by Matt Thomas
Even faced with the consequences of that hope, she found it growing in her, even then. She knew that Bryan and his team were on their way. They knew the danger posed to both of them, and they would come for Julian. They would come for them both. At any minute, they would appear from nowhere and everyone, not just the siblings, would be safe. She hated them for ignoring her request and leading to the ill-fated raid. She believed in them because they had appeared once in the middle of the night, surrounded by dead Hetarek, and begun to achieve the impossible. Ava let hope invade her thoughts for fleeting instants even as her subconscious screamed at her naivete.
Josiah said his words without conviction, but Ava didn’t notice. The rushing in her ears drowned out the message of the murder. The rtek blade above Julian arced upwards, and then snapped down. His blood fountained upwards, bright red and glistening in the sun. As Julian fell, nearly split in two, the volume of gore jetting upwards from the fresh crevasse where his neck had met his collar bone erupted in a different color, dark and blue, for only an instant.
Unable to tear her eyes from her brother’s body, unable to hear over her own despair, she did not notice the screaming and yelling coming from the Hetarek. She didn’t see Julian’s executioner fall, missing half of his own head. She didn’t hear the pop the followed the bullet. She felt the rush of people dispersing into the vacuum left by Hetarek seeking cover. The guard who had stood in front of her turned, his yellow eye searching upwards before it exploded in a bluish mass that rained gobs down on her face. Another guard lashed out with his blades, cutting down two more victims before his chest erupted. Hernandez, standing in shock, was knocked over by one of his Hetarek guards rushing towards a nearby Komodo where a gunner fell forward over the hatch. A flash temporarily blinded her, and the waiting Scythe exploded.
She ran towards her brother, against the tide of fear and flesh and anger. She wanted to help, knowing that nothing could be done for the heap of bone and meat crumpled before her.
Only after the throng of chaos obscured her view of Julian’s mangled and hopefully dead body, did she look around, past the shoving and shouting masses of humans. She saw the armed and armored figures appearing from a ditch. She recognized their arrogance as they moved steadily through the Hetarek fire like nothing could touch them.
The Runners had arrived too late.
*****
Chaos reigned in the immediate aftermath. The Scythe continued to burn, lying awkwardly on the ground next to the killing field. Pops and hisses erupted from the hole torn in the side, and burnt Hetarek corpses spilled out of the craft. Another six lay with bullet-holes in their torsos near the torn-in-two bodies of humans, adding to Jess’s confirmed kills. A quick glimpse over Bryan’s rifle counted four more Hetarek sprawled across the kill zone, a few still moving and twitching. Between them, the human casualties were more severe. Three humans, including Julian, lay executed by the Hetarek blades, cleaved in two so that only their faces, contorted in pain and fear remained recognizable as human beings. Blood, bone, and organs pooled beneath them, intermixing so that Bryan couldn’t tell where one body ended and the next began. Then there were the spectators, caught in the cross-fire, still screaming and calling for help. He couldn’t tell who had been hit by whom, but he knew the Hetarek opened fire indiscriminately.
“Jess, how many did you count out in the open?” He asked over the radio, remaining behind cover.
“Thirteen.”
That left four Hetarek he couldn’t see.
“Harry, bring the truck up and give us some cover. Ed, take care of those civilians. Starek, O, Bridget: we’ve got four unaccounted for. Let’s start clearing.”
They stood as a unit, their weapons straight out in front of them, scanning. Bryan began yelling for everyone to lay flat on the ground and stay quiet, not that it did much good. Those who could run and hide did so. Those that were wounded yelled for help. Ava stood over her brother, fists clenched.
“Ava, I need you to get down now!” Bryan yelled, but she didn’t listen.
He would have argued more, but a Hetarek warrior appeared around one of the houses ten meters away to their left and opened fire. The laser shots scattered randomly, but the team refused to back down. All four advancing across the open space fired back, but Bryan couldn’t tell if any hit the shooter. They team methodically approached the house, and the Hetarek reappeared. He didn’t get off any more shots before he was cut down. That threat neutralized, they ran up to the corner, stepping around the dying Hetarek after kicking away his weapon. As they turned, a pair of shots impacted the side of the building within a foot of Bryan’s head.
“Those shots came from the house kitty-corner to me, the green rambler.” He shouted.
“I don’t have good eyes on it.” Jess said through his headset.
“I’m on it.” Harry replied. Behind them, an engine revved and a truck appeared around the wreckage of the Scythe, kicking up dirt and dust. It came to a stop with a clear lane of fire down the street and the target house. At least two shooters started firing at him, but were met with a steady stream of fire from the M350 mounted on the cab window.
Bryan took the opportunity to run towards the building while the Hetarek took cover from the automatic weapon fire. All four stacked up against the door. Starek jumped in front of Bryan, his own M350 too cumbersome for the next task. Siskind took position behind Howe, while Bridget took up the last spot in the stack. She slapped O on the shoulder, who passed the message up that all were ready. “Going in.” He called over the radio, and the fire stopped.
Simultaneously, Starek pivoted on one foot, coming down with the other right onto the door handle. The door popped open as Starek propelled himself backwards, clearing the way for Bryan to be first through.
