by Mark Iles
The android turned its blank robotic gaze on them and muttered something inaudible. Mary had been working on its vocabulary for weeks but it was apparent there was still a long way to go. Moving over a foot or so, it sank down to the ground again and said, “I get tired too, you know.”
“How can you get tired, you’re a bloody android? That’s all we need,” she growled poking it with her gun, “a stroppy frigging machine that doesn’t want to fight. Haul ass, you piece of shit, or I’ll turn you into scrap metal!”
The droid’s eyes glowed sullenly as Mary poked it again for emphasis and it rose off the ground a few feet, just as the order to attack came. It turned without another word and shot straight towards the enemy, heavy beam weapons flashing.
The troops powered up their antigravity packs and leapt over the ridge, charging towards the installation.
They’d only gone a short distance when their corporal fell victim to a hovering air mine that suddenly shot towards him and exploded right next to his head, leaving Mary in charge. Bullet-like projectiles and eye-searing beams spat at them as the soldiers dodged, weaved and ran; firing and screaming loudly.
Mary issued orders curtly: “Karl, take your two men and go left. Seb, you and yours go right. The rest of you, follow me. Move it!”
Even as she spoke, the jets in their gravpacks kicked in and they were rocketing over the plateau and the emplacement, firing as they went. The droid blasted away at a structure like a tall anthill and there was a savage explosion as the building erupted. The shimmering blanket shield overhead disappeared and this time it stayed down.
Bryn fired his machine pistol at a group of alien infantry; the depleted uranium bullets punching holes straight through them, knocking them off their feet. Then the machine pistol was empty and the shotgun attached below it barked twice, shattering a surviving Manta’s carapace. Further explosions rocked the enemy position, as they ran.
A volley of homing darts, each with anti-personnel warheads, sped towards them, only to be splashed by the droid’s point defence system. In a reflex action, one of the soldiers beside them blasted the launch position into clouds of dust and, seconds later, as if in revenge, the droid crashed to the ground, reduced to molten metal.
Mary glanced at Bryn and nodded at the droid’s wreckage. “Saves me doing it,” she smirked.
Another unit rose from Bryn’s right and joined them in the attack, while a third group rose from the left, all guns blazing and droids accompanying each of them.
“Off gravpacks!” Mary yelled and as one the troops landed and shrugged them off, then raced in the direction of the enemy, firing and screaming. Although essential in the battle, the dwindling power in the packs would only have made them a burden, at least until they recharged. Bryn found the young girl who’d spoken to him earlier running beside him. Then a dart hit home and her face burst like an over-ripe fruit. Another dart flashed towards Bryn and he dived headfirst into what turned out to be a pool of mud, the weapon flying over his head and hitting someone right behind him.
“Urgh,” Bryn said, sitting up and spitting out a mouthful of mud. He wiped at his eyes but before he could stand up an immense weight slammed into his back, forcing him under again.
“Oh, sorry,” Singh said, smirking from the mud beside him, obviously relieved that his friend was still amongst the living. “Just didn’t see you down here.” Suddenly he climbed back to his feet and snatched his weapon up into the ready position. Looking around frantically, he said: “Ye gods, this place is crawling!”
Following his gaze, whilst still clearing his throat and spitting out mud, Bryn saw ghastly arm-length worms squirming away in the mire. The creatures hissed and snapped at the two men with wide fish-like mouths. But Bryn knew from his youth that they had no teeth and couldn’t harm anyone. It was all for show. A series of shattering explosions brought the two men to their senses and they climbed out of the pit. They began running, desperate to catch up with the others, and saw that most of the buildings were now in flames.
A group of Manta suddenly appeared in front of them.
