Hard Corps

by Paul Mannering

  The two men sat in silence and Erik waited for Malber to continue.

  “How does the story finish?” he asked eventually.

  “That’s it,” Malber said with a half shrug.

  “Okay.” Erik went back to watching the flickering shadows beyond the firelight.

  “You don’t have any thoughts on the story?”

  Erik frowned. “The rulers changed the way things were. It is what rulers do.”

  “This is true,” Malber nodded. “The ebad, they had never known anything but servitude. When they were offered freedom, they were afraid.”

  “That makes sense. Why change the way things are meant to be.”

  “Things are not meant to be that way. People are not meant to be ebad. No man should have such control over the life of another.”

  Erik’s hand caressed the flank of his rifle in an almost unconscious gesture. “With this rifle, I control the lives of many. With my training and rank in the ranks, I control the lives of every trooper under my command. That is the way things should be.”

  “Man, you are ezayen.” Malber chuckled and his tone suggested it was the kind of putdown Erik expected from his comrades.

  “I need to get back to my squad.” Erik stood. “Thank you for the hot food.”

  “You know how they convinced the ebad to leave their masters?” Malber asked.

  “Is it part of the story?”

  “The law makers went to the ebad and told them that if they accepted their freedom, they would be given everything they needed to stand alongside their former masters as equals.”

  “That would make sense,” Erik replied.

  “It worked. The ebad walked away from the homes they had known, the families they had grown up with, the fields and factories they had worked. In return, they were given houses of their own. Jobs and education. Everything their masters took for granted was given to them.”

  “I will come back with support personnel. Medical supplies, food and better defenses.” Erik headed towards the exit.

  Malber watched the trooper go. His father had been the first-born child of ebad parents when they were given their freedom. Malber heard the stories from his father. After their freedom, the ebad were crammed together in cheap and segregated housing. Crime escalated, and they found themselves competing for jobs that they had previously done by birthright. Sickness and drug abuse became a problem. Within a generation, those who had been ebad were lost and dying. People like Malber’s parents were the lost generation. The outcome of a social experiment in freedom that had unfortunate side effects.

  Not that any of it mattered anymore.

  A woman took a seat next to Malber at the fire.

  “I am sorry for the loss of your son, Sara-sha,” Malber said, his eyes fixed on the low flames.

  “Thank you. I will not allow my grief to compromise our work.”

  “Do not allow our work to compromise your grief,” Malber countered.

  Sarah-sha wrapped a dusty wrap tighter around her shoulders. “I do not believe it is wise to allow the outsiders to much contact with us.”

  “I agree, Sara-sha. We knew this day would come and we have prepared for it. We will continue digging. Once we reach the temple, we will be free.”

  III

  Silian glanced back as Erik approached. The trooper’s silhouette fading against the dying light of the day.

  Erik sank down and scuttled to Silian’s side.

  “Stat-rep,” he ordered.

  “Second Helos ship came in. Same landing cords. We have forty-five minutes of light remaining.”

  “The others?”

  “They have followed orders.” For Silian, following orders was a statement of fact.

  “Hup. Let’s move.” Erik broke cover and headed up the tunnel to the surface, Silian following on his heels.

  They took cover at the surface, waiting and watching like timid burrowers, scanning for predators before leaving their nest.

  “First Trooper Erik. Clix, you copy?”

  “Copy.” Clix’s response was immediate and crisp.

  “First and Silian are on track. Confirm lock.”

  “Shall I transmit cords to your HUD?” Clix asked.

  “Neg. The trooper is aware that First Erik’s HUD is snaff.”

  “All troopers must maintain equipment in operational state. If a trooper is unable to ensure operational status of equipment, trooper may be required to relinquish squad position or be re-assigned.”

  Erik reminded himself not to respond. Not to lose control. Not to show weakness.

  Silian tapped him on the shoulder and pointed with a gloved hand into the deepening gloom. Erik silently cursed his damaged helmet and squinted at the shadows. A shape moved between to spires of broken wall.

  “Squad, First Erik. Eyes on Zaran. Silian, transmit cords.”

  “Received,” Clix replied a moment later. “We are inbound.”

  The Zaran was larger than the usual troops. From tip to tip, its tentacles spanned twenty meters. Erik watched the thing as it lifted itself up and moved to their right.

  “Clix, be advised. Eyes on Zaran that is bigger than I’ve seen before. It’s gonna be a shit to put down.”

  “Received and understood.” To survive, Clix would have to prove herself in battle as Erik and others had done before her. Erik waited to see what she would do next.

  “AC Axander, First Erik. Copy?”

  “First Erik, copy.”

  “We are almost on you. Request stat update.”

  “Zaran on our sight line. A big one. Advise two Helos ships landed half-click ahead.”

  “Confirmed. Your call on art strike.”

  “Confirmed. Hold for art strike coordinates and go. I say again, hold for go.” The comms channel clicked off. Erik watched the Zaran moving until it was almost out of sight.

  “First Erik, Trooper Clix, copy?”

  “Trooper Clix, copy.”

