by J. A. Scorch
"Copy that," Smith said, his voice deflated.
"Now shut the hell up and engage the enemy."
Over the next three hours, Porter put every one of the cadets through their paces. No one managed to kill a single drone, even with the scenario set on the lowest difficulty.
Briggs arrived in the control room and headed over to Porter. "What a rough bunch."
"You're not wrong. Three hours and none of them have achieved anything even remotely useful."
"Don't stress, man," Briggs said, slapping his arm. "We have all week."
Porter shook his head at the thought. "How are your lot going?"
"Even worse. I don't understand how they graduated. Times have changed. Back when we went through flight school, one mistake and your CO grilled you for the next month. Now, they are just letting any old asshole through."
Porter snickered. "Yeah, I love it. Here we are trying to train preschoolers to be pilots. I've never seen the MAF so desperate for a victory in the entire three years of this crap. What I don't understand is why the sudden push to attack the Zeal? We should be spending time training these kids to do it right."
"I know," Briggs said. "The Zeal will never strike us until we make a play at Earth. We should be using that to our advantage."
Porter nodded, staring off at nothing. One of the cadets caught his attention on the display. "Smith. You're dead. Again. That's number three by my count."
"Copy that."
"Jesus," Porter said as he noticed Rodriguez coming up fast on Smith's tail. "Rodriguez. Check your trajectory. You're too close to Smith."
"Sir," Rodriguez said. "I'm losing control of thrust. The lever is jammed open."
Porter brought up the cadets’ systems. "I'm not reading any errors on my end. No, wait. You've got the thrust lock on. Disengage now."
"Roger that."
"Damn these rookies," Briggs said. "They wouldn't know their asses from their faces. Seriously, how are we going to pull this off? At this rate, we'd be lucky if one in twelve survives five minutes during the actual assault."
"Total bullshit, but what can you do? We need to do what we can to push these kids through it. Simple as that."
"If they don't kill each other in training first. You've got two overlapping in the patrol. If they don't spread out now, there will be a few dead pilots to send home."
Porter shouted down the comm at the two cadets about to crash. Before he finished ranting at them, Rodriguez cut in.
"Sir, the thrust is stuck again. I can't seem to unlock the damn thing."
Porter rubbed his forehead with enough pressure he swore he could sense his brain throbbing in his head. "It's very simple, Rodriguez. Press the two side buttons on the left most hands-on-thrust lever. If you don't do that, the—"
Porter never finished giving his instructions as the two cadets collided with one another. While Rodriguez had been fumbling with his thrust, Smith had decided to sweep to the left. The two interlocked wings for a moment and snapped their ships in two. Alarms blazed over the control console.
"Smith. Rodriguez. Report, dammit."
"Oh, shit," Briggs said as he and everyone else in the room saw the two fighters explode. "They must have pierced the fuel line."
Porter breathed a slight sigh of relief when he spotted both cadets clear of the explosion. They were ejected automatically by their X90s. "This is Lieutenant Porter. I need a retrieval team immediately. We have two spaced cadets." He repeated the message for good measure and checked on the two shaken pilots.
"Smith. Rodriguez. Sit tight. The rescue ships will scoop you up in a few minutes."
"I'm sorry, sir," Smith yelled, babbling like a child. "It was a mistake. I didn't see him coming, sir. I—"
"Hold your tears. You and Rodriguez are off the ship the second you get back. Porter out."
He tossed his comm to the console and stared up at Briggs, shaking his head in the process. "How are we ever supposed to win this war? We've got more cadets than pilots out there while the Zeal continue to dismiss our credibility."
Briggs moved past Porter and sat down in an empty chair. He let out a long huff and faced his wingman. "Don't wash those two idiots out."
"What? You can't be serious?"
"Think about it. If you put them back into the cockpit, they'll both possess a far greater respect for the machine they just destroyed."
"Command won't go for it. They'll want blood."
"Maybe. Or maybe asses in seats is more important. I mean, they could have grounded us for our last mission, but here we are training cadets."
Porter spun his seat away from Briggs as he thought about everything. His wingman was right. Command would bitch and moan but give in after a few minutes.
"Fine. I'll keep them in the air, but they need to be punished for this. I can't allow these jackasses to crash a Stalker every day of the week."
Briggs threw his hands up in defense. "I'm all for it. Give them something embarrassing. Hell, make them pay back the damage to the MAF. Just don't ground them. Let them learn from this. I guarantee they'll come out the other side on top."
Porter stood after a few moments of silence. He grabbed the hands-free comm and reconnected to Smith and Rodriguez, telling them to report directly to him once they were cleared by Medical. He sat back down. "You better be right about this."
Briggs hopped up in a hurry. "You know I always am. When am I ever wrong? I'll see you later." He walked out of the control room before the discussion continued.
Alone, Porter wished he could be out flying his Stalker.
Chapter Nineteen
After a thirty-minute trek through the sewers heading in the opposite direction of Mish and Moreno, Teve moved closer and closer to the Zeal base. The trip was taking longer than anticipated as he hit a few pockets of knee-high water along the out-of-service tunnel.
