LAST IN HIS LINE....
Commander Reese drank deeply of the cool, moist night air. There was an eerie silence
about the arm base camp. It was in stark contrast to the almost non stop core raids that
had dogged his convoy since they began there journey three weeks earlier.
Reese looked over his shoulder, sparing a thought for the numerous broken hulls that lay
between the origin of their journey, the arm HQ on ppx012, and their current position, 2
click south east of Gaat pass. It was those accursed rapiers that had done the most
damage, taking advantage of the fact that the last of the arm air support had been
eliminated a week earlier. The most haunting thing about the assault however, was the
way they ended abruptly as the convoy approached the Gaat pass. It was as if the core
themselves feared the automated death trap that lay ahead...
Reese shook his head, trying to clear his mind of those lost. He cast his mind forward to
the fate of those who remained. After all, the dead had nothing to fear from the trials
ahead.
To his right stood a squad of four flash tanks. Steam rose silently from the plating of
each vehicle, spiralling upwards into the pitch black sky. Each hull bore the marks of
enemy raids, like backwards trophies of every crippling blow dealt to their forces by the
enemy. Reese watched as the swirls of vapour ascended to the heavens, leaving the hell
like reality of the galactic war behind them on the planets surface. As the weary
commander
followed the clouds upward, perhaps to his own escape, he caught sight of the moon
of that world. ppx012 was a strange little world. Gravity 9.79 m/ssqr, and only a single
moon. Lush, green and humid this world was the only liveable one in the sector, ideal for
a basic training facility. Therein lay its importance. The arm central command saw
this, and deemed it worthy of the sacrifice of him and his battalion. Reese was not a naive
young private. He knew that the command intended this world as his final resting place.
And final It would be. There had been a Reese fighting for the arm for over 2000 years. In
that time, the original DNA pattern had been lost, as had many subsequent cloned
samples. Now the samples in storage were so badly riddled with aberrant strands that any
further attempts at cloning would almost surely fail. Today, for the first time in 2000
years, Commander Zeek Reese was mortal...
A voice came from over Reeses' shoulder,
"Commander, the squad leaders are assembled." It was his aide, corporal Max, "They wish
to discuss tomorrow's advance."
Reese gave a shallow sigh. He was reluctant to face his squad leaders. He had always
had trouble looking a man in the eye whom he was to lead to his death. It was this lack
of ruthlessness that had kept Reese from attaining the lofty rank of high commander. So,
what would he tell his squad leaders? The same thing he always had. That beyond the
horizon lay the euphoria of victory, the glory of final supremacy over the core. In reality,
all there was, for these incarnations of his men at least, was oblivion.
"Tell them I shall be there momentarily." Reese replied, turning to face the young
corporal. Max nodded acknowledgement and returned hastily to the temporary shelter
that stood just beyond a radar jammer behind him. Reese turned once more to face the
horizon he had been pondering earlier. As the whirr of the near silent jammer penetrated
the night air around him, his mind turned once more to his new found mortality.
Day broke across the grassy plane. The lush foliage swayed gently in the light morning
breeze, small winged creatures darted through the pale blue skies, and fragments of
sunlight danced among the dew drops that coated the well ordered killing machines.
A poorly rested Commander Reese emerged from the Polymeric alloy cocoon that had
been his shelter for the night. The previous night had been a restless one for the
tormented commander. Much of it he had spent conscious, contemplating the
philosophical questions of cloning that had long been oppressed by the arm governing
bodies. Would his men be safe from the clutches of death, protected by the safety net
of the rigorous cloning that was carried out by arm scientists, or would the new clones
be separate entities, having only sparse memories in common with their predecessors. His
own experience had given him little insight. And what of the soul. Did any of the arm's
forces possess such a thing, and if so, what would become of his...
" Commander!" a familiar voice shattered Reese's concentration," All units report ready for
advance. Do you wish to address the men before the battle?" Asked Max. And, after 2000
years of having been asked that same question, Reese gave an unprecedented answer.
" No."
The previous nights meeting of his senior officers had not gone well. Reese was certain
that his uncertainty had been apparent to his officers. He knew that they where strong
and responsible enough to keep it to themselves, but he daren't risk spreading his
insecurity to the less experienced troops.
" There is no time for such indulgence." Reese said, trying to mask his true intentions,"
We move now before the enemy mobilise their assault forces." This was in fact a half
truth. They did have limited time. Their suicide assault had to weaken the enemy now,
otherwise the Arm HQ would be over run by the swelling core army. Given enough time
the arm could reinforce their defences, but only if Reese and his men died hard.
"And what of our squad?" Reese enquired, trying to break the harsh tone at the
conversation had assumed.
"It was ready first of course, sir" Max replied, the squad pride evident in his voice. Reese
cast a sideways glance at his protégé, and gave a gentle smile.
"Excellent, carry on soldier"
Reese admired Corporal Max's organisational skills and enthusiasm for battle. It was these
qualities that had prompted Reese to choose Max as his aide. It was fortunate that there
would be a Lezly Max for some time to come.
Max trotted onwards toward the lead squad which was now coming into view from
around an unfeasibley large bulldog battle tank.
The squad to which they referred was a group of five vehicles. A quartet of Rocko rocket
kbots headed up by a heavily modified Fido, Commander Reeses steed of battle.
After an eternity of ten minutes, Reese came upon the Fido that he would pilot into into
battle. Though heavily armoured by comparison to a regular Fido, Reese preferred the
manoeuvrability it afforded over the over armoured, over armed commander unit. Reese
began the final ascent of his companion of 300 years, all the time contemplating that it
would be his last. He soon reached the summit of the quadrapedal colossus, and perched
himself there. The elevation had forced back the horizon, and now the mountain range
that housed the meat grinder that was gaat pass was clearly visible. Reese found his
mind filling with morbid thoughts of his own demise. He tore his glare away from the
horizon. Slowly, he opened the access hatch to the Fido, as a man opening his own
coffin. With a deep breath, he slid himself in.
The interior of the Fido was even more unusual than the exterior. Though still as
claustrophobic, it was well lit and adorned by a plethora of manual controls. Reese
preferred manual control. Over the last 2000 years, his genetic memory of every battle
had made his physical reflexes far more reliable than any mind interface. Only the radar
and communications systems were fed into his mind via the neural interface helmet.
Commander Reese placed this on his head, and keyed in his access code on the small
console on the right arm of the pilot seat.
"Good day commander." A synthetic male voice rang out in Reese's mind. It was the Fido
on board computer.
"Good morning computer." Reese replied in thought, "Are all systems ready."
"All systems are combat ready.", the computer answered. It was followed closely by a
second familiar voice.
" All squads manned and ready sir." It was Max. "We're ready when you are."
This was it. Reese hesitated. Then, composing himself, he gave the order.
"all units, move out."
The entrance to the pass loomed high above the Arm convoy. At first glance, there was
no evidence of a core presence. Only blank, barren cliff faces. This was a sharp contrast
to the open countryside they had left behind.
Entering the valley was an unnerving experience. The valley walls dwarfed the 200 strong
convoy, and the sounds they made echoed eerily between them. Reese could see
nothing on the radar, but he knew they were there. Dozens of defence towers, hidden by
radar jammers. Reese could hear them. The infrasound detectors were picking up the
inaudible, mechanical sounds of the towers turning to face their prey. The commander
turned his attention to the radar. A few of the rear guard squads were beginning to
bunch together. The less experienced soldiers, influenced by anxiety, where increasing
speed.
"Steady as you go." Was the general communication sent by Reese.
It would be very easy for one or two soldiers to panic. Such a catastrophe could send
the entire convoy into confusion. That was the last thing they needed.
"I don't like this commander." Came Max's voice via communications, "Where are they?"
"Stay calm corporal," Reese replied in a stern tone, "We'll be hearing from the core soon
enough."
"I know. But I think I'd rather face the whole core army on my own as long as I could see
them." Max was deeply unsettled by the covert nature of the enemy they were about to
face. Reese closed the channel before muttering to himself,
"I know what you mean."
Then there was silence. The infrasound sensors were reading nothing. The towers had
found their targets.
A streak of green light raced across the visual readout, accompanied by a high pitch
shriek as the air ionised around it. It was followed instantaneously by a hale of laser fire.
Within seconds, Reese was inundated with news of damaged and lost units. The radar
display in his mind was going wild. Units were under attack from all directions, and the
convoy was beginning to lose cohesion. Reese opened a communication channel,
"All units, do not return fire!" He barked, "Keep moving!" He knew that if small groups of
units started making runs at gun emplacements it would only make the Core's job easier.
But already squads were breaking away. Panic was setting in among the Arm forces.
An intensely loud shriek emerged from the pandemonium, and was culminated in a
thunderous crash that reverberated through the Fido's hull. The kbot lurched over to its
left.
"Damn it!" Reese snarled, as the damage control console lit up like a colony power grid.
His attempts to compensate for power loss were interrupted by a communication from
Corporal Max.
"Sir, the squads at the rear a getting bogged down behind the wreckage!"
"Where are the FARKs!" Reese snapped.
"Er... that's the wreckage that the squads have got stuck behind sir." Max replied. The
irony of the situation was not lost on Reese. On another day It might have been almost
funny.
"Tell them to blast there way through!" came Reese's order, "The convoy must keep
moving!"
"Yes sir." Said Max.
The once straight pass was now becoming convoluted, and the larger units were having
difficulty manoeuvring. At this point Reese was navigating by sonar. So much dust had
been thrown up in the melee that optical sensors were near useless. The ground all
around the Arm convoy was shaking as it was pummelled continuously by laser fire.
Another communication came in,
"Sir, we're under heavy attacked!" screamed the anonymous voice, " We've lost the
squad leader and..."
"Who is this!" Reese interrupted.
"Corporal Alred, sir." Was the reply, "I've taken command of squad 7. We're going to
make a run at some of the emplacements."
"You will not!" Reese said, enraged by the foolhardy suggestion.
"But sir, we..."
"Listen here corporal, either you keep your squad moving, or I'll come back there and
dismantle you myself!" A short pause followed Reese's words.
