The Soldier

by Terrance Mulloy

  “I got him, cap. Ready greenie?”

  “Yup.” Matt took hold of Tractor’s right arm as they both began dragging his limp body out of the hatch, crab-walking backward.

  “I don’t think that sniper’s got eyes on us anymore from this position, but he’s still out there. We’re not going to be able to get far.” WarBarbie’s head was now on a swivel, ducking as she cleared the vehicle.

  “Yeah, but any more Dupes get a sniff of those two supply rigs, this place is gonna be a free-for-all. That sniper will be the least of our worries. We need to find some shelter nearby and reassess. Maybe figure out where we are on this godforsaken rock.” Mace waddled out behind them, his sidearm sweeping the near-pitch black landscape.

  Still unmoving, the distant Stalker appeared to be abandoned. Statuesque and lifeless.

  The thought of manning it briefly crossed Mace’s mind until he turned back to his path and spotted something towering beyond them, about five hundred yards from the northern edge of the ridge they were under.

  It was an even more rugged barrier of rock, darker, looking akin to some type of ancient coral reef. Sulfuric rain and wind erosion had carved innumerable gullies, caves, and holes into the cliff face. Years of bloody combat in this region had also left its mark. Whatever flora once existed here was long gone. All that remained now were blackened craters.

  Mace saw it as a potential refuge. “See that distant ridgeline at our eleven?”

  WarBarbie and Matt paused, turning around and look behind them, their chests heaving as they searched for the distant rock formation. Tractor felt like he weighed a ton. They may as well have been dragging a fully-grown bear up a hill.

  “Yeah, I see it,” she replied first, struggling to catch her breath. “Jesus… that’s at least a twenty-minute hike, cap.”

  “Then we better get moving.”

  WarBarbie turned and sighed with exhaustion, glancing down at her unconscious friend as if he were somehow able to hear her. “We get back… you gotta trim a little down, Tractor. No more Jolly Ranchers for you.”

  Mace also blew out a sigh as if acknowledging her exhaustion. “Hey, nothing is heavier than the body of someone you love, but we’re not leaving him out here. So, it’s either drag his fat ass with us or wait for more Dupes to show up. Which would you prefer?”

  WarBarbie shook her head, feigning uncertainty. “Honestly, at this point, I’m not sure.”

  Mace hacked out a grim laugh as Matt went to help WarBarbie lift Tractor again. That’s when he spotted something out the corner of his eye.

  Upon a distant ridgeline, there was a quick flash of digital light. He intuitively knew what it was, but before he could utter a warning, the discordant crack of a sniper’s gunshot echoed.

  The round struck Tractor’s lower jaw, taking half his face off with it. The explosion of red mist reflexively caused WarBarbie and Matt to drop Tractor as if they’d just been electrocuted. The round pulverized the ground in front of them, a geyser of rock exploding into their faceplates.

  “No—!” WarBarbie screamed. “Man down!” As she went to lunge forward and dive on top of Tractor, Mace wrenched her back by a strap connected to her torso armor. “Tractor! Let fucking— let go of me!” she screamed in protest as she furiously grappled air. “Cap! No… arrggghhh!”

  While Mace painfully wrestled with WarBarbie, Matt scrambled away in a chaotic frenzy, taking cover against a deep furrow of rock. When panic flooded his mind, he suddenly remembered his training and allowed it to take over, swallowing his fear back down into his gut. He had to remain focused and calm.

  More shots cracked the night sky, pocking dirt and rock as Mace dragged a kicking and screaming WarBarbie to Matt’s position with his one good arm.

  Matt stared across at Tractor’s limp body. It was now face-down in a pool of blood. Between the echo of more shots, Matt could hear him gargling. Tractor was mortally wounded, and there was nothing any of them could do for him. All they could do is watch him die.

  Now animated by pure rage, WarBarbie spun around and lunged at Matt. She grabbed him by the fold of his chest plate and slammed him against the rock wall. “Where the fuck did that shot come from?” she screamed into his startled face, almost frothing at the mouth like a rabid animal. “Tell me you saw where that fucking shot came from, greenie! Tell me!”

