The lone buck struck his antlers against the tree repeatedly, the great elm shaking with each strike. Finally, sufficient chunks of bark fell in the snow to be satisfactory. Bending down, the mule deer scooped up the pieces of bark into its mouth and began to chew slowly.
The herbivore had of course endeavoured to eat as much as he could before winter set in and store fat, but it was always a good idea to eat whenever he could.
In the distance, the echoing, guttural bleat of another buck’s mating call sounded. The deer stopped chewing for a moment, ears flicking to determine the source of the call. If another buck wished to mate, it was a good idea to lie in wait and challenge it to a duel for the rights to the doe. With its prodigious size and impressive antlers, the deer was confident it could win any confrontation against its fellows.
The noise roared again, echoing through the snowy branches. But it sounded… wrong. The buck analyzed it. It didn’t sound like the tools the two-legs sometimes used to attract them. Ever since the intimidating two-leg wolves showed up, the smaller, furless two-legs seemed to have been driven back into the forests, which meant his kind was more often hunted for food.
The buck sniffed the air closely. In the distance, he felt the faint whiff of his fellows. Confidently, he strode on, the deer bouncing its head to test the weight of his antlers. After walking through the snow for a few more minutes, it finally spotted what it was looking for; a pair of antlers. The buck spat the remainder of his bark and grunted a challenge. Those antlers looked pathetically small. He would teach this runt a lesson, then claim whatever doe was attracted by the calls for himself. But his rival did not rise to the challenge.
Frowning, the buck grunted, this time more fiercely. He sniffed the air again. The smell of male deer was stronger than ever, but there was something else too; the horrific smell of two-legs. He was about to call out the alarm to his fellow, but before he could do so, a terrible bang rang out. The shot echoed through the trees and off the nearby cliffs, causing a flock of birds to fly away in a panic.
A terrible stillness fell over the clearing as the poor buck futilely attempted to get back up, its legs kicking up snow, whining pitifully. Spartacus shouldered his rifle and approached. When the deer finally saw him, it made a grunt that sounded both terrified and confused; here he was, for all intents and purposes a fellow deer, walking upright, wearing human clothes, and shooting his brothers.
The anthropomorphic deer knelt in the snow, petting his hand through the deer’s pelt, so much like his. He felt no true connection to feral deer. Humans and swine probably shared as much DNA as he did with this poor beast, and they felt no qualms about killing them for food. But he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for his genetic cousin, and wished to offer it one final comfort.
“Thank you for your sacrifice, brother.” Spartacus said, sliding his large knife into the buck’s heart, ending its suffering. He tried to ignore the horrible stench of blood and meat.
Spartacus pulled the sled one handed, keeping his dominant hand ready to grab his HK-51 dangling off his shoulder. A distant smoke plume told him that his friend had beaten him to it. Indeed, as he approached, he saw the small man already huddled before a fire in front of the old hunting cabin.
“Well, there’s something you don’t see every day!” The lithe figure said with a chuckle, looking at the deer dragging one of his feral fellows.
Father Florakis looked monastic even in the hunting fatigues they both wore. It was perhaps the thick, curly beard, now speckled with snow. Despite having trudged through snow, dirt and brambles as much as he, the priest’s camouflaged outfit was almost impeccable. His angular, sharp face held a thin, white smile, and brown eyes behind round grandma-like glasses held together with electrical tape. He was a man of about forty, yet his demeanor made him appear a decade older.
The priest was busy stripping and cleaning his M1 Carbine. A kettle of tea was boiling away on the campfire, two chipped mugs waiting. The priest’s own hunting sled held a string of rabbits and several pheasants.
Spartacus dropped the sled with a grunt, then walked to the campfire. He sat down on the log next to Florakis and poured himself a cup of boiling tea. He set it on the snowy ground to cool, then looked back at the dead buck. It didn’t even look injured. Its great bulk was sprawled upon the sled like a sleeping giant.
Father Florakis clicked the fire control group back into his rifle, then dry-fired. The firing pin struck the empty chamber with a clean, crisp click. He’d never even touched a gun before the invasion. But like everyone else, he was expected to be able to fight to a reasonable extent, even if his primary purpose was another.
The priest poured some tea for himself, then took out a sugar packet, extending another to Spartacus.
“You know, you don’t have to do this.” Florakis said in his deep accent. His vowels were sharp, almost melodious. It was different from the many Spanish accents around the camp. It still amazed Spartacus that so many different tongues could exist on the same world. Even considering that they hadn’t yet colonized any other planets, one would think that after all this time, earthlings would have settled on a single language. Then again, one would also think that they would have stopped murdering each other.
“I believe I do, father.” Spartacus replied, blowing gingerly in his tea before taking a sip. “We all must pull our weight.”
“No one would say you aren’t doing that, Spartacus. You’re one of our best medics. You’re undercover in the enemy’s organization. You even saved a lost soul who strayed from the flock. I would call that sufficient.”
Spartacus was about to respond, when he spotted something in the sky. Three distant black dots, small, but foreboding. Tiny blue jetstreams left no doubt as to their identity; Eckzahn AVs.
“Relax. They’re too far to spot us.” Spartacus said. He grit his teeth. Every time he saw them, he got a knot of fury in his stomach.
“I've seen those damned things staining my homeworld’s sky since I was a child,” he growled. “Now, here I am, thousands of lightyears away, and here they still are. The sky is so beautiful here… But I cannot gaze upon its blue and white splendor without being reminded of those bastards-”
“Language.”
“Sorry, father.” Spartacus was quiet for a long moment. “Why does God suffer them to exist?” He muttered. Florakis got the impression the deer was less asking him, and more the Almighty Himself.
“Why does God suffer anyone to exist?” The young priest shrugged.
“The Eckzahn are not just anyone, father. This is all they do. They are marauding barbarians, conquering thriving worlds and claiming them as their own. They cannot create, only destroy. Then they parade the rotting corpse of their victim in a grotesque facsimile of their former values and culture. They conquer with no rhyme or reason.” He gestured around himself.
“Why did they invade Earth? There are resources here, sure, but it’s not anything they couldn’t have acquired more easily with less effort from any number of uninhabited mining colonies in their territory. I’ll tell you why, Father; because they wanted to. To have one more slain world upon their belt. Because they cannot stand seeing a free world that does not live to serve them, that does not quail and bow before them.” He stopped, expecting Father Florakis to say something, but the priest’s deep, questioning gaze demanded more. Spartacus sighed.
