“For as long as there has been civilization, there’s has been a need for hard men who stand at the gates.”
– Sergeant Nova Astrid, 131st AFSI. 23-November-2014
Breathe in…
Breathe out…
Stop, hold it. Right there.
The shot ran out in three bursts. The rifle spoke with an unforgettable song, a song which brought men and Bane alike to their knees. He would know, he’d killed more men than he could count. But today the enemy wasn’t a human pushing religious zealotry. It was something inhuman, something he couldn’t have conjured in his darkest hour. And there had been plenty of those over the last fifteen years.
The Thrax’s chest cavity exploded as three slugs tore past the body armor. The bullets tore into flesh and bone, organs of unknown configuration to rend tear and smash the life from the living being.
He shifted his aim only slightly. An outside viewer would never have seen the movement. He was in his zen, his no thought state. He simply acted, an organic turret trained by the best special operations force to take life, but to also safe guard it- to defend it with his last dying breath.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Stop. The rifle sang thrice more, its melody washed over the Sergeant, a song as comforting as the sound of his lover’s voice in the early morning hours of a new day, when the world was still and they could be alone, finally.
He wasn’t just fighting for his own life. No. He knew his life didn’t matter past one all important objective. Keep the children alive. They were all children, kids, in his aged experienced eyes- kids who should be experimenting with love, beginning families of their own, or striving to make it in the business world.
Not fighting for the sake of their species on an alien world light years away from Earth. He had failed them, as had all uniformed people Earth over had done for their own countries. They had failed in their most sacred of charges. The survivors of that failure had fled here, to Foreas, where they continued to be hunted.
He paused to reload his weapon, ducking behind the thick composite duranium and steel alloy which served as the wall of Fort Dew.
His hands new the dance as well as the rest of his tired body- he reloaded his weapon without looking, his eyes took a moment to wander over the others in the squad he had haphazardly taken command of. They couldn’t have been any older than eighteen or nineteen, at most. Boys and girls alike, aiming down their weapon sights, trying to hold their trembling hands sill long enough to fire off a shot, let alone actually hit anything.
He closed his eyes a moment as something his Master Chief had said once upon a time drifting back from the recesses of his dark past. “I’m sorry.”
Kurt never understood what the old man had meant when he had given his tearful, honest apology. Fifteen years had changed that, and now Kurt Ambrose knew full well what his old non-com had meant. He vowed the same apology to the Hounds when, if, he ever saw them again.
It had been one thing for these kids to sign up to defend their countries voluntarily. This, this was different. Thrust into a war none of them had ever expected, that no one had ever expected.
His eyes fell on a young man cowering in the corner, his face white with terror, his eyes wide with shock. Kurt shifted his body, coming up on his knees and crouch walked over to him, keeping his head down. The constant whine-THUMP of Bane energy weapons increased, the smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils. He glanced to his left just in time to see the headless body of a young woman slump to its knees, blood gushing from where her head had once been.
Inside, Kurt felt the block of ice surrounding his soul thicken. Stay frosty. Stay Dangerous. Stay alive.
He finally made his way along the steel catwalk, past the headless corpse to the young man cowering in the corner. He wore Lieutenant bars on his BDU collar.
Raising his voice, and grabbing hold of the front of the boy’s uniform, Kurt tried to get his attention, break the choke hold shock held over the boy’s will power. “Sir! Are you hit?!”
Whiiiiiiine thump thump, more Bane weapons tore and seared at the alloy protecting the base’s interior, battering at the flimsy human construction.
“Sir! Snap out of it!” Kurt bellowed, jerking the boy closer to him, making the young man look into his eyes. “If you don’t snap outta this, kid, you’re gonna get yourself and others killed!” Eyes wide, the boy just stared into Kurt’s eyes, pleadingly.
“B..b…b..b….” he stammered.
Kurt slapped him, causing the boy to finally flinch and swallow back his own fear. This boy was obviously not Earth military, rather one of those damned AFS civvies sent to a half ass OCS program.
“Listen to me.” Kurt said, lowering voice now that he had the young man’s attention, forcing him to focus on his voice over the shouts of the other soldiers and combined weapons fire; a constant symphony of pain and death.
