!”
The attack from the Westerners continue, making it impossible to climb over and regroup with Sun Tzu. With such low visibility, they cannot effectively fight back. The buildings either side groan as their structural integrity is compromised. It would be unwise to remain in their current position.
“Sun Tzu? Sun Tzu?” Li called over the coms, huddled behind the wreckage.
Wesley quickly assesses the situation. There is no time to wait on directives from their general.
“We have to go. I will punch a hole in the enemy line. The rest of you follow,” said Wesley, pulling Li to his feet.
“But…”
“There is no time.”
Li relays the order to what remains of the squad. Grouping together, they lay down suppressive fire as Wesley leads the charge.
Rushing at the enemy, he fires short bursts at the silhouettes that emerge from the settling dust. Mists of blood spray into the air. The odd lucky shot from the civilians fortunately bounce off his armour. Racing to the end of the street, Wesley glances back to see the others close behind.
Turing the corner, something is not quite right. The warehouse precariously begins to lean in towards their escape route. Cracks split the cement. As the structures weight shifts, Wesley knows they don’t have much time until it collapses. Picking up the pace, the squad push the exoskeleton’s functions as far as they can handle.
The soldier’s inexperience with the full capability of the suit leads to a few mistiming their landings, tumbling into the snow. They attempt a quick recovery. The building begins to crumble and the far end comes crashing down, cutting off the civilian force. Like a wave, the rest follows. Wesley and Li watch as a few stragglers disappear under the warehouse.
Wesley’s roar echoes in the streets of the Foundry. The surviving soldiers hold him back, stopping him from climbing back over. On-screen the soldier’s lifelines are gone. Killed instantly.
“Jung, we have to go. There is nothing we can do for them now,” Li tried to reason with him.
“Fuck!”
With their numbers severity depleted, the Yong Squad keep to the shadows, evading the mob that pursues them. Regardless of their best efforts, the tracks they leave in the snow is an easy trail for them to follow.
Using every alleyway and path through the factories, they manage to create enough distance to lose them. Deep within the district, Li knows they are completely alone. Cutting though into an unlocked factory workshop, he orders the squad to take rest while they gather their bearings.
There is not one amongst them that does not curse their predicament. While some check their ammunition, others hope to make contact with the separated squad. Wesley rests his helmet on a workbench. Though the air in the factory is not fresh, it is crisp enough to calm his temper. The smell however is putrid.
“This is a completely dark zone. The satellite imagery cannot find our location. It could be because of the weather, but all readings from the resistance camp are normal,” said Li to anyone who is listening.
“Li, look at this,” said Wesley.
Turning to his friend, Li follows his gaze up to the ceiling. Gently swaying in the darkness are bodies hung from the metal beams. Men, women and children all with a noose around their necks. All of them Westerners.
“What is going on here?” remarked one of the soldiers.
“Do you think the Chinese colonists did this?” asked another.
“None of this makes sense,” said Wesley, stepping towards the centre of the room. “That trap was too well orchestrated. The colonists had no idea we would be involved in the conflict. It was not like those explosives where set in a particularly strategical position either.”
“The colonists were too close to the blast, I do not think they knew about it,” Li speculated.
“We are being played.”
The helmet thuds to the floor and each of the soldiers aim their sights at the workbench. The sudden noise had frightened them all. Wesley investigates, treading cautiously around the bench.
“Wait. Do not shoot,” a nervous voice called out from behind.
Two shaking arms held in the air appear, followed by the face of a scrawny Chinese man with cracked thin rimmed spectacles. Though relieved, none of them lower their rifles.
“Do not shoot. I have a family.”
“Step out slowly,” ordered Li. “What happened here?”
“You are from Neo-Shanxi. I can tell by the dragon on your chest.”
“What happened?” reiterated Wesley.
“You do not know? Why come to Maia if you do not know?” asked the man to no response. “The CERE did not want Maia to go the way of Neo-Shanxi or Thuỷ Phủ, so they agreed to meet with representatives of the Chinese colonists to discuss concessions. But on the day, none of the CERE showed up. They and their families could not be found. Their homes where abandoned. No one was here to govern Maia. Demonstrations erupted all over the city. People began looting shops and factories. That is when the CERE and their families were found.”
“Found right here,” noted Wesley, looking at the bodies above.
“Westerners blamed the Chinese. Said it was the first act of violence in a Chinese revolt on Maia,” finished the man. “Can I lower my arms now?”
“Yes, of course,” Li said apologetically. “Do you think Chinese colonists killed these people?”
“Who can say?” said the man, shaking his head. “My family. I need to get back to them, otherwise they will worry.”
“Where are your family?”
“The storehouse opposite the factory. We are trying to get across the canal to Lotus Gardens, but the blockade has made it impossible.”
Li rounds up his soldiers. Together they map out the quickest route back to the bridge. He draws up a contingency for if they run into the civilian force. But his plan does not sit right with everybody. Leaning against the bench Wesley stares blankly at the floor.
“Jung, we should move out,” said Li.
“I am not coming.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
Grabbing his helmet, Wesley faces the squad. “I am going to look for Sun Tzu and the rest.”
“That is suicide,” argued Li. “If we head back to camp with the civilians, we can regather our strength and then launch a search and rescue. Sun Tzu has probably already beaten us back.”
“You cannot honestly believe that. Sun Tzu would not leave us behind,” countered Wesley. “I am not asking for anyone to join me.”
“We are with you Jung,” interrupted one of his comrades.
G
radually Yong Squad begin to divide. Li watches powerlessly as his command is lost. Nothing he can say would change their minds. Wesley looks back at the two soldiers remaining by Li’s side. It is a small enough unit to go undetected. Holding out his hand, Wesley wishes Li the best of luck.
“I will secure a route back to the bridge,” said Li. “Come back safe brother.”
Wesley and the squad watch as Li escorts the scrawny colonist out of the workshop. Looking back, the two give each other one last nod farewell. Placing his helmet on, Wesley realises he has no plan, no idea of where to even begin their search, and with something jamming their signal, they are completely in the dark.
In the quiet narrow streets of the Foundry, they march through a deluge of snow. The blizzard howls and wails. They struggle against the remorseless weather, treading through the snow which now reaches the top of their shins. Power has been cut-off. There is little to guide them. Their lack of visibility is not helped by the condensation forming on the inside of their visors. Most begin to regret their decision to join Wesley, unconvinced of how much longer they can withstand the cold.
Having had no contact with Sun Tzu or the others since their separation, Wesley is surprised to receive a faint signal response. Only a few streets away, he picks up the pace.
Carried by the wind, a poetic whisper calls to Wesley.
“Little dragon. Little white dragon…”
Looking back at the squad, he is certain that no one else heard it. Pressing on, they make their way down a street with banners remaining from the demonstrations swaying in the wind. Each yellow banner has the character ‘peace’ painted in black.
“Little white dragon come. This way dragon…”
The whisper calls out to him again. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Wesley follows the voice. Farther down, something else hangs from the streetlamps.
Wesley’s behaviour makes the rest nervous. They tighten their grip and rest their finger firmly on the trigger. Confused quivers are shared over the coms.