Looking past the numerous bodies littering the ground in front of her, she could see the enemy troops moving into the open space. Each soldier had their rifle at the ready, focusing down the sights for any signs of danger. Above the troops, on the wall of the compound, Ariana could just make out a hint of movement. Gunny.
The figure stopped and looked right at Ariana and tilted her head.
Right.
Ariana triggered the scopes in her helmet. She called up the InfraRed feed and the world was plunged into a bright grayscale where she could see much better. She looked back up to where Gunny was stationed on the roof. Her commanding officer gave a slight hand signal, followed by another head nod.
Ariana got the message. She triggered her helmet's clock to sync with Gunny's. They would strike in precisely ten seconds.
Ariana readied herself. She reminded herself to exhale and tried to locate some semblance of calm, as best she could.
Seven seconds.
She locked in the target tracking in her IR display. The aim enhancers built into her body armor would assist in tracking her enemies once she began firing.
Four seconds.
She inhaled deeply through her nose and blew the hot air out of her mouth slowly.
Go.
The enemy squad was assaulted with a barrage of micro-projectiles from two different angles. The team formed up quickly and began laying suppressive fire.
They were good.
The enemy squad couldn't tell where the shots were coming from, but each man picked an arc of fire and covered the area with practiced efficiency.
Ariana was forced to duck behind a large fountain in order to not get sawed in half by the aggressive weapons fire. She waited for a few beats behind the concrete of the fountain. She wasn’t sure if she had given her position away or not.
She closed her eyes, tensing for the barrage undoubtedly heading her way. The sound of gunfire made her jump, but she realized it was coming from across the open court. She peeked around to see Gunny laying cover. Ariana seized the moment.
She leaned around the fountain, sighting down her rifle's barrel. She tracked the enemy with her rifle and, collecting her breath, squeezed the trigger. A volley of micro-bullets spat toward the squad of men. The troops began firing in wild desperation as they realized they were caught in a crossfire they couldn't win.
As the last enemy fell, Gunny keyed her comm, “Roman, talk to us.”
“Great work on the breaching squad. Unfortunately, that's just the head of the comet. You've got a large force moving in, quickly.”
“Roger. You won't do us much more good from in there. Grab your rifle and head to the roof. You're the best long-range shot of the three of us. Pulaski and I will move into corridors to form a bottleneck.”
“Roger that boss-man...lady. Ma'am.”
“Roman, it seems your comm is picking up some sort of moronic cross-chatter, see to that.”
Two affirmative clicks sounded on the comm. Ariana smiled at the banter. She clicked her comm twice in response to the order and moved back toward the compound.
Ariana slipped back to the service door she had come through and ran into a major problem: the door was locked from the inside. She turned around to assess her options and saw the remaining enemy platoon pouring through the gates, weapons at the ready. She exhaled sharply. Think of something.
She analyzed the area but came up dry. She reminded herself not to panic. She slipped slowly backward into the shadows and clicked her comm three times.
“What's the trouble, Pulaski?” Gunny was instantly on the comm.
Ariana clicked her comm three more times to indicate she needed to remain silent.
“That bad, huh?” Roman, can you see anything?”
“Just got to the roof. Looks like... oh sh...yoot. She’s stuck outside. I guess that door is locked from the inside. And charlie has already moved inside the walls,” Roman sounded nervous. “Oh man, if they fire up thermal, she's toast.”
“I’ll try and make my way through the building and get to her. If anything happens, you lay down cover and see her through, okay?” Gunny barked the order and clicked her comm off.
Ariana couldn't calm her nerves. She made herself as small as she could, but she wasn't confident. She eyed the enemy team as they systematically worked through the open courtyard. They moved silently, rifles held stiffly up to their shoulders, pivoting with machine-like precision to scan the area.
She jumped when she heard an explosion somewhere to her right. She checked the team status, green across the board. Gunny broke in over the comms, out of breath.
“They breached! They've breached the back of the building. The other team must've been a diversion!” Gunfire covered the comms drowning out Gunny's report. “I... hold them... too many... get the...” The garbled message made Ariana's heart sink. If the firefight was that heated...
The team in front of her broke out into a brisk jog, heading for the interior of the building. She knew there were prox mines that way, it was only a matter of time. She held her breath and tightened her grip on her weapon.
The first mine erupted into a hot flash and Ariana exploded into action. From the rooftop to her right, Roman mounted his long gun on a bipod and began picking off troops. He would need cover.
She burst from the shadows, weapon spewing a relentless cascade of projectiles into the enemy troops. Half of the squad stopped and turned, forming a tight semicircle and concentrated their fire. The other half retreated into the building and after a short moment were met with more explosions as the deeper prox mines were triggered.
Ariana and her team might just stand a chance.
“…caught... crossfire... can't...” Gunny's comm interrupted through static and percussive gunfire.
An alert sounded in Ariana's helmet and she checked the team status, already knowing what she would find. Gunny's lifeline indicator was solid red. They had lost her. Now what?
Roman continued to take shots at the men on the ground, but the enemy was spraying his area with a hailstorm of return fire. Ariana moved on the men, shooting wildly at them. She hoped to distract them just long enough to give Roman a window.