  Before Matt could answer her, Mace shoved his arm between them. “Hey, hey… lock it up! Hey, I need your head with me! WarBarbie, look at me! Hey…”

  Tears dripping from her blazing eyes, she turned to Mace, her chest heaving with anger.

  “He’s gone. I’m sorry, but there ain’t nothing you can do about it.”

  She shoved Matt back into the rock wall and let go. “Yeah, there is. I’m goin’ out to get this fucker.”

  “No, you’re not,” Mace replied sternly. “We’ve gotta extract from this area and find a way back to Rhino. This entire op is blown in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “Tractor’s dead, along with our whole team. I’m not gonna let that slide, cap. I can’t. Those Dupes need to know what happens when you fuck with Praetorians.”

  “Believe me, they will. But this isn’t on you, WarBarbie. Could’ve been any one of us,” Mace was desperately trying to regulate his breathing and figure out their next move. “Look, we can’t stay here. Otherwise, we’ll be joining the rest of our team.”

  “Then so be it. This is what we signed up for.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Mace was now starting to fume himself.

  “Cap, if you wanna stop me, you’ll just have to shoot me.”

  “Stand down. I’m giving you a direct order, Praetorian. You’d best take it.”

  “Sorry, cap. We get out of this alive; you can throw my ass into the DB. But until then, I’m not going anywhere without killing that sniper first.”

  Matt decided now was time to chime in with a solution, perhaps also ease the tension a little. “Captain, I saw the sniper’s location before the shot reached us. I caught a small glint… it looked digital – not like muzzle flash either. I think it was from his scope. He hasn’t figured out how to conceal his targeting readouts yet.”

  With his back now pressed against the furrow, Mace gave a dismissive shake of his head. “Doesn’t matter. We don’t have the angle from this position. On the other hand, that sniper can see this entire area. He’d cut us down before we even tried to engage.”

  “Not if we created a diversion. WarBarbie could then flank him.”

  Mace turned to him with a sideways glance.

  Despite his battered appearance, Matt looked green. Both literally and figuratively. However, Mace was quickly learning there was more to this Private than he originally thought.

  WarBarbie nodded in agreement. “Keep talking, greenie. I wanna hear this.”

  Matt stepped closer to the edge of the furrow and took a knee, using his hands to illustrate his plan. “I’d say there’s a small emplacement up on that ridgeline, facing south. He’s nested in there. My guesstimate would be three hundred yards. Maybe a bit closer. If we can get his attention, WarBarbie can acquire a good firing position that he’s blind to and take him out.”

  Mace held his glare on Matt. “And how do you plan on getting his attention without getting us both killed?”

  Matt slipped out two hand-fired signal flares from inside his vest and held them up. “I spotted them in a supply crate on the way out.”

  Mace gave a laugh that implied amusement rather than relief. “You’re just so eager to please, aren’t you? Take a look around, greenie. We’re in the middle of nowhere, population three and dwindling. This isn’t like your little hero moment after you broke atmo. There’s no calling in orbital strikes out here to save the day. No one’s coming for us.”

  “Sir, we only need his attention diverted long enough for WarBarbie to slip away from this position. He’s not going to fire at her if he can’t see her.”

  “What makes you think he’d even
take the bait?”

  “It won’t matter either way. By the time he figures out we are baiting him, he’ll be dead.”

  Keeping her eyes on Matt, WarBarbie slowly nodded with approval. “I’m starting to like this guy, cap.”

  Mace looked at her and shook his head. “Even if we pull our shit together and take him out, we’re still stuck out here on foot. We got no uplink to Command, no air or orbital support, and we’ve got limited water and rations.”

  WarBarbie leveled a bewildered glare at Mace. “What’re you saying?

  “I’m saying two days. Maybe three. Then we’re as good as dead.”

  She shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. “You’re shitting me, right? You’re a fucking Praetorian. Since when do Praetorians give up?”

