“Just wait until I’ve been here an entire week,” he snickered.
“You sure getting killed over the breakfast line is the hill you want to die on?”
Pinehurst gave a dismissive snort as the line inched forward.
“Just try to behave, OK?”
“You were a cop once, right? You really gonna let that douche get away with calling you a bitch-ass?”
“I’m not a cop anymore. And I’m here to fight Wraith, not my fellow soldiers. You should also heed that advice.”
Pinehurst chuckled. “Oh, the USC just loves guys like you. They should have you writing all their propaganda. You really have a way with words, Matt.”
“Shut the hell up, Pinehurst.”
“I rest my case.”
Nine
Once they had been served breakfast, Matt and Pinehurst headed over to a communal table where Davis, Lee, Maynard, Wilson, and Lopez were sitting.
Maynard was staring at her breakfast with disgust while the others sitting next to her looked on and chuckled.
“Staring at it won’t make it any tastier, Maynard,” snorted Davis as he chewed his eggs that had been completely drowned in Tabasco sauce. Without anyone watching, he had snatched over a dozen single-serve packets from the condiments counter. The eggs tasted mildly better.
“Same meal as yesterday… a Wraith wouldn’t eat this crap,” Maynard lamented as she gnawed on a dry bread roll. “Why should we?”
“Wraiths will eat anything, Maynard,” said Lopez. “Even their own shit.”
Maynard stopped chewing and dropped the bread roll, giving Lopez a deadpan glare.
Lopez raised her eyebrows and feigned an apology by shrugging her shoulders while she continued eating. “Sorry.”
“It’s true, though,” said Pinehurst as he slid into the seat across from them. “They have this weird bug in their stomachs that can pull nutrients out of their shit. Has something to do with their genetic deficiencies. Evolution too, I guess.”
Lopez gave Matt a look as he sat next to Pinehurst. “Who the fuck is this?”
Matt tried not to look embarrassed. “Um… everyone, this is Mike Pinehurst. You’re gonna love him.”
Pinehurst gave them all a friendly wave. “Howdy.”
Davis looked up from his food momentarily to sip his coffee. “This crazy bastard tell you what he did after we landed?”
“Do tell,” Pinehurst replied while dumping enough table salt on his breakfast to attract an entire ant hive.
“Called in an orbital strike on our position.”
“Technically, that’s not true, Davis,” Matt responded. “I was denied.”
“Not on the second request. They granted it to you.” Davis’s eyes flicked to Pinehurst. “You believe that shit?”
“To a greenie?”
“To a greenie,” Davis nodded with a huge grin. “To a fucking greenie.”
“What in the fresh hell did they consider important enough to strike?” Pinehurst asked as he turned and looked at Matt with playful skepticism. This was all news to him.
Davis still could not believe what he was about to say. “A sniper. One guy. They turned the entire area into a giant crater. For one guy.”
While the others laughed with disbelief, still amazed at Matt’s brazen act, Pinehurst shoved a gob-full of eggs into his mouth and turned to his Kentuckian friend again, taking a moment to study him while chewing. “Well, well. I do believe that kind of behavior will get you a medal for stupidity.”
“We had three scout ships inbound, and a sniper pinning us down. What else was I supposed to do?”
“You’re just my type of crazy, Reeves,” said Lopez. “You were right. That plan of yours did save our asses.”
Once again, Matt bristled at the thought of that. “Not all of us.”
Davis leaned over and pointed at Matt with his plastic spork. “Hey, now you lock that shit down, Reeves. No one is to blame here. No one. Those guys made their own choices, as did you.”
Matt motioned to Lee. “I can’t take all the credit, though.”
Lee nodded bashfully and went back to watching Anime on his entertainment tablet. “Thanks.”
Pinehurst cleared his throat and gently put his spork down as if preparing to make an important announcement. “I look into the yellow sky, like no yellow I’ve known before, and the cracked world that will not stop.”
Matt threw him a bewildered look, as did the others. Even Lee looked up from his tablet with a ruffled frown.
“The hell was that?” scoffed Davis, turning to Maynard and Wilson.