"Yes sir." Said Alred, submissively. With that, he closed the channel.
The enemy fire seemed to have reached saturation. A continuous crescendo of weapons
discharge and tearing metal filled the air all around. Reese could barely keep his vehicle
stable, the shaking of the earth beneath it was that intense. There was another ear
piercing shriek. Reese braced himself for the impact. There came a deafening explosion,
followed by a heavy, rapid beating against the exterior of the vehicle. That was the
sound of debris from the destruction of a nearby unit...Max! Reese hastily opened a
channel.
" Max!" He shouted, as a father searching desperately for his child, "Max! What just
happened!"
"We've lost Louis, sir." Came the reply. Reese breathed a sigh of relief, but caught himself
halfway through. How could he feel this way after the loss of a good man like Louis. Then
he remembered that it may not be over for Louis, nor would it have been for Max had he
been lost. Reese realised then just how much mortality had changed him. Death was now
frighteningly real for him, and it had altered totally his attitude, not just towards his own
life, but towards those of his men.
"Sir," Max's voice broke Reese's concentration, "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Reese asked.
"The laser fire," Max replied, "It's dying off." Reese listened. Max was right. All the Laser
fire was now coming from behind their position. They were leaving it behind as they came
to a bend in the pass. It looked as if Reese's stubborn, non-confrontational tactics had
paid off. They had survived, for now.
The convoy had come to rest in a convolution in the pass. The cliff faces here were so
sheer
that the Core had been unable to booby trap them. Reese examined his radar readings.
Approximately 40% of his forces had been lost, and what remained was crammed into the
narrow , sharply curved section of the valley in a formation that resembled a crooked
limb.
"What now, commander?" enquired Max. Though he would never say it in front of his
soldiers, Reese had little idea what to do next. Intelligence on the area ahead was
sketchy at best, and frankly he had not expected to live to see it.
"We scout." Reese said, after a short pause. He couldn't go far wrong with scouting. He
opened a second channel to the scout squads.
"Lieutenant Ash."
"Yes sir?" Ash replied.
"We'll be moving on momentarily," Reese informed her, "I want your squad and scout
squad 2 to take point."
"We're on it, sir." Ash answered, before closing the channel. A couple of moments
passed. Then, with an insect like buzz of engine activity, two squads of four Jeffys burst
from the Arm ranks, and bounded onwards across the rocky terrain.
"All units, move out!" ordered Reese. The convoy came to life, and began to round the
curve in the pass behind the bold Jeffy squads. All the time, Reese kept a careful eye on
the readings sent back by the scouts.
Reese's squad made its way around an outcrop of rubble. At this point ,the valley opened
out into a wide, crater like formation. Sparse vegetation dotted the terrain here. The
walls were no longer vertical, but instead curved continuously from the floor of the valley
to the top. Imperfections in the cliff faces played host the local airborne wildlife. This
was a good sign. No indigenous fauna would dare nest there if the sides of the chasm
housed enemy units.
"Commander Reese." It was Ash , "We're detecting some seismic activity ahead."
"Explain." Reese said.
"Its very localised. A sort of low pitch rumble." Ash replied, "What do you suppose it
could be?" With that, her question was answered. A viper cannon sprang from the ground
in a eruption of dust and rock. The Jeffys scattered, but one unfortunate unit was
caught right on top of the cannon as it rose. The vehicle was tossed effortlessly into the
air at a 60 degree angle. It collided with the cliff face and exploded, raining down burning
debris as two more vipers thrust upwards from the valley floor. All three cannons began
to pump shells into the body of the convoy. Chaos ensued. Units were colliding with one
another as they swerved to avoid the shelling. Reese could hardly see through the swarm
of panicking creatures as they took flight from the valley's sides, bombarding the Arm
with payloads of their own.
"Advance!" Reese, commanded, "Fire at will!"
The convoy let loose a heavy volley of weapon fire. The projectiles thundered over
Reese's Fido, causing the 300 year old kbot to rattle like a tin full of ration pellets. The
ground shook once more as the rockets and shells came to bare, and the Vipers
disappeared behind a veil of fire and smoke. Moments later, the smoke cleared, revealing
the battered corpses of their attackers, and another four new Vipers standing behind.
"Ash, get your units out of there!" Reese shouted.
"We're way ahead of you, sir!" Ash replied, as her squad were absorbed back into the
ranks from which they came.
"All Peewee and Flash squads advance!" was Reese's next order, "Artillery and rocket
units lay down covering fire!" There was to be no more ducking the fight now. The
convoy would have to go toe to toe with the Core guns if they were to survive. But it
seemed that for every Viper destroyed, like the heads of the mythical hydra, another two
appeared in its place.
Again, the convoy was blinded by the dust and smoke. Reese himself was pouring plasma
shells haphazardly into the thick, black haze, and his right thumb was numb from
operating the firing mechanism. It was then that a new sound joined the cacophony. A
thunderous rumbling that shook the ground, threatening to topple Reese's Fido. As
Reese's fingers raced around several consoles, thumping buttons and jarring unresponsive
systems as he struggled to keep his vehicle steady. Reese then began to realise what
was happening. The violent exchange that was going on in the canyon had made the
walls unstable. A massive landslide was occurring.
"All units, Retreat!" shouted Reese as he struggled to bring the violently shaking Fido
through 180 degrees. The smaller units had already turned and run back into the narrow
section of valley, but the larger vehicles were having difficulty turning. Some were
reversing out of harms way, but their progress was agonisingly slow, and Reese was
stuck at the back of the sluggish queue of vehicles with no way to escape into the
narrow pass. Through the visual feed, Reese watched as a mighty tempest of slag
washed over the remaining Vipers and straggling flashes. With grim resignation, he
released the control levers from his sweat soaked hands, and forced himself back into his
seat. Gritting his teeth, Reese waited for the moment of impact. With a horrendous
crash, a stream of rock collided with the defenceless machine. Klaxons and warning
signals flooded through the neural interface into Reese's mind, before being abruptly
silenced as the helmet was thrown from his head. Reese's stomach turned as he felt the
massive frame of his vehicle being tossed end over end. Sparks leapt from every console,
filling the air like a swarm of fire flies. The atmosphere in the cockpit was then saturated
with a swirling, white cloud of fire suppressant, obscuring everything from Reese's view.
All he could sense were the violent tumbling of the Fido, and the deafening sound made
by the torrent of stone pummelling the hull. Terrified and disorientated, Commander Reese
lost consciousness.
Awareness was slowly returning to the Arm commander. All around him was still dark.
Reese's head was spinning, and he was very nearly sucked back into oblivion. On the
verge of losing consciousness once more, Reese was snatched from the brink by a
peculiar sound. It was a metallic grinding, low pitch but quite loud. Suddenly he was
bathed in a blinding light. Reese grunted with discomfort. His eyes were unprepared for
the intensity of the rays. The commanders head began to fill with stories of strange the
experiences of soldier on the threshold of death. Was this... the other side?
"Commander?" there came a distant voice, "Commander?" Reese recognised it. It was
Max.
"Max, where ...." Reese struggled to speak, " what..? Ahh..." He was overcome
momentarily by a pounding headache. Reese realised that he was still painfully alive.
"I think he's okay." Max's voice had gone from distant to deafening as Reese's senses
returned. His condition was reminiscent of the worst hangovers from his enlisted days.
"Commander, I'm going to release your harness and pull you out. Okay?"
"Yeah." Reese replied in a weak, raspy tone. An ill defined silhouette emerged from the
light. The figure reached forward, and released the metal buckle on his chest. The straps
withdrew into the sides of the chair. Reese could just about make out Max's face now, as
the corporal thrust his arms beneath his own.
"One, two, three!" Max said. Then with a grunt of effort, he hoisted the commander
towards the light. Reese gave an almost inaudible chuckle as he emerged into the radiant
sunlight. He thought to himself that if he did ever reach the other side, he hoped his
ascension would be more elegant than this.
Reese and Max sat atop the battered hulk of the commander's Fido, watching as the
remaining Arm troops performed temporary repairs on their vehicles. Max's Rocko had
sustained little damage. Most of the repairs needed where just to the cockpit
electronics, and had only taken a few minutes to perform. Reese's Fido was a write off.
It lay on its side, the aft section sandwiched between the valley wall and a mound of
rubble. The two warriors had taken the free time to talk over their next move.
" I just don't see any sense in continuing with the mission sir." Corporal Max said, with a
dejected expression, " There's no way we'll be able to get through the rest of this pass
without further heavy loss."
"Perhaps you'd prefer to go back through the way we came, Corporal." Reese said dryly,
"You can take point."
" Ah. I see what you mean." Max concurred. He cast a glance towards the sloping mound
of loose rock that now blocked the pass ahead, and gave a nervous laugh. "Talk about
your rock and a hard place." He then turned back to Reese. " I just don't see how we
can pose any serious threat to the Core presence if we lose anymore units." The convoy
now numbered less than 60, and only a few types of units would be able to climb the
obstacle that now spanned the width of the chasm. Reese looked up to the sky. He was
desperate for inspiration at this point, and would take it from wherever it came. Above
him the sky was still clear, tarnished only by a single, wispy cloud. Following it across the
sky provided a temporary distraction from the turmoil he felt inside. Earlier that morning
he had sure that he would be dead by now, and now even that certainty had been taken
from him. He was lost, and it was an entirely new and unpleasant experience for him.
Unwilling to admit defeat, Reese made the only decision he could.
"There's only one way to go," Reese broke the silence, "and that's forward. Tell the
technicians to prepare small explosive charges. We'll use them to reduce the gradient of
the debris mound. Then we go over." He placed both hands on the cold metal bulkhead,
raised himself up, and slid himself down the side of the wreck. He landed on his feet with
a dull thud. He grunted, and stumbled back against the underside of the stricken kbot
cradling his heavily strapped chest. He had forgotten about those two broken ribs.
" Are you all right sir?" Max shouted after him.
" Yes!" Gasped Reese, " But I think I may have scratched the paint work!"