“I hate them.” The deer finally admitted. “I know it is a sin. But how can any good soul feel otherwise? They are a scourge on the Cosmos. A cancer, spreading and destroying healthy tissue.” he glared up at the ships, now insignificant specks on the horizon. Oh, how he wished he could squash them out of the sky like they were gnats… how he wished he could do that to all the wolf wretches. “Demons. I’ve heard some of my fellow faithful describe them that way, and I am inclined to agree. Such an empire of evil cannot have come of God’s creation.”
“Heh,” Father Florakis finally said. “I wonder how many of the first Christians said that of the Roman Empire.”
“That is not the same, Father.” Spartacus said quickly. His knowledge of human history was vague at best (mostly because it wasn’t exactly one history, but several hundred), but he’d endeavored to study the important parts. He started with children’s history encyclopedias, which had also helped him learn English, then moved on to magazines and documentaries the FEM had archived. Father Florakis had said that still put his history knowledge above 95% of humanity, but the deer was fairly certain he was joking.
“You are correct.” Florakis said. “The Eckzahn are not throwing Christians to be eaten alive by lions to entertain themselves.”
“The Romans had control over Europe, parts of Asia, and North Africa. Not countless trillions.”
“Oh, so is that the measurement of evil? Not action, but scale? Because the Eckzahn measure their conquests in star systems, not cities?”
“If you do not think them evil, why are you here?” Spartacus snarled. He regretted it the instant he said it. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“Spartacus,” Father Florakis said patiently. “You know I am an understanding man. It’s my job to be. You may come to me with anything. My door is always open for confession.” He turned to look up at the deer, dark eyes blazing with an intensity that made a chill run through the towering cervine. “But do not ever question my loyalty or dedication to our cause again. Do you understand?”
Spartacus could only nod as he avoided his priest’s piercing glare. He felt a great shame wash over him like an icy lake.
“Forgive me, Father.”
“I already did.” Florakis shrugged. He took an old packet of cigarettes from his coat, offering one to Spartacus. They were all rolled up out of old newspaper.
“The Eckzahn are an empire.” Florakis continued. “On a larger scale than any Earth empire, of course, but the parallels are exact. They put their growth before others, and if a weaker nation has something they want, they will take it. They exert their culture and laws over others with violence and coercion. They are no more evil than any human conqueror.”
“I still cannot see them as anything more than demons marauding through Creation.”
“Was Emperor Nero a demon?”
The question had caught Spartacus off guard. He’d read of Nero’s atrocities, chief among them his attempted genocide of the first Christians, which started a centuries-long reign of terror against the faith.
“From what I read, he must have been.” Spartacus said. “His actions and the legacy he left behind were monstrous.”
“Alright. That’s where we start.” Father Florakis nodded sagely. “What of his senators? Who approved and signed off on his calls for bloodshed?”
Spartacus thought for a second. “Yes, I suppose them too.”
“And what of the thousands of legionaries who happily painted their swords in Christian blood?” The priest asked. Spartacus frowned, considering the question. “And what of the millions of plebeians who ate honey coated figs, cheering like banshees as they watched wailing children torn to ribbons by the beasts of the Coliseum?” Florakis continued.
“I…” Spartacus grasped for words.
“Suddenly, you are left with millions upon millions of demons. And if they are demons, well… surely, they lack any of the empathy, goodness and godliness of Creation. And yet… this bloodthirsty empire was the one most directly responsible for spreading the word of God.”
Spartacus chortled. “You think the Eckzahn will go down the same way? Put down their blasters, renounce their racial superiority, and kneel before a human God?”
“Well, should one of them cross the threshold of my church, asking for baptism, I shan’t hesitate.” Spartacus first thought it was a joke, but the priest’s tone betrayed no whimsy. “After all… I baptised a deer, why not a wolf?”
Spartacus laughed.
Father Florakis drew upon his cigarette deeply, scattering ashes into the fire.
“Let us go beyond our Roman ancestors for a minute. Were the Ottomans demons when they tore across Asia and Europe, butchering and enslaving all who didn't bow to them? Were the Germans demons when they committed the greatest industrial mass murder in the history of the world? Were the Soviets demons when they tortured priests and forced them to mock the Virgin?
Some may say 'Yes! They were demons in human form! A true human could never do such things!'. Yet they are wrong. Only a human could do such things.” Father Florakis insisted on still calling non-human sentient races ‘human’. Spartacus had first believed it was to help him specifically fit in better.
“It is a comforting thing; saying that anyone capable of such atrocities is a demon. We build an imaginary wall between us and evil, as solid as putty. 'I would never do such a thing! He who did it was a demon! Not a human like me!'. But oh, they were human. So very human... And each of us is capable of becoming a blood-oiled cog in the fearsome machine of conquest and genocide, should we not fortify our soul with prayer and humility.
But now, it is not a single nation who is the victim of conquest. It is us all. It is as if all of man's evil, all his conquests, all his murders, all his hatred, all his sins, were concentrated into the form of the Eckzahn as they descended upon us that dreadful day.
They are a mirror to us. And that is why we call them demons."
Spartacus was silent. He smoked the strong cigarette, considering his baptist’s words.
“The FEM is ultimately about fighting evil,” Florakis said. “We are a holy organization, our goals noble, our souls stalwart. But we must never let hatred into our hearts. It comes with honeyed words and cajolery. ‘Oh, you are such a brave soul. You’ve suffered so much under those heathens. It’s alright to hate them. It’s alright to feel joy as you watch them scream and beg for mercy. And one day, you will make them feel as powerless and defeated as you did.’ And giving in to that voice always leads to suffering, atrocity, and most of all, the rot of the soul.
Perhaps I am being overly optimistic, but I think that once we expel the Eckzahn from our world, we shall heal. Finally, we were given a common enemy. I have no doubt that wars will still be fought. I have no doubt we will fight as much as any other space-faring civilization when the time comes. We will have to. Else, we will perish. But perhaps… just perhaps… We will do so as a united people, finally free of hatred and war amongst ourselves. Or, perhaps… I’m just a hopeful old fool.” He chuckled, putting his cigarette out in the snow.
“It shall be dark soon,” the priest said, getting up. “Let’s get this back to town.”
It was always “the town”. Not “the base”, not “the camp”, not even “the resort”.
“The town”. A settlement which required a modicum of civilization, safety and contentness.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The bay’s automatic doors stood open for a good few minutes, allowing a long procession of Atsokn troopers and infirmary staff to rush through. The nurses carried stretchers, all occupied by humans. Spartacus put down his PDA, and shut the drawer, prematurely stopping his restocking.
