by Isaac Hooke
He landed on his back—at an angle because of the jetpack.
He started to get up, but she landed on him an instant later. She pinned him with her knees.
She punched his helmet in the faceplate, and the ballistic-resistant glass spidered.
Rade slammed the palms of his gloves into her body. He stabbed his thumbs into her belly wound, and she grimaced in pain. She punched him again, further smashing his faceplate, causing so many cracks he could barely see in the dim light.
He withdrew his gloves and grabbed both of her wrists before she could strike again. He swung her arms outward, then hoisted her into the air.
She planted both feet into his torso and pushed backward, struggling to break free. Rade held on tight.
He walked forward that way as she writhed in his arms. Bit by bit, he approached a small blast crater he had spotted near the edge of the rubble. When he reached it, he threw her down into the pit.
He turned to the side to grab the blaster he thought he had spotted, but it proved to be an errant piece of debris.
She smashed into him from behind, toppling him and pinning him to the ground.
He could hear her working back there, ripping away feed lines from his jumpsuit. According to the cracked HUD on his faceplate, his oxygen levels were dropping rapidly. She had tampered with the O2 intake, then.
He spun, elbowing her off of him.
He aimed a kick at her torso, but she caught it and once more swung him into the air.
He landed several meters away, crashing into the asphalt.
Oxygen levels were critical: he ripped off his helmet. The air stank of burnt flesh and wood, but at least he could breathe. Plus his vision was no longer marred by a chipped faceplate.
She was on him again, pinning him to the ground with her knees. He swung his helmet like a cudgel, hitting her in the head. Again. Again.
“I wanted to set you free, Rade Galaal,” she said with a hiss as she blocked his fourth blow. “Wanted to show you the truth, as required by our rules. But it is obvious to me that you are not worthy. So instead I am going to end your existence.”
She wrenched the helmet from him and raised it; she was poised to bring it crashing down into his skull. His forehead would very likely cave from blow. Rade had finally met his doom.
In a last act of desperation, Rade unflicked the cap of the surgical laser at the tip of his finger and stabbed it into her eye. He fired the laser at the same time.
The helmet dropped from her hands, landing harmlessly on the street beside him. She slid off of his finger, stood up, and took several groggy steps backward, her eye a gory mess. Then she collapsed in a lifeless heap.
Rade exhaled deeply, then struggled to his feet.
“Rade,” a weak voice said.
It came from the Adara who was yet pinned by the rebar.
Rade went to her.
She looked at him and smiled wanly. “I’m sorry I deceived you earlier.”
“I’m not going to fall for it,” Rade said, glancing at the curved rebar that protruded from her chest. “You think I’m going to set you free so you can attack me like the other one? You’re wrong.”
“I’m not... going to attack you.” She rested a bloody hand on his arm assembly. “Never... attack you.”
Rade slid his arm out from under her; a bloody handprint remained on the assembly. “You wanted to meet me so you could convert me into a machine. You planned to infiltrate our ranks through me, didn’t you?”
“No Rade, no...” She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at him with those dead orbs. “I never meant to cause you harm. I was trying to save you. Why do you think I fought her? The message I sent you... I didn’t know it was intercepted. I really wanted to see you again, to tell you everything. About me. About them. But they tried to detain me. They sent her in my place. I got here as soon as I could. Others are on the way. You can’t stay long.”
“What are you?” he said.
“We are infiltration units,” she said.
“No, I mean, you’re species.”
She shook her head. “Too late... now. You must go. The others will be coming soon. She called home. They know where we are. Run, Rade Galaal.”
“What about you?” He considered taking her prisoner, but then his eyes drifted to her wound. Even if he freed her, his corpsman training told her she was done. A wound like that was mortal. Blood continued to drip from the fabric of her clothing, too—the bleeding hadn’t stopped like it had for the other Adara.
“Go,” she said. “I’m damaged beyond repair. No one... can help me now. Nor... punish me.”
He stood, and turned to leave.
“Rade,” she said. “I—”
He paused, waiting.
No more words were forthcoming.
He realized that her breathing had stopped. The rest of her body finally matched those eyes.
Rade bit his lower lip.
He stooped, closed her eyes, and departed.
His boots crunched softly over the debris of the abandoned street. He moved into the shadows and called upon all of his stealth training to assist him.
Gotta make it back to the base.
Unfortunately, the moment he rounded the bend, bright lights shone into his eyes and blinded him.
“Freeze!”
Rade lifted his hands in surrender.
twenty-three
It turned out that Rade had wandered into the Marine retrieval team dispatched to get him from the forward operating base. Luckily for him.
Or perhaps unluckily, depending on your point of view.
Because a few hours later he found himself standing in an office in the base’s command and control unit, where he was about to receive the chewing out of his life.
Lieutenant Commander Braggs sat behind a desk, while Chief Facehopper leaned on the far edge of it with his arms crossed. Rade often wondered why offices still came with desks, especially temporary ones like the current; nobody used paper, tablets, or displays anymore, not when Implants and aReals handled any required visual overlays. He supposed the presence of the desk was half tradition, and half psychological—to maintain the illusion of a barricade between the occupant and visitors. That, and it provided a convenient place for one to put his or her feet up. Though Braggs rarely did that, at least not in the presence of the platoon members.
