by Todd Brill
A shot rang out. Nomad cringed as he watched. But the rebel soldier rolled onto his feet and ran as fast as he could to join Hiyadi. The shot was from Hiyadi firing at the top of the building, keeping the sniper’s head down behind cover on the roof.
The second soldier waited for Hiyadi’s gesture and then attempted the same move. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as nimble as the first, and his roll landed him on his back in the middle of the road. Hiyadi and the first soldier were watching the top of the building and providing cover fire.
But the sniper was wise and had moved. His shot slammed into the body of the second rebel soldier lying on the street, spraying blood in a scarlet arc around him. He was dead instantly, his body quivering in a few short spasms before lying still.
“Dammit!” yelled Nomad, his anger focused on the sniper. Hiyadi and the remaining soldier worked their way into the building and began climbing the stairs to the roof. Nomad took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a brief moment, seeking his center, his calm inside. Seeking the dark sea.
Nomad sat down near the rear wheel of the overturned truck, still behind cover, but so that he could see the body of the dead rebel lying in the street. He took another deep breath and listened.
The explosive ringing of gunfire echoed from the walls of the buildings. The screaming of both the living and the soon-to-be dead wailed around him. The shouting of orders. The distant rumble of thunder and explosions. But underneath everything, Nomad heard something else.
He could hear and feel the warm stream of energy connecting it all. The energy connected the truck to the ground. It connected his rifle to his body. The energy even connected the dead body of the rebel to the street where he lay.
Nomad focused on the dead body of the young man. He asked the road and the air to release him. They agreed. The body began to float just above the ground. Then Nomad asked the air around the body to move the corpse back toward the truck. The wind agreed and the body began to float toward the truck. The dead soldier’s rifle clattered out of his lifeless hands falling to the road.
When the body was close enough to Nomad, he grabbed the man by the shoulder straps of his armor and pulled him back behind cover, releasing the wind and road.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the body. “I’m sorry you had to die so young. I’m sorry.”
“He knew what he was doing,” said Overwinter who was squatting just behind Nomad. “He knew the risks and he accepted his role. Let’s just make sure he didn’t die for nothing, my friend.”
“But he did die for nothing,” replied Nomad, frowning at Overwinter. “He died alone in the middle of a road. For nothing. What did he accomplish other than painting the road with his blood?”
“It’s only for nothing if we fail,” said Overwinter through gritted teeth. “People are always going to die, Nomad. The point is that we make sure they died for a good cause.”
“If people are dying, how can it be a good cause?” asked Nomad in a hushed voice.
“Sacrifice is never easy,” said Overwinter, relaxing somewhat, “but it’s necessary. Only through sacrifice can progress be made. What matters more is…”
“The end justifies the means? Is that what you’re going to say?” snipped Nomad.
“To a certain extent, yes,” replied Overwinter. “But what I was going to say was that it also depends on what the outcomes or goals are. I’m just saying you can’t be too hasty to judge until the outcome is decided. If the outcome is just, then perhaps the sacrifice made to achieve it was acceptable. You only know for sure once things are done.”
Nomad thought for a moment. He wasn’t sure he agreed with Overwinter, but he figured he’d drop the argument for now. Just then, Hiyadi came over the radio.
“This is Hiyadi. We have the sniper pinned down on the roof. The other squad is here. We’re working to flank him. Stand by.” After a moment, there was some gunfire and yelling from the roof. A moment later, the sniper’s body fell from the roof to the road with a sickening crunch.
“Hiyadi here. The roof is now clear,” he said over the radio, waving from the roof. Nomad waved back.
“Good work, my friend, now get back down here,” he replied. He looked at Overwinter.
“What’s next?” said Nomad.
“Next, we get the teams moving on the prison. Hopefully, we can move quickly enough so they can’t encircle us too deeply for us to escape,” said Overwinter, rapidly punching data into his command pad.
“Team Two, you’re clear to move out,” said Overwinter keying the mic on his radio.