Seeing he had their attention, Pinehurst continued. “This is the pain of the landscape I find myself in. Worse than the heat, worse than the blot flies – there is no getting away from the land. The desert is everywhere. The mirage is everywhere. Awake, asleep, high heat of the afternoon, or the few sunless hours of the night, there is no escape... for I am in the desert of war.”
Awkward looks were traded around the table in silence as Pinehurst went back to his breakfast like this was all totally normal.
Matt looked like he was about to simply get up and walk off with embarrassment. Pinehurst’s randomness was becoming a social liability.
“Was that a poem or some shit?” Lopez asked, genuine confusion riddled across her brow.
Pinehurst nodded proudly. “Yeah, I started working on it after we thawed. What do you think?”
Lopez turned to Matt with an annoyed glare. “Why did you let this guy sit here with us?”
Ten
After breakfast, Matt and Pinehurst exited the mess tent and crossed the grounds, headed for Matt’s barracks. Even at this hour of the morning, the sun was blinding.
As Matt’s eyes adjusted under his sunglass lenses, the massive expanse of the base once again came into view; soldiers continued to buzz about - some loaded supplies and gear into the rear cabs of huge, armored vehicles, others sat around cleaning their weapons while awaiting orders. In the distance, a small fleet of Wasps took flight for a morning patrol, ascending high into the alien sky.
“Hey, follow me. I wanna show you something.”
“This gonna get me court-martialed?”
“Only if we get busted.”
Matt loudly sighed with defeat.
“I’m joking, man.”
“I’m really beginning to question your sanity, Pinehurst. I just thought you should know that.”
“You wouldn’t be the first, my friend.”
Pinehurst and Matt slid between two parked JK-74 Tactical Armored Vehicles (TAVs) to reach a barbed-wired fence. Standing sixteen feet tall, forty-feet long, and twenty-feet wide, with a heavily reinforced chassis, eight-link suspension system, and four, 159-inch off-road OTR Titan tires, these enormous vehicles looked like a bastardized cross between the world’s most outlandish Monster Truck, and an M1151 Enhanced Armament Carrier.
Beyond the fence was another section of the base, studded with enormous hangars, and a runway that seemed to stretch a mile off into the distance. On the tarmac nearest the fence, a large, C-380H carrier-class starship sat with its rear cargo bay open. Several dozen soldiers were boarding. They shuffled up the ramp, lugging their weapons and huge haversacks with them.
“Who are they?” asked Matt, noticing the ultra-slick tactical armor they were wearing.
“Who do you think, bro? Praetorians.”
“Why are they leaving?”
“Because they’ve actually shot at some bad guys.”
“Hey, I’ve done my share already.”
“I know, I’m just messing with you. Seriously, though, look at that combat armor. Beats those flimsy, lame-ass chicken plates they give us. Can’t help but feel like Wraith bait.”
“I hear you there.”
“Just think - this will be us in four years, dude. Assuming we survive that long. Imagine walking up that ramp, knowing you’re headed home in the big freeze. Must feel damn good.”
“Maybe some of them don�
��t want to go home.”
Pinehurst threaded his fingers through the fence and turned to Matt. “Now, I do believe you are talking some bullshit.”
Matt kept his eyes on the elite soldiers as they streamed into the back of the ship. A few of them were missing limbs that had been replaced by temporary prosthetics that had been grafted onto their wounds. “You’d be surprised,” Matt continued. “I got a feeling this war has a way of changing people. I don’t think you and I are exempt from that. No one is. Not even those guys.”
There was a beat of pensive silence from Pinehurst as they both stood there watching the troops file in. “They give you the pod count from our drop yet?”
“Nope, haven’t heard anything,”
Pinehurst turned to him, his features darkening into an expression Matt had not seen before. “One-hundred-and-twenty-two drop-pods in total. Only seventy made it to the surface. Six are still unaccounted for.”
Matt failed to keep the stunned look from his face. “How do you know that?”
“Got an old college friend who’s a Logistics Officer. I ran into her yesterday by chance. She’s been out here for nearly three years - said those numbers are common for greenie arrivals.”