He aided the nearest stretcher, which was carried by a couple of Eckzahn troopers on the bed he was next to.
The kid, no more than ten, lay unconscious and unmoving. His brown bowlcut hair was singed. Spartacus froze for just a moment, remembering kids who looked just like him at Beaver Creek. The kid had Eckzahn bio foam down his leg; or rather what was left of it. Spartacus pulled out his medical scanner. The kid was more or less stable, minimal blood loss. But he was pumped with too many drugs. The halfwit grunts on site had no idea how to treat a human, much less a child.
“Damn barbarians set off an explosive in the middle of a protest”. Growled one of the wolves. “Local cops and EDA caught a few of the fleeing butchers, but it seems most got away.”
Spartacus was not listening, focusing on his duty., He swiftly ascertained the boy’s blood type, and input it into the transfusion machine behind the head of the bed. He took the tube from the wall, moved the kid’s crooked head, and stuck the nozzle onto the kid's neck just above the femoral artery.
The machine chimed, and he pressed a flashing button at the mouth of the tube’s feed. The kid’s heart rate was dangerously low. He quickly took out a pink colored canister and inserted it into his stamper. He pressed the button on the side, which cleansed the wide needle by retracting it into the small device. Spartacus placed it on the bare chest of the boy and pulled the trigger.
The stamper made an airy sound, like when one checks tire pressure, as it quickly deposited its opioid antagonist.
Spartacus quickly inspected the biofoam on the kid’s leg. There was a hefty amount, more than enough to clog any bleeding. Not seeing any leaks, he allowed himself to relax.
Spartacus took a second to breathe, and looked around. The infirmary that was empty just moments ago was bustling with activity. Every bed was filled by a human. His fellow nurses and doctors were aided by the Atsokn troopers who brought them in. He put on plastic gloves and grabbed a cream from a compartment under the bed. One of the Eckzahn troopers had cut off the boy’s clothes, revealing a few small burns. He rubbed the cream on them, and packed bandages over it.
This was not the work of Beaver Creek, Spatactus knew they wouldn’t be this messy. Or hell, any proper FEM cell for that matter. But there certainly was one suspect at the top of his mind…
“Stable”? A wolf doctor asked Spartacus which broke his train of thought.
“For now,” Spartacus replied. “Troopers almost killed the kid with Allebloc. Troopers need to know they can’t just pump a full dosage into a human, especially a kid.”
“You can’t expect grunts to know anything besides fight.” The wolf turned away from him.
“This child could have died if no one noticed!” Spartacus said, but the wolf was already at the next bed before he could finish.
Spartacus heard murmuring, the boy had started to wake. The deer considered giving him a sedative, but with the amount of drugs that was already in his system, thought better of it.
The kid’s eyes drowsily looked around before the quickly dissipating Eckzahn drugs left him fully conscious in a matter of seconds. His breathing hastened as he took in his surroundings.
“You’re going to be alright,” Spartacus bent down over the kid and looked him in the eyes, trying to calm the boy down via his good English. Something familiar might help right now. The kid’s darting eyes settled on him. They were terribly afraid, but thankfully not full of pain just yet.
“You are safe, I am going to help you.” Spartacus reassured him. He took out his scanner again and pointed it at the kid's leg.
“What is that?” the kid looked at the beige-tinted foam stuck to his leg. He groaned trying to move his leg away from it, but of course the foam didn't go anywhere.
“Don’t move!” Spartacus exclaimed and held the kid down gently, “It's stopping your bleeding.”
“?? ?? ??? ????”? a fox nurse asked Spartacus.
“Yes, can you take the leg.” he responded in Siglunes, “He’s stable, need to get him out of the foam.”
“How far up?” the fox asked when Spartacus handed him the scanner.
“Going to be the knee. Is there room in the operating theatre?”
“No, they’re already filled up. If he’s stable, he’s not moving.” The kid was looking at Spartacus, trying to understand what they were talking about.
Spartacus sighed, turning back to the now restless, shivering kid. He grabbed the blanket stored underneath the bed and put it over him. The fox rescanned what was left of the boy’s left leg, then moved onto his right.
“What is your name?” Spartacus asked in a hushed town, tucking the boy in fully, and double checking the tube supplying fresh blood.
“Zach. Where are my parents?” he asked. Spartacus did not immediately respond. If he was hurt this bad, no doubt whoever was with him had a similar treatment. His parents may have even had the instinct to shield him with their bodies…
“Are you in pain anywhere?” Spartacus asked him, to distract both the child and himself from the grim question.
“My leg is tingling,” the kid responded, making himself small under the covers, "I'm cold.”
“That’s good, that means the medicine is working.”
“Cúán!” suddenly a badger at the foot of the bed exclaimed in Siglunes, he had a blue marking on his scrubs designating him as the head nurse. It took Spartacus half a second to register his real name. “How long have you been here?”
“14 hours. You needed help, so I stayed.” Spartacus stood up, “has there been room open for him”.
“You’re still coming in tomorrow, so go home now. I don't want you taking one of those damn deer naps during your shift.” The stout badger scolded him playfully. “I know you want to help, but there’s not much you can do now.” his tone switched up quickly. “Ill make sure the kid gets cleaned up good. Get out of here.”
“Thank you Trahaearn.” Spartacus reached down and briefly grabbed the badger’s shoulder. He grumbled in response.
Spartacus made his way down multiple hallways to the nurse locker room. He scanned his chip, opening the door. There didn’t seem to be anyone, but he looked around to make sure.
“Mr. Ludwig, have today’s events affected your plans for later?” He waited for a response. The silent locker room’s walls seem to close in.
“Sparty, he’s in position, but can't respond. I can hear voices coming from his bead.” Amelia’s voice was the relief he needed. He sighed. The first good news of the day. He was beginning to think he’d have to scrap the whole plan.
“We shall begin, then.”, Spartacus opened his locker and pulled out his jacket. He quickly walked back out of the locker room, and put it on over his yellow scrubs and ducked through the doorway.
Spartacus walked out a service exit on the side of the infirmary. There was a skinny wolf guiding automated pallet jacks full of boxes and crates into the bay. The canine paid him no attention, focused on his task.
He turned onto the main backroad, which was used for moving supplies throughout the base. Both sides were contained by tall barriers blocking sight to the buildings just off the road. The tall deer instinctively attempted to make himself smaller as he walked down the side path toward an internal checkpoint.
