— 12 —
Two months had passed since Ghost was killed. Shadow Squad was back at Outpost Oasis, sitting on their asses and waiting for orders in the communal space of their bunker.
Okami rested under the table where Akira sat reading the Warrior Codex and replaying what happened at the pumping station and the market for the thousandth time in his mind. If only he hadn’t let the kid drive off in the ATV, Ghost would still be alive.
There is no room for regret in war, only lessons learned.
Akira wasn’t sure he agreed with the line from the Warrior Codex in front of him.
There was so much he could have done differently over those two days that wouldn’t have ended in the death of Ghost.
Still, dwelling on it wasn’t helping.
It was time to write.
He turned carefully to a fresh page in the Codex and finally mustered the courage to document the events that had led to his best friend’s death.
Each word was a challenge, like the ink would make the loss more real, solidifying it forever. It was the same reason he had never found the courage to finish writing about the loss of his family. He simply couldn’t bring himself to relive the moments after he arrived at the destroyed shelter where Yui was gripping Takeshi.
Fragmented memories surfaced from that night, when he had clawed through the debris like a wild animal. Adrenaline fueled his frantic movements as he discovered mangled corpses, crushed children, and then his own family.
He put his pen down halfway through the entry about Ghost and turned back to a random page in the front of the book for inspiration. The story he began reading was of a samurai named Harada with special medical skills that he used to save his brothers during and after battles. Three rules had governed Harada’s actions.
One, even the strongest, fastest, smartest, and most skilled warriors will die.
Two, no medicine can prevent number one.
Three, Harada would forfeit his life in an attempt to change the first two rules.
What could have been inspiration, made Akira feel more guilt.
If he could switch places with Ghost, he would in a heartbeat. But all he could do was avenge his fallen brother.
He turned to another story about a samurai named Maeda who had sought revenge on a local warlord, striking down ten of his men and dispatching the warlord successfully, only to return and find his village burned and family killed.
Sometimes revenge wasn’t worth the price.
Akira closed the book and observed his squad. They were all dealing with the death and loss in different ways.
Frost engraved .50-caliber rounds for her sniper rifle. Tadhg was on the floor doing pushups, glancing up but not saying anything. Perez tapped at the Commpad and whispered a new poem under his breath. Okami chewed on a metal bar that Akira had given him.
The old floorboards creaked as Tadhg hit his hundredth push-up. He held the pose, his long curly hair hanging over his face. He blew it away and looked up at Frost. “What are you carving into those?” he asked.
She held one up. “Ghost.”
Tadhg pushed himself up, his olive t-shirt clinging to his swollen muscles. “We shouldn’t have been in that goddamn market. Know what I’m…”
His words trailed off and his face turned crimson.
Perez put the Commpad down on the table.
“We shouldn’t have fucking been there,” Tadhg repeated.
“Tadhg,” Frost warned.
They all knew what was coming. Tadhg always got red-faced when he was about to blow a gasket. Even Okami looked up from his toy.
“I didn’t give up my career to play social worker, I gave it up to end the Coalition, and now we’re not even doing that,” Tadhg said. “When my contract is up, I’m going to go back to the stadium to bash some droids.”
“Good for you,” Frost said. “Now shut your trap for once.”
Tadhg walked over and glared down at her.
“What? You going to hit me?” she asked.
Perez got up and folded his tattooed arms over his chest. “Tadhg, back off, man.”
“Stay out of this, Perez,” Tadhg grumbled.
“You want to blame someone, blame that psychotic doctor,” Perez said. “He’s the reason Ghost is on his way to some science-jockey lab.”
Usually Akira let the squad work shit out, but tonight, he intervened.
“You’re all right,” Akira said. “Tadhg, you too, for once.”
Tadhg raised a brow.
“We should never have been in the market,” Akira said. “It was my decision, and I have to live with that. Same thing with letting that kid go the night before.”
“If we’re going to talk about regrets, here’s one. When we were back in Paris, I should have shot the little-dicked, wannabe Napoleon, Doctor Cross when I had the chance,” Tadhg said.
“Then we’d all be dead,” Frost said. “You done yet?”
“No, I’m not, thank you.” Tadhg reached up to his head. “And you know what, I’m about to rip this chip out so I don’t have to hear Apeiron anymore.”
“No, you aren’t,” Akira said firmly. “Sit down, Sergeant.”
Tadhg swept back his locks. “Sure thing, Captain.”
“Get some rest, all of you, I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
Picking up his codex, he retreated to one of the bedrooms. Okami trotted up the stairs and parked himself on the floor.
As soon as Akira sat down he felt the itch that foreshadowed Apeiron’s incoming visit.
“Captain, do you mind if I ask you a question?” she asked.
“Shoot,” he said.
“I’m curious about the book you carry.”
“This isn’t just some book. It’s a historical and living document of my life and the lives of my ancestors, throughout their trials and tribulations as warriors.”
“A book of war.”
“Not just war, but yes, there are many battles detailed throughout.”
“So tell me, Captain… is this why you think peace is a myth? Because history is so plagued by war that you do not think humanity can rise above fighting?”