Matt sighed and looked out over the base, grappling with Pinehurst’s claims.
“Dude, I don’t know, it’s like they were killed before even managing to reach the gates of hell or something.” He turned to Matt with a fatalistic grin. “Guess we’re the lucky ones.”
Matt continued to stand there in stunned silence at the thought of his friends on the Intrepid, Sayeed, and Niko. Since arriving on base, he had seen neither of them around the barracks he was assigned to.
“We shouldn’t even be here, man.”
“But we are, Pinehurst. Nothing can change that now,” Matt replied, his eyes now hardening with resolve.
“Can’t argue with that. We are well and truly in the Bog.”
They both stood shoulder-to-shoulder for another minute, watching the base teem with activity until Matt broke their silence “I gotta get back to my dorm.”
“Private Reeves?”
They both turned to see a young Asian Corporal standing there behind them. Despite only being in his mid-thirties, the shaved head and neck tattoos of fighting Chinese dragons only added to his intimidating physique. He spoke with a sharp American accent that sounded naturalized and not adopted. “Colonel Tapscott would like to see you, right away.”
“Yes, sir,” Matt replied before turning to Pinehurst. “Catch you later, I guess.”
That trademark shit-eating grin of Pinehurst’s crept across his face. “Well, look at you – the big man in the schoolyard - getting invites to go and hang with brass. Whose dick have you been sucking, man? And more importantly, how do I get me some?”
Matt shot the Corporal a look that was intended to be a silent apology. “After you, sir.”
“Hey, if I don’t see you for the rest of the war, you be safe out there.”
Matt returned the grin to Pinehurst and shook his head. “You too. Stay out of trouble. I mean that.”
Pinehurst raised both his hands in mock surrender. “Can’t promise that dude. Sorry.”
Matt gave his friend a playful salute and headed off.
Pinehurst returned it, watching the young Corporal escort Matt towards a light utility vehicle that was idling near a gate. He hadn’t known Matt for very long, but he did like him. There was an earnestness to him which Pinehurst appreciated. Matt was the kind of guy he could have been friends with outside of this conflict. Perhaps more than just beer-drinking buddies too – an actual good friend. And although he did not want to admit it, or even dwell on it, Pinehurst also knew there was a high probability neither of them would ever see each other again.
Eleven
Matt and the Corporal tore through the base, coming to a heavily fortified checkpoint that led into a different compound that housed Alpha Corps, and the various international offshoots, including the Praetorians.
The second they were waved through by the guards; Matt could see the grass was a lot greener on this side of the fence – occupied by a much different breed of soldier.
He caught glimpses of some wearing plush bunny ears and Hawaiian shirts, grilling steaks, and hot dogs while sipping bottles of imported beer. Some of the female Alphas wore tank-tops and skimpy bikinis, sunbaking on deck chairs while picking at gourmet appetizer plates like they were enjoying their stay at some type of intergalactic five-star resort.
In the distance, a group played basketball on a large asphalt court while others sat under air-cooled tents playing video games on huge wraparound holoscreens. The blast walls and prefab buildings here also seemed more elaborate and better constructed. If Matt’s section of the base was the equivalent of some rinky-dink motel, this section was a penthouse suite at the Grand Hyatt. The troop downtime here was unlike anything Matt had ever seen before. Had the war ended and someone not told him? he briefly entertained. He may as well have been back home. Yet, the relaxation these soldiers were enjoying felt more involved. It felt more earned. It felt more deserved. While everyone played their part in this off-world war, Matt figured these soldiers were given much more freedoms to enjoy because much more was being demanded of them.
The vehicle passed through another heavily guarded checkpoint, entering the vast sprawl of runways that were lined with enormous hangars. They blew alongside the exposed aprons, passing mechanics, pilots, logistical officers, technicians, and engineers who all buzzed about, tinkering with formidable gunships, cargo lifters, and other machines of war. Some of the cannon barrels and ordinance systems attached to these ships were longer than the average train car.