“Just act normal, you walk through this checkpoint every day.” Amelia said, Spartacus could hear a bit of stress in her voice. He could almost feel her eyes upon him through the cameras she had doubtlessly already hacked. The checkpoint itself spanned the entire roadway. There were scanners along the bottom side of the archway. From a distance, he watched as a small convoy of trucks slowed down and rolled through the light projected from the arch, clearing the checkpoint without stopping.
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He walked up to the checkpoint’s path entrance, which was structured the same way as the road. Spartacus’ loud hoof clops perked the lone preoccupied guard’s ears. The wolf guard raised his eyes, waved Spartacus through, then returned to perusing his PDA.
Spartacus stepped through the threshold of the scanners, a pleasant chime signaling he was clean.
Two flocks of Varlet AVs cleared over the containing wall, he saw their bright blue engines light up the darkening base as twilight set in. He quickly checked his surroundings. “The wolves are sending more help into the city. Good news for us.”
“I’ve got Ben taking intel right now… Getting you to that IFF, and getting out is all that matters right now”, Amelia was stretched thin and tried to comfort Spartacus. He didn’t respond. “Aaron is waiting for you, he’s at the rendezvous.”
A pair of Eckzahn Hraun armored cars sped by him, rushing to the chaos within the city. “The next door is yours,” Amelia said. “Looping the cameras for ten seconds.”
Spartacus read the sign above the door ‘Authorized Personnel only’. The automatic door opened suddenly. He waited a second, expecting to see someone walk out from the other side, then ducked his head into the door.
The large warehouse he had just walked into was unfamiliar to him. Which was natural, as he wasn’t meant to be here. The door closed behind him, plunging the large room into darkness. Spartacus froze, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light.
Light taps of footsteps echoed in the quiet darkness, growing closer with every step. Unmoving, he listened closer. They weren’t the tick tacks of Eckzahn claws hitting the ground, they sounded like boots.
“Rudolph?” an all too familiar voice said with some mirth.
Spartacus sighed, “Yes” he smiled at the shorter human, happy to see a friendly face. “Good to see you, Aaron.”
Aaron looked just as worse for wear as he did. Large bags bulged under his eyes, his shoulders were slumped, and his normally pristine EDA uniform was stained crimson from the many injured civilians he too assisted.
"What happened just now…” Aaron asked, as if he dreaded the answer. “It wasn't-"
"No. No, it wasn't us." Spartacus replied in a whisper.
"I didn't think so. But then... who?"
Spartacus grit his teeth.
"I have a pretty good idea. But we'll discuss it later. Right now, we have work to do."
"You know they'll act like it was you-, well, us who did it either way, right?"
"Yes... we know that all too well...." Spartacus sighed. The FEM would have to lay low for a good while now. Trade and scavenging runs would have to be reduced to the barest of necessities. Beaver Creek would go on lockdown. This was exactly the kind of heat they didn’t need just before such a vital operation. All the surrounding cells knew to lay low. But of course, the damned Poachers never were much good at listening…
Spartacus walked to the opposite entrance, “Are we still going through with this?” Aaron quietly called out from behind, “I’ve seen more sentries, they’ve had to up the base’s security posture.”
“We cannot delay this any longer. And in a twisted irony, today’s tragedy may help us.” As he approached the front door, it opened. Amelia seemed to have no problem finding all the relevant cameras and looping them.
He ducked through the door, stepping into the cross roads of alleys connecting each of these small warehouses. “Left, straight, straight, left.”, Spartacus mentally repeated what he had memorized as the pair navigated the wide alleys. When they came to the end, there was an unmanned manual gate which led into the neighboring warehouse complex.
A small screen near the handle displayed a red symbol. Spartacus approached the gate, expecting them to open like the last, he placed his hand on the handle and waited.
The screen was still red, so Spartacus removed his hand. However as soon as he did, the screen turned green and the locking mechanism audibly whirred and clicked. He turned the handle and the gate opened.
“I’m not supposed to be here either, at this point.” Aaron whispered, but marched on with no further hesitation.
They ducked through two more warehouse complexes, each with a gate between them. As Spartacus rounded the corner of the last warehouse he spotted a Eckzahn trooper in full kit through the wire of the gate.
He threw his arm out to stop Aaron from rounding the corner as he backed up, and nearly hit him in the face. “Amelia.”
“I know, you need to backtrack, head through the 3rd warehouse on the right and it will lead you to a service tunnel”
“Through where?” Aaron blurted.
“Unless you want to come out a locked emergency door right next to a checkpoint, the service tunnel is the only way. It will put you into another warehouse on the other side of the main road. Prevents a jaywalking ticket too.” Amelia chuckled.
“That's great!” Aaron didn’t seem to see the potential problem
“There’s so much noise going on down there, they shouldn’t be able to scan you down there. Much safer than over the top.”
“Can’t we backtrack and cross further west?” Spartacus asked in slight annoyance.
“You could, but my worm is already in their system down there, and it will only take so long until they find it.” she said.
“What the hell are we doing, let’s go!” Aaron backpedaled slowly. Spartacus shook his head and followed.
The automatic door to the warehouse opened and they went inside. Just like the first warehouse, it was empty besides its storage, so they made their way to the back. Fumbling through the dark, they located the sealed entrance to the service tunnel.
The seal of the door popped, air rushing toward them. Aaron stuck head inside, having to crouch down to see inside. Small panels lined the corridor, each labeled with their purpose: power, fuel, water. Some exposed wires and tubes filled the corners, some leading into the wall or panels. There was a single tack on the floor.
Aaron wasted no time, saw the coast was clear he ducked into the tunnel, and began walking down, having to crouch slightly to fit. Spartacus looked in himself, but was stopped short by his antlers. Aaron heard the audible thunk, “Oh… that’s why.” he laughed sheepishly. Spartacus’s glare made him look away.
The deer backed up and approached the entrance and bent down at a different angle. One of the tips of his antlers caught a pipe, causing him to fall to the floor. He got on his hands and knees and began to crawl. Aaron looked like he was going to say something, but thought better of it, only grinning to himself.
The pair traveled quietly for a couple of hundred meters, apart from the scuttling and occasional tinks as Spatacus’ antlers tapped panels. The occasional rumble made them pause. Some Eckzahn vehicles no doubt driving right over them.
“There’s a junction coming up in twenty meters, you need to take the left tunnel.” Amelia buzzed in both men' s ears.
Spartacus didn’t respond, focused on not snagging his antlers on any more protruding components. He really should have sawn off his antlers before this. Damn his cervine pride…
“Spartacus, how are you holding up?”
“Well enough,” Spartacus grunted. Even over a radio, he knew that lying to his lover was impossible.