With no signs of the Zeal or anything remotely similar to their infrastructure, he couldn't help but wonder how the aliens could leave such a glaring gap in their security. If he made it back to the Humvee, he swore he would march a nuclear bomb right down the middle of the sewer to the front of the Zeal base and detonate it at close range. Despite the minor dent the blast would cause to the alien's overall control, Teve couldn't picture a better way to go out, sticking it to the invaders with the ultimate act of defiance.
Fifteen minutes ticked by on his e-slate. He checked the timer every few breaths to see how long it was going to take him to return to his fire team. Four hours now seemed like too short of a time to complete the crazy task of scouting out a potential entry into the Zeal base.
A narrow section of the sewer network splintered off into a perfect Y up ahead, bringing Teve to a stop. "Serious?" he blurted out loud as he pulled up his digital map. He ran a finger along to trace his current route and found the Y broke off into even more sub-sections of the system. Before he figured out the correct path to take, something jabbed into the side of his head.
"Don't move," said a hushed voice.
Teve sensed the cold metal of a sidearm press into his temple. He turned his head slightly toward the male voice.
"I said not to move."
"Okay, I—"
"Don't speak either. It's bad enough you're stomping around here making a racket; don't force me to keep you quiet."
In the dark of the tunnel, Teve raised his arms and could recognize a figure to his left holding a gun to his head. A man in a hood and several layers of clothing sat up on the edge of the sewer. The guy had hidden himself so well. No one would have ever noticed him waiting there, ready to strike.
"I'm sorry for the noise," Teve said in a hushed voice. The weapon jabbed a little harder into his head.
"What did I say?"
"Just listen. I'm a soldier of the United Earth Forces. I've come down here on a reconnaissance mission to scout out any entry points into the Zeal base."
The man chuckled and lowered the gun for a moment. "You think there's a safe way to get ins
ide their lair through here? Well, let me fill you in on a few details, soldier." The man stepped out from Teve's side and crossed in front of him. He pointed the pistol up through the fork in the road Teve was about to take. "That pathway up there leads to nothing but death and despair."
Teve dropped his arms. "What do you mean?"
The man moved closer to him and put the gun into his belt. "It's simple: you go that way, you die. And death is the better outcome, trust me." The lone figure angled his head toward the tunnel.
Teve took note of his ticking hands and nervous shuffle. If he wanted to, he could swing his rifle around and pull his weapon on the distracted person, but something about the stranger's agitated state told him doing so would only result in a shootout.
"Why are you here?" Teve asked.
A chuckle came from the man as he shook his head. He stepped further into the light and lowered his hood. "I could ask you the same question, but you already gave me an answer, didn't you? Of course, I don't know whether you're telling me the truth or if you are one of them."
"One of them?"
"Yes, one of them. The Zeal. How do I know you're not one of their creations, huh? One of their experiments. Tell me now, soldier."
Teve's eyes lowered to the man's shaking hands, seeing them work their way down to the weapon tucked into his belt. "Look, I—"
The pistol came out again.
"You are one of them. I can see it in your eyes." The man stepped closer to Teve with every new accusation. "They made you perfect, didn't they? Down to the last detail, down to the last strand of hair."
The gun was almost touching Teve's head when he made his move. In a blink of an eye, he snatched the piece free from a shaky grip and stepped back to bring the sidearm up to the man's face. He didn't flinch.
"Go ahead. Pull the trigger. You'll send a dozen Stiltz down here from multiple angles. You might as well put a bullet in both of our heads."
"Stop with the bullshit," Teve said. "I don't want to hear it. Now tell me what you're doing here and what you meant before about experiments."
The man stepped to the side and sat down on the small edge of the sewer tunnel. He plonked down hard and ran both hands over his head with rough motions. "The Zeal. That's why I'm down here. Something pissed them off up above. A gunfight. Probably you guys. When the shooting begins, I run down here and hide until things go back to normal."
"You still live in the city? Why? It's not safe."
"Safety is irrelevant. I can't leave this place. They thought of that. They thought of everything."
"Who are you talking about?"
The man stood as his brows contorted in the little light Teve's shouldered rifle provided. "The Zeal. Who else?"
"I don't understand."
"Of course you don't, soldier. You're on the side of freedom and justice. You wouldn't recognize the truth if it bit you in the face."
Teve shook his head as he lowered the pistol, ready to give up and head back to the Humvee.
"Still don't get it?"
"No."
"Have to spell it out to you. The Zeal are turning us against each other, capturing us alive, making us become their soldiers, changing us into their children."
Taking a step back, Teve felt his mouth trying to speak as he began to understand the man's nonsense. "Are you saying they are converting the captured soldiers into their own?"
A slow nod confirmed Teve's question. "They don't just convert you; they take everything about you and destroy it. Only then can your mind adapt to their ways."
Still shaking his head, Teve let a certain level of rationality back into his brain. Clearly, the stranger had spent too much time down in the sewers and had gone insane. Still, he wanted to learn more. "How do you know this?"
The lone man stepped closer with a smirk on his face. He rolled up his sleeves and showed Teve what he was talking about. A series of purple wires and metallic implants stuck out of his arms resembling the Zeal construction seen around the city.