It had only taken ten minutes to prepare the charges, and place them at the base of the
steep debris pile. The convoy had backed off into the pass in an orderly manner to allow
some space for the induced land slide. Reese was now riding shotgun in a bulldog, which
had received a field promotion to the command squad in place of Reese's Fido. From here
he would co-ordinate the remainder of the mission. His new surroundings were unfamiliar,
as he was used to operating a kbot rather than heavy support. Also, the cockpit was
very dark by comparison to that of his Fido, lit only by a single red lamp on the underside
of the access hatch above. In front of him was the pilots position, manned by Major Foy.
All Reese could see of him from his slightly raised position was the back of his helmet clad
head. There were no screens or consoles around. All the vehicles functions were routed
to Foy's mind via the neural interface, the standard set up for an Arm vehicle. Reese on
the other hand, was only receiving sensor information and communications. He found the
lack of control unsettling.
"All the charges are in place commander." Came Max's voice over communications.
"Very good corporal." Reese replied, he then switched to general communication. "All
units brace for detonation. Technicians, detonate on my mark.... Mark!" Reese watched
via the sensors as small bursts plasma and rock erupted from the foot of the rock pile.
The light tapping of debris against the hull could be heard as the series of explosions
worked there way outwards from the centre of the mound. The explosions were followed
closely by a soft rumbling as the boundary of the slide began to approach the convoy. Forr
a moment, as he watched the steady tide of stone rolling in, he feared that it may not
stop. If the technicians had miscalculated, half the convoy could be buried, bringing a
rather silly end to their mission. But the tide did ebb. The foot of the mound came to rest
ten metres ahead of the convoy, its face making an easily surmountable forty degree
angle with the ground. Reese breathed a sigh of relief at the success of the blasting, and
opened a communication channel.
"Max, report." He said.
"There are no reports of damage to any units sir." Max replied, "The technicians report
100% success with the blast." Reese often allowed Max to deal with field reports. It kept
the young corporal on his toes.
"Sir, the mound doesn't look too stable. Are you sure its safe to climb?" Max enquired,
gingerly.
"No." Reese replied. "All units, move out!"
The crunching of gravel beneath the tracks could be heard as the colossal bulldog hauled
itself forward. Through the visual sensors Reese could see the two remaining command
Rockos, and a third Rocko that had been promoted from the from the third squad to
replace Louis's. He watched as the smaller, more nimble Kbots began their ascent of the
rocky slope. Rocks and pebbles tumbled down the incline with each careful footfall of the
vehicles. The engines of the bulldog strained as it began it's own climb. Reese could
sense the front of the vehicle rising slowly. There was a grinding sound, followed by a
shrill whirring as the tracks lost grip momentarily on the loose stones and began to spin.
Reese's heart skipped a beat as he realised the possibility of the Bulldog's struggling
causing a second uncontrolled landslide. He had no wish to repeat his last experience
with one of those. Major Foy soon regained the vehicles footing, however.
"Sorry about that, sir." Foy apologised hastily.
"Don't worry about it soldier." Reese replied, trying not to sound to flustered. The Bulldog
then began its ascent proper. It was a very slow climb. The Bulldog, not the fastest unit
at the best of times, was moving at a much lower speed than normal. The Rockos moved
on ahead. As they did, they disturbed still more rubble. Reese noticed a small, shiny
object protruding from the slope were Max's kbot had trodden a moment earlier. As the
Bulldog moved closer to the object Reese was able to make out the familiar form. It was
a fragment of a peewee hull, embossed with the Arm emblem. Reese sighed deeply with
regret at not having attempted a rescue, but it was not standard Arm procedure. Why
waste time and resources rescuing troops when you can clone new ones? On another
day, the commander would not have given it a second thought.
"Would you look at that!" Max's voice came over communications. His group of Rockos
had reached the top of the mound some minutes before, and were now surveying an area
out of Reese's line of sight. He sat forward in his chair quickly, and was almost winded as
he met with resistance from his safety harness.
"What is it?" Reese asked, his voice heavy with anticipation.
"I think you'll want to see this for yourself commander." Max replied. Reese hated it when
his troops were cryptic with him. He decided to indulge his aide, however, and wait for
the Bulldog to reach the top of the debris pile. It seemed like forever. Reese was
tempted to order Foy to increase speed, but controlled the urge, thinking back to his last
encounter with a rock slide. Eventually, the bulldog reached the top of the incline. The
front end reared into the air as it did, as the tank was slightly rear heavy. Then, with a
grinding of rock on metal, the front of the bulldog angled towards the horizontal. The
tracks met the ground surprisingly softly. Ahead the mound was fairly flat and was only a
few metres short of the top of the shrunken valley walls. Across the length and breadth
of the newly established ground there were several small, shiny protrusions, much like
the one Reese had seen as the Bulldog was mounting the rocky slope. Foy took the
vehicle forward to meet the Rockos that were standing about fifty metres ahead at the
rear end of the mound. As the tank crawled forward, more of what lay beyond the slide
could be seen. At the horizon there was a mountain range. Each mount was tinted green
by the vegetation on its slopes, and was capped by pure, white snow that shone with
near blinding brilliance in the early afternoon sun. The Bulldog moved still further, until
the dense woodland that stood at the foot of the range was revealed. Great flocks birds
twisted and turned in unison above the canopies, casting there shadows across the
forest below. As the perimeter of the woodland came into view, Reese's attention was
caught by the glint of a distant object. Before he could make out what it was, another
came into view. Tens of glistening, metallic objects began to emerge from behind the
land slide. Reese gasped as he realised what he was seeing. Dozens of irregularly
arranged structures of widely varying sizes. It was the Core base. It had become
apparent that the exchange in the pass earlier that day had caused the collapse of the
entire valley forward of the convoy's position. The walls of the chasm parted like curtains
before the Arm Commander, revealing the stage upon which the final act would occur.
Every emotion that Reese was experiencing -awe, surprise, apprehension, fear- were
encapsulated by Major Foy's quite utterance,
"Woah..."
All of the Arm convoy's sixty or so units were now congregated on the top of the mound.
Reese, who was still staring down upon the Core base, was oblivious to the numerous
communications he was receiving. The units to the rear of the convoy could not see the
huge cluster of enemy structures that sprawled across the landscape before them, and
were requesting information and orders. The commander's attention turned to the queue
of communications now awaiting a reply. A priority message came in, overriding those
that had come before. It was Max.
"Commander, we need some orders." Max said in a concerned tone. Through the visual
sensors Reese detected movement.
"Sir, the enemy is mobilising." Came Max's voice again, this time with more urgency, "We
have to go now." Max was right. The Core forces were now filtering through between the
vast maze of structures. The Arm convoy was out numbered by at least six to one.
Reese hesitated still.
"Sir!" Max was becoming frustrated, "We have got to move out now! If we can get
between the enemy structures before the Core can get out they won't be able to bring
their numbers to bare!" Max's voice now seemed distant to Reese. All his attention was
focused of the Core army that was moving inexorably towards their position. There was
no way out of this. The moment he gave the order, his fate would be sealed. Reese dug
his fingers into the side of his seat. He could still hear Max desperately trying to elicit a
response, but Reese still could not find it within himself to give the order. He wasn't
ready to go. He wasn't ready to fight..... he wasn't ready to die. Suddenly, Reese
released his grip on the seat. This is what It's like. He thought. This is what it's like to
die for your cause. Reese remembered the tales of the old wars, back on Earth before it
was lost. Before cloning or patterning. A time when death was final. As an Arm warrior,
Reese had never fully understood this concept. How could he? An Arm warrior gave his
life over and over again, only to have it returned like an item of lost battle gear. Reese
looked down at his hands. They were shaking and glistening with seat in the pale light of
the Bulldog cocpit. Reese's returned his attention to the advancing Core. They were
nearing the perimeter of the base and would soon emerge onto the flat open ground only
a couple of hundred metres from the waiting Arm. If this was where the Reese line was
to fall, he, the last, would not meet his end in this state. Shaking and cowering in the
darkness of the bulldog.
"Commander! If you don't give the order then I will!" Max scolded.
"All units, move out!" Reese ordered. The commander just caught one of Max's stray
thoughts before the communications channel was closed.
"Finally."
The bulldog shuddered into motion. The nose of the vehicle reached out over the rear
edge of the mound and then turned downwards sharply. The tracks met the gradient
with a jolt that reverberated through every component of the machine, causing the
metallic hull to whine as if the Bulldog was in pain. Reese looked on as the Rocko's went
on ahead once again. They were in a crouched position and were skimming over the
loose rocks rather than walking. The bulldog was also skimming slightly, but the slide was
carefully controlled by Major Foy's deft movements of the tracks. The hull squealed once
more as the tank's forward section impacted with the ground. It levelled out on the
grassy plain and rolled onwards towards the Core horde. Reese watched through the rear
sensors as the rest of the convoy descended the slope after them. A stream of kbots
and vehicles cascaded down the hill like a metallic waterfall.
"Sir," Max grabbed the commander's attention, "the shells are starting to come in." Sure
enough, half a dozen small yellow markers had appeared on the radar, and were closing in
fast on the white markers that represented the Arm units. Moments later, the shells
struck the earth around the Arm force. Billows of smoke and dust erupted from the
ground with each impact, accompanied by an deafening shock wave that caused the
gargantuan bulldog to shudder. The convoy was still at the outer reaches of the
punishers' reliable range however, which offered the Arm some safety. The whole convoy
was now moving away from the foot of the pile. Reese began to issue orders.
