by Mark Tufo
“It is a solid plan,” Tantor said. “Many families will be honored with a war widow today.”
Urlack looked at me and snorted. “That is a compliment in our culture,” he said with merriment. “Hu-mans are very sensitive,” he said to Tantor who still hadn’t seemed to grasp Urlack’s words.
“Dying as a compliment. I’ll keep that in mind—don’t be offended if I have no desire to be counted as one of the ‘lucky’ ones. Let’s figure out the best place to launch an attack,” I said, changing the subject. But I guess I really hadn’t.
***
Within the hour we had formulated a plan. It was high risk with a high reward factor. It’s easy to distance yourself from the action (and terror) when you are making lines on paper, but when you are standing at the ready point waiting for the order the terror becomes a tangible entity threatening to overrun every other sensation. Why we never made politicians fight on Earth, I’ll never know. I would bet everything I had that wars would have been outlawed. Lesson learned, I supposed.
Tantor must have rummaged deep to find some armor that almost fit me. Maybe one of the Genos made some and was planning to give it as a gift to an infant Geno. I know the stuff was pretty effective against bullets, at least the non steel-jacketed kind. It could deflect some of the Genos’ blue rays but it might as well have been a coating of powder for all it did against the Mutes weaponry.
Some of the Genos were now carrying the heavier rifles, I envied them. I had been offered one, thing must have weighed around forty-five pounds. I could carry it, but it was entirely too unwieldy in a combat situation, I stuck with the twenty pound Geno rifle, still heavy for a human, but at least I didn’t struggle to keep it on target.
“Michael?” Urlack asked for at least the seventh time.
“I’m short, Urlack, they won’t even see me,” I told him.
This was where he usually scowled at me and said I was not being smart in my decision making. He didn’t let me down.
The only place our ambush had any chance of success was on the far side of the cafeteria. It had so far been no-man’s land (misnomer I know since I’m the only man but you get the point). The Mutes had tried three times to come this most direct route and had been driven back with their worst casualties of the night. They would not try a fourth.
We had not explored that avenue because, first, we weren’t on the offensive and, secondly, it would be their most heavily guarded access point. Yet I had placed myself high up on the front lines. I was glad I was nowhere near the backhand Tracy would dole out if she knew.
There were somewhere in the neighborhood of five hundred of us making this assault. It was really about the maximum amount that would fit in the staging area. There was another five hundred waiting at our rear should we break through with the initial thrust. Timing was going to be crucial, though. The doors that led out were about as wide as a two car garage, but that wasn’t nearly as big as would have been desired given the size of the Genos and the number.
If we broke through, we needed the reserves to be almost behind us so we didn’t get encircled and cut off. If we didn’t make it through and needed to retreat and they had already followed us we would be caught in a quagmire of stuck Genos. Now I fully knew why politicians didn’t fight; because they weren’t stupid. My bowels wanted to liquefy, I was thankful I hadn’t eaten much in the last few hours although I far from doubted I’d be the first person who had ever made a hot mess in his pants before getting shot at.
I acquiesced a little to Urlack’s desires when he said I should not be on the very front of the charge. I’d seen enough movies in my day to know the first men in a charge usually only had cameos. I won’t lie, I felt I was sacrificing some honor for position but Urlack kept telling me I shouldn’t be in this charge at all, there were still all the Genos on the ground that were going to need convincing and I was the man who needed to be the face of that campaign.
Tantor was at the head of the pack. Even from the middle, I could see his large hand up in the air as he counted down from four. A typical Geno charge involved a lung emptying war cry that I had a very difficult time telling them was not in their best interest this time. They had seen the wisdom of my decision even if they weren’t enamored with it.
Tantor finished his countdown. The large doors swung out, from there he would have a short corridor that led directly into the housing for the Mutes. I already heard shooting before we even had the opportunity to move. At first it was slow, small furtive shuffles forward, then we moved to a slow trot, and then we were at a full-on sprint. Or at least I was. If I went any slower I would be crushed. Fuck Pamplona, this was way worse than running with the bulls. Urlack, who had situated himself directly in front of me, realized just how much danger I was in from the rear and with some effort was able to get behind me. Awesome, I’d much rather get crushed by someone I knew.
We were still moving forward but our push was slowing, we had made it through the doors to the Mutes’ barracks. It was bedlam, an epileptic’s nightmare. Streaks of high intensity flash were everywhere, I didn’t have enough room to bring my rifle to bear and even if I did, I’d only succeed in shooting the legs of the Geno in front of me. There was a fair amount of hand-to-hand combat going on, bones snapping was even louder than the percussions the rifles made. I moved over to the left and the wall closest to me. I let the rifle drop down on its tactical sling and grabbed my revolver.
A Mute must have been sleeping when the whole thing started. It approached me without a weapon. I would have reached down to re-grab my rifle if I thought I had enough time. I planted a .357 round straight into his eye. Genetically altered or not, there was no recovering from that. My view became obstructed as more and more Genos made their way in and fanned out. The maneuver had worked, at least at first; initial contact had caught them with only a small guard presence which had been easily overrun. The Mutes ran to the defense, a fair portion not even taking the time to get their weapons.