“You know, Mr. Galaal,” Lieutenant Commander Braggs said. “Disappointed doesn’t even come close to the way I feel about you right now. In fact, no word does justice to the incredible depths of my displeasure.”
“I have no excuse,” Rade said. “I—.”
Braggs raised an eyebrow. “Don’t say a word. Unless I tell you.”
Rade swallowed.
“Drop,” the Lieutenant Commander said. “Start pumping out push-ups. I suggest you pace yourself. Because we’re going to start with five hundred.”
Rade assumed the plank posture and began the requested push-ups.
“Apparently you told the Marines who brought you back that you were going for a walk,” Braggs continued. “You spotted a woman while on your little traipse. And chased her outside the perimeter.” He paused. “I can’t wait to read your official report. Going for a walk.” He spat the words. “Odd, that you would leave the housing unit without wearing your aReal goggles. And that you would disable the comm node in your helmet. Without those, we had no means of tracking you, given your current lack of Implant. It was almost like, you wanted us to lose you.”
A message log appeared on Rade’s vision while he did the push-ups, courtesy of his aReal goggles. It contained the last exchange between himself and Adara, from the time when they had planned their meet up.
“Look familiar?” Braggs said. “You might be wondering how we got our hands on this, seeing as you momentarily disabled logging on your unit.” He smiled contemptuously. “Let’s just say your aReal goggles were running a special version of the navy’s proprietary software, one whose ‘disable
logging’ command points to an empty subroutine. A few IS-3924s from NAVCENT recommended it as a precaution after the little hacking incident we detected.” IS-3924s were intelligence specialists.
Rade faltered slightly in his pace.
“It’s too bad we didn’t pull the logs earlier,” the LC continued. “We could have stopped you before any of this stupidity took place. But in a way, I’m kind of glad we didn’t. I like to test my men on occasion. Needless to say, you failed the test.
“So you went to meet this Corporal McPherson Adara. Probably imagining the great fucking session that awaited you. Thinking exclusively with your dick, rather than your mind. Despite all your training, and your conditioning, to the contrary.” Braggs shook his head. “Such a waste. The navy poured so much money into you. For what? So you could betray your unit, and nearly give yourself over to the enemy? You call yourself a MOTH?”
He remained silent for some time.
Rade glanced up from his push-ups, and saw that Braggs was merely staring at him, eyes full of disappointment. Rade felt like the lowest of the low in that moment, and wished he could just crawl into a hole and never come out. He lowered his gaze and concentrated on the burn in his muscles, glad for something to distract him.
“Should we tell him about the bodies?” the chief asked.
“Go ahead,” Braggs answered. “I don’t care anymore.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors,” Facehopper said. “About men being captured, and then coming back only to turn against us. Well they’re true. The enemy replaces the human minds with machines. Nano-machines, specifically. But you know that already, don’t you? That’s right, we know all about that little covert operation you conducted on the Rhodes, involving the infected Chief Scientist Rebecca Vicks. You thought we wouldn’t find out?
“In any case, it turns out both of those women you led the Marines to out there had similar machines replacing their neural tissue. Just like Vicks. There was one difference, however: those machines had spread to the bone and muscle tissue.
“But the most disturbing part is, their brains emitted a signature that matched up with our own Implants. Before their neural networks degraded entirely, the Marines were able to read the profiles returned by those false signatures. Guess what? We received valid public IDs, both matching up with Corporal McPherson.”
He paused for a moment, as if to allow Rade to absorb the ramifications.
“Neither would have been able to sneak far into the base unnoticed, of course,” Facehopper said. “Because McPherson is still listed as MIA, they would have triggered an alert if they tried to join our adhoc Implant network. Masters-at-arms would have seized them. The woman who had acted as the lure must have had her Implant equivalent turned off when she was waiting for you at the base perimeter.
“What the enemy has done here is slightly more advanced than what we were seeing earlier, when enemy robots spoofed our friendly signatures. We had to patch our Implants to account for those false readings, and it looks like we’re going to have to patch them again. The cybersecurity specialists tell me they have a solution, but how long will it last?
“The enemy is getting better at mimicking our brains, and the technology we embed within them. One day there might come a time when no patching we do will prevent the enemy from lurking undetected among us, hidden, forming sleeper cells waiting to strike. Already the Marines have imprisoned three individuals who’ve returned after being marked as MIA. Two of them are obviously infiltration units. The other seems human, but we’re keeping him under observation for the moment. Just as we’re doing with you.”
Rade knew precisely why the chief was telling him all that. The message was clear: be on the lookout for infiltration units among the Marines, and perhaps among the members of Alpha Platoon itself.
Even so, when Rade looked up he saw that Braggs was frowning, as if he wasn’t entirely certain Rade should have heard any of it.
And as if Rade wasn’t worthy of the title of MOTH anymore, nor the security clearance.