Singh pulled the pin from a grenade and lobbed it. The grenade detected the enemy up on its friend-or-foe radar and, engine kicking in, it ploughed into them. Sheltering briefly behind one of the burning buildings from the deafening explosion and raining body parts, the two friends leapt to their feet and jumped over the shattered and burnt remains. Bryn squatted down and gave covering fire for a group of soldiers storming an enemy emplacement and by the time the soldiers were in the building, and he’d regained his feet, Singh was several yards in front of him. Sprinting to catch up with his team, Bryn fired short bursts from his machine pistol and didn’t even see the trench in front of him and fell headfirst into it.
Shaking his head to clear it, he watched as a hatch appeared and a chitinous head peered out.
Realising he’d lost his machine gun in the fall, Bryn quickly drew his sidearm. Pointing it at the alien, he pulled the trigger quickly, only to hear empty clicks as the hammer tried to strike cartridges that were no longer there. How the hell could he have forgotten to reload it?
The creature’s top mechanical eyes whirred and focused, the others gleaming in anticipation. A dead trooper lay next to him, a large two-handed sword sheathed across her back. Bryn dropped his pistol and grabbed the pommel, unsheathing it quickly as the creature climbed out of the hatch and lumbered across the mud and mire with mandibles and claws outstretched.
Using the sword, Bryn blocked one claw away to the left, another to the right. With a scream, he swung the weapon in a hissing arc at the heavily-armoured head, gasping in astonishment as the archaic weapon smashed through the creature’s shell and buried itself in the skull. But before he could pull it free, the Manta gripped the blade and tore it from his grasp, then dragged it free from the gaping wound and threw it aside. The creature’s maw stretched towards him and those claws and wriggling mandibles reached for his neck, grabbing and holding him firmly as he struggled to free himself.
Desperately, Bryn plunged both thumbs into one set of eyes, wrenching at the plum-sized organs. They burst, covering him in a red and green watery gore as the creature screeched and reared back in agony, dropping him. He scrambled free and grabbed his pistol; freeing a magazine, he rammed it home just in time to see the alien sliced in half by a brilliant blue beam. He breathed a sigh of relief as a soldier peered over the trench, grinned down at him and then knelt to extend a hand.
“That’s a beer you owe me, pal. Here, up you come.”
“Thanks,” Bryn replied, clambering out of the trench. He brushed himself down and holstered his sidearm. He picked up his machine pistol and reloaded it, looking about.
This battle was over, the enemy installation was wrecked and in flames.
Bryn walked slowly, cradling his weapon in his arms, searching for Singh and the others. He stared at the smoke and ruins while wiping the gore from his face and neck. White trails laced the skies as the invasion force began to land in heavier numbers, unhindered now by enemy fire. Then he turned his eyes to that distant town that had once been home.
* * * *
Bryn shouldered the machine pistol and picked up a slicer from one of the fallen. He replaced its power pack and then the two friends retrieved their discarded gravpacks and checked to see how much power they had left. Putting them on, they rose about fifteen feet from the ground and sped in the direction of the distant hills, Singh by Bryn’s side.
Unfortunately, the gravpacks gave up the ghost a few miles from their objective, so they landed and dumped them then proceeded on foot.
During the afternoon, they turned east and passed through the empty streets of a small hamlet.
“You didn’t have to come, you know,” Bryn said, their feet kicking up dust.
“Yeah, I know; but I wanted to.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my friend, you moron, and that’s what friends do. I always seem to be pulling your hairy as
s out of one fire or another; and what with these bloody things stomping about looking for a fight, you’d soon be in deep trouble without me. So I didn’t really have much of a choice, did I?”
Bryn shrugged and they continued on in silence.
Several times they passed the battered and twisted wreckage of crashed ships and the carnage of battlefields. Gunfire could be heard in the distance and aircraft roared low overhead. Armoured vehicles thundered past, their engines deafening and weapon turrets scanning constantly for the enemy. The two of them paused briefly, paying silent tribute to a pile of smouldering human corpses, the remains of an army unit that lay surrounded on all sides by thousands of fallen enemy. The dead soldiers had obviously put up a heroic fight but the superiority of numbers had told in the end, just one story in an epic tale of those who’d fought and lost.