If we can't walk out of here, we'll take as many of them with us as we can, she thought bitterly as she took cover behind a stone bench and changed mags.
“There's a word for this situation, Pulaski,” Roman said sardonically. Ariana could sense the fatalism in his voice. “I'm not going to say it, in memory of Gunny. But just remember kid, we'll always have Paris.”
Ariana couldn't help but smile. Even now, he made jokes and twentieth century movie references. They would die today, but they wouldn't lose their spirit. She keyed her comm.
“See you on the other side, boy scout.”
She rolled out from her hiding place and squeezed the trigger. Roman leaned over the roof and doused the area in precision fire. They were vastly outnumbered, but they could still take some with them. She zigzagged across the yard toward the troops, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Her breath choked when she noticed the gunfire from the rooftop had ceased. She looked up just in time to see Roman's limp body slip from the parapet and tumble down into the court behind the men. One of the enemies in front of her pulled something out of a pack and threw it toward her. She watched it, as if in slow motion, tumble through the air. The instant it made contact with the ground, her entire world erupted into a bright flash. Then came the darkness. The sound of gunfire faded away, and she found herself wanting to sleep.
∆∆∆
“Gentle!” a muffled voice said, “Would you listen to me? I said, gentle. We've never caught one alive.”
“Whatever. She's a grunt, what's a broken bone or two, anyway?” a second voice responded.
The second voice shrieked in pain.
“I don't know, you tell me,” the first voice was speaking again, “What's a broken bone or two?”
“Ow, let go, you jackal. She's all y
ours,” after a few seconds, there was the sound of a door shutting.
“Okay, just you and me now,” the first voice said. It was no longer muffled, but still stern.
Ariana opened her eyes and looked into the sharp features of a man wearing a black suit. His blue eyes seemed to pierce straight through her.
“Well. Hello there,” the man in the suit said casually. He sat down in a chair next to her bed, and propped his feet up on the end of her mattress causing Ariana to wince.
“Where am I?” Ariana asked, her breath shallow. Broken ribs. “And why am I not dead?”
“Relax. We just need to talk.”
“About what?” Ariana said defiantly, “You know more about us than we know about you. You've been visiting us for centuries. What could I possibly tell you?”
“So it is true,” he said, shaking his head. “You know, I never actually believed it until now.”
“Believed what?”
“You really do believe it don't you?”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Ariana said, still bristling with defiance.
“I’m sure,” the man said calmly, leaning forward. “You think you're human, don't you?”
What? There must be some sort of misunderstanding. The other ODMs must have found her and thought she was a clone. An alien. She struggled against her restraints.
“No, you don't understand,” she pleaded, “I'm human. Lance Corporal Ariana Pulaski, OD15-614-889, ODM.”
“Cute,” the man responded, “Tell me this, what's your earliest childhood memory?”
“My what?"
“Let me guess, yellow dress? Bunny rabbits? Tire swing and dear, old dad?”
Ariana was so confused, “How could-”
“Better believe it. We got that transmission, too,” the man said without emotion. “It was our first tip that they were conditioning their clones—you—to believe that you're really human. They give you an implant,” he gestured to an X-Ray image on a lightbox showing an implant embedded deep in someone's skull. “Then they send you memories and whatever else they want you meat bags to think. Presumably, you dream about them and wake up to believe they're real.”
“That's not...” Ariana couldn't even accept the possibility.
The man followed her eyes to the X-Ray, “Oh yeah, that's you, ‘lance corporal,’ you've got a walkie-talkie in your noggin, and you were born in a tube. Wild, isn’t it? Your bosses up there,” he gestured at the roof, “Create you guys in an assembly line and ship you out here to slaughter us, and you’re just as convinced that we’re the bad guys. Ge’ez. And can you believe all the social justice groups out there rousing support for the clones, claiming your souls are just as valuable as natural-borns. Myself, I’m tired of the political talking heads arguing the rights these clones might have and whether killing our own people was the right answer. Our people. Pfft.”
“I’m not a clone,” Ariana insisted.
“Look, I’m not judging you, any more than I judge a dog for chewing my shoes. But the proof is in the pudding.”
“I… I don't know what to think,” Ariana stammered, her voice shaking.
“Oh, I believe you,” the man replied. He stood up, put a hat on and opened the door. He turned and looked back at her with a detached expression. “Do you know what I did with the last dog to chew my shoe? I put him down.”
He flipped the light switch off, and closed the door, plunging Ariana into complete darkness.
Frequency
Day 347 - 08:24
“Group fifteen beginning final approach.” Lincoln Harris keyed the comm, sharing the update with the rest of his team. “Stasis seems to be holding. Shuttle looks good.”
“Fifteen, huh?” A sarcastic voice replied over the comm with a chuckle. “Does that mean the next group can drive themselves?”
“Stow it.” Lincoln rolled his eyes. Zachary Gibbs always had something snide to contribute. After a year on this station with the man, it was starting to get old.