Our forward thrust began to stall as more and more Mutes came to the defense. It was touch and go for a moment, but as if on cue our reinforcements began to stream in. We were gaining precious feet at the expense of Mute blood, the floor ran thick with it. Even with a thousand Genos (and one man) spearheading the endeavor, we were still in great jeopardy of being overrun. Once the Mutes regrouped and attacked we would be at a serious disadvantage.
This would begin phase three of our plan and the most vital of them all. As the Mutes around the ship collapsed and came to the rescue of their peers, it would be imperative that the Genos who had been in contact with them, move also and pursue them. It was going to be risky to say the least and the body count per square foot would rival anything ever seen on Earth.
I kept my back against the wall, fearful I would get lost in the din I kept moving farther and farther along the wall as more beings poured into the cavernous room. I couldn’t see the doors I had entered through anymore but I figured to have gone about a hundred feet along the wall before I once again found myself in combat. I had my rifle up and was rapidly engaging the enemy. A couple of shots floated nearby, but I was mostly going unseen, not that I was complaining. I got down on one knee to keep the rifle steady as I repeatedly acquired a target and shot.
I’m not delusional to think I was swaying the battle, but in this small neck of the woods, I think it was safe to say I was a contributing factor. Genos locked in mortal combat with their bigger brethren thanked me as I took Mutes out one by one. I don’t know if it was derision on the part of the Mutes or if they did not perceive me as a true threat, but I was really left alone. Maybe that was a downfall of the Mutes they had never been in combat with humans and maybe had little to fear from them. I was doing my part to make them regret that decision. That was, if any of them made it through the day. They didn’t really seem like the type to throw in the towel.
“I’ve been looking for you!” Urlack shouted.
“Well, you found me,” I told him after tak
ing another shot.
“We have received word the Mutes are coming en masse.”
“Well, that’s good, right?” I asked, my shoulder rocking back as I blew off the snout of a Mute.
“Yes, it is according to plan, but until our forces arrive this will be a lethal place to be for a while.”
I saw his point as the Mute numbers began to overwhelm our small thrust. We would absorb some casualties, where I now fired from would be deep within enemy hands again.
“You should come back with me,” Urlack said.
The deck plating was bouncing, I could feel it vibrating through my knees. Oh yeah, they were definitely coming. My aim was being compromised as the vibrations became more intense, and like a stampede of elephants, I watched a huge line of Mutes heading our way. I had never seen anything as frightening in my entire life. The twisted, contorted displays of rage on their faces as they barreled down on us was beyond anything I could explain.
I turned to face the new threat and just began to pull the trigger as fast as my finger could move. I shot indiscriminately, sheets of Mutes hit the floor as the shots tore into them. I noted that some took notice of me, to stop shooting now would mean I would die by trampling. More than a few of the Mutes went down, tangled in the feet of their fallen predecessors, the newly deceased and dying.
My finger was cramping and still they were coming and I was no longer ‘unnoticed’. Murderous intent was branded on at least ten of the Mutes heading for me.
Although this was war so murder didn't really factor in.
I kept firing, I would never be able to get up quickly enough and run for it.
“I am not sorry for this!” Urlack yelled as he snatched me into the air. He had the presence of mind to throw me over his back so I could cover our retreat. Mutes were screaming in rage.
“You are a valiant warrior,” Urlack said as we made our way back to the relative safety of the doorway.
I don’t know how I felt about those words. Not too many ‘valiant warriors’ got piggy-back rides.
“Thanks,” I told him.
Genos were being compressed tightly as they absorbed more of the influx of the Mutes. We only had moments before the bubble would burst and our forces would collapse in on themselves.
“Hold!”
I somehow heard this voice over the clang of metal on metal and the reports of the rifles. “Tantor?” I asked aloud.
“It very much sounded like him,” Urlack said, I noticed he had difficulty getting the words out. It was then I felt the wetness on my left arm, blood and it wasn’t mine.
“Urlack?” I asked showing him, my blood soaked hand.
“It is nothing.” He said, as he finally pulled up and put me down.
I walked behind him because there was not anyway I was going to be able to turn him myself. Roughly where I had been was a wound the size of which I suspected would have severed me in half had it got to me.
“Oh, shit. Let’s go!”
Urlack seemed to hesitate.
“Oh, come on, I’ve been through this with Drababan. If you pass out, I’ll never be able to carry you!”
Urlack obliged.
We had set up some first aid stations, but they were about as advanced as anything from the Civil War. Anything more serious than flesh wound was almost a death sentence.
“Stop the bleeding!” I yelled to two previously injured Genos who were back at the aid station so they could do something. To their credit, they grabbed some heavy material and pressed it with maybe a little too much vigor into Urlack’s wounds.
I had an idea. I wasn’t sure if it would pan out, but I had to try something. The only thing the Genos working on Urlack would accomplish would be to keep his blood from spilling all over the floor as he bled out.
I ran to where we were holding the pilots captive. The two Geno guards here were also wounded and were not combat ready, but guard duty was a different matter.