"I was one of their prisoners. I was going to become their soldier. I am their slave." The man bared his teeth.
Teve lifted the weapon back up as the stranger lunged at him. He went to fire but chose to strike his attacker with the handle of the pistol as the man bore down on top of him. The stranger covered in Zeal technology fell sideways to the sewer floor, splashing in the foot of water running through the tunnel.
"I am their slave. I can never leave this city."
"What the hell are you on about?" Teve asked as he swung his rifle around. He put the flashlight into the man's eyes and saw his irises were both purple. "What the?"
"Humanity is doomed, understand? We are no more. The Zeal are our saviors. Bow down and face your masters while you still have a chance."
Teve shifted on the spot as he heard a commotion up ahead. The man's shouting had stirred some Stiltz into action. They were heading straight for them.
Chapter Twenty
With a twelve-hour day behind him, Porter turned in for the night and hit his rack hard. The training was taking its toll on his already fatigued mind. Command ripped him apart as soon as the two cadets had been retrieved from space, earning him another strike against his name. Under normal circumstances, the crash landing and cadet mishap would have sent him home with a dishonorable discharge. But now, with the Zeal assault looming over everyone's head like a swinging dagger, Porter had full immunity. Briggs was right.
When the cadets returned to him in the control room, he blasted them for five minutes and refused to let them speak. Every word out of their mouths won them an extra hour of latrine duty on top of the six hours he assigned them. Once they reached ten hours, the cadets remained silent.
He was about to fall asleep when Cannon hit him up on his field tablet. Porter answered her call, knowing what she was after. He couldn't help himself, despite wanting sleep more than anything else. He unlocked the door to his room and waited a few minutes for her to arrive.
She dove into his bed and shoved her tongue down his throat, undressing in the process. Fifteen minutes later, they were finished and half dressed.
Porter sat back and watched her put the rest of her clothes on. "How did your training sessions go?"
Cannon continued straightening her fatigues with a smile and said, "Better than yours, I'm guessing. I heard about your cadets destroying two Stalkers in one afternoon."
"No doubt it's a record," he said. "It was a complete screw-up. I wanted to wash them both out, but Briggs convinced me otherwise."
Cannon pursed her lips for a moment in thought. "Probably was the right move. I mean, sure, they'll most likely die during the assault given their lack of ability, but the experience might give them a fighting chance. Then again, we all might be screwed as it is."
He sat up in the bed. "What do you mean?"
"Well, think about it. We're throwing everything into this campaign. If we fail, if the MAF loses everything to this battle, then Mars is next."
"There are defenses around Mars, though. Surely the Zeal couldn't punch through them."
"Come on, Porter. We can both see these aliens aren't fighting with everything they've got. They push us back without even seeing our faces. We're like small children trying to shove over a gorilla. One strike and we're dead."
He sighed. "Not sure how you worked a gorilla into your argument, but I get it. Part of me wants to believe everything will be okay, but really, we don't comprehend what the Zeal are capable of."
"Guess we'll find out together, won't we? In six and a half days, we put our cards on the table."
Porter nodded as Cannon went to leave. He thought about her words and realized something. "Wait." He stood and walked over to her on bare feet.
"What?" She asked as he moved in and kissed her on the lips while grabbing hold of her waist. "I need to tell you something, and I just want you to listen."
Cannon's brows pulled in tight as her forehead wrinkles all thickened up. He recognized she would
n't want to hear his next words, but he needed her to know.
"I care about you ... a lot. This thing we have, whatever it is, I want it to move past something physical and evolve."
"Porter, I—"
"I know what you're going to say, so hear me out. You don't want to get hurt. You don't want to fall in love with a dead man or inflict the same kind of pain back to another person."
"No, I don't. This is why I have rules, Porter, and right now, you are ruining everything we had going for us, so thanks a lot." She pulled away and reached for the door button.
"One week," he said. "In one week, you and I will either be dead or kicking the Zeal out of Earth's orbit. If we both make it through and survive, take a chance on me. If we can beat the odds and live through one of the most important battles in human history, that has to mean something."
Cannon went to speak, but nothing came out. Her hand reached for the door button and slapped it hard. The hatch opened with a hiss, and she walked straight out without saying another word.
Porter let the door shut itself as his head fell in defeat. He dropped to his rack in a heap and knew he wouldn't sleep a wink.
Chapter Twenty-One
Teve grabbed hold of his new friend and dragged him backward through the sewer tunnel. He avoided grabbing him above the wrist, uncertain what the Zeal tech would do if he came into direct contact with it.
"You need to be quiet," he whispered to the man, still unsure of his name.
"They're coming for you, soldier," the stranger said for the third time. "They want you for their cause."
"Shut the hell up. No one is capturing me, got it? Now tell me how to get to a safe hiding place before they find us."
The man's eyes lit up. "I know a perfect place up ahead."
Rolling his eyes, Teve realized the individual had snapped out of his pro-Zeal mindset and back to survivor mode. He had no idea which personality to trust or if either one had existed before the invasion.