Keri Beck walked into the room, pulling her long brown hair into a ponytail. “Oh, very funny.” She made her way across the cramped control center, avoiding the monitors and control systems that filled much of the floorspace. “I’m so glad they chose a comedian for the team. That’s a valuable skill in our line of work.”
The room wasn’t small, but all of the equipment and lack of windows never ceased to make Lincoln uncomfortable. He’d often been told that the Navy was no place for a claustrophobic, and he couldn’t agree more. Just when he thought that life was behind him, he’d found himself in another tin can in space. Figured.
“Hey give me a break, I’m only trying to lighten the mood,” Gibbs replied back on the comm.
“We can celebrate when we’ve licked this thing.” A sharp edge in Lincoln’s voice pierced the air. He needed to rally the troops back to the task at hand. “Let’s not forget what’s happening outside our little slice of heaven.”
“If this is heaven, can I try the other place?”
“I’ll send you there myself if you cannot shut up.” Edward Amin’s accented voice cut in on the comm.
“You’re just mad that I keep beating you in chess,” Gibbs jibed.
“Don’t fool yourself, Gibbs,” Edward shot back. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, fragile as you programmers are.”
“Fragile huh? How about I come over there and show you how fragile—”
“That’s plenty.” Lincoln nodded to Keri. The woman pushed a few buttons on her tablet and the comms went dead, except for Lincoln’s. “Let’s go off-radio until our honored guests arrive. Finish up anything else you need to nail down before they arrive. I’ve set a system alarm for sixty minutes from now. Expect our new visitors to dock in eighty minutes.”
“Should I get the party hats and lay out the welcome mat?” Keri’s voice had a playful lilt. “Damien’s latest research is in, if you want to take a look.”
Lincoln stifled a yawn. “Is there anything I should be excited about?”
“Well, no. Not really.”
Lincoln stood and rolled his wide shoulders. His height didn’t help his claustrophobia; in fact, he often ended the day with a sore neck from hunching his shoulders in the cramped station. His hazel eyes peered through heavy eyelids at the displays around him. “Spare me then, I’m going to hit the gym before our guests arrive.”
Lincoln exited the control room and yawned as he ambled down the narrow, white corridors of the station. He didn’t consider himself athletic, but the low gravity of the space station necessitated a steady exercise routine to maintain bone density and muscle mass. So, the team was all but required to spend a minimum of one hour each day in the small gym. Gibbs had rarely made his workouts. At first, Lincoln pulled rank and ordered the programmer to keep his body active, but after awhile he grew tired of forcing the issue. Gibbs spent most of his free time programming anyway, so Lincoln could at least feel confident that the man was honing his craft.
Lincoln meandered the halls of the large ring that served as their research station and home until the project found the solution that could end the war. The ring was tethered to the surface of Ceres, the largest dwarf planet in the asteroid belt, and positioned perpendicular to the surface. Along his left side, through the large windows, Lincoln studied the craters on the surface of the large body as he walked, the gears in his mind spinning away.
They could end the war, but could they do it in time? And could Lincoln keep all these strong personalities from ripping each other apart? What manifested as joking now might be a festering infection waiting to ruin the team. But there were bigger problems. Issues the rest of the team knew nothing about.
He had told Keri he was heading to the gym, but he had to make one stop first. He ducked through a bulkhead to his right and headed toward the interior of the massive ring, toward his bunk room. Once he made it into his room, he closed the door and turned off his personal communicator.
He sat on the low bed
and pulled a small black box from underneath. The top opened into a small screen and revealed a keypad. As soon as he opened it, the device booted up and requested credentials. Lincoln keyed in his codes and the screen went black. He wasn’t concerned; he’d done this a hundred times. The device would connect. And it did.
A man’s face appeared on the screen: sharp features and jet black hair with bright blue eyes. He remained silent and simply stared into the screen with an intensity that would be off-putting if Lincoln wasn’t used to it.
“Group fifteen is en route,” Lincoln said.
“I know, I sent them. Do you think all this happens by accident?”
“We’re getting close. This batch will bring us closer, and Damien—”
“Damien? You mean your old drinking buddy turned doctor? The guy you swore would solve this problem in no time? You’ve been in that tin can for almost a year and so far it’s been nothing but a waste of cash.”
“When you get the best people in so many different fields in one room, it takes a certain… patience to manage all the personalities. Just give me more time,” Lincoln pleaded.
“I didn’t send you over there for group therapy. I put you on this because I like you. And I think you have what it takes. At least, I thought you did.” The man on the screen leaned back in his chair and scrutinized something off-screen. “Maybe I was wrong.”
“You weren’t. We can do this.”
“You had better. They’re knocking on our doorstep, Lincoln. Clones are pushing farther in every day, and our people are dying. People that matter are dying. Every delay you have puts more blood on your hands.” The man stood and buttoned his black blazer. He reached out and adjusted the camera to his face as he bent low. “I’ve given you the money. I’ve given you a station. I’ve given you all the clones you could ask for. The Frequency Program needs to start holding up their end of the deal.” Black Suit punched a key below the camera and Lincoln’s screen went black.
Echo- First Pulse Page 2