by G J Ogden
“Concern yourself with your duties, Private,” Kurren replied, gruffly, and the soldier moved away, smartly. Kurren glared at the private as he marched away, and tried to recall what he had been doing, but his mind was blank. Then the bright light from the PVSM’s display panel shone across his face and he remembered, though the memory seemed oddly distant. He looked down and continued reading:
‘COMMAND RECOMMENDATION: Relieve from active duty.’
Kurren swiped these words off the screen and then went back to ‘RECOMMENDED TREATMENTS’ and tapped on the words, ‘Immediately administer SAC3’. The display switched to highlight the suggested medical treatment; it was something that all UEC soldiers knew about and feared: Severe Anti-Con x 3, or SAC3 for short. Next to these words was a glowing red button which read: ‘ADMINISTER NOW’. Kurren frowned. He knew that by tapping this button he would be effectively putting himself out of commission and out of control of the mission. SAC3 was a last resort. He had witnessed its effects on another soldier, following an attack by GPS when he was a junior lieutenant. The GPS attack had damaged the shielding around a highly toxic section of the moon base, and he had been dispatched to command a team to repair the damage. During the mission, one of his men had suffered severe exposure and the squad’s medic had immediately administered SAC3 and pulled him out of danger area. In less than an hour, he was a delirious, quivering wreck, unable to even control his bowels. But the SAC3 had saved his life.
The display console switched cameras to show the transports entering the space port. Kurren’s mind was again distracted with thoughts of the mission and of Maria Salus and the vengeance that he sought against her. He pressed his hand into a fist, squeezing so tightly that the armor plating creaked under the pressure, and then relaxed his hand and dismissed the emergency medical alert. Returning to the medical dosage screen, he selected a single, standard booster dose of anti-con meds and tapped the button. The injector inside his suit collar pressed into his neck and hissed as the dose was applied, before retracting silently back into the suit. Kurren flipped to the toxicity indicator and watched as the level slowly began to drop out of the deep red zone, eventually stopping on the border between red and amber. But the needle remained in the red zone. He watched it a moment longer, still feeling neither fear nor concern, and flipped the panel of the PVSM shut.
Kurren stood at the command console for some moments longer, staring into space. A muddle of images were swirling around his mind: the destruction of the space station; his execution of Commander Raina; plunging the shard into Archer’s neck; the defection of his wife; the sacrifice of Diana Neviah. He knew he should feel something about these events, but they were distant and unreal, as if they were memories of a conversation he’d once had with someone over drinks at a bar, somewhere, sometime long ago. The only emotion he could feel was rage; an unbridled fury that was directed solely at Maria Salus. It was this rage that spurred him on.
A soldier in scuffed and damaged blue armor approached, holding his helmet underneath his arm. He circled to the opposite side of the table and stood to attention. Kurren was only vaguely aware of him to begin with, but when he glanced up and realized that the soldier was not Major Karl Page, his fears that the mission had gone badly were confirmed. He jolted upright, as if waking from a dream.
“Who are you?” he asked, “and where is Major Page?”
Nurem stiffened to attention. “Sergeant Nurem, sir,” he said crisply, looking past the General without making eye contact. He had never spoken to Kurren before and he was as intimidating as his reputation suggested. “We were ambushed, sir. Major Page fell.”
Kurren looked at Nurem, observing the damage to his armor and the blood staining his hands and boots. “What of those who escaped with Salus, Sergeant?”
“No sign of them, sir,” said Nurem. “We were attacked before we found the sentry. Ambushed. We lost seven men, including Major Page.”
Kurren hammered his fists on the table, and exploded at Nurem. “Unacceptable! They are a rabble of deck hands and civilians; how could they get the better of you!”
“Sir, we followed Major Page’s orders!” Nurem reacted, panicking and falling back on his first instinct, which was to blame Page and exonerate himself. “I took command and fought back, sir. We killed the majority and returned with those who surrendered, as per the mission orders.”
The redness in Kurren’s craggy cheeks faded. “Survivors?”