“You might be able to stand up at the junction, just a little more ways to go.” Amelia chimed back in.
When they reached the junction, Spartacus tried to stand up, but hit his antlers on the door on the top of the short ceiling.
He sat down, his legs reached out to the other side of the small room. Aaron looked down the left tunnel, lights signaling exits dotted down to the horizon.
“The third door, just fifty more meters,” Amelia said when she saw them start again from the only cameras down there, in tunnel junctions. “You should come out behind a relief station.”
Spartacus started to crawl down the left tunnel, after just a minute of rest. Aaron followed close behind.
Spartacus reached the door after several more minutes of painful crawling. He grabbed the handle and tried to turn it. It didn’t budge. “It’s locked.” Spartacus groaned. Aaron grabbed the side of the tunnel and peaked around Spartacus for a better look.
Amelia didn’t answer for a second, “They rotated their keys, have to break in all over again. You have to give me a few minutes.” Spartacus flipped over, giving his knees some much needed rest. Aaron sat down next to him.
Suddenly there was a gust of wind, blowing in the direction they came from. They both sat up. “Amelia, how much longer?” Spartacus asked. Surely she knew someone else just entered the tunnel with them.
She didn't respond.
They heard clanking and echoing voices. The rail underneath them vibrated and Spartacus felt his fur stand on edge from the static, “Amelia we need the door open. Now!”
A whirring noise growing higher pitched started and grew closer with every second.
The door above them quietly opened, Spartacus immediately climbed through. He grabbed Aaron and pulled him through, then quickly sealed the door. They heard footsteps echo beyond only seconds later.
They took a second to realize that they had popped out of the ground outdoors, only covered by the external walls of a relief station. It was situated on the corner between the larger warehouses, connected by a proper street. High walls separated the narrow path along the street and the neighboring warehouses.
“Go.” Spartacus commanded Aaron. They had discussed this part before. Out in the open, splitting up would shield them from the roaming cargo workers, and any additional Eckzahn troopers. Nothing would appear more suspicious than a 7’5” tall deer and an EDA trooper walking together at the cargo offloading yard.
Spartacus turned to look at the vending machine, seeing the many kinds of jerky snacks inside. Some were in English rather than Siglunes, from Earth brands. One had a cartoony feral deer drawn upon it. “Lovely,” he groaned.
Spartacus turned back to see Aaron walking confidently down the path about thirty meters away. He followed a couple dozen paces behind.
The yard was just across the street. Spartacus saw Aaron turn onto the crosswalk, but was quickly obscured by an Eckzahn open-top utility car filled with three Atsokn troopers. He immediately bounded across the road.
Spartacus stepped into the nearest dead-end alley and took cover behind an electrical box. He tried to listen to what the wolves were saying.
“There’s no way I'm getting past them.”
He heard a powerful electric engine rev, then seconds later the car drove past the alley at a fast rate of speed.
He carefully peeked out of the alley, careful to not expose his antlers first. He couldn’t see Aaron. Had the troopers taken him?
“Where is he?” Spartacus asked Amelia in a whisper. He looked back and walked briskly toward the cargo offloading yard.
“The- I don’t know, either he’s travelling too fast, or something is jamming up the connection”, her voice was shaking.
“We have to keep going”, Spartacus muttered.
Multiple forklifts, manned and automated alike, moved and unloaded containers. He stepped over the raised barrier blocking the road and yard. An AV sounded its landing siren as it descended upon one of the landing pads. If Aaron got this far without alarms going off, Amelia must have disabled the cameras.
Scattered unopened shipping containers gave a narrow passageway for Spartacus to step through the edge of the yard. He turned down one of the alleyways made by the container.
“Keep going past two more containers, and you’ll reach the unloaded cargo.” She buzzed.
Spartacus glanced up at the camera mounted to the nearby wall, then continued. His hooves made slight clicking sounds, making him cringe each step.
He reached the barrier separating the opened from unopened containers. He reached for the door, but Amelia opened it for him. He grinned.
“What would I do without you, darling?”
“You’d be lost.” She answered deadpan.
These containers were much smaller, some could probably be carried by just two people. “Hug the wall for seven isles, then turn right. It should be right there”. Amelia’s voice was now much more focused.
He gracefully snuck his way past each aisle, first he peaked down each to make sure the coast was clear. He took his time with the seventh one, and carefully inspected each of the nearby crates.
“It should be labeled ‘GE S-3332’ “ Amelia said.
Spartacus quickly found the crate they’d have been looking for for months. He was so close…
He exhaled, keeping his heart rate under control.
He pulled out a small white device with rounded corners from his jacket. Gripping the shiny metal end, it detached with a click from the device, being only connected with a wide grouping of wires. He plugged the cable into the slot, and it unlocked with a slight hiss. He wasted no time in grabbing one of the small chips nestled in the foam padding. He placed it into the wide slot in the side of the device and watched as the slot formed around the chip's own connections.
Such a tiny thing… and yet, it would level the playing field for the FEM more than anything yet. More than even the advanced technology the Commonwealth had gracefully provided them with.
Once the IFF was cloned and sent to cells all over the American continent, and hopefully the world, it would make direct confrontation with Atsokn troopers, while still not desirable, not an instant death sentence for the FEM. With the information on these chips, the FEM could generate the rotating keys of the Eckzhan’s IFF based on the algorithm in these chips. Unless the Eckzahn changed their entire IFF technology, which Spartacus knew they couldn’t afford to do, they would need to manually fix and update every piece of their gear. Certainly not an expense any Eckzahn bean counter would approve for a nowhere little ‘primitive’ planet on the edge of the empire.
The small screen on the device displayed many options spelled out in a Commonwealth language. He pressed a series of buttons on the menu and its popups, which ultimately displayed an empty circle.
He paused for a second, solely focused on the small screen. A single tick in its progress filled out the first small radial interval. He took a breath.
This was it…
Suddenly he realized the totality of his height, his antlers were poking above the stacked crates, so he knelt down. “It is cloning now.” he said after calming himself down for a second. “Anything on Aaron?” Spartacus whispered.
“No, his bead is showing up all over. Maybe it's damaged, or the signal is too weak. I need to focus.”, Amelia spoke, sounding far more shaken than her usual bubbly self.
Spartacus looked down at the screen, it was no more than a fifth done. He cursed inwardly. How long had it been? To him it felt like minutes, but the timer only said a few seconds had passed.
The roar of distant engines, ground vehicles and AV alike were the only thing Spartacus heard for what seemed like hours.