"Infantry squads, move to the front. I want a flat formation. All rocket carrying units, fall
in behind them, and support in behind them. We're going to enter the Core base area and
head straight for critical units. Go straight for nuclear power plants, moho mines, level 2
unit facilities and construction units. Ignore all level one facilities and defence systems,
and minimise the time spent engaging the enemy forces where possible. Our job is to last
long enough to put a dent in their productivity, nothing else." Reese closed the channel,
and pushed himself slowly back into his chair. More shells were on their way, this time
with greater accuracy. Reese was transfixed by the yellow harbingers on the radar
display as they traced a path across the virtual battle field. Eight shells landed
simultaneously in the face of the Arm convoy sending up a wave of debris that sprayed
straight up into the infantry squads. One Peewee was struck face on by a boulder that
was dislodged in an explosion only a couple of metres in front of it. The unit disintegrated
immediately under the force of the impact. Its flaming remains were hurled back across
the Arm lines, ricocheting off the hulls of the units behind. One particularly large chunk
off metal smashed straight into the rocket launcher of Samson that had been moving up
behind the ill fated unit. All the rockets were detonated in the collision. The vehicle was
devoured by angry red flames, and then exploded in burst of shrapnel. The Arm force was
now emerging from the haze of dust and smoke. As visibility returned, Reese could see
the infantry units darting in between the Core structures. Soon, he to would reach the
perimeter of the Core base. Ahead, a squad of flashes were passing between two solar
collectors, followed closely by Max's Rockos. They turned left, and disappeared behind
one of the facilities. Moments later, Reese's Bulldog followed them in.
The squad of flashes weaved slowly between the towering structures followed by Max's
Rockos, and by Reese's Bulldog. The small convoy had entered a region cloaked by radar
jammers. The visual feed was the only evidence they had of each other's presence, let
alone that of the Core. Mining facilities and power plants reared up on either side of the
train of vehicles. Each one hummed quietly as they went about there functions, as if to
deliberately show their indifference to the situation that was unfolding around them.
Reese had ordered communication silence, and was receiving no word of the progress of
the rest of his forces. He knew that they were still fighting. The sound of weapon fire
carried on the wind across the Core base, occasionally interrupted by a muffled explosion
signifying the end of the battle for another warrior. Reese's squads had yet to meet with
resistance, but the commander knew that this would only be temporary. A shrill whistle
emerged from the ambient sounds of combat, the unmistakable signature of a punisher
shell. Without radar there was no way to know where the shell was going to strike. Reese
braced for a possible impact, wincing as the sound grew louder and louder. A terrible roar
heralded the impact. The Bulldog groaned as it was struck by the shockwave.
"That was close." Foy said. Reese did not reply. He looked to the right through the
sensors to see a mushroom like cloud of pitch-black smoke and intense yellow flame rise
from behind a metal storage unit. A direct hit. Seconds later metallic precipiation rattled
against the hull. Reese's attention was held by the dissipating cloud as it's fading form
curled upwards into the atmosphere. The uneasy calm was shattered abruptly, as a
green bolt of energy raced from between two metal extractors, piercing the armour of
one of the flashes. The tank was sent reeling over to it's left before being struck again in
its underside. The unit ignited in a haze of burning fuel and tumbled like a flaming cathrine
wheel into an adjacent solar collector. The remaining three flashes swivelled on the spot,
kicking up dirt and grass and let rip with a fierce volley of canon fire.
"Take us through Major!" Reese ordered, shouting over the cacophony.
"Yes sir!" Foy replied. The Rockos were now running at top speed past the melee. As they
moved in behind the ailing Flashes, the torso of each of the kbots turned to face the
laser tower. The trio unleashed a mighty salvo of rockets. The projectiles screamed from
their launchers and in a split second were upon their target, tearing it apart before the
Rockos had even recovered from the recoil. A plume of fire lashed outwards from the
defeated tower, charring slightly the hull of one of the rocket kbots. The Rockos marched
on triumphantly. A few seconds later, the Bulldog reached the site of the skirmish. Reese
watched silently as the Bulldog passed the remains of a flash embedded in the plating of
a solar collector, still burning uncontrollably. Glancing to the left he saw the laser tower.
Scorched, battered and crooked, it hung it's head mournfully over the blackened remains
of two more Flash tanks. The last of the flashes was heavily damaged. Its tracks and
turret twitched randomly, it appeared that the nervous system of the clone inside had
been fried by the laser flash. Reese looked away. There was no time to put it out of its
misery.
Reese checked the time. It had been twenty minutes, and still the command squad had
yet to find a vital structure. They had easily dispatched several squads of infantry. In
the confined conditions the A.Ks had been unable to take advantage of their superior
numbers. But those victories were of little consequence, and had were no more than a
waste of time. The commander now feared for the success of the mission. The
background gunfire that had accompanied the group on their journey through the Core
base was dying off. From what Reese could tell there were only a few Arm units left, and
still there was no evidence of vital Core structures.
"Where are they hiding them?" Reese muttered in frustration. He threw his head back
against the headrest of his chair and sighed. What do we do now? He thought to himself.
Just then, he detected a disturbance through the audio sensors.
"Foy?" Reese said, sitting forward.
"I hear it sir." Foy replied, "Engine signatures. Definitely Core." Reese assumed that Max
and his squad had detected the noise as well. Sure enough the Rockos stopped dead in
their tracks, lying in wait for the approaching enemy. Two weasels pounced from behind
an energy storage unit thirty meters ahead of the Rockos. They skidded simultaneously
to face the Arm, and with a shrill buzz accelerated towards the waiting kbots. The rears
of the vehicles swung wildly from side to side as they swerved to avoid the barrage of
missiles unleashed by the Rockos. One was hit squarely by a projectile and burst in a halo
of flame and wreckage. The second turned sharply to a void the destruction of its
compatriot, but lost traction on the moist, grassy surface. It span out of control,
narrowly missing the left leg of Max's Rocko. Intead, it careered into the Bulldog. The
armour of the tank shrieked and groaned as the smaller unit exploded in its face. Reese
was nearly deafened and blinded as the sensors were momentarily overloaded by the
proximity of the blast. He and Foy were thrown against there safety harnesses, which
quickly catapulted them back into there chairs.
"Are you all right commander?" Foy asked.
"Yes." Reese said. "What's the damage?"
"There's heavy damage to the right track, and we've lost radar." Foy replied, juggling the
tasks of speaking and trying to compensate for damaged systems via the neural
interface.
"Can we move?" Reese asked.
"Not unless you were planning to go round in circles sir." Foy said facetiously, before
even considering who he was addressing. His humour could not have been more poorly
timed as four slashers emerged form behind the same facility as the weasels had. They
were moving in a square formation to fit between the tightly packed structures. Reese
opened a channel,
"Rockos, take out the first two slashers. Clog the path with wreckage."
"What about comm silence sir?" Max replied.
"Frag the damn silence!" Reese snapped, "I want smoking wreckage, and I want it now!"
Reese's patience had gone up in smoke with the Weasels. Fate had played every trick it
knew to keep Reese from his goals that day, and now he was loosing composure. "That
goes for you too Major!" Reese said, addressing Foy. The Slashers came to a stop ten
metres from the stationary Rockos. For a short time, the rival vehicles stood motionless in
a tense face off. Billows of smoke filled the air as the Rockos and Slashers unleashed
their charges upon one another. The atmosphere was permeated by the blast of the
rockets as they drew out vapour trails across the battlefield. The two swarms of
projectiles passed each other by and ploughed mercilessly into their targets. The two
outer Rockos were each hit in the chest by a single missile. Both slid back a few feet on
the damp ground under the force of the explosions, but their armour held. The central
Rocko sustained direct hits from two missiles. Much of its chest plating liquefied in the
intense heat as the recoil threw it away from the battle lines. Max's Rocko glided silently
through the air, trailing smoke and flames. Finally, it landed on its feet. It slid back a few
feet and stood motionless when it came to rest. Then it toppled forward. The Core had
also sustained damage. The two front Slashers ablaze, but still refused to yield to their
injuries. Both sides launched fresh volleys of rockets. This time, the results were far more
devastating. Both of the remaining Rockos eviscerated by violent explosions, as were the
two already burning slashers. Fragments of molten alloy spiralled up to the heavens as
the battle field was consumed by the fiery cataclysms. The Bulldog was totally
incapacitated, and had no way to escape being devoured by the monstrous blaze.
From inside the bulldog, it sounded as if there was a thunderstorm raging outside. The
blast of air caused by the explosions howled around the vehicle, and mighty clangs rang
out in the cockpit like the peal of a giant bell as hunks of shrapnel struck the outer hull.
The heat was becoming unbearable as the tank was roasted in the inferno. Reese pulled
the neural interface helmet from his head allowing a stream of sweat to pour from hid
forehead down his face. He winced and shook the perspiration from his hair.
"Foy!" Reese gasped, "Do something about this temperature before the machine
overheats!" There was no response. "Foy?!" Reese shouted over the wailing of the
fire-storm outside. Still there was no reply. The commander leaned forward and jabbed
the Major in the arm. Foy did not flinch. The muscles in his arm were seized up. Reese
dropped back into his seat as he realised that Foy was dead. An over load in the neural
interface had scrambled his nervous system. It was only now that Reese noticed that the
insulation on a number of the wires that lead to Foy's helmet had melted, a result of the
heat caused by the flood of meaningless digital information that had crashed Foy's mind.
Reese sighed. The only thing he could do now was to wait for the flames to subside.
A loud scraping resonated within the cockpit of the Bulldog as Reese twisted the release
on the access hatch above his head. The handle was still warm, but apart from the
groaning of the hatch mechanism all was silent. Reese assumed from the calm that the
hell fires that had raged around the exterior of the tank had subsided. The release locked
up, and Reese pushed upwards against the hatch. As the seal on the hatch was broken,
billows of grey smoked tumbled down into the cockpit. Reese paused for a second to
cough, and then proceeded to open the hatch. The door tipped over, striking the hull
with a dull clunk, and the commander thrust his head upwards into the comparatively cool
air of the outside world. Reese squinted at first, expecting his eyes to be ill adjusted to
the light levels, but his eyes slowly widened as he realised it was quite dark outside as
well. Standing on his chair, he turned gradually through 360 degrees to get a panoramic
view of the scene. All around, damaged structures belched fire balls from mouth like
fissures in their armour. Towering spires of smoke reached up to the heavens, blocking
the warm rays of the sun, which now only appeared as an ethereal orange disc behind a
veil of acrid smog. A number of VToL aircraft were also visible, scavanging the remains of
deceased units like wasps upon a discarded piece of fruit. It seemed that the battle was
over. He reached down into the cockpit and grabbed the neural interface helmet and
disconnected it from the vehicle with a firm tug. All it was useful for now was remote
communication. Reese placed his hand on the hull of the tank in order to haul himself up
to a better vantagepoint, but pulled it away with an anguished yelp. The armour of the
bulldog was still very hot. Reese placed the helmet on his head, pulled his hands back
into the sleeves of his overalls, and then hoisted himself up through the access hatch.
