Comrades in Arms

— 2 —

On the very last day that Rader (Rader, Robert: 0166218: Earth-Boston) lived as a grunt, he rode inside a spearhead-shaped assault fighter, enthusiastic about the impending engagement. He crowded next to his buddies on the hard metal benches, hunched over, counting down the seconds until they reached the Jaxxan nesting asteroid.

They were a team, comrades in arms. No time for second thoughts now.

The cold metal air had been recycled too many times but still carried the unmistakable odors of sweat and farts, obvious indicators of human tension. Rader was pumped up on metabolic supplements and foul-tasting power goo. At the Base, he had wolfed down a chewy high-protein breakfast cake, which was supposed to taste like bacon and eggs, before rushing to the assault ship, grabbing his weapon, securing his body armor, and getting mentally prepared.

His squad mates were ready to go squash some roaches. They had been cooped up far too long at the Earth League’s Fixion Base #1, participating in simulation after simulation, blowing up fearsome holographic Jaxxans during practice sessions.

So far, Rader had been on only one real assault mission, a raid on a Jaxxan supply ship. Hundreds of Earth League forces had captured the small alien craft, and they had slaughtered every enemy aboard without any difficulty; Rader barely got off a shot. In battle simulations, the holographic alien warriors had always fought much more fiercely. He suspected that the Jaxxans on the supply ship were just civilians hauling crates of packaged food.

Today’s assault was bound to be much more challenging.

The night before, while prepping for the mission, Squad Sergeant Blunt had given them the full briefing—and “blunt” he was indeed, although the word “gruff” seemed equally appropriate; some of Rader’s squad mates preferred the term “psycho-bastard.” Rader had sat joking with his buddies, nudging ribs with elbows. Since being thrown together into the same pressure cooker with the same goal and the same enemy, their squad had become very close—Renfrew, Chaney, Coleman, Rajid, Gonzalez, Huff.

In the briefing room, Sergeant Blunt projected a map of the asteroid belt, a smattering of space gravel strewn along an orbit that just happened to be in the star’s habitable zone, though no one would really want to live there. Nevertheless, the Earth League deemed the Fixion Belt worth fighting for, and Rader had signed up in a fit of patriotism that had lasted significantly less time than his term of service.

The Sarge pointed to illuminated asteroids on the diagram, indicating the ones held by humans and an equivalent number held by Jaxxans. (The score received boos and hisses from the squad members). The largest planetoid, Fixion itself, was the most hotly fought-over piece of real estate in the Galaxy.

Blunt pointed to another flyspeck amid the dots in the asteroid belt. “Intel has discovered a roach hatching base, or a nest, or whatever the hell they call it. We’re going to wipe it out. Squash the bugs before they can hatch a thousand more disgusting soldiers.”

The Sarge paused for a moment, looking at every member of the squad. “Payback. The Roaches did the same thing to us on Cephei Outpost. They saw that little colony and assumed it was our breeding station, killed all those poor colonists, those children. I don’t think they understand how humans breed.” Sergeant Blunt’s voice became grim and angry. “We’ve got embassies set up on the Détente Asteroid, and the Jaxxan higher-ups speak better English than you do, but neither side talks.”

The mood in the briefing room grew resentful; many of the grunts sneered at the very idea of peace talks. Huff let out a rude snort. “How can you talk with the
things
that slagged Cephei?”

Sergeant Blunt got them to concentrate on the priority. “It’s not your job to think about the big picture. We don’t pay you enough to consider the complicated things. Commissioner Sobel decides when it’s time to talk to them. For you guys, we keep it simple: Enter the roach hatching station, destroy everything, and go home.”

Rader raised his hand. “Any intel on Jaxxan defenses there, Sergeant?”

“Doesn’t matter.” The Sarge gave the closest thing to a smile that Rader had ever seen. “We’ll have a Deathguard with us. A fresh one, all systems still fully functional.”

A quick hesitation of surprise, then a round of cheers …

Later, as the assault fighter closed in on the targeted Jaxxan hatching base, Rader checked his weapon, his suit, his med kit, his backup power pack. He pretended to relax. Waiting … gearing up … waiting … joking … waiting. Typical Earth League operation: hurry up and wait.