Further off in the distance, Matt spotted three Wasps mating with their docking nodes. They were returning from their various night-ops. Based on the presence of multiple medic teams standing by on the docking platform, there seemed to be heavy casualties. In the distance, past the ten-meter-high chain-link fences, great scarves of flaxen-yellow clouds swirled around the primeval landscape, making this place look even more ominous and foreboding. Matt could not help but wonder what new horrors awaited him out there, beyond the wire.
The Corporal made an abrupt right-hand turn and ripped into one of the open hangars, pulling up underneath the belly of a troop carrier that was easily the size of a three-story building. The cargo ramp was down, and aside from a few personnel scattered about; the hangar seemed eerily deserted. The thought crossed Matt’s mind that perhaps it was meant to be. Maybe the information he was about to receive was highly classified. That thought alone made him even more nervous than he already was.
“The Colonel is waiting,” the Corporal advised.
Taking that as his cue to get out, Matt opened his passenger-side door and jumped out. The vehicle took off as Matt gingerly headed towards the large cargo ramp. He turned to see the Corporal had parked just outside the hangar with the engine still running. He felt a slight sense of relief knowing he was not going to have to walk all the way back to his barracks.
As he ascended the large hydraulic ramp, he could see the cavernous bay inside the ship was mostly devoid of any supplies or gear - except for the lone man sitting on a large surplus crate, faintly illuminated by the soft orange glow of a control panel above him.
With the left-sided breast of his combat fatigues adorned in digital medals, Colonel Dillan Tapscott was one of the most decorated brass on this base. Like many of the higher-ranking U.S. field officers at Rhino, Tapscott had been in the Bog ever since day one and was yet to rotate out. Approaching his early fifties, years of brutal combat had shaped him into something hard and sharp. As he turned to see Matt walking up the ramp towards him, his stony eyes narrowed.
Matt approached, feeling Tapscott’s overpowering scrutiny while also catching a glint of carbon steel from his augmented right hand. He had heard the Colonel lost it during a month-long skirmish with a Wraith battalion during the early days of the war. “
Private Matthew Reeves, reporting for duty, sir!” Matt snapped to attention with a crisp salute.
Tapscott took another moment to coolly assess him before responding. “At ease, private.” As one would expect from such a high-ranking officer, his voice was acutely stern, but there was also a distinctive lyricalness to it from the Charlestonian accent he carried.
Matt lowered his salute and folded both his arms behind his back, clasping his fingers together.
Tapscott rose and proceeded to circle the bay with his hands also behind his back. “Thank you for seeing me, private.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Epsilon gave you quite a welcome the other day.”
“Yes, sir. It was an experience, to say the least.”
“How have you been holding up since you got to Rhino?”
“Fine, sir.”
“You know, our TALON-4 recon drones once canvassed that area your pod came down in. To this day, we do not own it. That patch of ground was considered a non-operational grid. That means it’s way too dangerous to conduct any kind of op…” he trailed off, turning to face Matt directly. “And yet, you managed to not only survive it for several hours, you had the guile to detonate your pod’s primary thruster core before requesting an orbital strike… that decision ultimately nullified the enemy’s position – while also saving your life, along with the lives of five other greenies.”
Matt stared ahead with rigid eyes. He would not respond to that unless asked to.
“I know you had some casualties, but you took initiative, son. Unorthodox as it may be, that’s the kind of initiative very few take during their first days on this planet, let alone on their first tour.”
Tapscott’s pause of silence was Matt’s cue to respond to his compliment. “Thank you, sir.”
“As it also happens, the facility that sniper was nested in was a chemical weapons site. It had been on a priority list for some time, but somehow got lost in the shuffle. We’re talking about various choking agents, live pathogens, and chemical-tipped plasma javelins. That’s what we think the sniper was guarding. Whether he was there before you turned up, or was dropped in after you landed, we don’t know. While you had the misfortune of landing a little over a mile from it, any closer and this may have been quite a different conversation. In fact, you’d probably already be dead.” Tapscott leaned against the curved hull of the bay and folded his arms, his eyes ticking over Matt while he considered his next words. “Some of my colleagues are suggesting you just got lucky, private. But see, I’d like to think it was something more than that.”
The Soldier Page 10