The plastic sole of his right boot hissed as he placed it on the smouldering plate. He then
stood up to his full height, and groaned as stretched his weary muscles. The view from
here was just as grim. Though the devestation appeared widespread, from what Reese
could tell there was only damage to non-critical structures. It was nothing the Core could
not deal with quickly. Now the dark possibility that the mission had failed was dawning on
the dejected commander. Reese scoured all communications channels. All he could find
were a few rudimentary commands being passed back and forth between core
construction units, and a small number of encrypted transmissions that only the higher
Core units would be able to decipher. Ironically, it appeared that he was the only one left
alive. Demoralised and defeated, Reese toppled back into a sitting position on the roof of
the Bulldog. As his head dropped into his hands, a small indicator sounded in his mind. A
weak transmission was being received. Reese raised his head,
"Hello?" he said timidly, "Who's there?" The transmission was still weak, and without
sensors to back up the receiver there was no way to tell where it was coming from.
Suddenly, a voice emerged from the static.
"Hello? Comm..." The voice was swallowed once more by the writhing sea of interference.
Reese hurriedly compensated.
"Hello." Reese said with purpose, "Identify yourself." A short, static filled pause followed.
"Commander?" the voice surfaced once more. "You're alive." The tone was frail and raspy,
but Reese recognised it straight away.
"Max." Reese murmured to himself. He turned and scrambled to the leading edge of the
bulldog. Before him lay Max's stricken Rocko. It lay face down in the churned up earth, its
scorched body bleeding red coolant from gaping wounds in its hull.
"Max!" Reese said as a smile began to spread across his ruddy face. "Hold on Max. I'll get
you out." Reese threw one leg over the side of the tank preparing to disembark, only to
be halted by the Corporal's reply.
"No, commander."
"Corporal?" Reese replied, bemused by Max's unwillingness to co-operate.
"Sir, I'm too badly injured." Max explained, "An overload in the neural interface as
paralysed me totally. Besides, even if you could get me out, where would we go? We're
stranded in the middle of Core territory with no weapons and limited communication. I
don't think we're going anywhere sir." Reese knew Max was right. He sat down, his legs
dangling over the edge of the tank, and pondered his situation. It seemed that fate had
dealt him one final irony in leaving him alive whilst almost all of the rest of his forces had
been destroyed. As he glared into the baked earth, Reese began to overflow with
emotion. He was frustrated that after all the hardship of the days before his mission had
amounted to nothing, and that was being forced to watch as the life of his adoptive son
ebbed slowly away. He was angry at a world that would allow him and his soldiers to
endure such misery. Reese just wanted to throw his arms above his head and cry out to
the heavens for answers from a greater power. But this simply fuelled his frustration, as
he knew there could never be a response for a soulless clone such as himself. But more
than anything, he was scared. Scared, as he stared into the dark cowl of death. Scared
of what may lie on the other side. Scared that he would meet his end one last time
without purpose. As Reese turned his stare upwards to the darkening skies, a single tear
rolled down his grimy cheek. He closed his eyes hard, and opened them to clear the saline
that was impairing his vision. A small group of VtoLs feeding on metallic carrion no more
than three hundred metres away caught the commander's attention. They circled their
meal slowly as the stream of nanites digested the recyclable material. Suddenly, the
beams dried up. This is it, Reese thought. He was certain that the Core had detected his
communications of a few moments earlier, and were now coming to reclaim the Arm
vehicles, along with himself and Corporal Max. He swallowed hard as the construction
craft rose ominously into the air. They stopped at about twenty metres and hung almost
motionless above the smoking battlefield. Then, something unexpected happened. The
VtoLs turned their backs on Reese and the Bulldog. The commander looked on in
bewilderment as the rear thrusters of the construction crafts went from a dull orange to
brilliant white, carrying them slowly away from him, and from the remaining wreckage.
Reese hauled himself to his feet and dragged his forearm across his face, removing the
dew from his eyes. He took in a panoramic view of the scene once more. Sure enough, all
around him VToLs were leaving their assigned tasks uncompleted, and were slowly ebbing
away from the killing fields that they had been feeding from so vigorously only moments
before.
"What the hell?" Reese muttered to himself. Reese's sentiment had reached further than
his own ears however, as the comm link to Max had been left open.
"Sir?" Max said, sounding weaker than before, "What's going on?"
"They're all leaving." Reese said, not thinking to explain in more detail.
"Who, sir? What is ...." A sharp whistle cut out Max's voice over the comm link. Reese
frowned with discomfort, and reached for the side of the neural interface helmet to
compensate for the interference.
"What was that?" Max enquired as the link was re-established.
"I don't kn..." Reese stopped himself. He did know. The commander turned to face the in
the direction from which the convoy had arrived, and began to pace slowly across the
roof of the tank. The thumping of his boots on the hull increased in tempo, as did his
heart beat as he approached the side of the vehicle. There he stopped, and squinted,
struggling to see through the thick fumes. On a patch of pure blue sky only barely visible
between two mighty pillars of smoke, Reese caught a glimpse of what he had hoped with
all his heart to see. I pin prick of white light, growing larger as it traversed the firmament.
Reese's jaw dropped. Then the surprised expression evolved into a broad smile.
"They did it." He said, "The S.O.Bs did it!" He reiterated, this time almost laughing.
"What? Who did what?" Max asked, desperate to know what was occurring beyond his
alloy sarcophagus.
"A nuke." Reese said, sounding as if he barely believed his own words. But it was true.
While the Core had channelled resources into fending of the Arm's suicide assault, the
distraction had given the Arm HQ the valuable time they needed to not only set up
adequate defences, but to build a long-range offence system. And now they were
harvesting the fruits of their sacrifice. The missile was now above the limits of the Core
territory. It thrust through towers of smoke, tearing them asunder like a scythe through
stalks of wheat. Reese looked on in wonderment as the projectile drew nearer. Now the
rumbling was becoming audible as it cruised in.
"It's getting close." Max said, now also able to here the roar of the rocket engine,
"Sounds as if it may land nearby." He paused, "I'm kinda sorry they won't be able to
retrieve my recall chip. This is one mission I would've liked to remember in my next
incarnation." Reese felt no such regret. He now knew why he had survived so long. He
had lived to see the success of the mission, and that his sacrifice had not been in vain.
As he watched the missile tilt downwards and begin its plunge, he felt no fear or
apprehension. What he saw was not a weapon of mass destruction, but an angel
descending on wings of fire, the chorus of its engines calling his name. After two
thousand years of distinguished service to the Arm, Commander Zeek Reese was about to
receive the highest honour imaginable... peace. In a distant corner of Reese's mind, he
heard Max's voice.
"See you at the cloning facility, sir."
"No Corporal," Reese replied serenely, "You won't."
The missile struck...
Commander Reese drank deeply of the cool, moist night air. There was an eerie silence
about the arm base camp. It was in stark contrast to the almost non stop core raids that
had dogged his convoy since they began there journey three weeks earlier.
Reese looked over his shoulder, sparing a thought for the numerous broken hulls that lay
between the origin of their journey, the arm HQ on ppx012, and their current position, 2
click south east of Gaat pass. It was those accursed rapiers that had done the most
damage, taking advantage of the fact that the last of the arm air support had been
eliminated a week earlier. The most haunting thing about the assault however, was the
way they ended abruptly as the convoy approached the Gaat pass. It was as if the core
themselves feared the automated death trap that lay ahead...
Reese shook his head, trying to clear his mind of those lost. He cast his mind forward to
the fate of those who remained. After all, the dead had nothing to fear from the trials
ahead.
To his right stood a squad of four flash tanks. Steam rose silently from the plating of
each vehicle, spiralling upwards into the pitch black sky. Each hull bore the marks of
enemy raids, like backwards trophies of every crippling blow dealt to their forces by the
enemy. Reese watched as the swirls of vapour ascended to the heavens, leaving the hell
like reality of the galactic war behind them on the planets surface. As the weary
commander
followed the clouds upward, perhaps to his own escape, he caught sight of the moon
of that world. ppx012 was a strange little world. Gravity 9.79 m/ssqr, and only a single
moon. Lush, green and humid this world was the only liveable one in the sector, ideal for
a basic training facility. Therein lay its importance. The arm central command saw
this, and deemed it worthy of the sacrifice of him and his battalion. Reese was not a naive
young private. He knew that the command intended this world as his final resting place.
And final It would be. There had been a Reese fighting for the arm for over 2000 years. In
that time, the original DNA pattern had been lost, as had many subsequent cloned
samples. Now the samples in storage were so badly riddled with aberrant strands that any
further attempts at cloning would almost surely fail. Today, for the first time in 2000
years, Commander Zeek Reese was mortal...
A voice came from over Reeses' shoulder,
"Commander, the squad leaders are assembled." It was his aide, corporal Max, "They wish
to discuss tomorrow's advance."
Reese gave a shallow sigh. He was reluctant to face his squad leaders. He had always
had trouble looking a man in the eye whom he was to lead to his death. It was this lack
of ruthlessness that had kept Reese from attaining the lofty rank of high commander. So,
what would he tell his squad leaders? The same thing he always had. That beyond the
horizon lay the euphoria of victory, the glory of final supremacy over the core. In reality,
all there was, for these incarnations of his men at least, was oblivion.
"Tell them I shall be there momentarily." Reese replied, turning to face the young
corporal. Max nodded acknowledgement and returned hastily to the temporary shelter
that stood just beyond a radar jammer behind him. Reese turned once more to face the
horizon he had been pondering earlier. As the whirr of the near silent jammer penetrated
the night air around him, his mind turned once more to his new found mortality.