“Show me the highest ranking pilot” I shouted to them.
They looked confused for a moment, but the less injured one Jraco, I think was his name, got up and shuffled over to a cell nearby.
“What’s your name?” I demanded.
“Tyrendlen,” he sneered.
“Are any among you qualified for field surgery?”
“All of us have received basic aid in the event we are on our own,” he said lazily, not even sitting up from his rack.
“Could you fix a rifle blast from one of your weapons?”
“I could,” he said. “But unless it’s on a Progerian, I won’t.”
“Open the door,” I told Jraco evenly.
Jraco did not know what I was asking.
“Let the field down so I can get in, please.” This he understood.
The small hum of the door dissipated and I walked in. Tyrendlen still had not stirred, he was busy staring at the ceiling as if it were the Sistine Chapel.
“I have an injured friend, who has suffered a wound at the hands of your mutated Genogerians. I am going to ask you once and only once, will you help him?”
“I hope he is sent to your hell for what he has done,” Tyrendlen responded. “He does not even deserve to go through the gates of ‘zrevklet.’”
The report of a .357 round in such a small enclosed space should have been deafening, I barely heard it. At least Tyrendlen did not have to fall far, blood oozed off the cot and onto the floor. Jraco was at my side as soon as he was able.
“Accident,” I told him, even though he hadn’t asked.
That got some of the closer prisoners’ attentions. Some were either right up by the door, trying to figure out what was going on, or as far back as possible, already having a good idea and not wanting to be part of it.
“I asked your leader Tyrendlen for some help!” I shouted. “He was not very willing to do so. I have a friend that has been shot with one of your weapons. He will die unless someone knows how to treat the wound. Tyrendlen said you all have been trained in this type of aid. Until I get some help I am going to walk up this hallway and kill every one of you worthless pieces of shit! You mean absolutely nothing to me. No, that’s wrong, I actually hate and despise each and every one of you for what you are and what you have done to my world. I care more for the bullet I will put in your brain than you. I’m waiting!”
I still had no takers.
“Jraco open the door,” I said as I walked to the next cell. The Progerian was staring back at me from about halfway across his room. “Will you help?”
He stood silently. The top of his head erupted into a blossom of red and gray. He fell heavily to the floor, a loud resounding crack as what remained of his head hit the toilet.
The next Progerian was right up by the bars. “I will help,” he said softly. He actually stepped half a step back from the wicked grin on my face. I was killing in cold blood, I had stepped over another line from which there was no way back.
“What do you need?” I asked him.
“We have what you would call a medical kit back at our barracks.”
I nodded to Jraco to open the door. Some part of me expected this Progerian to rush me when he realized he was safe but for better or worse deception was not part of their genetic make-up, I would imagine it made for awkward social circumstances when the female would ask if her new tunic made her look fat.
Within ten minutes we were back at Urlack’s side, he looked pale, if such a thing were even possible for them. His breathing had become shallow and his eyes were half closed.
“How you doing?” I asked him as I grabbed his giant hand.
“I am prepared to greet the afterlife,” he told me.
“I have to turn him over,” my prisoner/medic said.
“Got some help Urlack,” I told him.
“I welcome the attempt, Michael, but I fear it may be too late,” he said as I helped the medic get Urlack onto his stomach.
The medic pulled the towels off and inspected the wound closely, I couldn’t gauge
any reaction as he began to dig around in his bag. He pulled out a foil pack that looked suspiciously like a Pop-Tart, but was filled with a silver sand he poured liberally into Urlack’s wound. The stench it produced almost made me swoon.
“Infection,” the medic said.
I didn’t know if he meant what was causing the stink or was going over an internal dialogue.
Although I think it was the latter as a yellowy, green bubbling ooze began to spill out of the wound. I thought the initial contact stunk. Even the medic backed away as the medicine did its magic.
The medic went back into his bag and pulled out a hypodermic needle that looked big for a horse. “He needs to sleep,” the medic told me as he saw the look on my face.
“Yeah, I know. Most of my time on this damn ship involved sleeping while I was healing.”
“Right,” the medic answered.
Urlack was asleep before the medic removed the needle. He looked so peaceful. I wanted to join him, maybe when I awoke this whole nightmare would be over.
“What now?”
“I will wait until the wound starts running clear and then I will sew him up.”
“That’s it?” I asked incredulously.
“You of all people should know how advanced our medicine is,” the medic said, not with derision he was merely relating facts. “Will you kill me when I am done?” he asked. There might have been a tremor in his voice, but it was next to impossible to tell and it may have just been my own slant on the conversation.
“Honestly, I would like to kill each and every one of you. You are nothing more than plague that has descended on my world. You and your kind have wiped billions of us off the planet. I’m not sure what answer besides that you’d be expecting.”
“We do not generally run into sentient beings on our missions,” the medic said.
“It’s not like that stopped you this time. I said I wanted to kill you, I did not say I would. I will let your fate rest in the hands of those you consider your inferiors.”
This seemed to affect the medic more than anything else I had said thus far.