  “I’m just calling it how I see it. We’re in a bad spot.”

  “Yeah, and we’re gonna end up in far worse. That’s the job. That’s why we’re out here.”

  A cynical grin formed in the corner of Mace’s battered face. “Maybe I’m just sick and tired of all this bullshit. Every time we go out, we end up losing people. And for what? We’re not making a fucking difference out here, WarBarbie. You know that.”

  WarBarbie was now bristling with so much anger, she could barely form the words needed to rebuke Mace’s defeatist nonsense. She turned away in disgust, adjusting the scope on her rifle. “Fine, you stay here then. Me and the greenie will deal with this.”

  Matt could cut the tension between them with a knife. If he was going to survive this, he needed to keep these two in the game, so he turned his attention to something beyond the upturned TAV. “Sir, I think we can still reach our primary objective.”

  Mace now looked at him like he was insane. “What?”

  “Marcus’s rig. It’s got some external damage, but I could hear the engine still running.”

  “How certain are you about that?”

  “It slammed into a shallow gulley, but it didn’t roll. I’d just need to back it out.”

  “You can drive a rig like that?” Mace’s tone was laced with skepticism.

  “My dad taught me to drive grain harvesters when I was fourteen. The big K-422’s they used to make in Texas. Well, before the Chinese started manufacturing them and they became automated.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but a grain harvester’s a lot different to a military supply rig. That thing is bigger than my house. Just keeping it straight would be like trying to juggle with your hands and feet at the same time.”

  “Sir, I’m from Kentucky. I can handle big machines. Besides, I’m a real fast learner.”

  Mace’s gaze shifted to the ground as he worked his jaw, his mind drifting elsewhere while he weighed the implications. This was a Hail Mary and then some, but he could feel the warrior inside him stirring with renewed vigor. This kid had some gigantic-sized balls.

  “Sir, we take out that sniper, we can still carry out our objective. That base is waiting on us to reach them. Remember what you said in your op briefing? We stop for nothing.”

  After another beat of thick silence, Mace looked up and threw WarBarbie a look.

  She returned it by giving an almost nonchalant shrug. “The fuck else we gonna do? Hang around here and wait for more Dupes to show up?”

  Twenty-Three

  Although it had become an efficient killer over time, technically, this Dupe wasn’t a trained sniper. At least from what it could remember.

  It struggled to remember many things about this war, and its own past as an Infiltrator. It even struggled to remember its original incept date. As a result, its only real motivation now, apart from survival, was to kill the invaders.

  Like all Dupes, it operated on a primal, almost autonomous impulse. In terms of self-awareness, that was all it could discern. The Wraith engineers that processed this Dupe for re-engagement had made certain not to remove the two primary neural areas of its brain that enabled aggressive behavior and violence.

  However, this being did suspect it had somehow been wounded during a past military operation. But it could not recall how long ago, or how severe the wounds it sustained were. By default, wounded Infiltrators were always marked for decommission, having their memories partially wiped before being dumped back into the field and left to their own devices. This was not only policy, it was also the law. Ultimately, the Wraith considered these genetic failures a useful proxy they could benefit from, giving the enemy forces on Epsilon yet another problem they would be forced to deal with.

  The Dupe continued to marshal its breath as the triangular crosshairs of its rifle scope gently tracked across the two-vehicle wreckages and the rocky bluffs below. From the stifling humidity of the night, every nook and cranny appeared to wobble and fume in the hot wind.

  And then, almost by accident, its crosshairs landed on an impossibly small shape. It protruded slightly from behind a rocky fissure near the upturned USC vehicle. From this distance, it was as small as a flake of grit inside the radius of its scope.

  Instinctively, the Dupe tightened its pale index finger around the beveled trigger, its concentration deepening as the digital reticle painted the object, relaying the crucial trajectory and environmental data the Dupe relied on to make its kill-shots.

  Was this one of the surviving humans still down there? Or was it simply an inorganic object? From this distance, it was hard to tell.