Day broke across the grassy plane. The lush foliage swayed gently in the light morning
breeze, small winged creatures darted through the pale blue skies, and fragments of
sunlight danced among the dew drops that coated the well ordered killing machines.
A poorly rested Commander Reese emerged from the Polymeric alloy cocoon that had
been his shelter for the night. The previous night had been a restless one for the
tormented commander. Much of it he had spent conscious, contemplating the
philosophical questions of cloning that had long been oppressed by the arm governing
bodies. Would his men be safe from the clutches of death, protected by the safety net
of the rigorous cloning that was carried out by arm scientists, or would the new clones
be separate entities, having only sparse memories in common with their predecessors. His
own experience had given him little insight. And what of the soul. Did any of the arm's
forces possess such a thing, and if so, what would become of his...
" Commander!" a familiar voice shattered Reese's concentration," All units report ready for
advance. Do you wish to address the men before the battle?" Asked Max. And, after 2000
years of having been asked that same question, Reese gave an unprecedented answer.
" No."
The previous nights meeting of his senior officers had not gone well. Reese was certain
that his uncertainty had been apparent to his officers. He knew that they where strong
and responsible enough to keep it to themselves, but he daren't risk spreading his
insecurity to the less experienced troops.
" There is no time for such indulgence." Reese said, trying to mask his true intentions,"
We move now before the enemy mobilise their assault forces." This was in fact a half
truth. They did have limited time. Their suicide assault had to weaken the enemy now,
otherwise the Arm HQ would be over run by the swelling core army. Given enough time
the arm could reinforce their defences, but only if Reese and his men died hard.
"And what of our squad?" Reese enquired, trying to break the harsh tone at the
conversation had assumed.
"It was ready first of course, sir" Max replied, the squad pride evident in his voice. Reese
cast a sideways glance at his protégé, and gave a gentle smile.
"Excellent, carry on soldier"
Reese admired Corporal Max's organisational skills and enthusiasm for battle. It was these
qualities that had prompted Reese to choose Max as his aide. It was fortunate that there
would be a Lezly Max for some time to come.
Max trotted onwards toward the lead squad which was now coming into view from
around an unfeasibley large bulldog battle tank.
The squad to which they referred was a group of five vehicles. A quartet of Rocko rocket
kbots headed up by a heavily modified Fido, Commander Reeses steed of battle.
After an eternity of ten minutes, Reese came upon the Fido that he would pilot into into
battle. Though heavily armoured by comparison to a regular Fido, Reese preferred the
manoeuvrability it afforded over the over armoured, over armed commander unit. Reese
began the final ascent of his companion of 300 years, all the time contemplating that it
would be his last. He soon reached the summit of the quadrapedal colossus, and perched
himself there. The elevation had forced back the horizon, and now the mountain range
that housed the meat grinder that was gaat pass was clearly visible. Reese found his
mind filling with morbid thoughts of his own demise. He tore his glare away from the
horizon. Slowly, he opened the access hatch to the Fido, as a man opening his own
coffin. With a deep breath, he slid himself in.
The interior of the Fido was even more unusual than the exterior. Though still as
claustrophobic, it was well lit and adorned by a plethora of manual controls. Reese
preferred manual control. Over the last 2000 years, his genetic memory of every battle
had made his physical reflexes far more reliable than any mind interface. Only the radar
and communications systems were fed into his mind via the neural interface helmet.
Commander Reese placed this on his head, and keyed in his access code on the small
console on the right arm of the pilot seat.
"Good day commander." A synthetic male voice rang out in Reese's mind. It was the Fido
on board computer.
"Good morning computer." Reese replied in thought, "Are all systems ready."
"All systems are combat ready.", the computer answered. It was followed closely by a
second familiar voice.
" All squads manned and ready sir." It was Max. "We're ready when you are."
This was it. Reese hesitated. Then, composing himself, he gave the order.
"all units, move out."
The entrance to the pass loomed high above the Arm convoy. At first glance, there was
no evidence of a core presence. Only blank, barren cliff faces. This was a sharp contrast
to the open countryside they had left behind.
Entering the valley was an unnerving experience. The valley walls dwarfed the 200 strong
convoy, and the sounds they made echoed eerily between them. Reese could see
nothing on the radar, but he knew they were there. Dozens of defence towers, hidden by
radar jammers. Reese could hear them. The infrasound detectors were picking up the
inaudible, mechanical sounds of the towers turning to face their prey. The commander
turned his attention to the radar. A few of the rear guard squads were beginning to
bunch together. The less experienced soldiers, influenced by anxiety, where increasing
speed.
"Steady as you go." Was the general communication sent by Reese.
It would be very easy for one or two soldiers to panic. Such a catastrophe could send
the entire convoy into confusion. That was the last thing they needed.
"I don't like this commander." Came Max's voice via communications, "Where are they?"
"Stay calm corporal," Reese replied in a stern tone, "We'll be hearing from the core soon
enough."
"I know. But I think I'd rather face the whole core army on my own as long as I could see
them." Max was deeply unsettled by the covert nature of the enemy they were about to
face. Reese closed the channel before muttering to himself,
"I know what you mean."
Then there was silence. The infrasound sensors were reading nothing. The towers had
found their targets.
A streak of green light raced across the visual readout, accompanied by a high pitch
shriek as the air ionised around it. It was followed instantaneously by a hale of laser fire.
Within seconds, Reese was inundated with news of damaged and lost units. The radar
display in his mind was going wild. Units were under attack from all directions, and the
convoy was beginning to lose cohesion. Reese opened a communication channel,
"All units, do not return fire!" He barked, "Keep moving!" He knew that if small groups of
units started making runs at gun emplacements it would only make the Core's job easier.
But already squads were breaking away. Panic was setting in among the Arm forces.
An intensely loud shriek emerged from the pandemonium, and was culminated in a
thunderous crash that reverberated through the Fido's hull. The kbot lurched over to its
left.
"Damn it!" Reese snarled, as the damage control console lit up like a colony power grid.
His attempts to compensate for power loss were interrupted by a communication from
Corporal Max.
"Sir, the squads at the rear a getting bogged down behind the wreckage!"
"Where are the FARKs!" Reese snapped.
"Er... that's the wreckage that the squads have got stuck behind sir." Max replied. The
irony of the situation was not lost on Reese. On another day It might have been almost
funny.
"Tell them to blast there way through!" came Reese's order, "The convoy must keep
moving!"
"Yes sir." Said Max.
The once straight pass was now becoming convoluted, and the larger units were having
difficulty manoeuvring. At this point Reese was navigating by sonar. So much dust had
been thrown up in the melee that optical sensors were near useless. The ground all
around the Arm convoy was shaking as it was pummelled continuously by laser fire.
Another communication came in,
"Sir, we're under heavy attacked!" screamed the anonymous voice, " We've lost the
squad leader and..."
"Who is this!" Reese interrupted.
"Corporal Alred, sir." Was the reply, "I've taken command of squad 7. We're going to
make a run at some of the emplacements."
"You will not!" Reese said, enraged by the foolhardy suggestion.
"But sir, we..."
"Listen here corporal, either you keep your squad moving, or I'll come back there and
dismantle you myself!" A short pause followed Reese's words.
"Yes sir." Said Alred, submissively. With that, he closed the channel.
The enemy fire seemed to have reached saturation. A continuous crescendo of weapons
discharge and tearing metal filled the air all around. Reese could barely keep his vehicle
stable, the shaking of the earth beneath it was that intense. There was another ear
piercing shriek. Reese braced himself for the impact. There came a deafening explosion,
followed by a heavy, rapid beating against the exterior of the vehicle. That was the
sound of debris from the destruction of a nearby unit...Max! Reese hastily opened a
channel.
" Max!" He shouted, as a father searching desperately for his child, "Max! What just
happened!"
"We've lost Louis, sir." Came the reply. Reese breathed a sigh of relief, but caught himself
halfway through. How could he feel this way after the loss of a good man like Louis. Then
he remembered that it may not be over for Louis, nor would it have been for Max had he
been lost. Reese realised then just how much mortality had changed him. Death was now
frighteningly real for him, and it had altered totally his attitude, not just towards his own
life, but towards those of his men.
"Sir," Max's voice broke Reese's concentration, "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Reese asked.
"The laser fire," Max replied, "It's dying off." Reese listened. Max was right. All the Laser
fire was now coming from behind their position. They were leaving it behind as they came
to a bend in the pass. It looked as if Reese's stubborn, non-confrontational tactics had
paid off. They had survived, for now.
The convoy had come to rest in a convolution in the pass. The cliff faces here were so
sheer
that the Core had been unable to booby trap them. Reese examined his radar readings.
Approximately 40% of his forces had been lost, and what remained was crammed into the
narrow , sharply curved section of the valley in a formation that resembled a crooked
limb.
"What now, commander?" enquired Max. Though he would never say it in front of his
soldiers, Reese had little idea what to do next. Intelligence on the area ahead was
sketchy at best, and frankly he had not expected to live to see it.
"We scout." Reese said, after a short pause. He couldn't go far wrong with scouting. He
opened a second channel to the scout squads.
"Lieutenant Ash."
"Yes sir?" Ash replied.
"We'll be moving on momentarily," Reese informed her, "I want your squad and scout
squad 2 to take point."
"We're on it, sir." Ash answered, before closing the channel. A couple of moments
passed. Then, with an insect like buzz of engine activity, two squads of four Jeffys burst
from the Arm ranks, and bounded onwards across the rocky terrain.
"All units, move out!" ordered Reese. The convoy came to life, and began to round the
curve in the pass behind the bold Jeffy squads. All the time, Reese kept a careful eye on
the readings sent back by the scouts.
Reese's squad made its way around an outcrop of rubble. At this point ,the valley opened
out into a wide, crater like formation. Sparse vegetation dotted the terrain here. The
walls were no longer vertical, but instead curved continuously from the floor of the valley
to the top. Imperfections in the cliff faces played host the local airborne wildlife. This
was a good sign. No indigenous fauna would dare nest there if the sides of the chasm
housed enemy units.