  “What is your attack plan?”

  “First?” Clix couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

  “Trooper Clix, you are lead on squad until we regroup. What is your attack plan?”

  “First, I…”

  ”Target is moving on vector oh-nine, trooper. What is your attack plan?”

  Clix hesitated for a moment. “First, squad will move to engage in pattern rome-e-oh. Request orbital strike on target cords.”

  “Negative on orbital. Assets are out of strike window. Try again, Clix.”

  “Armored Command. Uh, request AC Axander provide artillery support.”

  “Trooper Clix, contact AC Axander. Advise target cords and target specs.”

  Erik listened in silence as Clix made her transmission. Axander’s response came through his headset.

  “AC Axander, art request confirmed. Holding for go.”

  “Trooper Clix, AC Axander, you are go for art strike.”

  ”Neg on strike command, Trooper. First authorization required for go,” Axander replied.

  “First Trooper Erik to AC Axander. Adjust strike cords, zero point four on bearing zero-nine. You are go for art strike. I say again, you are go for strike.”

  “AC Axander, copy. We are go for strike.”

  Silian sank into a crouch as the deep cough of the armored command weapons firing echoed across the broken city. Erik remained standing until the flash lit the sky. Then he dropped and hugged the ground that rippled like water with the detonation of high-explosive shells.

  IV

  Debris fell like hailstones, pattering across the ground in a swarm of disembodied feet. Erik covered his head as the raining shrapnel struck him and drew blood.

  “Stand by for visual,” Erik transmitted. Standing, he moved forward through clouds of swirling smoke and choking dust. The artillery barrage had left a field of craters, and chunks of Zaran meat quivered in the dirt.

  “First Erik, AC Axander, visual confirmation of effective strike. Target nuked.”

  “Copy.”r />
  “First, squad regroup at strike cords.”

  Silian and Erik marched over the churned ground. The remaining members of the squad came into view, moving in the recon pattern Clix had ordered.

  They walked through the drifting smoke, Erik and Silian taking their positions in the squad formation and covering their points.

  “What is that?” Clix broke radio silence, and Erik was too surprised by the view to reprimand her. In a freshly ploughed field pitted with impact craters, the remains of alien structures and ships burned.

  Erik had never seen a Helos troop encampment. In his experience, all of them, from the lumbering Skivs to the tentacled Zaran, were a mobile force. Dropped to the surface of a planet in great numbers, they attacked everything around them until they were destroyed or recalled.

  Something had been built here since the orbital bombardment had destroyed the city. The ringed complex of low structures and high defensive walls looked entirely different to the surrounding ruins.

  “First Erik, AC Axander, you copy?”

  “AC Axander, I copy.”

  “The Helos were building something there.”

  “Hor’shit.”

  “I’m certain.” Erik watched the ground carefully. Too many of his troopers had been taken by vanguards of Zaran buried in the earth after an artillery barrage. “What’s your ETA?”

  “Open your ears, First. We are on approach.”

  Erik didn’t bother reminding Axander that his helmet with its range of sensors and HUD readouts was hanging, cracked and dead, from his belt.

  After a few seconds of intense listening, he heard the grind and whirr of the armored vehicles closing in. “Clix, confirm approach to Armor Commander Axander.”

  “Hup,” Clix replied.

  The squad moved into position, taking cover in the nearest shell craters. The armored bulk of the tanks crested the rubble and drove down into the smoking remains of the Helos encampment.

  “Would you look at that.” Axander sounded amused. It was the closest he would come to admitting that Erik was right.

  “We have to report this,” Erik replied.

  “Uploading full sensor sweep to the network now.”

  “Squad, any movement?” Erik raised his head and gave the land ahead the once-over as his squad reported back in the negative.

  The armored artillery vehicles rolled to a halt, puffing steam as their drive systems vented heat against the dark ground. Where the vapor hit the churned-up dirt, something moved and Erik shouted his warning a moment too late.

  Under the right track of Axander’s armored vehicle, the ground liquified, dropping the heavy machine on its side. A gelatinous goo flowed up over the armored panels and quickly engulfed the rest of the machine. Erik’s squad opened fire immediately, their steady blast of rounds doing nothing to stop the flow.

  Axander’s vehicle fired its weaponry. Flashes of light and the burning heat of superheated plasma melted the ground to dark glass.

  In seconds, the tank was dragged underground, leaving a geyser of mud spraying skyward in its wake as the weapons fire continued to rend the dirt and the air.

  Erik ignored the screams and chatter filling his head piece with noise. Across the bombed ground other pits opened up and the remaining vehicles were swallowed whole by massive, amoeba-like forms.

  “Squad, pull back! Pull back!” The vehicles were lost and this enemy could not be harmed by rifle fire and grenades. Erik waited till the last of his people had retreated outside the crater rim then followed them.

  “What the fuck was that?!” Clix demanded.

  “Your enemy,” Erik replied.

  “AC Axander! Do you copy!?” Clix ignored Erik and transmitted on the open frequency.