Voices grew louder in the spacecraft as the conversation became edgier, more rushed. He and his buddies talked about what they would do on their next R&R, reminisced about their homes, their families, their sweethearts. Although his squadmates were not a particularly handsome lot, each man claimed to have a gorgeous girlfriend who put porn holostars to shame and yet was entirely loyal and head-over-heels in love.

After the massacre on Cephei Outpost, he’d been too young by a month when the first call went out. But his best friend, Cody, was two months older and just barely squeaked into the Earth League military, ready to go after the Jaxxans. Before he left for basic training, Cody said goodbye to Rader with a quick embrace and then a studiously practiced League handshake. “There’ll be plenty of roaches for both of us to kill, don’t worry! Get your ass in the League as soon as you can sign up, and I’ll meet you out there.” He gestured vaguely toward the sky. Rader promised, waving … but wishing his friend had waited, just a couple of months.

His parents and his sister worried about Rader going off to war, but it was the patriotic thing to do. All healthy young men were pressured to join up, and he was anxious to follow in Cody’s footsteps. A month later, on his birthday, he filled out the forms.

One week into basic training at the lunar military base, Rader received word that Cody and his entire squad had been wiped out by an equipment malfunction. An airlock hatch blew open when the troop transport was approaching a space station. Explosive decompression killed all personnel, sucked them out into space. Simple mechanical failure, bad luck—nothing that could be blamed on the enemy.

Rader had joined wanting to fight alongside Cody. They had always been a team, and he had hoped they could support each other, stand together against the Jaxxans. But the Earth League had him now, and he couldn’t change his mind. His squadmates were his comrades now, his new best friends.…

As soon as the assault shuttle landed on the Jaxxan nesting asteroid, explosive bolts would blast the hatch open so that the soldiers could storm out in a howling rush. His companions whooped, winding themselves up during the final approach, and Rader joined in. But as he looked warily at the hatch, suited up and holding his laser rifle, he thought of Cody’s last moments … willing to die in a blaze of glory out on the battlefield, not from a stupid malfunction.

Sitting wordless on an empty bench, the Deathguard in their team was an ominous, armored form, like a knight in shining armor. Rader respected the powerful cyborgs—resuscitated, revamped, and restructured to become perfect fighting machines—though he wondered what thoughts kept them going. Did they focus on the mission, even knowing what had happened to them, and what
would
happen to them? He supposed it was better than being declared dead. All Deathguards got an honorable funeral, and their families received full pensions; no one knew the former identity of any individual Deathguard. Rader hadn’t thought twice about it when he enlisted in the League. He’d signed up body and soul.

Huff leaned over and whispered to him, “I can’t wait to see that Deathguard go bonkers on the roach nest.”

“So long as he doesn’t go all Werewolf on us before it’s time,” Rajid said.

Rader found himself staring at the silent cyborg. “Not going to happen. They’re too sophisticated for that.” The Deathguard made no comment, one way or another.

Through the small windowport on his side of the craft, Rader could see the potato-shaped asteroid as they closed in. The large craters were covered over with domes like large blisters, as if the space rock had reacted with an outbreak of boils to the alien presence.

Sergeant Blunt walked in heavy boots from the front bulkhead and stood before them in full uniform armor. “Listen up. Based on the small number of roach military ships stationed at the asteroid, looks like the enemy has no major defenses here. We have no intel on the interior of the base, so you’ll have to find your way. Get to the main hatching chamber and destroy it. Clear enough? Your job is simple—point and shoot.”

On the way in, the assault ship’s pulsed lasers disabled the four Jaxxan ships stationed at the nest asteroid. Even though the nest asteroid sent emergency calls for Jaxxan reinforcements, Sergeant Blunt had expected it. The plan was to strike fast and finish the operation before alien backup vessels could fly in.

“All right, children,” the Sarge said. “Saddle up, take your toys, and let’s go scramble some eggs. Just don’t let them scramble you. We’re coming in hot, going to blow through one of their entrance domes. Do I need to remind you that this is
not
a prisoner capturing mission?”

“No, Sarge!” they all chimed in.