“Enough of that,” the LC said. “I want to talk about Mr. Galaal’s punishment.” He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, simple push-ups won’t cut it. I almost want to see you delegated to the sidelines for the next few missions, for what you’ve done. And in fact, it’s well within my rights to have you transferred to an entirely different team. Or have you discharged entirely.”
As he continued pumping himself up and down, Rade found himself tearing up.
I’ve lost everything, because of one moment I let my guard down.
Ashamed, he kept his gaze glued to the floor.
The lieutenant commander didn’t speak for several moments, apparently wanting to draw out the tension.
“But I hate to see a good man fall,” the LC finally said. “A man who has otherwise served impeccably. Which is why I want to give you a second chance.”
Rade perked up slightly.
“NAVCENT has chosen Alpha Platoon to take part in a classified operation two days from now,” Braggs said. “I’m not going to go into details now, for obvious reasons. But the timeline coincides with the end of your mandatory decontamination watch, so I’m going to authorize your involvement. It’s your chance to redeem yourself. But you mess this up, Mr. Galaal, I’m going to send you packing. I guarantee it.” He paused, then: “Go ahead, speak. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Thank you, sir!” Rade said, not stopping the push-ups. “I won’t let you down. I’ll lead Alpha through this mission without a hitch. Under the chief’s esteemed guidance, of course.”
“Oh, I never said you’d be leading the mission in any capacity,” the lieutenant commander told him. “Effective immediately, TJ is the new LPO of Alpha Platoon.”
Rade froze. His body wanted to keep pumping out those push-ups, but his mind simply couldn’t facilitate the muscle-brain connection. It felt like he had been physically struck.
“That’s all for now, Mr. Galaal. You’ll be briefed on the mission in forty-eight hours with the rest of the platoon when you emerge from the dollhouse. In the meantime, I expect another five hundred reps. Lieutenant Commander out.”
The office winked out as the virtual conferencing session ended. Rade was back inside the glass walls of the decontamination ward, where he would remain until the specialist cleared him for duty.
He began pumping out the push-ups once more, grateful for the burn the exercise provided. Maybe if he exhausted himself, he would forget what had just happened.
Somehow, he doubted it.
twenty-four
Ramifications. Rade knew there were consequences for every action he made, in battle and in life. Sometimes those consequences were good, sometimes bad. He had been lucky so far, avoiding the bad. But live life on the edge for long enough, and eventually you’ll lose your balance and fall.
Even so, Rade took his demotion in stride. It could have been worse. Reduced to petty officer second or third class, for example. Or reassigned to a different Team or discharged as Braggs had threatened. But Rade had been spared all of that. For the moment.
In some ways he was glad he was no longer LPO. He was free from the burden of command, that gambling den where the stakes were the lives of his men. He could relax slightly in the coming mission, and focus on whatever assignment he was given rather than the tasks of the entire platoon. It wouldn’t be all that different from the missions he had been undertaking lately anyway, where he acted as an adjunct to the various Marine platoons and companies.
I’m free. Right back where I wanted to be.
But if that was the case, why was he so miserable?
“Don’t worry,” Tahoe said during a visit to the decon ward. “TJ is going to mess up soon, and you’ll be LPO again.”
“You misjudge him,” Rade replied. “TJ will do a very good job, Tahoe. Just as good as I could. But here’s the thing... I’m not sure I even want to be LPO anymore. I’ve had a lot of time to think since my demotion, and you kno
w, I’m finally beginning to understand my behavior. Why I did such stupid, dangerous things. And I’m not just talking about recent events, but certain lone wolf behavior I exhibited in the past after becoming LPO. It’s like I wanted the lieutenant commander to strip me of command. Like I didn’t feel worthy of it, or just didn’t want the burden. I’ll tell you something, from one brother to another, sometimes when I’m out there with the platoon and I roll the dice, I’m terrified it’s going to come up snake eyes.”
“If that’s true,” Tahoe said. “And you really wanted to lose your position, then why aren’t you smiling?”
“That’s a good question, isn’t it?” But Rade already knew the answer.
This isn’t who I am.
RADE CHECKED OUT of the decon ward on schedule, and a few hours later found himself seated with the rest of Alpha Platoon inside a cramped conference room in the command and control center.
Lieutenant Commander Braggs stood at the forefront, behind a podium. Another psychological illusion, Rade thought, since of course podiums served no purpose these days other than to provide a barrier between the speaker and his audience.
“The survivors of the enemy fleet looped back toward the planet and staged an orbital attack a few days ago,” the lieutenant commander was saying. “The UC vessels in orbit repelled the attackers, reducing the number of enemy vessels in the system to only three. The UC fleet expects to hunt down the survivors shortly. Victory seems almost assured. Despite all that, none of the enemy have surrendered, not on the surface of this planet, nor in space. They’re going to fight to the death, it seems. And the UC is more than happy to help them along that illogical path.
“Here’s where things get interesting. One of the enemy craft from the latest attack crash-landed on the surface forty klicks from the city, on the northeast side of the mountain range. Unlike other vessels facing similar capture scenarios, they haven’t self-destructed yet. Our guess is, they’ve lost that ability.”
“That,” Fret said. “Or they’re waiting until we send inside an exploratory force so they can take down a few of us with them.”