Akira thought on the question. “Partly, but also because of how humanity goes about waging war.”
“Can you expand on that?”
“This book documents a time when there was honor in war. When men adhered to rules and respect. Before modern warfare, when warriors met on the field, face to face, eye to eye, and death was delivered through a blade. It was a deeply personal experience, perhaps sacred for some warriors.”
“I see. You do not think humans are honorable now. They do not deserve peace. Just death by blade.”
“Let’s just say I have less faith in my species than you do.”
“Perhaps I will help change that in the future, Captain.”
“Perhaps.”
“Thank you for answering my question,” Apeiron said. “Have a pleasant evening, Captain.”
Akira sat down to meditate, but before he could get into position, Nova Alliance L-10 Short Sword fighter jets roared overhead, shaking the walls.
A knock came on the door as the rumble faded.
Frost stepped inside, staying in the doorway. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Look, Captain, I’m here as your friend, and if you need to talk…”
Akira got up. He knew she wasn’t just here to ask about how he was doing. He knew her better than that.
She wanted to talk.
Frost let out a sigh and brushed her short black hair behind an ear. “I… I keep seeing what was left of him…”
“Don’t think of how he died. Think of how he lived. Think of all the joy he brought, all the lives he saved, all of the good he brought to the world.”
“I am… but…”
An itch formed in his head, and Akira could tell by the flutter of Frost’s icy eyes that she was about to get a mes
sage too.
“Shadow Squad,” said Apeiron. “We have a situation at the terraforming site. Uploading coordinates now.”
Akira closed his eyes and focused on the intel. “That’s close to Pumping Station 9.”
“What are we doing going back there?” Frost asked.
Akira shrugged. He had no answers. All he knew was that he was a warrior. His job wasn’t to ask questions but to follow orders.
The team dressed and climbed into their exoskeletons as Apeiron uploaded more data. Ten minutes later the squad was in the belly of a MOTH, heading back to the western border of the Sahara Terraforming Project.
Akira unlatched from his rack when he saw the flames on the horizon.
“My God,” he said.
The pilots swooped down, heading toward the burning bamboo forest. The fire spread in halos across multiple locations.
“We have contacts on the eastern roads,” Apeiron said. “Six bikes.”
“Apeiron, get me through to Command,” Akira said.
A moment later she replied. “Captain, you have a green light from command to engage targets.”
He moved over to the troop hold hatch on the port side. Tadhg opened the one on the starboard side. Wind blasted inside as the Engines loaded their weapons.
Frost pulled out a magazine of freshly engraved .50-cal bullets and palmed it into her rifle. “Death from the shadows.”
“Get us into position,” Akira said to the pilots.
He grabbed a handle and leaned out to watch the bikes. They were racing away from the MOTH down two different roads.
“How did they spread so fast?” he muttered.
“I have a theory, Captain, but you are not going to like it,” Apeiron said.
Akira held on as the MOTH sped after three of the bikes.
“I do not think those tankers were just here for water,” Apeiron said. “My theory is those nomads buried explosives before we first arrived. I assume they were meant to be ignited at a later time.”
“Seriously? How did you miss that?” Frost said.
“There are hundreds of thousands of acres to monitor,” Apeiron said.
“Let me light these fuckers up, bosu, come on,” Tadhg said.
Akira watched the riders. There was no empathy in his heart for these nomads. Not anymore.
“Execute,” Akira said coldly.
Bolts blazed out of the starboard side of the MOTH, slamming into the lead bike like sideways lightning. The bike exploded in a fiery blast that catapulted the burning soldier into the forest. Tadhg raked the barrel expertly back and forth, destroying two more of the bikes.
The pilots brought them around for the second group. Frost tapped her helmet for good luck, and then took out the first rider with a headshot. The second rider lost control and slammed into the forest, his body cartwheeling until a tree stopped him.
The third rider skidded to a stop and looked up as the MOTH passed over.
“Apeiron, do a facial scan and zoom in,” Akira said.
The man turned his bike and sped off in the opposite direction.
As the MOTH banked hard in pursuit, a still image came up on Akira’s HUD. He instantly recognized the youthful face.
It was the teenager who had killed Ghost.
“Interesting,” Apeiron said. “I guess Doctor Crichton was right about war sometimes leading orphans to terrorism.”
Akira felt his blood boiling. “No more second chances,” he said. Looking over, he nodded at Frost.
The MOTH fired over the bike to cut it off, switching to vertical thrusters. Frost lined up her rifle sights and pulled the trigger. The kid jerked to the left, saving his heart, but not his body from the bullet. It slammed into his shoulder, knocking him off his bike. The vehicle flipped, kicking up a rooster-tail of dirt.
The young man tumbled over the dirt, then started crawling, favoring his wounded shoulder as the MOTH hovered.
Akira reached for Frost’s rifle. He zoomed in on the face of the kid he should have killed when he first had the chance.
The crosshairs lined up on his forehead. In what seemed like slow motion, Akira watched him struggle. He continued to crawl and squirm, desperate for life. His dark hair and bloodstained tunic whipped in the thrusters of the MOTH.