“Sparty, there’s a worker heading your way, you need to abort.” Amelia said, panic sneaking into her voice.
“No, we’re too close. He will turn around, God willing.” Spartacus said with determination.
“Now! He’s going to see you!” Amelia yelled, her voice cracking, the bead just barely making the noise tolerable. Spartacus looked around and grabbed a crowbar. Hopefully he could knock the guy out without being spotted.
The coyote cargomaster slowly walked around the corner, distracted by his datapad, humming a song to himself. Spartacus looked right into his unaware eyes, his heart hammering.
Suddenly, the coyote stopped, sniffing the air attentively. Spartacus gripped the crowbar tighter.
The canine exclaimed something, but it was cut off. Whatever cry of alarm he was about to give was silenced by wet, choked sputters.
Daring to look around the corner, he saw Aaron with his arms wrapped around the canine’s neck from behind. The coyote bent forward, scratched at his arm, but Aaron remained firm, teeth gritted. Spartacus noticed that Aaron had smartly wrapped his belt around his arm, protecting it from the coyote’s claws. The human was an inch or two taller, and a good deal heavier, but the lean canine would not give in easily either. The coyote elbowed backwards, striking Aaron’s stomach with meaty thuds. Aaron grit his teeth, at one point crying in pain, but he did not let go.
Every nerve in Spartacus’s body told him to go help his friend, but he stopped himself. He could not afford to be seen. Besides, he trusted Aaron to finish his task.
Eventually, the coyote’s struggles subsided. With one final weak elbow, his eyes slowly closed, and he fell limp into Aaron’s arms, unconscious.
“Son of a bitch,” he hissed in pain, rubbing his abdomen.
“Good job, Aaron. You did well.” The deer said gratefully.
“Yeah, thank God it wasn’t a wolf,” Aaron said with a shudder. “No way I could have taken on one of those big bastards, even with a surprise attack.”
“Oh, you could have, with the right training and gumption. I’ve seen it done before.” Spartacus paused. “Well… come to think of it, whenever I did see it, it involved knives and… a lot more blood than we could afford now.”
Spartacus grabbed the coyote by the armpits and dragged him behind a crate. He then looked down at the progress circle, just over half way. “Open these crates and scatter whatever is in them. We cannot have this guy waking up and suspecting their IFF is compromised. We need to make it look like just another FEM robbery gone wrong.”
Aaron wordlessly followed his orders, grabbing the crowbar and getting to work on the first crate. It contained Ismount wrist devices. He picked up a handful and tossed them on the ground near the unconscious coyote.
He left the crate open and moved on to the next. This one was filled with blaster ammunition. He took out a few boxes, and dropped them on the ground. He went back for more, which he spread them out at the T intersection of the Aisle and boundary wall.
Spartacus acted as the lookout, and peered down the aisle they occupied periodically. He kept track of the progress of the cloning carefully. He kept the chip secured, and away from other signals to ensure its clean copy.
Finally, the progress bar filled up, the device confirming the cloning’s completion with a pleasant little chime. Spartacus sighed in relief.
“We are done. Let’s make ourselves scarce.” He removed the IFF from his device and placed it back into the crate. It closed with another hiss. He double checked to make sure it seemed untouched.
“Should we gag him?” Aaron nodded to the coyote. Spartacus thought for a second, then shook his head.
“No. Searching for adequate bindings would take time. Besides, someone will discover him soon anyway. Best we just hurry up. I’ll leave, and you stay behind for the inevitable alarm.” Aaron nodded in assent.
Spartacus slipped onto the main road right next to a tram stop, he wordlessly entered into the covered platform. He blended into the small crowd of off duty Eckzahn troopers and other various workers, as much as he could with his towering stature. He only waited for a few moments for the tram, and entered as soon as the doors opened. This same automatic tram took him to his own apartment on the outside ring of the base. The tram quickly departed as soon as everyone was on board, and passed through the main checkpoint’s specialized scanner.
Spartacus held his breath.
He slowly exhaled when the tram cleared the scanner and they were well on their way out.
A sudden wailing alarm startled him just when he relaxed, and the tram suddenly stopped. Red lights filled the small tram.
“What the hell?” one of the troopers traveling with his buddies exclaimed.
“The Skinnies must have hit the base, that’s an internal alarm!” another said. He quickly exited the tram, “C’mon!” he waved his comrades on as he ran back to the base.
Spartacus followed the other non-military workers off the tram, and joined in the column walking the flat and empty landscape to the outer living buildings.
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Every seat in the hotel’s massive conference room was occupied. Despite the limitations, efforts had been undertaken to make the location as presentable as possible. It was clean, downright clinical, the faint smell of lavender in the air. But unlike its pre-invasion days, the room was not filled with out of shape businessmen, but military men. Their multicam, UCP, and M81 uniforms were mostly discolored and held together with patches. It seemed at odds with their environment, yet nonetheless, it was clear that each man was of some station. Even those that lacked the rank insignia, it was clear that these were all men of some authority within their respective forces. The refreshments likewise, were as Spartan as the guests; a few jugs of water and pots of coffee. Several of the men present took the liberty of smoking, without asking.
The walls were covered with paper maps of the valley, defensive lines drawn on top of them, as well as maps of Colorado Springs, the Eckzahn base, and what was left of Denver. The projector showed an expanded view of a valley near Grand Junction.
A man stood near the flickering projector, seeming to fill the entire room. He was tall, black, and of an indeterminate advanced age. His brown, leathery skin made him resemble an ancient revolver holster, cracked and worn with age, but retaining its deadly purpose. A large cigar was kept between his lips, seeming almost like a protrusion of his thick, walrus-like moustache.
“Now, I trust y’all had time to clone the IFFs for each soldier that will be taking part in this operation.” General Hawkins said in a voice only sixty years of whiskey, smoking and hard living could produce, gesturing with his cigar to the projector like a wand. It switched to an image of the tiny devices, tiny text explaining how they worked. “Each man and woman shall keep it on their person. Somewhere secure, zipped pocket, bra, whatever.” He turned towards a brawny man with curly red hair.
“Colonel Lillis, how is distribution going?”
“Our runners managed to get the chips as far as Canada and Florida.” The red headed man replied. “We’ve also got a handful headed for South America and Europe, on cargo ships with trustworthy captains. The other cells will take it from there. We estimate that within six months, tops, every major Free Earth cell on the globe will have the IFF.”
Hawkins nodded in satisfaction. “It cannot be overstated how much of a gamechanger this will be, ladies and gentlemen. Finally we’ll be able to take on Fido toe to toe. And we all have Spartacus to thank for this.”