"Commander Reese." It was Ash , "We're detecting some seismic activity ahead."
"Explain." Reese said.
"Its very localised. A sort of low pitch rumble." Ash replied, "What do you suppose it
could be?" With that, her question was answered. A viper cannon sprang from the ground
in a eruption of dust and rock. The Jeffys scattered, but one unfortunate unit was
caught right on top of the cannon as it rose. The vehicle was tossed effortlessly into the
air at a 60 degree angle. It collided with the cliff face and exploded, raining down burning
debris as two more vipers thrust upwards from the valley floor. All three cannons began
to pump shells into the body of the convoy. Chaos ensued. Units were colliding with one
another as they swerved to avoid the shelling. Reese could hardly see through the swarm
of panicking creatures as they took flight from the valley's sides, bombarding the Arm
with payloads of their own.
"Advance!" Reese, commanded, "Fire at will!"
The convoy let loose a heavy volley of weapon fire. The projectiles thundered over
Reese's Fido, causing the 300 year old kbot to rattle like a tin full of ration pellets. The
ground shook once more as the rockets and shells came to bare, and the Vipers
disappeared behind a veil of fire and smoke. Moments later, the smoke cleared, revealing
the battered corpses of their attackers, and another four new Vipers standing behind.
"Ash, get your units out of there!" Reese shouted.
"We're way ahead of you, sir!" Ash replied, as her squad were absorbed back into the
ranks from which they came.
"All Peewee and Flash squads advance!" was Reese's next order, "Artillery and rocket
units lay down covering fire!" There was to be no more ducking the fight now. The
convoy would have to go toe to toe with the Core guns if they were to survive. But it
seemed that for every Viper destroyed, like the heads of the mythical hydra, another two
appeared in its place.
Again, the convoy was blinded by the dust and smoke. Reese himself was pouring plasma
shells haphazardly into the thick, black haze, and his right thumb was numb from
operating the firing mechanism. It was then that a new sound joined the cacophony. A
thunderous rumbling that shook the ground, threatening to topple Reese's Fido. As
Reese's fingers raced around several consoles, thumping buttons and jarring unresponsive
systems as he struggled to keep his vehicle steady. Reese then began to realise what
was happening. The violent exchange that was going on in the canyon had made the
walls unstable. A massive landslide was occurring.
"All units, Retreat!" shouted Reese as he struggled to bring the violently shaking Fido
through 180 degrees. The smaller units had already turned and run back into the narrow
section of valley, but the larger vehicles were having difficulty turning. Some were
reversing out of harms way, but their progress was agonisingly slow, and Reese was
stuck at the back of the sluggish queue of vehicles with no way to escape into the
narrow pass. Through the visual feed, Reese watched as a mighty tempest of slag
washed over the remaining Vipers and straggling flashes. With grim resignation, he
released the control levers from his sweat soaked hands, and forced himself back into his
seat. Gritting his teeth, Reese waited for the moment of impact. With a horrendous
crash, a stream of rock collided with the defenceless machine. Klaxons and warning
signals flooded through the neural interface into Reese's mind, before being abruptly
silenced as the helmet was thrown from his head. Reese's stomach turned as he felt the
massive frame of his vehicle being tossed end over end. Sparks leapt from every console,
filling the air like a swarm of fire flies. The atmosphere in the cockpit was then saturated
with a swirling, white cloud of fire suppressant, obscuring everything from Reese's view.
All he could sense were the violent tumbling of the Fido, and the deafening sound made
by the torrent of stone pummelling the hull. Terrified and disorientated, Commander Reese
lost consciousness.
Awareness was slowly returning to the Arm commander. All around him was still dark.
Reese's head was spinning, and he was very nearly sucked back into oblivion. On the
verge of losing consciousness once more, Reese was snatched from the brink by a
peculiar sound. It was a metallic grinding, low pitch but quite loud. Suddenly he was
bathed in a blinding light. Reese grunted with discomfort. His eyes were unprepared for
the intensity of the rays. The commanders head began to fill with stories of strange the
experiences of soldier on the threshold of death. Was this... the other side?
"Commander?" there came a distant voice, "Commander?" Reese recognised it. It was
Max.
"Max, where ...." Reese struggled to speak, " what..? Ahh..." He was overcome
momentarily by a pounding headache. Reese realised that he was still painfully alive.
"I think he's okay." Max's voice had gone from distant to deafening as Reese's senses
returned. His condition was reminiscent of the worst hangovers from his enlisted days.
"Commander, I'm going to release your harness and pull you out. Okay?"
"Yeah." Reese replied in a weak, raspy tone. An ill defined silhouette emerged from the
light. The figure reached forward, and released the metal buckle on his chest. The straps
withdrew into the sides of the chair. Reese could just about make out Max's face now, as
the corporal thrust his arms beneath his own.
"One, two, three!" Max said. Then with a grunt of effort, he hoisted the commander
towards the light. Reese gave an almost inaudible chuckle as he emerged into the radiant
sunlight. He thought to himself that if he did ever reach the other side, he hoped his
ascension would be more elegant than this.
Reese and Max sat atop the battered hulk of the commander's Fido, watching as the
remaining Arm troops performed temporary repairs on their vehicles. Max's Rocko had
sustained little damage. Most of the repairs needed where just to the cockpit
electronics, and had only taken a few minutes to perform. Reese's Fido was a write off.
It lay on its side, the aft section sandwiched between the valley wall and a mound of
rubble. The two warriors had taken the free time to talk over their next move.
" I just don't see any sense in continuing with the mission sir." Corporal Max said, with a
dejected expression, " There's no way we'll be able to get through the rest of this pass
without further heavy loss."
"Perhaps you'd prefer to go back through the way we came, Corporal." Reese said dryly,
"You can take point."
" Ah. I see what you mean." Max concurred. He cast a glance towards the sloping mound
of loose rock that now blocked the pass ahead, and gave a nervous laugh. "Talk about
your rock and a hard place." He then turned back to Reese. " I just don't see how we
can pose any serious threat to the Core presence if we lose anymore units." The convoy
now numbered less than 60, and only a few types of units would be able to climb the
obstacle that now spanned the width of the chasm. Reese looked up to the sky. He was
desperate for inspiration at this point, and would take it from wherever it came. Above
him the sky was still clear, tarnished only by a single, wispy cloud. Following it across the
sky provided a temporary distraction from the turmoil he felt inside. Earlier that morning
he had sure that he would be dead by now, and now even that certainty had been taken
from him. He was lost, and it was an entirely new and unpleasant experience for him.
Unwilling to admit defeat, Reese made the only decision he could.
"There's only one way to go," Reese broke the silence, "and that's forward. Tell the
technicians to prepare small explosive charges. We'll use them to reduce the gradient of
the debris mound. Then we go over." He placed both hands on the cold metal bulkhead,
raised himself up, and slid himself down the side of the wreck. He landed on his feet with
a dull thud. He grunted, and stumbled back against the underside of the stricken kbot
cradling his heavily strapped chest. He had forgotten about those two broken ribs.
" Are you all right sir?" Max shouted after him.
" Yes!" Gasped Reese, " But I think I may have scratched the paint work!"
It had only taken ten minutes to prepare the charges, and place them at the base of the
steep debris pile. The convoy had backed off into the pass in an orderly manner to allow
some space for the induced land slide. Reese was now riding shotgun in a bulldog, which
had received a field promotion to the command squad in place of Reese's Fido. From here
he would co-ordinate the remainder of the mission. His new surroundings were unfamiliar,
as he was used to operating a kbot rather than heavy support. Also, the cockpit was
very dark by comparison to that of his Fido, lit only by a single red lamp on the underside
of the access hatch above. In front of him was the pilots position, manned by Major Foy.
All Reese could see of him from his slightly raised position was the back of his helmet clad
head. There were no screens or consoles around. All the vehicles functions were routed
to Foy's mind via the neural interface, the standard set up for an Arm vehicle. Reese on
the other hand, was only receiving sensor information and communications. He found the
lack of control unsettling.
"All the charges are in place commander." Came Max's voice over communications.
"Very good corporal." Reese replied, he then switched to general communication. "All
units brace for detonation. Technicians, detonate on my mark.... Mark!" Reese watched
via the sensors as small bursts plasma and rock erupted from the foot of the rock pile.
The light tapping of debris against the hull could be heard as the series of explosions
worked there way outwards from the centre of the mound. The explosions were followed
closely by a soft rumbling as the boundary of the slide began to approach the convoy. Forr
a moment, as he watched the steady tide of stone rolling in, he feared that it may not
stop. If the technicians had miscalculated, half the convoy could be buried, bringing a
rather silly end to their mission. But the tide did ebb. The foot of the mound came to rest
ten metres ahead of the convoy, its face making an easily surmountable forty degree
angle with the ground. Reese breathed a sigh of relief at the success of the blasting, and
opened a communication channel.
"Max, report." He said.
"There are no reports of damage to any units sir." Max replied, "The technicians report
100% success with the blast." Reese often allowed Max to deal with field reports. It kept
the young corporal on his toes.
"Sir, the mound doesn't look too stable. Are you sure its safe to climb?" Max enquired,
gingerly.
"No." Reese replied. "All units, move out!"
The crunching of gravel beneath the tracks could be heard as the colossal bulldog hauled
itself forward. Through the visual sensors Reese could see the two remaining command
Rockos, and a third Rocko that had been promoted from the from the third squad to
replace Louis's. He watched as the smaller, more nimble Kbots began their ascent of the
rocky slope. Rocks and pebbles tumbled down the incline with each careful footfall of the
vehicles. The engines of the bulldog strained as it began it's own climb. Reese could
sense the front of the vehicle rising slowly. There was a grinding sound, followed by a
shrill whirring as the tracks lost grip momentarily on the loose stones and began to spin.
Reese's heart skipped a beat as he realised the possibility of the Bulldog's struggling
causing a second uncontrolled landslide. He had no wish to repeat his last experience
with one of those. Major Foy soon regained the vehicles footing, however.
"Sorry about that, sir." Foy apologised hastily.