“Yes sir. Four sir. One is willing to talk.” He had not blinked since standing before the General and was staring with such intensity that his eyes were starting to water.
“Bring them all to me, Sergeant,” said Kurren, strangely calm again, as if his temper was like the tide, rushing in suddenly, but then ebbing away just as fast.
Nurem called out the order to Albern, who was standing off to the side, a comfortable distance away. The atmosphere was thick with tension and Nurem remained rigid as Kurren paced slowly up and down, waiting for Albern to return with the four prisoners. Eventually, after what felt like hours to Nurem, Albern returned ahead of four men, each with his hands bound behind his back.
Kurren paced around the desk and stood at Nurem’s side, which only made the sergeant stand even more rigidly; if there had been even a gentle breeze inside the space port, it might have blown him over.
Albern pushed forward a man wearing a UEC technician’s uniform. He maneuvered him in front of Kurren and shoved the man to his knees.
“This is the man who says he has information,” said Nurem, “but he wants to cut a deal. He wants safe passage back to the base, and immunity from prosecution.”
Kurren did not react, he simply looked down at the man, blankly. “If your information is worth something, you will have what you want.”
Nurem glanced at Kurren, surprised by this response, but quickly turned back to the man kneeling at his feet. “Come on then, out with it,” said Nurem, prodding him gently with his boot.
“There’s a settlement not far from here,” the man said, slurring his words together as he tried to get the information out as quickly as possible, while looking only at Kurren’s boots. “The female officer, Maria Salus, she met with someone there, a man, Ethan I think his name was. The one from…”
“I know who he is!” erupted Kurren. “I don’t care about him. I need to know where they went on that mountain. If you cannot tell me this then you are of no…”
“No, no, wait, please!” the man cried out. “I know they had found something inside the mountain, but I don’t know what or where. They didn’t tell us in case we were captured.”
“Smart,” said Kurren, “but also unfortunate for you.” He drew his sidearm.
“No! Please wait!” the man cried. He was looking up at the general now, hands outstretched above him. “Lieutenant Aster, one of the UEC officers, was complaining about a woman from the settlement; a fighter. He hated her. He said she was with the planetsider; maybe a wife or girlfriend. Summer was her name.”
“So?” said Kurren, chambering a round. “So what?”
“She might know where they are!” the man pleaded. “The planetsider would have told her. She had bright red hair; she’d be easy to find.”
Kurren held the loaded weapon at his side, and the prisoner’s eyes watched it intently. Kurren thought about what he had said. It wasn’t much to go on, but as it stood, they had nothing else. The sentry was destroyed before it could provide any data about where the survivors went, and to search the area on foot would be impossible, especially since they didn’t even know what they were searching for. He thought about the planetsider and the bond he clearly had with Salus. If he did have loved ones in a settlement nearby, they would prove valuable as leverage. Salus was honorable; the fool may even trade herself in exchange, Kurren considered.
“Sergeant Nurem, do we have the location of any settlements nearby?” asked Kurren, toying with the weapon in his hands.
“Yes sir,” said Nurem. “The sentry pick
ed one up just beyond the valley in the direction we just came from.”
Kurren remembered that the Planetsider Mission report had mentioned such a settlement. While he was thinking, he tapped the weapon against the side of his leg, like a tambourine. The prisoner’s eyes followed it, hypnotically. “Very well, prepare to move out,” ordered Kurren.
Nurem acknowledged the command and then looked at Albern, who promptly moved off to begin preparations.
“So, my information is good?” said the man, hopefully. He was still kneeling in front of Kurren and Nurem. “You’ll take me back to the base?”
Kurren looked at the man, and sneered. “No, you traitorous scum. You are not coming back.” The man screamed and protested, but Kurren lent forwards and swiped him across the face with the butt of his sidearm. The man fell silent out of shock, but then slumped forward, sobbing into his hands. “Lieutenant Nurem,” said Kurren, straitening up, and holding his sidearm out towards him. “Execute this traitor.”