When they finally came to Lynx, Bryn’s hometown, it was difficult to believe it had once been home to over sixty thousand people. Gone were the tall proud buildings of his youth, the long sweeping lawns and numerous sparkling fountains of clear water. The once scenic parks, through which romantic couples had strolled holding hands, were now just rotting vegetation and rubble, over which hung a pall of dark stinking smoke. It took forty minutes to find Bryn’s street, and even with the signpost it was barely recognizable. Occasionally, people he knew staggered past, their clothes in tatters and hair in disarray. He tried to talk to a few of them but they ignored him, their minds twisted or gone altogether.
Calling out the names of Bryn’s family, the two friends picked their way through the burned and shattered ruins.
It was Bryn who eventually found them.
They lay in quite an orderly fashion in a row beside the skeletal remains of their greenhouse, behind a pile of rubble that had once been Bryn’s home. Each had been neatly dissected with surgical precision and parts of them were missing. A few of the dissected limbs still had their hands and feet attached. The guts and lungs of each were missing and the contents of their skulls lay beside them, as if those responsible had been disturbed in their work. They obviously hadn’t been dead very long and, despite their torn bodies, they almost looked peaceful.
Singh took one look and retched, turned and staggered away to be sick.
Bryn clenched his fists as he gazed at the body of his younger sister, then tilted his head to the sky and screamed. As the tears cleared a path through the muck on his face, hatred and anger began to smoulder and burn deep inside him.
Sobbing, he raised his slicer, adjusted the settings and played the powerful bright-blue beam back and forth over the bodies.
Finally, nothing remained but ash. Bryn watched as the gentle wind blew it all away, leaving only scorch marks on the ground and burning embers in his heart.
****
Selena looked at him. “Then you heard that some of the enemy had been captured alive.”
“Yes, and to be honest I think I lost it. I wanted to make them pay for what they’d done. If I could have sliced them into tiny little bits while they were still alive, burning each piece before cutting off the next, I’d have done that. Singh tried to stop me, of course, but he couldn’t, and in the end he came with me. We broke in but were surprised by the guards. We knocked them out with stun guns and killed the prisoners. For that, depriving the Federation of valuable assets they called it, we both got ten years and were assigned to the Penal Battalions. It seems they needed pilots too.”
Selena picked up her cup and blew the steam from it. “Life can be a bitch, sometimes.”
“Yup, you’re right there. I can’t help wondering if they were alive when they were cut up. The thought that my sister saw our parents die, with the awful knowledge that the exact same thing was going to happen to her, haunts me even now. I keep wondering if she called my name as they butchered her.”
“You can’t dwell on such things; thoughts like that only lead to madness.”
Bryn nodded slowly as he stared into his cup. “I know you’re right but...”
Watching him carefully, her eyes narrowed, she said, “So how did you feel when the enemy recaptured your planet and, rather than give the enemy territory, Theta was destroyed along with all those millions of people still on it. Any surviving friends and family you might have had, and those people you fought alongside, are all gone now. Your home world’s no more, Lieutenant. Your friends and family are all dead.”
Bryn whitened and clenched his fists. A pain rose deep in his chest and for a moment he didn’t say anything at all. Then he breathed in deeply and said, “I didn’t know about Theta’s destruction, Commander. But I’d rather it was blown to hell than allow the enemy to have it. He leaned forward, placing his hands carefully on the desk, and gazed at her intently. “You know that you’ll be hard pushed to find a better team of pilots than Singh and me. We’re the best and you know it, or we wouldn’t be here. All I want to do is kill the enemy, every last one of them. I’d happily strangle their babies and enjoy doing it. That’s why this mission is so important to me. We have a chance to stop this happening to anyone else, and I want to be part of that. We know what’s at stake, and we’re behind this mission one hundred percent.”