Bryan smoothly passed through the door, sweeping to his left to get a clear picture of the open floor plan. Immediately he saw two Hetarek under cover beneath the window, preparing to return fire at the truck outside. He placed his reticle on the nearest and fired three rounds into him, continuing his sweep over the second until he could see the whole layout. As expected, O struck the second Hetarek as Bryan’s rifle finished its recoil. Bridget hit a third coming down the foyer stairway.
Not trusting the count, the team continued to search the building until they were certain no other Hetarek remained.
The sight when they left the building, however, had changed significantly. The civilians once running and screaming in fear now stood shouting and shaking their fists at a pair of figures standing amongst the carnage. Josiah Hernandez cried and shook, tears and spittle falling from his face as the second figure, Ava, shoved it towards the gore left behind by the executions. At the distance, Bryan couldn’t hear what she said, but he heard the rage in her voice as she screamed at the man. In his terrified state, it was easy for her to shove Objective Banquo down onto his knees. When she scooped up one of the fallen Hetarek’s rtek blades, Bryan surged forward.
By the time he got within ten meters of her, she had the blade over her head.
“Ava, stop!” He shouted, enough only to get her attention momentarily.
“Why?” She yelled back. “Why should I stop after everything that’s he’s done?”
“He has so much information we can use. Give him to us, and we’ll use him to get back at the Hetarek. I promise.”
“I don’t want him to get back at the Hetarek!” She replied. “None of us want him to get back at the Hetarek. We want him to suffer.” The crowd around her cheered. “We want him to know that fear that I saw in Julian’s eyes as he was cut in half. We’re going to kill every Hetarek we find, don’t worry. But we’re going to kill him first.”
“Ava, wait. Let’s talk about this. I understand your anger...”
“Bullshit you do.” She shrieked. “This is your fault. If you’d come to help us, like we’d begged you to do, if you hadn’t relied on the Metic Ahai that oppress us, kill us, and even kill you, we wouldn
’t have been stuck here powerless while this man and his Hetarek masters butchered us.” She jabbed the blade toward Bryan. “You didn’t give a shit about us when you ran, you don’t give a shit about us now.”
He let go of his weapon, letting it hang off of his body armor, showing he wasn’t a threat. “Look, we need him alive so that we can help bring everyone back here.”
“You need him alive. We need him dead.”
She raised the blade again, but when Bryan started to run towards her, other villagers closed ranks, blocking his passage. Bryan couldn’t risk using force to save the life of a man everyone around him saw as a collaborator, even if he was a valuable asset.
The man who had once been on Bryan’s hit list cried openly, begging for his life. Ava brought the blade down hard, but it bit into the man’s shoulder. The crowd roared with approval. She couldn’t gather enough strength to precisely strike a blow. She wrenched the blade out, raised it, and dropped it again, this time striking his collar bone, but not cutting deeply enough. A second time she pulled it free, and a third time she brought the blade back down, this time it caught the side of his skull, slicing off his ear. He fell forward, hard, and his screams died down to a continuous moan. Ava lifted the blade, crying out as she did so, and slamming it into the man’s back. She kept striking until his cries stopped.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Tucked away in a corner of the mess hall, a challenge given the room’s crampness, Jean found Dauod sipping tea by himself at their usual table. The absence of steam told Costeaux just how long the pilot had been sitting there. It was nearly lunchtime and the cooks only kept a pot of strong coffee going throughout the day. Jean risked pouring himself a cup, and, without asking permission, sat down across from the pilot.
Dauod acknowledge him with a head nod, then stared back into his cup. Without greeting or prelude, he started speaking in the way that only those who are in war together can speak.
“I still can’t figure out why he did it. I’m the one who pulled the trigger. He just set it up for me.”
“Well, I can tell you that I take credit for every one of Sasha’s kills.”
He didn’t mean it as a joke, but Dauod chuckled anyway. “Well, he certainly doesn’t deserve any credit himself.”
“Did they show you the results of the investigation?”
“Which one, Quinn or the ship?”
“The ship.”
“Just the executive summary. It says exactly what we expected it to say. It was a righteous shoot.” Dauod swirled his mug. “Quinn saw it, too. He asked about it and I showed it to him.”
“I told that lawyer that I had a solution, and if we hadn’t had the malfunction I would have fired without a second thought.” Jean said.
“He seemed to totally get it, too. I figured we’d be okay, but I’d expected the lawyer would be a dick about it.” Dauod looked like he was about to take another drink before he realized his tea had become lukewarm. “I guess that’s what’s bugging me. I sleep fine. I know what happened, I pulled the trigger, and I sleep fine. Quinn used a computer and decides to off himself.”
“That’s because he didn’t get it.”
“Get what? Sociopathy?”
“It’s not sociopathy, but I guarantee those weren’t the first civilians we’ve killed. We’ve dropped so much ordinance, these weren’t the first. They can’t be.” Jean said.
“You and I know that,” Dauod replied. “We know it, and the command knows that, and the lawyer knows that, I don’t know why Quinn didn’t know that. We’d been doing this together for three years. What I really don’t get though, is that I don’t feel like shit. He felt bad enough to off himself, and I just feel like that was another day at the office.”