“This is Team Two. Affirmative,” replied Hams. Nomad could see Hams motion to his team and they all ran down a side street.
Moments later, Hiyadi appeared with the other rebel soldier. The soldier had a torn sleeve where blood seeped through on his right arm. Hiyadi wasn’t even sweating.
“Shall we?” said Hiyadi, grinning.
19
The weather was changing — beginning to cloud over. Dark puffs of cloud reflected the amber-brown streetlights on their puffy, vaporous bellies. Nomad could feel the tension in the air itself like a tight water balloon ready to burst. He could smell the gray dust in the blowing wind.
Team One and Team Two split up and began running toward the prison camp as quickly as they could by leapfrogging. One squad would run ahead and provide cover while the next squad advanced.
Nomad’s team had covered several blocks this way, encountering nothing but the hollow sounds of remote gunfire. Occasionally, they would feel a rumble in the ground and hear the remote bloom of an explosion. Nomad wondered whether any of the other teams were involved in those explosions.
The streets seemed to be the same everywhere in the city. Dusty, dirty, and abandoned. Several times, Nomad saw a quickly closing window blind and felt the shivering fear of faces hiding in the dark buildings. The dark, faceless clouds continued to gather in the sky and the wind thrashed in the streets pushing loose debris and garbage around.
They finally came to a deserted intersection. The traffic lights were all either not working or had been shot out. As the first squad was crossing the intersection, gunfire zapped from both directions, cutting down two rebel soldiers and hobbling a third in the middle of the street.
“Ambush left! Ambush right!” the other squad members screamed as they grabbed the soldiers lying on the ground covered in blood.
“Give them covering fire!” yelled Nomad, dropping to the ground on his chest. He was behind cover in a set of concrete stairs leading to a small apartment building.
“This is Team One. We’re caught in an ambush with crossfire at this intersection,” Nomad said into his mic. Their locator units would tell the other teams and Overwinter exactly where they were. He watched as two more of the squad caught in the ambush were shot in the street, trying desperately to drag their comrades to safety.
He looked at his troops. They were all so young and scared-looking. They were staring in horror at the massacre in the intersection in front of them. Some of them were still just standing there.
“Dammit! Get down!” yelled Nomad. Instantly, they fell on their bellies as they had been trained.
“I’ll take a squad left,” said Telarch from somewhere behind Nomad.
“I’ll take the right,” said Hiyadi just as Overwinter came running up from behind.
“I think we’re close enough to the camp to set up a command base on this roof,” said Overwinter, gesturing to the small apartment block. The building was made of an orange plaster that reminded Nomad of the brownstones back on Earth, except there weren’t any obvious bricks. Overwinter took his three aides, kicked in the apartment block door, and thundered up the stairs.
Nomad nodded at Telarch and Hiyadi to proceed.
“Squad two with me!” shouted Telarch running across the street, his short little legs pumping furiously. His black rifle was almost as big as he was.
“Squad three with me!” yelled Hiyadi, moving carefully up the righ
t side of the street.
“Be careful, you guys!” shouted Nomad as they left, readying his rifle to provide cover fire if needed.
Once Telarch was set up behind cover on the left side of the street, he signaled Hiyadi who nodded. Both squads popped out from behind cover and poured a torrent of rounds in each direction hoping to drive the ambush force behind cover.
There was a short firefight as gunfire zapped and pinged all over the street, chipping orange and tan plaster and breaking windows. The few remaining parked vehicles were penetrated by hundreds of flying projectiles travelling in both directions. Shattered glass fragments and shards of metal flew out from the now utterly destroyed cars and trucks.
Telarch crouched with a grim, resolute look on his face. The large black rifle pressed hard into his small but broad shoulder flashed again and again. Like lightning. They were a part of the coming storm, Nomad felt.
Hiyadi was behind a concrete barrier firing at the ambushers in short, controlled bursts. His face was impassive and unflinching. He was like a force of nature. No passion. No malice. Just deadly force. He moved his rifle with a mechanical precision reminding Nomad of manufacturing robots on Earth welding cars together.
