Soul at War (4 page)

I'd been billeted on deck six along
with the most recent troopers that had been picked up from several
planets along the way. Most had a similar story to tell, de-mobbed
usually on medical grounds, now conscripted before their contracts
ran out.

"I'd been injured during midnight
raids on Telsa III, been laid up for over a year now. Didn't think
I'd be back at all. But when we heard about Zion, well, I was glad
to be picked," said a young Private, Aaron Green. He was a stocky
bloke, cropped blonde hair and tattoos up and down his arms. Most
were the names of wars fought. He'd racked up four already. "Of all
the conflicts I've been a part of, this one seems... right, but I
couldn't tell you why." We'd been talking since breakfast and I got
the impression he didn't get on with the others, they made a
concentrated effort to avoid sitting next to him in the mess hall.
"So have you seen any combat?"

"A little," I replied. I wasn't
wearing my stripes, I was just starting to get used to the new
outfits, which had changed over the last six years. My kit had been
left on my bunk and black seemed to be the new olive. Black boots,
combat trousers, tee, webbing, even the underwear was black. On
arrival my 'life can' had been given to me personally, a 30cm long
aluminum tube about 10cm in diameter which contained my contract
(renewed), rank and insignia plus pips, ident card, dog tags and a
small capsule designed to be inserted under the skin manually. The
top of the contract named Lieutenant John Shap as the legal
property of the Military Office for no less than eighteen months
subject to clause C, paragraph 4. Death.

"I keep tats to remind me, see." He
held out his pale arm. "Four wars across four planets.”

“Some of us don’t need reminding.” I
said, looking at the names.

“I saw them drop the bombs on a chem
factory, trying to poison the land. Would have succeeded too if my
squad hadn't stopped 'em."

"How old are you?" I asked.

"21 next week."

"The chemical plant bombing, that was
Axthon, the farm world, right?"

"Yeah Axthon, I remember Axthon like
it was yesterday."

"Yeah so do I." His face turned a
different colour and he lost some of his bravado. "Although that
was six years ago and I'm sure the outcome was a little different.
In fact, I hear they still haven't managed to purge the place
yet."

"Well maybe I'm thinking of somewhere
else. Somewhere similar."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Look I'd...” He got up from the
table, just as the ship sunk to the starboard and sent the trays
flying across the room. A siren began wailing and troopers jumped
to their feet.

"ALL HANDS TO ALERT STATIONS. REPORT
FOR BATTLE READINESS. ENEMY CRUISER OFF PORT SIDE. BRACE FOR
IMPACT," bellowed the speaker above my head.

*

The ship was in turmoil. Klaxons
wailed everywhere, people rushed up and down the narrow corridors
trying their best not to slam into each other. Red lights blinked
violently as emergency power sources spun into life.

"We'd best make for the armory," Green
shouted over the cacophony. "Prepare for boarding." He led me to an
elevator crammed full of white faced troopers, all heading the same
way. None of them looked like they were ready to repel
boarders.

The lift sunk away and my stomach
turned with the force. The stink of fear permeated my skin, it was
oozing out of them and I couldn't blame them - I could still
remember my first taste of war. It wasn't something you forgot
although you spent your life trying to.

The doors slid apart and we burst out
into the hallway.

"This way," Green shouted. Already
he'd adopted a leadership quality and people were listening. If we
survived he might have a career in front of him.

Stood handing out small arms was a
hulk of a man with a bald head glistening with sweat, a man with
three stripes across his rippling arms.

"Sergeant Phillips, Green and Shap
reporting sir."

"You're late!" Phillips yelled,
spittle firing off his lips like a frag grenade. "Come join the
party." An auto-loading shotgun was thrust into my arms along with
a belt of red-coated shells and I hurried to catch up with Green,
glad I'd left my pips in my bunk. The last thing I wanted was a
rank confusing the situation.

Then came the wait. We stood at
docking arm three, a huge oval room with two sealed doors that kept
the void of space outside. There were no hatches to look through to
see if they were close enough, just a camera inside the air lock.
When the outer door was breached, we'd make ready to
repel.

"This is the worst part." Someone
behind us whispered. Green quickly shushed her. All eyes were
focused on the monitor above us, waiting for the door to start
glowing red as torches cut through. Time dragged out at this point
and what felt like hours slid past, but were actually
minutes.

"When the door goes, open your mouths
and breath out," I said aloud. "The change in pressure will kill
you in the split second it takes for the ship to balance it out." I
felt Green's eyes on me, questioning eyes. When he turned back to
the monitor he dropped to a firing position.

"REPEL BOARDERS!"

There were twelve of us in docking arm
three. Four hadn't listened to my advice and fell as the inner door
splayed open like a tin can, blood dribbling from their ears. The
enemy flooded in quickly, a tide of crimson uniforms that met our
firepower head on.

I blasted the first one I saw, taking
his leg off at the knee. Green sprayed the hole with rapid bursts
taking down three and showering me with hot brass in the process.
The other six moved forward around us and were able to form a line
just as the enemy managed to loose a salvo, killing two from my
left outright. I caught the arm of one, spinning him round on his
heels just as Green finished the job with a lucky head shot. Two
were prone and firing, rounds bouncing off the plate steel walls
behind us. My first shot took off the top of his head; the second
went wide and exploded behind. Another of ours went down as the red
clothed men pressed forward.

"FALL BACK!" Green yelled, arcs of
fire blazing from his weapon. Two to my right turned and made for
the door, the remaining woman went down screaming as her arm was
severed from her shoulder.

"Covering fire!" I shouted and ran
forward, grabbing her by her collar. Bullets whizzed past, several
caught my cheek and left a trail of pain. Green did a good job of
keeping their heads down and I was able to get the trooper out into
the hall, just as he came running out behind me.