“That’s because you know what happens if we start questioning trigger pulls. Everything was set up perfectly, we made a split second judgment call. We’re alive. The ships are all intact. The Ahai are pissed but who gives a shit? I hate to put the blame on him, but if Quinn struggled with that eventuality, we were here for him. He’s been doing this long enough to know we’re all fucked up. We’ve been fucked up for years. I’d dare him to go find anyone in the fleet that isn’t fucked up. But we’re fucked up together.”
“But we all do something about it.” Dauod countered. “We go to the gym obsessively, we talk to friends, we talk to doctors. I just wish he’d talked to me about it. I would’ve done something, gotten him help, told him he was an idiot, some combination of the two, I would have done something to tell him that he’s a selfish dick, go get drunk with a bunch of guys who understand, and suit up for the next sortie. Instead he put a gun in his mouth.”
“He made a stupid choice. You weren’t in his head, you couldn’t have known.”
“I’m his pilot. I should have known.”
“Don’t blame yourself. This fucked up shit happens.”
“I know, and I don’t. I guess that’s the other thing. I’m pissed at him. I’m not sad for him. I’m genuinely pissed at him. I had to talk to his family, and I couldn’t tell them shit. I don’t even know what to tell myself. I have no idea what’s supposed to come next.”
“You talk to the CAG?” Jean asked.
“Yeah. She said with whatever’s going on now they can’t get me a new weapons officer anytime in the near future. She did say that I had two choices, I could get on a staff or, if I was interested, SOMW is looking for pilots.” He referred to the Special Operations Mission Wing, the group of pilots that disappeared into a section of Columbia, only to emerge with a bunch of stories they couldn’t tell. They were also considered the best pilots in the fleet. Being considered was a testament to one’s skill and reputation.
“Congratulations. Doing what?”
Dauod laughed again, this time at Jean. “It’s SOF, man. They’ll tell me what I’m doing after I start doing it. All I know is I told them I don’t know shit about flying Quinalts, and she said if they wanted Quinalt drivers they’d get a Quinalt driver.”
“What are you thinking?”
“That I’ll probably take the SOMW job. I just love to fly. I’d be bored out of my skull if they stuck me on a desk.”
“That would be pretty nice. Grow your hair. Grow your beard out more. Come up with some cover name. When do you have to decide.”
“Tomorrow.”
“So if I don’t see you at chow in the morning, and someone comes looking for you, you want me to say ‘Dauod who?’”
He laughed again, flashing a bright white smile that had been absent for a few days. “Good flying, Jean.”
“You too, man.”
*****
She woke him up again. Bryan tried to get to sleep two hours before but felt like he'd just drifted off. Even after more than a week, the events after the execution kept running through his head. He had pulled his sleeping bag over his head, closed his eyes, and immediately started running through possible variations on the scenario, searching for the magic combination of words and actions that kept Ava under control. He hadn't found any when he lost consciousness, but his instinct when she woke him was to pick up where he left off.
"The valley is on fire." Jess said from the doorway.
"What?"
"They set fire to the Columbia valley. Loki has it. There's a couple hundred acres of schleckt fields burning."
Bryan sat up in his bag, rubbing his face.
"The Hetarek?"
She sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, Bryan, the Hetarek set fire to their own fields. They're so pissed off they're going on a hunger strike."
Bryan struggled to keep his eyes open. "I don't think that was called for." He said with a weak chuckle.
"It was Ava. Her people or whatever."
"She doesn't have any people."
"She does after the other day. Don't underestimate what happened."
Bryan finally pulled himself out of bed and stood up. "I don't. But also don't see how any of
this was your fault."
Her face slackened, her shoulders drooped, but only for an instant. She recovered herself, once again returning to the hardened woman she was. She extended her tablet. "Want to see?"
"Is it fire? I've seen fire." He answered. He took a long drink of water. "What does everyone say?"
"Everyone's asleep and wouldn't care."
"But you were up doing what, Chief?"
She placed her hands on her hips. "Jesus, Bryan, you remember you're an officer or something?"
"When you wake me up in the middle of the night, I forget I'm not in the infantry any more and get all conventional." He realized the edge in his voice and smiled. "I'm going to make you call the room to attention when I enter."
It disarmed her just enough. "I don't think anyone would remember how to do that."
"Fair enough. But what's your concern about Ava?"
"The same one I'm sure is keeping you from sleeping and making you such a dick. That cutting off their food supply is going to surge the Hetarek here."
“At this point it doesn’t matter.” He said, leaning against the wall. “We’ve only got two weeks left. If the Hetarek flood this area between now and then, there’s fuck-all we can do about it. And Ava can scream and yell all she wants, but, at the end of the day, they’re all going to show and help us secure those landing zones. You know why?”
Jess opened her mouth to argue, but Bryan stopped her. “You know why? Because they’re pissed. They’re pissed at the Hetarek and they want their world back. And we’re the only thing that’s going to give it to them. So if Ava feels better about Julian by burning the fields, let her burn the fields. When we tell them that this thing is happening, they’ll know which side they’re on.”