  The Dupe had lost its original line of sight on the convoy and was forced to shift positions, but it knew at least two of the human soldiers had not only survived the crash but also the previous shot, only managing to hit the soldier that appeared to already be wounded. So, it would not take any chances this time.

  This entire region had become infested with the enemy, and although its stomach was not yet fully accustomed to human food and medicines, the group of fellow Dupes it had joined up with were in desperate need of both. But first, it needed to eliminate any threats before its group could ransack the supply vehicles they had ambushed.

  The Dupe exhaled slowly, allowing time to slow as it zeroed in on the mysterious object.

  But before it could pull the trigger, a brilliant burst of red light exploded out the corner of its left eye, forcing it to pan the fluted barrel of its rifle away from its target to inspect the commotion.

  Realizing this was a diversion of some kind, it whipped the rifle back to refocus on its original target, catching a quick glint of light from the corner of its right eye.

  It never heard the shot, but that glint was the last thing it ever saw.

  Twenty-Four

  Matt waited with Mace for WarBarbie to return, gathering themselves against the rocky fissure to make a break for Marcus’s idling rig.

  When Mace saw her figure emerge from between two boulders, he couldn’t help but grin proudly like a doting father. “We only heard one shot.”

  WarBarbie gave a stoic nod, her face betraying no emotion as she knelt beside Tractor to inspect his remains. “One shot is all it took. Never knew what hit him.” She lifted her faceplate and took a moment to gently dab her finger in some of Tractor’s blood that hadn’t fully coagulated yet, only to smear it under her eyes like war paint. “Cap, before we move out, we need to retrieve all the bodies of our brothers and sisters. Load whatever’s left of ‘em into the back of that rig.”

  “There’s no time for that.”

  “Then I’ll make time.”

  “We’re still on the clock here.”

  “Captain… we can’t just leave them here. That’s not what we do.”

  “I know, but what choice do we have? Look, I’ll make sure we retrieve them when this is over. That much I can promise you.”

  “And what if the Wraith swoop in and take them first?”

  Mace sighed with frustration and dropped his head. “They were my friends too… but I don’t know what else you expect me to say.”

  WarBarbie did not answer that. She simply turned and made her way towards the rig.

  M
ace watched her walk off before turning to Matt. “Go give her a hand.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hey, greenie.”

  Matt stopped and turned to his captain. “Sir?”

  “Listen, I know you’re tired, but keep your eyes peeled and stay frosty. You made a solid call back there, but we can’t afford to let any more of those bastards hit us again.”

  Matt nodded, thankful for the crumb of acknowledgement Mace had thrown him. He turned and headed off after WarBarbie.

  Mace gave one final look at Tractor then continued after the others, still cradling his arm. Although he was no longer in pain from the field syrette of Morphine Matt had injected into his shoulder earlier, he could still feel shattered bone grinding every time he moved his arm. The round had passed through him, but there was little doubt he would need complete reconstructive surgery once he returned to Camp Rhino, assuming he survived that long. He was just grateful the sniper was not using a heavier, hypersonic caliber, otherwise, his entire arm would have been vaporized to ash.

  The three of them pushed away from the TAV wreckage, sticking to the inky shadows wherever possible, weapons ready, their heads on a constant swivel. The sound of the desert was nothing more than an all-encompassing, low howl of hot wind.

  When they rounded a small bend, they spotted the huge rig up ahead, skewed across the crude path that had been forged from years of military convoys before them. As they drew closer, they could hear the engine still idling. The rig’s powerful headlights and trailer lights cut through the darkness with stark clarity, revealing a desolate land devoured by war.

  But another mechanical sound now began to rise from behind them, drowning out the rig’s idling engine. A sudden tremor went through the ground, echoing up through their combat boots. It was immediately followed by another.

  Turning to locate the source, they saw something that seemed to have been summoned from hell itself.

  The Stalker had suddenly come to life.

  A slack-jawed Mace stared at the metal beast. “…They’ve been guarding the rig the entire time… you sly motherfuckers…”