Nomad could hear the muffled sound of screams coming from the apartment block beside him. Had Overwinter encountered some resistance inside the building? Could there have been enemies inside the apartment waiting for them?
The firefight in the intersection slacked off as the gunfire slowed and then eventually stopped. Nomad could see Telarch and Hiyadi trying to see in each direction down the road without exposing themselves to fire. Nomad keyed his mic.
“Number One, this is Team One,” he said. There was a pause.
“One here,” came his reply.
“What’s going on in there? Are you able to see down either side of the intersection? Fighting has stopped for now.” Another long pause.
“Wait a moment,” came Overwinter’s voice crackling over the radio.
“This is Squad Two. They have barricades set up on my side,” came Telarch’s voice.
“This is Squad Three. Same on my side,” added Hiyadi a moment later. “I cannot tell if they are still there or not, but we should assume they are taking cover and waiting for us.”
“Agreed. Stay put and keep an eye out,” said Nomad over the radio. After a minute, Overwinter reported on the radio.
“This is One. We’ve taken the roof and I can see at least one squad of enemies in each direction. They’re reloading rifles and tending to their wounded. They might be getting ready to counterattack.”
“We need a diversion,” radioed Telarch. “Something to get their attention long enough so we can work around them. There’s cover across the street we can use on my side.”
“Acknowledged,” said Overwinter. “Listen for my fire. One out.”
Nomad heard gunfire coming from the apartment roof and saw the rounds landing down the left side toward the ambusher’s barricades. The enemy had used vehicles, trees, cement blocks, and sandbags to construct the barriers. Nomad wondered why they had picked this particular intersection.
As the assault from Overwinter’s squad continued, Telarch raced across the street to take cover behind what appeared to be a large concrete fountain standing in a rundown park. The fountain wasn’t operating, but provided ample cover from enemy fire.
The fountain looked like some kind of aquatic animal reminiscent of a dolphin, and he imagined the water sprouting from its blowhole to splash down into the wide gray pool below. Part of the dolphin’s face and fins had been chipped away in the firefight.
“Okay, we’re across now,” radioed Telarch. Nomad watched as Telarch and his squad took aim down the road toward the hastily erected barricade and began to fire on the enemy.
“I believe we could do the same on this side if we could have some assistance from above,” said Hiyadi.
“Acknowledged,” said Overwinter. More punishing fire rained down from the rooftop, this time toward the right side of the street. Nomad could hear disturbed yelling coming from the enemy on the right as they were surprised by the barrage and didn’t have as much cover as the other squad.
Hiyadi raced across the street faster than any human could run, followed by his squad who randomly fired rounds down the street at the enemy. They took cover in the park behind a large statue of the Leader, which had also been disfigured by the crossfire.
The enemy to the right was pinned down by Overwinter’s squad and couldn’t return fire. They were hunkered down behind their barricade, waiting for the rain of death to stop.
“Move up and provide cover fire!” yelled Nomad to his squad. They stood up and moved toward the intersection quickly, taking cover just around the corner of the blasted apartment building.
They fired on the barricades for what seemed to Nomad to be a long time, looking for openings, hoping to catch one of the enemies as they poked their heads out. But they never did. The enemy soldiers just stayed behind their barricades, not even bothering to return fire.
Their rounds blew showers of wood, sand, and concrete from the barricades but they were built well enough that their assault couldn’t penetrate effectively.
“This is Team One. What do we do now?” asked Nomad over the radio. “This is taking too long.” There was a long pause.
“This is One. I wanted to save this for when we really needed it, but I guess we’ll have to use it now,” replied Overwinter. “Everyone take cover and stay down.”
Aside from the remote sounds of gunfire and explosions elsewhere in the city, the street descended into relative quiet. For several long minutes, Nomad could feel deep inside that there was a tense expectation in the air. He took a deep breath and listened to the environment around him.