The deer, towering above all the humans at the table, blushed invisibly through his fur and looked down.
“I cannot take all the credit, sir. Chief Technician Byrd and Corporal Ludwig, our undercover man in the EDA, were instrumental in the success of this mission.”
Hawkins smiled, his cheeks creasing like sand dunes.
“Well, gentlemen, here’s another reason we should look forward to meeting the Commonwealth when the hallowed day of Liberation comes; if all deer are as modest as our Sergeant, diplomacy shall be a breeze!”
A restrained, yet sincere chuckle echoed through the room.
“Now,” Hawkins coughed. All laughter ceased immediately. “Let us go over the plan again. This is our most ambitious operation yet, so it beckons emphasis.” The projector changed again, this time showing a strategic map of the snowy valley, soldiers, vehicles and emplaced positions indicated by various colored symbols.
“The wolves will be flying their supply AVs through here. We know they will, because they’ve had the regular route pre-planned in their systems for days. As there have been other attacks by our brothers and sisters in other states, they’re beefing up security. The supply AV will have two Varlet escorts instead of one. Nevertheless, the plan remains the same; LAW/Stinger teams shall be placed here,” He grabbed a proper wand this time, pointing to two ridges on the West and East flanks. “Their job will be to shoot down the Varlets. There’s a good chance their countermeasures will evade or destroy the Stingers, but in doing so, they’ll leave themselves wide open for an LAW shot.”
“We don’t have a whole lot of Stingers left,” one of the other officers muttered.
“Having stockpiled weapons isn’t much good if you never use them,” Hawkins pointed out. “And what we expect to get out of this raid will more than make up for any materiel losses we incur.” Hawkins turned to the projection once again.
“Now, thanks to the dogs’ advanced safety measures, we don’t expect total casualties in the crashes. 20-30% tops. The rest are to be assumed combat effective. And the escort mutts are expected to be a cut above the grunts, with some combat experience, which is why the survivors of the two crashes will be mopped up by Wolfhunter Delta and Wolfhunter Zulu, all while mortarmen will be pummeling their positions from here.” The wand tapped another ridge. “The Wolfhunters will be supported by Torch Company, drawing fire as the elites infiltrate to engage in close quarters.
The mutts will certainly be able to launch some small drones. Our electronic warfare team shall be present here, right behind the marksmen. This way, the marksmen can call out the drones’ positions, and the nerds will know where and how to hack ‘em. And failing that, we have a more direct anti-drone squad here. M2 Brownings converted to fire 12 Gauge and a couple of EMPs. Should be enough for any portable drones the mutts can throw at us.”
The officers were muttering amongst themselves, looking over their briefings and comparing notes. So far, the plan seemed quite foolproof. But then again, this was against an enemy that was literal lightyears ahead of them.
“Now, what I described so far is just maintenance.” The old general continued between plumes of smoke. His wand touched the biggest of the three AVs on the map. “This here is the silver tuna, ladies and gents. We’ve confirmed it will be loaded with mostly blasterproof armor, but also various weapons, advanced meds, communicators, advanced sensors, the works. Together with the other attacks, not only will we be loaded for bear, well… wolf.” Another timid chuckle filled the room. “... but we will also be giving the bastards one hell of a logistical headache.”
As stoic as the men and women around him were, General Hawkins saw several sadistic grins painting their faces. The thought of finally being able to strike back at Earth’s oppressors appealed to them. No longer simply hiding, gathering intel, sabotaging whatever they could, maybe wiping out an EDA traitor battalion. Now, it would be war.
Hawkins thought of all the intercepted messages of Eckzahn troopers, who thought of being stationed on Earth as a sort of vacation, with the “primitive rebels” being barely a threat. They were all about to have one hell of a nasty surprise…
“Now, we want to actually be able to secure the cargo,” Hawkins said, realizing that his vengeful thoughts were getting the better of him. “Which is why we won’t be assaulting the cargo AV with LAWs, and the red legs will fire well clear of it. Instead, we’ll have an anti-materiel marksman squad here, armed with fifty-cals and twenty-mils. And with some luck, but mostly skill, they will take out the AV’s engines, and hopefully their gun pods. At which point, it will use its emergency thrusters to land. Thankfully, it cannot change direction much once they’re activated, so we know the rough area of where they will land.” He pointed to an area circled in red to the North of the map.
“Because we expect the entire crew to survive, we will be striking them hard. The cargo ship doesn’t have a lot in the means of offensive capabilities, but it provides more than decent cover. Our snipers should have a good view of them. And at this point, ladies and gents, us Beaver Creek boys will finally get our time in the spotlight.” He pointed to several squads to the far North, marked in green.
“Charlie and Gladius Company will be moving in through the trees, masked by thermal smoke. Sparty, you’re in Gladius.” The deer nodded. “Charlie and Gladius will each have a SWAT 6x6 MRAP, providing cover and debris clearance. Be careful, we don’t have a lot of those left. You will be advancing in a pincer maneuver." Arrows appeared on the projector, circling the expected crash site.
“And like with the other two, this will provide the backdrop for the Pounds, our own Wolfhunters, to advance in the confusion and take the bastards out.” The old general took a step back, signaling that he was done. He looked at his audience expectantly, awaiting questions.
“This is all well and good,” Perez, a petite, yet fierce female Major asked. “But won’t they call for help? Backup will be on top of us before we even finish securing the site, let alone loading the cargo.”
“Trucks with CER jammers will be surrounding the area.” Hawkins explained. “Those things won’t just stop them from calling for help, but it will make their signature appear as if they are slowing down, and eventually stopping. In a few minutes, they will receive calls for status updates. Then, finally, after two minutes of no answers, they will dispatch teams to investigate. By the time that happens, we each have our share of the loot, headed for Vegas.” He smiled an almost dazzling white grin.
“The Stingers, their varlets have anti-missile defenses on them. If they’re just going to shoot them out of the air, why use them at all?” A younger officer inquired.
“Their pods are used to intercepting faster active-infrared missiles. There have many been documented cases of stingers flying right under them” the general responded, prepared for that critical question.
After thirty more minutes of deliberation, debates and suggestions, the officers packed up and left, all with an air of determination and anticipation.
“One last thing,” Colonel Lillis asked, turning around. “What should we do about potential prisoners?”
The general’s face resembled that of a shark stalking its prey. “What prisoners?”
The Colonel swallowed, saluted, then left.
Spartacus was hot on his heels, eager to finally get to sleep alongside Amelia for the first time in a month.