Nurem placed his hand on the weapon, and then timidly corrected the general. “Sir, my rank is sergeant.”
“Not anymore,” Kurren answered, looking him in the eyes. “Unless you have a problem with my order?”
Nurem looked down at the man, sobbing at his feet, and then took the weapon from Kurren’s hand. The safety had already been disengaged. He’s a traitor. Nurem told himself. He’s a traitor and traitors deserve to die. I’m only doing my duty, obeying a direct order from my general… He raised the weapon and aimed it at the prisoner’s head. The sobbing man did not look up, and Nurem was grateful for this; it would make what he had to do next easier.
“No problem, sir,” he said to Kurren, and he fired.
Chapter 28
Elijah opened his eyes. He was lying on his back and staring up at a high wooden ceiling. Twisting his neck to see what he was lying on, a jolt of pain shot through his temples. He squeezed his eyes shut again and the aching eased.
“Take it easy, Eli,” said a familiar voice.
Though the pain had not fully abated, he chanced another look and saw Summer, kneeling beside him.
“You got flattened by one of those maddened creatures, but you’ll be fine,” Summer continued. “Just some cuts and bruises, and a bump to the head.”
Elijah managed to sit up; his head still pounded and he felt nauseous and disorientated. He felt Summer’s hand on his back, steadying him.
“I said take it easy,” Summer said in an admonishing tone.
“I’m okay, Summer. Just a bit dazed,” replied Elijah, though he was glad of the additional support.
He looked around and finally recognized the space they were in; it was the council chambers. There were makeshift beds all around him, made from sacks stuffed with hair and hay, each one with a body lying on top, some of which were covered with white sheets stained red with blood. He started to count the beds, feeling sick again, but this time not because of his injuries.
“There are twenty-six beds in here, if that’s what you’re counting,” said Summer. “Some of them will be okay, but we lost a lot of good rangers today.”
“Mother!” Elijah shouted, suddenly remembering that Katie was among the volunteers. He shot out of the makeshift bed and staggered frantically looked around the hall, trying to see if she was among the wounded, dreading the prospect that she could be lying underneath one of the blood-soaked sheets. “Where is she, Summer? Is she okay?”
Summer caught Elijah’s arm, helping to steady him on his feet. He was still groggy and disorientated. “What is it about ‘take it easy’ that you don’t understand?” she scolded. “Katie is fine. She went outside to get some air, only a few minutes ago.”
“I want to see her.”
“Okay, but take it slowly.”
Summer guided Elijah out of the council chambers and into the orange glow of the early evening light outside. There was a fire burning in a corner of the settlement square, stacked high with the bodies of the maddened that had been killed; the putrid odor of their burning flesh permeated the air and stung Elijah’s already reddened and swollen eyes. There were still bodies littering the settlement square too, and Elijah watched as weary volunteers teamed up to drag the corpses unceremoniously over to the pyre. Other than the smoke rising from the fire, the sky was much clearer now; the dust cloud had moved on, though Elijah could still see it in the distance, heading out past the forest.
“So we won then?” asked Elijah.
Summer didn’t answer immediately. Her thoughts strayed to the dead and injured inside the council chambers, and then she looked at the heap of burning corpses. “We didn’t lose, Eli. Though, I’m not sure if that means the same thing.”
Elijah didn’t understand Summer’s meaning, but he had no time to dwell on her cryptic answer, because his mother was dashing across the square, her face a contorted mix of joy, anguish and anger. She barely slowed down before slamming into Elijah and gripping him so tightly that he wanted to cry out in pain, but instead he endured his mother’s vice-like grip and hugged her back.
“Hey, mother,” he said, though the pressure on his lungs made it sound more like a whimper. Katie remained locked around Elijah’s waist until she noticed Summer standing off to the side, and then she released her hold and locked eyes with her.
“I’m sorry, Katie,” said Summer, recognizing the look in her adopted sister’s eyes and holding up her hands in surrender. “Locking you inside the bakery was my idea, so don’t blame Elijah. We just wanted to keep you safe.”