The street and the air told him the enemy was still hunkered down behind their barricades and were just waiting. But waiting for what? Reinforcements. They were waiting for help.
“They may have backup coming soon,” warned Nomad into his radio.
“Stand by,” replied Overwinter quickly. “Here it comes.”
As soon as Overwinter’s mic clicked, Nomad could hear something. The soft whir of a small electric engine in the air. The sound was coming from the far left behind the enemy barricade Telarch was assaulting. The buzz was high in the air and Nomad could just make it out visually. It was a drone.
He didn’t know what they called them on this world, but they called them drones on Earth. Some of them were used for simple surveillance, but others had cannons, rockets, and even bombs.
Just as the drone came into view it accelerated to attack speed, its engine roaring to life, diving at the group behind the barricade. There was some panicked shouting as the enemy squad began firing their rifles at the attack drone, but it was too late.
The drone opened fire with its two automatic cannons, tearing up the pavement in the street, creating small potholes with hundreds of deadly rounds in a steady stream of death that quickly overtook the enemy. Nomad watched as the drone flooded the enemy soldiers like a fire hose, killing several of them on the first pass.
Nomad’s squad erupted in cheers and laughter as the remaining enemy soldiers ran out of cover, desperately scampering to escape certain death. Unfortunately for them, Telarch and his squad were waiting. They opened fire on the survivors, cutting them down in the street.
The drone blasted past the intersection and strafed the barricade on the right with lightning bursts of its twin cannons, ripping through debris and sending enemies running for cover franticly trying to save their lives.
For a moment, Nomad felt sorry for these poor men. They were following orders, and now they were going to be gunned down in the streets as they ran from the whirring death in the sky. But he didn’t have time to feel remorseful for these men. People acting on orders had gotten Jorune and Yola killed. Acting on orders without thinking had gotten lots of people on Earth killed in the past, too.
“Fire!” he ordered
his squad and they all opened fire on the few remaining enemy as they poured out from behind the barricade like ants escaping a burning hive. None of the enemy took more than a few steps before falling to the pavement in a hail of retribution.
The drone quickly buzzed away over the city.
“Great work, everyone!” Overwinter sounded jubilant over the radio. “I wish we had more favors like that I could call in. Mop it up and make sure to grab any rifles and ammo or gear you need.”
The squads all broke cover for the barricades cautiously. There were a few shots ringing out through the street as they cut down the few remaining stragglers, then quiet again as they picked through the grisly remains.
Overwinter appeared on the street a moment later, a large smile on his face.
“Make sure to grab extra rifles, pistols, and ammo,” he yelled to the troops. “We might need to supply others when we get to the camp.”
Overwinter stood next to Nomad, watching as the troops quickly secured the enemy gear and took up positions in the park, ready to push on the final few blocks to the prison. He turned to look at Nomad and smiled. Then he noticed Nomad’s facial expression.
“What’s wrong?” said Overwinter, his smile sagging away suddenly.
“This,” said Nomad. “This feels wrong. Those poor soldiers didn’t have a chance. They had lives. Some of them might have had families and children. And we gunned them down in the streets. I can’t feel good about this.”
Overwinter sighed and put a long-fingered hand on Nomad’s shoulder.
“You need to understand something, Nomad,” said Overwinter, turning toward him. “These people all made the decision to fight for the Leader at some point. Sometimes, people do things that aren’t right and the only way to set things right again is for people to die.”
“There mighta been some other way though,” said Nomad, his head hanging with a hand on his forehead.
“There wasn’t,” replied Overwinter. “There wasn’t another way, Nomad. The Leader doesn’t talk to his enemies. He has their families dragged out of their homes and makes them disappear forever. Or he makes up some ridiculous charges and has them executed. This isn’t a fight over some trivial slight. This is a fight for our lives, the lives of our children, and for our freedom. You might not understand because you’re an off-worlder, but those of us here have been living in mortal fear of the Leaders all our lives. And we’ve had enough. The time for reason and talking was over a long time ago.”