He suddenly looked up and saw Akira. A pained grimace crossed his face and his eyes radiated fear. Not the determination and aggression of the violent insurgent from the other night or at the market.
In that moment, Akira thought about the power he held in his hands. The young man could barely have been older than his own son who’d suffered the consequences of war back in Tokyo.
It made Akira think of the cycle of war, and how it spread like a virus, infecting more and more. He could choose again to spare him, but the kid had already proven he wouldn’t take the high road if Akira let him go. He had to stop the virus from spreading.
Fate was cruel, and for this young lad, it was delivered through a bullet between his eyes. Akira lowered the smoking gun and watched the kid go limp on the ground, blood pooling around his destroyed head.
He handed the rifle back to Frost.
“Nice shot,” Tadhg said.
Akira ignored him. There was nothing nice about it.
“Get us out of here,” he said to the pilots.
As the MOTH flew over the burning forest, emergency lights flashed down the dirt access roads. Aircraft swooped down to dump water, but Akira knew it was too late to save this section of the forest.
And too late to save the truce.
Killing Engines was one thing, but destroying restoration sites crossed the line. The Nova Alliance was going back to war, and Akira had no reservations about that. He was ready for the killing to start so that it could end.
Until it inevitably started once again, continuing the deadly viral cycle that humanity couldn’t seem to escape.
***
Jason stared out the window of his office overlooking New York Central Park, trying to digest the news.
“You’re leaving again?” Betsy asked.
He turned and went to her, grabbing her hand. “I’ll be back soon. I don’t know when, but something terrible has happened.”
“What? What happened?” She held his gaze. “Jason, you’re scaring me.”
“There was a coordinated attack by the Coalition that targeted many of the restoration sites. I have to fix this.”
He gently squeezed her hands. “I’m sorry for not telling you about Petra… Apeiron. I truly am, but I did this to bring our civilization back from the brink. Now everything is at risk.”
“What do you mean ‘everything’?”
“I mean…” He knew his wife was strong and smart. She could handle it, but part of him didn’t want to admit what he was about to say.
“Our planet, Betsy. Our species, all life as we know it,” he said. “If the restoration sites are destroyed, there is no coming back.”
She held his gaze. “How are you going to fix this?”
Jason didn’t want to tell her the answer—that the only way to fix things was to wipe out the Coalition completely. Otherwise, he feared they would continue to sabotage his best efforts to save the planet.
But he had vowed to be honest with her again.
“Through force,” he finally admitted. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”
“Jason,” she said.
He had already started walking toward the door.
“Be careful,” Betsy said.
“I will.”
Jason rushed to the rooftop with his bag, meeting Darnel at the helo pad on the top of the tower. Apeiron stood in front of a ramp leading into the MOTH. Her normally cheerful face was painted in a dour expression.
“Please, hurry,” she said.
Jason strapped into the second level of the cockpit, wondering if he could even still fix things or if this was the beginning of the end. Judging by
the reaction from Apeiron, things were worse than he thought.
The MOTH lifted off vertically, then blasted across the skyline and into the clouds toward the habitats built around the Titan Space Elevator. It took a few minutes to get enough altitude to see the first of the attack sites in South America. Darnel stared out the cockpit, whispering something about hell. The viewports provided a view of what looked a lot like how the Christian Bible described the underworld.
Fires raged across the Amazonian reforestation project, pumping thick smoke back into the atmosphere. Jason breathed heavily, almost tasting the scent on his mouth. Everything he had worked so hard for was burning right in front of his eyes.
“How did this happen?” he stammered.
“We captured aerial imagery at multiple locations,” Apeiron said. “This was a well-coordinated attack by Coalition nomads.”
Jason pulled out his Commpad and watched a holo-screen video of Coalition troops. Thermal camo covered their vehicles as they penetrated multiple borders along the Amazonian rainforest restoration territory. But most of the soldiers seemed to have come in on foot, using heat blankets to avoid thermal scans of drones.
“We had no chance of stopping this,” Apeiron said. “There is simply no way we can patrol millions of acres.”
“But why?” Jason asked. “Why do this?”
“I am trying to understand that myself. It seems Doctor Cross wants to destroy the world.”
“How bad is the damage?” Darnel asked.
“Reports are still coming in, but we know there are thousands of acres burning. Those numbers will continue to grow,” Apeiron replied. “I fully expect the Nova Alliance Strike Force to declare all-out war. Fortunately, we are finally prepared for that.”
Darnel looked to Jason, but Jason didn’t know what to say. He dragged his hands over his facial stubble in despair. The only thing that kept him from losing his mind completely was the sight of their destination. There, he would review the final prototype of the Canebrakes.
“Closing in on Sector 220,” Apeiron announced. “Standby for docking.”
Hummer Droids in jetpacks worked on the exterior of the space elevator, building new habitats rotating around the cables. Open spaceports with hangars of spaceplanes and equipment flashed by as they spun around the cable. The blue strobes of rising cars packed full of equipment and supplies winked above them. The station was a transportation hub for supplies heading to the Kepler Station and the mining colonies on the Moon, but soon it would be sending war machines to Earth.
E-Day Page 17