“That’s what I needed to hear,” Selena replied, her searching gaze locking onto his. “I’ll contact the Commodore and tell him that I no longer have any objections. You’re in, as far as I’m concerned — both of you. Just don’t screw up on me; because if you do, I will personally kick the living shit out of you. Oh, and when we’re on our own, call me Selena, not Ma’am.”
Bryn gave her a wry smile. “Selena, you have my word.” He wondered what turn of fate had made those stunning blue eyes so ice-like. Her steely demeanour drove home her words. He knew she wasn’t someone to mess with and for some reason that comforted him. “Thank you,” he added, for once unable to think of anything else to say. Standing, he licked his lips, then simply turned and walked away.
* * * *
On the final day before departure, Selena led them back from their last pack-laden run, to the showers and finally to the coffee lounge, as she usually did. Those serving in the Penal Corps had no personal items at all, including civilian clothing. Their matt black uniforms were always impeccable and often used as meal tickets, as they rarely paid entrance fees to cinemas or nightclubs. They’d been visiting local restaurants, where they received discounted, or free, meals and often complimentary drinks, for one glance at their apparel was enough to quell any disturbances from other visitors and the establishment owners had quickly caught on to this. They were more than happy to provide free services, rather than pay damages or hospital fees for their staff, even if the commandos were seated at the least desirable tables. Over the past few days the others had noticed that Selena had been taking more than usual care of her appearance, and had all passed comment on it.
Bryn looked up as Selena arrived. Noticing her well brushed now shoulder length hair, he said with a smirk upon his face. “Hey, look who’s finally arrived; we were just about to send out a search party. You’re looking good, Ma’am.”
“Go jump out of an airlock, Bryn; a lady has to look her best.”
“For a coffee shop?”
“For any shop. I hope you’re all packed and ready. The Magellan is our ride to the Dutch Lady and she leaves early tomorrow morning. She’s a small, fast ship on the far side of the spaceport. I want us all settled onboard this afternoon and our transport leaves in two hours. I thought it might be a good idea for us to meet up at Hugo’s later on, so we could have a few drinks and unwind before the ship leaves. That’s the first bar we went to last night. It’s just down the road from the spaceport gates.”
“Ma’am, I’m going to the opera tonight but I can meet you afterwards,” Arthur said, his long fingers fluttering and drumming on the table. “It’s Cassidy himself, conducting his Venus At Midnight. It’s got rave reviews and I managed to wangle a ticket. I’m sure I can get extra ones, if anyone’s interested?”
“I t
hink I’m going to throw up,” Za’an muttered.
Samantha said nothing. She simply leant back in her chair and munched on a bizarre looking piece of fruit, like a cross between a potato and a lump of dough. Every now and then she’d turn and spit pips at a marine regular who was sitting at the next table. The man never said a word, although he got redder with every pip until they all thought he’d explode. Finally, he drove back his chair and silently strode out, much to Samantha and Za’an’s amusement.
“What time, around eight-thirty?” Singh enquired.
They all agreed, except Arthur who said he’d turn up at the end of the performance, and so they returned to their rooms and packed their bags.
* * * *
The night air was sharp with frost and fragrant with the tangy scent of blood-flowers, a plant that survived no matter what the weather and whose crimson petals wept a red sap when cut. The stars overhead stood out in startling profusion, like a sea of eyes looking down and watching the man who waited so patiently in the alley below.
Za’an coughed slightly as the cold air tickled his lungs, breath forming small white clouds as he looked at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. They were late. The woman had said the people he was waiting for should be here around seven-thirty, and it was now eight. She’d also said they’d probably go for a meal in their usual restaurant, at a set time. They might take their usual route back but they would be walking. So much for that, there were far too many hypotheticals for his liking.
He wondered if she’d employed others, such as him, to lie in wait in shadowy alleyways around the spaceport, echoing his activities this night. If she had, and one of those fulfilled Za’an’s task, then the woman herself would feel his ire. Suddenly he heard faint footsteps and the tinkle of a woman’s laughter. His breath quickening, he slipped further into the shadows.