“Spartacus.” The general called. The deer turned back to the old human. The room was now empty, save for the two men. “I’ve been wanting to discuss something with you,” His brown, leathery face was grave. He extended the deer one of his cigars. He gladly accepted it.
“What is it, General?”
“It’s… about your people. I’ve been thinking about them.”
“The Commonwealth?”
Hawkins nodded.
“They’ve been a huge help, there’s no denying that,” The general rasped. “Hell, there’s a good chance Beaver Creek, and most of the FEM for that matter, would be glass by now without their tech and advice. But… there are some things that bother me.”
Spartacus cocked an eyebrow. “Have they ever gone back on a promise? A shipment delayed, an advisor who led us astray?”
“No, no. It’s not that. You see, son, when you’ve fought wars as long as I did, you think of the long game. And in our case, liberation, no matter how unlikely or distant that is, a decade or a century, is only the beginning. Once the mutts are kicked out from our combined strength, and the ecstasy and hangover of freedom wears off… what then?”
Spartacus was taken aback by the question. He honestly did not know what to answer.
“I… suppose the CER will extend Earth an offer to become a Republic in the Commonwealth.”
“And if we refuse?”
Spartacus blinked. He finally saw where the General was going.
“Sir, the Commonwealth is not like the Union. It does not gain new worlds via conquest and mass murder. Every planet that joined us, without exception, did so of its own accord. And you know that is true, because the Eckzahn use that fact to paint us as weak.”
“But there are other means of coercion. Who could guarantee our safety against the Eckzahn? Only the CER. Who could give us technology? Only them. Earth, whether we like it or not, has entered a different universe than the one we knew. And we could not survive it as we were before. We saw what happened when we tried.”
“Sir, I assure you, the CER shall treat Earth fairly and as an equal. As they have so far. Now is not the time to question our only allies. I know them, Sir. They are-”
“What do you know?” The General’s dark eyes looked up into Spartacus’s own. “You never lived under them. Your world was already a mutt colony by the time you were born. All you have to go off of are your father’s stories, which would naturally be through a rose tinted lens after the Eckzahn’s brutality.”
Spartacus wanted to say something, but found no words. He had never considered it. He’d always thought of the CER as intrinsically good. A light in the Universe to counter the canid empire’s darkness.
“And since we’re talking about your world…” Hawkins continued. “When you were born, it had already been conquered for ten years. And you are, what, twenty-seven now in Earth years? And in all that time, the CER did not see it fit to liberate their people from oppression.”
“Sir, you are thinking from the perspective of terrestrial warfare.” Spartacus replied. “Galactic warfare is a wholly different beast. Hundreds of systems, thousands of worlds, billions of troops. Even a small skirmish between two galactic powers could last decades. Certain wars I know of lasted centuries. And preparation for such wars are equally lengthy. The CER is preparing for something. Of that I am sure.”
The General nodded in a way that made it clear he was not at all sure.
“Be that as it may, Spartacus,” The human puffed on the nub that was left of the cigar. “But with my… tiny little Earthling brain, with my obsolete morality, to me it looks like this: the CER threw your planet out to the wolves, quite literally. And then didn’t even bother trying to take it back.
There are two possibilities: One, they’re so weak, they cannot even defend their own people, or two… they just don’t care. Either way… how does that bode for us?”
Spartacus was utterly stunlocked, unable to respond for a long minute. Until, standing up straight, looking his superior dead in the eye, he said “The Commonwealth shall come through for us. Like they have so far.”
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Madde strapped down her leg armor and stood up. She grabbed the webbing neatly stored on top of her drone pack within the locker. She clipped it onto the integrated straps of her chest armor. She took out the backpack and sat it down on the bench. Upon removing it, it revealed a red rose petal sealed in some wrap, taped to the back of the locker. She paused to ponder it.
She smiled, feeling warm and safe just looking at it. It was from the rose that Aaron had offered her, the first time they met, all those years ago. Just like that. He approached her, a big goofy smile on his face as he looked up at her, extending the strange Earth flower towards her.
It was the first time anyone on Earth had been nice to her not because they had to, or were afraid of her, but of their own accord. The warm gesture on the cold, sad, freshly vanquished world she’d found herself upon, seemed to light up her life.
Of course, Aaron had changed since then. EDA training and his personal routine had turned that once scrawny body into something respectable for a soldier. He was more daring, more assertive, more like a wolf. And the thought that she’d helped him become that warmed her heart.
But he’d also changed into something else. As he became stronger, went outside the wire more, and he gradually became a true soldier, he hardened. There was a dangerous edge to him. Like a coiled spring waiting to be unleashed upon anything it was targeted at. He was distant and edgy. She supposed almost dying did that to someone.
The moment when Aaron struck the defenseless teenager replayed in her mind over and over. Why had he done that? Did he genuinely believe the boy may have been a threat? Did he want to show the kid his place? Or, the grimmest possibility, did he simply wish to hurt someone?
She dismissed the thought. Aaron was not that kind of soldier. Many EDA troopers were power-tripping thugs, eager to get a weapon and some degree of authority in this new world. She resented that her superiors were so permissive about who joined the garrison of the Union’s latest world, but she supposed this was the best solution short term. But perhaps his more brutal comrades had gotten to him… Had he done that simply because he believed that was what was expected of him?
She gasped. That was it! He did it because he thought that’s what he was supposed to do! She even overheard two of her comrades in the DFAC laughing about the human “finally growing a pair”. She had half a mind to throw their meals in their faces like those silly Earth cartoons with the feral cat and mouse.
It was so obvious… Aaron was under the pressure of expectations. But he didn’t have to be what others wanted him to! She wanted him to remain as he was. Her Aaron.
The man she had fallen in love with.
She looked at the digital clock readout on her helmet. Aaron was still on base, if she hurried, she could-
“Sergeant Odinsdottir!” She stood at attention. Her Lieutenant stood in the doorway. She saluted.
“The convoy leaves in ten mikes, Let’s go!.”
“Sir!” She answered.
“You’ll be riding along in the Transport AV. They need a drone specialist. Varlet G-8 and G-10 shall be accompanying you.”
She cocked an eyebrow. Cargo AVs typically flew solo for short range hauls. One Varlet escort was common enough for sensitive cargo, but two, on a primitive planet, was practically unheard of.
Was it a show of force? Or had something changed?
She opened her mouth to ask, then thought better of it. She was given an order, and she would obey it.
She looked at the rose petal one last time, before closing her locker, and marching off to join her comrades.