  Erik strode over to where she stood and wrenched open the seals on the trooper’s helmet. Pulling it off, he exposed Clix; Straight black hair and dark eyes filled with terror and shock.

  “Are you afraid, Trooper Clix?”

  “Axander and the others—they are gone!”

  “Yes. They are dead. You are alive. You want to die too?”

  Tears welled and fell across Clix’s cheeks. “No, First Trooper!”

  “Then remember your dead. If you want to honor them, remember your training. Remember your enemy. And most of all, remember your hatred. Fuel your inner fire with it. Unleash that anger that grief and that fear on each enemy you find. Kill them with your rifle. With blades. With rocks. With your fucking bare hands if you must. But do not let your friends die for nothing!”

  Clix’s face went still as if a mask had slid down. “I understand, First Trooper. I will know the enemy and I will kill the enemy.”

  Erik nodded; he had seen this before. The moment when the inexperienced broke through the wall of their fear and at last became soldiers.

  He handed the trooper’s helmet back to her. “You’ll get your chance soon enough.”

  The vast distances between stars were an obstacle humanity had only managed to conquer by traveling at speeds close to the absolute of light. Generations were kept in a hibernation close to death for hundreds of years as they crossed the dark void between stars with the dream of arriving on a new world and making it their own.

  Many did not arrive, destroyed by debris impact and systems malfunctions. Or they simply disappeared.

  Those that did put down roots and became the seedlings of the expanded human civilization. Over centuries they spread from star system to star system, refining their technology and embarking on what the optimists foresaw as a new golden age for the species.

  Then humanity made contact with the Helos and their extinction was unavoidable.

  Noshi isolated the feelings of grief and loss washing over her. The data stream filled her senses, sensations and noise. Light and ever-changing patterns. All of it revealing the past and, if analyzed closely, probabilities for the future.

  Pizak would disapprove of her emotional response. But he was distant from her now, and she flowed in the embrace of the network. Her physical form reduced to data that would fill a fresh version of herself at her destination. The thought did not concern her. Pizak had taught her the truth of energy; everything was energy. It could be transformed, reshaped, and transferred, but never destroyed.

  As energy she had been transformed and now transferred across light-years from Pizak’s world to one of the front lines of the war against the Helos.

  Pizak called her the Herald. One who would be remembered in the Bwalla, the Diorite archive of all knowledge. Her future actions would have an effect.

  Chapter 9

  You are coded, Noshi.

  I am.

  The probability of your arrival was indicated by Pizak.

  He has been my teacher and guide.

  Do you have understanding of your purpose.

  I do.

  Rise and be Noshi.

  Noshi sat up slowly. Her limbs felt familiar and strong. She found the darkness comforting, blinking a couple of times to assure herself they had not restored her sight in this replication of her body.

  Clothing has been prepared to suit your form.

  My gratitude.

  Noshi felt along the edge of the soft bench she had lay on. Fabric, familiar shapes of clothes and boots. She dressed and took stock of her surroundings.

  The room was identical to the one she had left—when? A second? A year? She had no reference for the time of her travel, so she dismissed the speculation.

  Without appetite, Noshi ate food from a dispenser, identical in function and texture to her last meal. After eating, she meditated, bringing to mind the lessons Pizak had taught her and always seeking further wisdom.

  I am Kulf’k

  I acknowledge you, Kulf’k.

  It is accepted that you will leave this facility now. Transport to the planetary surface awaits you. It is understood you are skilled in the operation of mechanical transportation.

  I have been trained.

  Relocate as you will.


  Noshi felt the light touch of the Diorite’s consciousness retreat and once again she was alone. She took a few moments to put away the thoughts and mediation patterns laid out in her mind. Only when she was conscious and fully aware of her surroundings again did she move toward the door.

  Navigation through Diorite structures required her to use the knowledge gained through long hours of intense study. While the Diorites had evolved to utilize a range of sensory organs, Noshi had always been blind and for her, touch, sound, and scent were her primary detectors of the world.

  A sense of enhanced probability guided her around a corner. She felt the presence of many Diorites ahead, though they chose not to acknowledge her, for which Noshi was grateful. To exchange with so many would be distracting.

  She entered a vast chamber and walked down a row of shuttle vehicles. They were shaped in various sizes, each for a different purpose. She hesitated when the probability seemed strongest.

  I am to pilot this vessel.

  This is confirmed.

  My gratitude.

  Noshi ran her hand along the sleek flank of the craft as she walked its length. It felt the size of similar craft she had flown with room for a single pilot and scant space for anything else.

  The hatch on the ship opened at her touch and she ducked inside. The vehicle hummed and the automated systems guided her out of the hanger and into a vast emptiness. Patterns swirled in Noshi’s mind; she focused on the references to Erik.

  Pizak could give her no directive. He had provided her with the data and training to interpret the inherent probabilities across a universe of potential futures.

  Noshi often questioned if her actions were her own, or were the probabilities were pre-determined? Pizak had no answer, guiding her to focus on the interplay of Ka’tharsis and the endless kaleidoscope of probability.