“What’s your name, sir?” Kurt asked, as he began to pat the boy down, checking for any wounds.
“C..c..Carter.” He stammered, his jaw working, his eyes darting to and fro in panic. He was shaking like a leaf.
Kurt nodded a moment, trying to think his way through this. Nothing really to say except the truth, is there?
“Listen, Elltee, if you don’t pick up that weapon and fire it, we’re screwed. I need you to reach inside and haul that block of ice up over your heart and just do this, okay?”
“I..I…. I’m not a soldier, man. I…. I cant do this..” Carter stammered.
Kurt grabbed the front of his uniform again and slammed him hard against the wall the boy had propped himself against, letting just a fraction of his frustration, anger, and fear seep into his voice. He took the same tone Master Chief had taken with him over a decade ago- the first time he’d been in combat. “Listen to me you little sonvabitch! You’re an officer in this abortion of a military. We’re in this for the species! Now you get your worthless ass to your feet and discharge that god damned weapon!”
Carter swallowed, tears beginning to pool in his eyes, and stream down his face. “Y..y…yessir.”
Kurt put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I know you’re scared. You’re not alone, we all are. But we’re all counting on you, son.” Kurt pulled the young man forward and popped up to his own feet, again crouch walking to the edge of the wall, where the platoon of Bane attempted to suppress the defenders on the wall, protecting those who sought to breech the main gate.
Kurt tapped the blue tooth in his ear and spoke clearly and calmly to the other defenders on the wall, overlooking the opposing forces.
“This is Sergeant Kurt Ambrose, of the 131st. Listen up you apes, I’ve got orders. Rangers, I wan—
The explosion was close, very close. The molars in the back of Kurt’s teeth ached and rang with the shockwave. His stomach clenched and he hunkered down as fire rolled up the side of the composite wall, washing his body in a suffocating heat.
Screaming, the screaming was always the same. Not screams of terror. That was different. Screams of agony, of severed limbs and death washed over the compound. Opening his eyes, Kurt was greeted with the cheery face of Private Mark Wallace. A young man who had looked up to the old soldier before the assault had begun in earnest. His eyes stared back at Kurt unblinking, dull and glossy.
He would have made a good Hound.
Kurt shifted slightly, slipping in the ever expanding pool of crimson life. He glanced up over the wall to see the enemy, half expecting, half welcoming the shot which would finally end his shameful existence.
They’ve won and the wall’s been breeched. We’re dead. We’re all dead.
The cold block in his stomach asserted itself, freezing the shock and joy which he rightfully should have felt. The explosion had not been meant for the base. It had been meant for the Bane itself. Outside, torn bodies lay scattered amongst human soldiers, soldiers who had perhaps foolishly taken the fight to the Bane, outside the walls.
Blood, a rainbow of different colors of varying species pooled together, sinking into the mire it had formed over the last few hours of the assault. What was once dry hard packed rock and dirt had become something a thick soup like mud pie of blood, gore and charred flesh.
Kurt swallowed and allowed himself to slip into the pool of blood, back behind the small overhang of the wall. His head tipped to the side to see the body of Lt. Carter lying sprawled on his back, his face melted away in a bloody smear. A distant detached part of Kurt’s mind thought it looked like god had simply taken an eraser to the young man’s face, wiping it away.
He laid silent a moment, propped against the wall, as more AFS soldiers began to swarm through the transporter pad in the middle of the base. Medics rushed to the wounded, fighting that age old foe of humanity’s. He could see by their body language that not too many had survived. He’d seen that look far too many times in his life. His heart began to ache, as the cold block of ice began to recede, leaving him open to the pain war inevitably brought with it.
He felt hands take hold of him, and saw a medic duck down into his field of vision, gold visor covering her eyes, reflecting Kurt's own battered visage back to him. She begin to speak to him silently- shouting lips moving but no sound reaching his battered ears. He sighed internally. He lifted a hand and pointed to his ears, giving the thumbs down signal. She nodded that she understood, and a moment later the prick of an injection pierced the side of his neck.
Yet again he had lived when so many others; many of them children had died. It was only a matter of time until his debt would be repaid, and then? Then, peaceful, sweet release.
Author: Ambrose
Second Place Winner: Fort Dew Fan Fiction Contest