"Close it. Now!" The huge blast door
fell down like a guillotine, killing the only soldier stupid enough
to get between it. Green released the cover protecting the airlock
override and punched the trigger release. There was a hiss as air
was pressurised on the other side. "How is she?" He asked me. I
felt her neck through the film of blood covering my
fingertips.

"Too late," I said. "She's
gone."

*

The attack was repulsed successfully.
After crippling the attacking vessel, the Captain realised that it
had wandered from its original course and saw a troop transport as
a welcome trophy to drag back to enemy lines. Had its navcom been
working properly, it would have been able to judge the defenses of
the Midian accurately.

With a total loss of sixteen crew
members, the crew of the Midian were faced with the arduous task of
trying to separate the enemy vessel from the hull, docking arms
still clung to the port side. After the defense of docking arm
three, Green and I went in search of Sergeant Bill Phillips. We
found him near sickbay carrying an injured technician on a
stretcher. We had to fall in behind the cue, he wasn't going to
stop and chat.

"Where do you want us, Sarge?" Green
shouted over the chaos of the infirmary. Surgeons hurried around
the open plan room, passing from one injury to another as
technicians pushed trolleys of equipment around like shopping
carts. Blood was collecting in pools here and there and most had
trails of footprints in and out. The stench of disinfectant was
being pumped out into the hall.

"Are you still here, Green? Get down
to the engine deck and help out with the drive. Hell, I shouldn't
have to tell a Tech where to go. Get a move on!" Green saluted,
nodded to me and ran back the way we'd come, back to a service lift
we'd passed.

"What's the situation, Sergeant?" I
asked though I had to repeat it as one of the techs dropped a tray
of knives.

"Who the hell are you?" He replied.
Muscles rippled under his blood stained vest, which on this
occasion wasn't regulation issue black. In fact, I guessed it might
have even been white a long time ago. As the sweat poured down his
brow and into his eyes, he swept it away with a broad
arm.

"Lieutenant John Shap. Didn't have
time to grab my rank on the way out of the door," I said, saluting
in the cock-sure manner most of my peers would have done to make
sure the Sergeant understood who I was. It wasn't my style but I
could already feel the bristles on his back. We weren't going to be
best buddies just yet I expected.

“I'm sorry sir, I didn't realise you
were on board yet. I wasn't informed...” he replied through what I
was sure were gritted teeth.

“Understood. Situation?”

“We've steadied the Midian, just
trying to remove the docking arm now sir.”

“Then that's where I will be Sergeant.
As you were.”

I took the service elevator to the
docking level, passed by docking arm three where they were just
starting to carry out the bodies of the very Red's we'd
killed.

"Hold on," I said to the nearest Tech.
I began to collect the dog tags, eighteen in total.

"What are you doing?" The Tech asked,
stunned. "They're to be destroyed with the bodies."

"I want the bodies kept in storage
until I say otherwise. Understand?"

"What will the Captain
say?"

"Any problems, send him to me. I want
these soldiers bagged and examined by the medical team." The Techs
carried on towards the Med-Bay "Like I said, send him to
me."

As they disappeared, I looked at each
dog tag in turn. Michael Kurn. Jake Lathon. Joseph Freth. The names
went on. Under every name though, the fanatic logo of
ARC.

*

Of the six arms that extended like
tentacles into the steel hull of the Midian, four were floating
free by the time I reached the fifth. A crew was in the airlock
wearing breathers and Tech's were severing electrical connections a
wire at a time. A short man in overalls was stood watching over the
team.

"Lieutenant Shap. What's the
situation?" I asked him. His hand shot up to salute. I returned the
gesture.

“We can't free the docking arm. The
electrics were easy but the steel is imbedded into the hull right
down to the sixth skin.”

“Is there any way I can help?” I said
and the Tech's eyes gave me a surprised look.

"Only if you know how to use that
thing, sir!" He laughed and with a podgy hand pointed to a twin
headed plasma cutter that rested on the deck.

"Fire it up then and show me where you
want it slicing." The smile turned into a grin.

"You're kidding, right?" I found
gloves and a mask, began adjusting the tungsten electrodes and the
gas pressure feed.

Minutes later he was directing me to a
fused joint where the Red's arm met the Midian's. I struck up the
arc between the two heads and felt the heat burst across my
skin.

"Cut only as deep as the second layer
of the internal skin you can see there, behind it is the breach in
the outer hull's skins and we don't want to get spaced here." Sweat
began collecting on the end of my nose, dripping inside the mask.
The UV given off by the arc was scorching the paintwork behind me,
leaving a well defined shadow on the wall.

"Good, now turn the head slightly,
separate the two stanchions and let us get a lever in." I could
just sense two Techs move in beside me with long poles as the
stanchions expanded apart with the heat. They had to get the poles
in quick before they contracted again.

"That's it, out of the way, sir," he
said and I slid backwards on my arse. The Techs swiftly moved in
and pulled on the levers. "Brilliant. It's free now, try the
control panel." A Tech punched the controls. There was a grinding
sound of metal on metal. Then the airlock siren sounded.

"Let's boogey. One more to
go."

*

As I finished cutting the final arm
free, I heard the boots before I heard the voice. The crew all
turned at once as the Captain of the Midian appeared in the
corridor.

"Attention on deck," A voice shouted,
though I couldn't tell who, I was still wearing the mask. Rising to
my feet I powered down the cutter.

"Who gave the order to store Red
bodies in the morgue?” Lifting the mask I saw Burns behind the
short, stumpy Captain who searched the oil streaked faces with
beady little rat's eyes. He wasn't what I'd been expecting a
Captain to look like. I'd never seen one in the flesh
before.