“I’m not a child, Summer, that wasn’t your decision to make,” Katie replied, but then her eyes softened. “But thank you for looking out for me, and Elijah.”
“We couldn’t have done it without him,” said Summer, feeling like a great weight had just lifted from her shoulders; she had been scared that her actions might have caused a rift between her and Katie.
Elijah accepted the praise, but in his heart he knew he didn’t deserve it. He was grateful that Summer had chosen not to tell Katie about his foolish heroics. Elijah knew that Summer wouldn’t lie to Katie about what happened, if asked directly, but she wouldn’t volunteer the information either.
There was a shout from one of the rangers guarding the wall, “There’s something coming!”
Summer became instantly alert and ran to the wall, scaling the closest ladder. Elijah followed more slowly, still impeded by his injuries, and joined her at the top. Together, they peered out into the gloomy distance. The dust cloud had largely dissipated around the settlement, but the city was still covered in a hazy mist and the plume of black smoke continued to rise from the center. From the direction of the city they could see two indistinct, dark shapes approaching, and moving too fast to be anything on foot.
“What are they?” said Elijah.
Summer shook her head. “I don’t know.” At the back of her mind was the comment Maria had made about the UEC coming to look for her and the survivors, and as the shapes approached and it became clear that they were mechanized transports, of the sort she had seen in the spaceport, her sense of foreboding grew.
“Could it be Ethan returning?” asked Elijah, hopefully.
Summer noticed how the late afternoon sun seemed to sparkle off the transport’s black exterior, like starlight reflected in a river. “I don’t think so.”
“Who then?” said Elijah.
“My guess is no-one good,” said Summer. Then she stood tall, faced into the settlement and shouted, “Rangers!” at the top of her voice. The tired faces of the surviving rangers stopped to look up at her. “Defensive positions!”
There was a scramble of activity, as everyone dropped what they were doing, leaving the bodies strewn across the central square, and ran to collect bows, arrows and other weapons. Four of the remaining ten rangers, which included Summer and Elijah, joined them on the wall, carrying up bows and quivers of arrows that were half-full or less, while the other four took up positions in the courtyard, to the side of the main ga
te. Though the gate had been breached, they had managed to haul the giant doors up and had braced them with logs to prevent them falling backwards. It was a crude fix, but one that at least plugged the gaping hole in their defenses.
Summer took a bow and quiver and handed them to Elijah, before equipping herself.
“Summer, we’re in no shape for another fight,” said Elijah, as the vehicles approached – their engines humming like a swarm of hornets – and stopped about twenty meters from the wall, forming a vee-shape, nose-to-nose.
Summer nocked an arrow. “I know that, Eli. But we may not have a choice.”
The wind had picked up and was moaning through the buildings and the breaches in the walls, swirling dust into Summer’s eyes. She blinked and wiped it away with the palm of her calloused and sore hand. Elijah was right; they were in no condition to fight, and Summer had no stomach for it. They had already lost too many, and those deaths still weighed heavy on her mind.
Doors on the sides of the transports slid open and Summer watched four soldiers jump out from each transport and take cover behind their vehicles, aiming their weapons at the rangers along the wall. Their vibrant blue armor had taken on a murkier hue in the evening light. A voice boomed out into the open air, amplified somehow to a volume that gave it an alarming presence. “Lay down your weapons and open the gate. This will be your only warning.”
Summer could sense the eyes of all the other rangers on the wall looking over in her direction, waiting for her response. She knew that everyone was tired and weary, and she also remembered well the effectiveness of these off-worlder’s weapons. In the hands of Maria’s old partner, Chris Kurren, just one had been enough to kill a whole wave of roamers, and there were already eight armed soldiers outside their walls, with who knew how many more still inside the transports.
“Whoever you are!” Summer shouted out from behind the wall, painfully aware of how pitiful her voice sounded compared to the amplified voice that had addressed them, “If you want to talk then come to the gate alone, no weapons!”