“Good, I was hoping you weren’t all as dense as you looked. Now let’s move it.” The Sergeant fitted a breathing mask over his face; Rader and his companions did the same. The Deathguard sat waiting, like a missile prepped for launch.

Once the assault shuttle careened up against the largest blister dome and a shaped-charge explosion blasted open the hatch to let them loose, Rader’s squadmates boiled out, swinging their laser rifles and yelling; they exercised just enough restraint to keep from shooting one another.

The alarms inside the hatching base sounded like staccato clacking beetles. Rader bolted forward and used his laser rifle to cut down any aliens he encountered. It wasn’t his place to decide whether the roaches were civilians, politicians, medical personnel, or soldiers.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if the Jaxxan assault squad on Cephei Outpost had operated under similar orders.

As they rounded a corner into the main base, a Jaxxan in front of them raised his thin forearms and wove a deadly psychic energy-web. Gonzalez let out a cry more of surprise than pain, then the incandescent green lines disintegrated him.

Astonished, Rader used the sudden jolt of shock and fired. He blasted the Jaxxan before he could move his angular arms again.

Behind the main squad, the Deathguard lurched into the fray, mowing down targets, yet never coming close to hitting one of his human comrades. The cyborg blew open door hatches, thrust his armored body into well-lit research chambers, annihilated any aliens he found working in their labs. Then the Deathguard pushed forward, leading the way along skewed corridors and through angled intersections, deeper into the hatching base.

Still off-balance and angry from the loss of Gonzalez, Rader ran headlong with four of his comrades into a chamber of horrors—a nursery. Five Jaxxan attendants had lined up to protect more than a dozen fat, squirming grubs, white segmented things like maggots the size of alligators.

Coleman said, “That’s just
wrong
!” He opened fire, and the grubs spilled open like fleshy sacs filled with entrails and ichor.

Frantic, one of the Jaxxan caretakers cried out in English, “No! Not the offspring.” The alien’s comprehensible words were so startling that Rader hesitated. But it was just a ruse: other aliens nearby worked together to weave a sparkling energy-web, filling the air with a mesh of green that they cast toward the human soldiers.

Rader focused and shot one of the roaches, then the next, working his way down the line, just like in the simulation. Huff knocked out the other two, and their incomplete energy-web dispersed. The rest of the Earth League soldiers made swift work of the remaining grubs in the nursery, chopping them into chunks of meat.

The Deathguard, who wasn’t part of the formal operation, had already moved ahead on his own, continuing his rampage. Apparently, the cyborg soldier wanted to make the most of his second chance.

Over the implanted radio, Rader heard Sergeant Blunt yelling from a different sector of the asteroid, “Just woke up a hundred roach warriors in the deep tunnels! And they look angry. Called Base for reinforcements. Another ship should be here in an hour or two, so hold the roaches off till then.”

“Roger that, Sarge,” came a chorus of responses.

The Sarge added, “We know they sent off a distress signal too. It’ll be a race to see who gets here first.”

Rader said with genuine bravado, “Won’t leave anything for them to rescue, Sarge.”

As the squad pushed into the asteroid’s most secure chambers, desperate Jaxxans fought harder and harder. Energy-webs rippled down the angled corridors, ricocheting off stone walls and frying several more human soldiers. Rader kept a rough score in the back of his mind, tried not to name his friends who lay dead.
Concentrate on the operation, on the objective
.

So far, he thought the humans were taking a greater toll.

Explosions rippled through the nesting base, and overpressure waves made his ears pop. Sergeant Blunt shouted over the implanted radio, “Heavy resistance—fresh warriors from below.” He paused, as if to listen to a report. “Ah, crap—there’s a roach ship coming in! Don’t know if we can hold ‘em off long enough.” Rader heard another explosion, a sizzling sound, then a cry of pain from the Sarge—a high-pitched yelp that did not at all sound like the gruff, hardboiled man—then only static on the comline.

Rader shoved aside his alarm and dismay, not sure how the survivors of his squad were going to get out of here, but they would keep pushing toward the objective.

He, Coleman, and Huff fought their way into a large guarded chamber where the roaches made their last stand. The entrance hatch was sealed, so the three soldiers used their laser rifles to melt an entrance through the putty-like polymer metal wall.

“This must be the place,” Coleman said.