"Don't worry about it soldier." Reese replied, trying not to sound to flustered. The Bulldog
then began its ascent proper. It was a very slow climb. The Bulldog, not the fastest unit
at the best of times, was moving at a much lower speed than normal. The Rockos moved
on ahead. As they did, they disturbed still more rubble. Reese noticed a small, shiny
object protruding from the slope were Max's kbot had trodden a moment earlier. As the
Bulldog moved closer to the object Reese was able to make out the familiar form. It was
a fragment of a peewee hull, embossed with the Arm emblem. Reese sighed deeply with
regret at not having attempted a rescue, but it was not standard Arm procedure. Why
waste time and resources rescuing troops when you can clone new ones? On another
day, the commander would not have given it a second thought.
"Would you look at that!" Max's voice came over communications. His group of Rockos
had reached the top of the mound some minutes before, and were now surveying an area
out of Reese's line of sight. He sat forward in his chair quickly, and was almost winded as
he met with resistance from his safety harness.
"What is it?" Reese asked, his voice heavy with anticipation.
"I think you'll want to see this for yourself commander." Max replied. Reese hated it when
his troops were cryptic with him. He decided to indulge his aide, however, and wait for
the Bulldog to reach the top of the debris pile. It seemed like forever. Reese was
tempted to order Foy to increase speed, but controlled the urge, thinking back to his last
encounter with a rock slide. Eventually, the bulldog reached the top of the incline. The
front end reared into the air as it did, as the tank was slightly rear heavy. Then, with a
grinding of rock on metal, the front of the bulldog angled towards the horizontal. The
tracks met the ground surprisingly softly. Ahead the mound was fairly flat and was only a
few metres short of the top of the shrunken valley walls. Across the length and breadth
of the newly established ground there were several small, shiny protrusions, much like
the one Reese had seen as the Bulldog was mounting the rocky slope. Foy took the
vehicle forward to meet the Rockos that were standing about fifty metres ahead at the
rear end of the mound. As the tank crawled forward, more of what lay beyond the slide
could be seen. At the horizon there was a mountain range. Each mount was tinted green
by the vegetation on its slopes, and was capped by pure, white snow that shone with
near blinding brilliance in the early afternoon sun. The Bulldog moved still further, until
the dense woodland that stood at the foot of the range was revealed. Great flocks birds
twisted and turned in unison above the canopies, casting there shadows across the
forest below. As the perimeter of the woodland came into view, Reese's attention was
caught by the glint of a distant object. Before he could make out what it was, another
came into view. Tens of glistening, metallic objects began to emerge from behind the
land slide. Reese gasped as he realised what he was seeing. Dozens of irregularly
arranged structures of widely varying sizes. It was the Core base. It had become
apparent that the exchange in the pass earlier that day had caused the collapse of the
entire valley forward of the convoy's position. The walls of the chasm parted like curtains
before the Arm Commander, revealing the stage upon which the final act would occur.
Every emotion that Reese was experiencing -awe, surprise, apprehension, fear- were
encapsulated by Major Foy's quite utterance,
"Woah..."
All of the Arm convoy's sixty or so units were now congregated on the top of the mound.
Reese, who was still staring down upon the Core base, was oblivious to the numerous
communications he was receiving. The units to the rear of the convoy could not see the
huge cluster of enemy structures that sprawled across the landscape before them, and
were requesting information and orders. The commander's attention turned to the queue
of communications now awaiting a reply. A priority message came in, overriding those
that had come before. It was Max.
"Commander, we need some orders." Max said in a concerned tone. Through the visual
sensors Reese detected movement.
"Sir, the enemy is mobilising." Came Max's voice again, this time with more urgency, "We
have to go now." Max was right. The Core forces were now filtering through between the
vast maze of structures. The Arm convoy was out numbered by at least six to one.
Reese hesitated still.
"Sir!" Max was becoming frustrated, "We have got to move out now! If we can get
between the enemy structures before the Core can get out they won't be able to bring
their numbers to bare!" Max's voice now seemed distant to Reese. All his attention was
focused of the Core army that was moving inexorably towards their position. There was
no way out of this. The moment he gave the order, his fate would be sealed. Reese dug
his fingers into the side of his seat. He could still hear Max desperately trying to elicit a
response, but Reese still could not find it within himself to give the order. He wasn't
ready to go. He wasn't ready to fight..... he wasn't ready to die. Suddenly, Reese
released his grip on the seat. This is what It's like. He thought. This is what it's like to
die for your cause. Reese remembered the tales of the old wars, back on Earth before it
was lost. Before cloning or patterning. A time when death was final. As an Arm warrior,
Reese had never fully understood this concept. How could he? An Arm warrior gave his
life over and over again, only to have it returned like an item of lost battle gear. Reese
looked down at his hands. They were shaking and glistening with seat in the pale light of
the Bulldog cocpit. Reese's returned his attention to the advancing Core. They were
nearing the perimeter of the base and would soon emerge onto the flat open ground only
a couple of hundred metres from the waiting Arm. If this was where the Reese line was
to fall, he, the last, would not meet his end in this state. Shaking and cowering in the
darkness of the bulldog.
"Commander! If you don't give the order then I will!" Max scolded.
"All units, move out!" Reese ordered. The commander just caught one of Max's stray
thoughts before the communications channel was closed.
"Finally."
The bulldog shuddered into motion. The nose of the vehicle reached out over the rear
edge of the mound and then turned downwards sharply. The tracks met the gradient
with a jolt that reverberated through every component of the machine, causing the
metallic hull to whine as if the Bulldog was in pain. Reese looked on as the Rocko's went
on ahead once again. They were in a crouched position and were skimming over the
loose rocks rather than walking. The bulldog was also skimming slightly, but the slide was
carefully controlled by Major Foy's deft movements of the tracks. The hull squealed once
more as the tank's forward section impacted with the ground. It levelled out on the
grassy plain and rolled onwards towards the Core horde. Reese watched through the rear
sensors as the rest of the convoy descended the slope after them. A stream of kbots
and vehicles cascaded down the hill like a metallic waterfall.
"Sir," Max grabbed the commander's attention, "the shells are starting to come in." Sure
enough, half a dozen small yellow markers had appeared on the radar, and were closing in
fast on the white markers that represented the Arm units. Moments later, the shells
struck the earth around the Arm force. Billows of smoke and dust erupted from the
ground with each impact, accompanied by an deafening shock wave that caused the
gargantuan bulldog to shudder. The convoy was still at the outer reaches of the
punishers' reliable range however, which offered the Arm some safety. The whole convoy
was now moving away from the foot of the pile. Reese began to issue orders.
"Infantry squads, move to the front. I want a flat formation. All rocket carrying units, fall
in behind them, and support in behind them. We're going to enter the Core base area and
head straight for critical units. Go straight for nuclear power plants, moho mines, level 2
unit facilities and construction units. Ignore all level one facilities and defence systems,
and minimise the time spent engaging the enemy forces where possible. Our job is to last
long enough to put a dent in their productivity, nothing else." Reese closed the channel,
and pushed himself slowly back into his chair. More shells were on their way, this time
with greater accuracy. Reese was transfixed by the yellow harbingers on the radar
display as they traced a path across the virtual battle field. Eight shells landed
simultaneously in the face of the Arm convoy sending up a wave of debris that sprayed
straight up into the infantry squads. One Peewee was struck face on by a boulder that
was dislodged in an explosion only a couple of metres in front of it. The unit disintegrated
immediately under the force of the impact. Its flaming remains were hurled back across
the Arm lines, ricocheting off the hulls of the units behind. One particularly large chunk
off metal smashed straight into the rocket launcher of Samson that had been moving up
behind the ill fated unit. All the rockets were detonated in the collision. The vehicle was
devoured by angry red flames, and then exploded in burst of shrapnel. The Arm force was
now emerging from the haze of dust and smoke. As visibility returned, Reese could see
the infantry units darting in between the Core structures. Soon, he to would reach the
perimeter of the Core base. Ahead, a squad of flashes were passing between two solar
collectors, followed closely by Max's Rockos. They turned left, and disappeared behind
one of the facilities. Moments later, Reese's Bulldog followed them in.
The squad of flashes weaved slowly between the towering structures followed by Max's
Rockos, and by Reese's Bulldog. The small convoy had entered a region cloaked by radar
jammers. The visual feed was the only evidence they had of each other's presence, let
alone that of the Core. Mining facilities and power plants reared up on either side of the
train of vehicles. Each one hummed quietly as they went about there functions, as if to
deliberately show their indifference to the situation that was unfolding around them.
Reese had ordered communication silence, and was receiving no word of the progress of
the rest of his forces. He knew that they were still fighting. The sound of weapon fire
carried on the wind across the Core base, occasionally interrupted by a muffled explosion
signifying the end of the battle for another warrior. Reese's squads had yet to meet with
resistance, but the commander knew that this would only be temporary. A shrill whistle
emerged from the ambient sounds of combat, the unmistakable signature of a punisher
shell. Without radar there was no way to know where the shell was going to strike. Reese
braced for a possible impact, wincing as the sound grew louder and louder. A terrible roar
heralded the impact. The Bulldog groaned as it was struck by the shockwave.
"That was close." Foy said. Reese did not reply. He looked to the right through the
sensors to see a mushroom like cloud of pitch-black smoke and intense yellow flame rise
from behind a metal storage unit. A direct hit. Seconds later metallic precipiation rattled
against the hull. Reese's attention was held by the dissipating cloud as it's fading form
curled upwards into the atmosphere. The uneasy calm was shattered abruptly, as a
green bolt of energy raced from between two metal extractors, piercing the armour of
one of the flashes. The tank was sent reeling over to it's left before being struck again in
its underside. The unit ignited in a haze of burning fuel and tumbled like a flaming cathrine
wheel into an adjacent solar collector. The remaining three flashes swivelled on the spot,
kicking up dirt and grass and let rip with a fierce volley of canon fire.
"Take us through Major!" Reese ordered, shouting over the cacophony.
"Yes sir!" Foy replied. The Rockos were now running at top speed past the melee. As they
moved in behind the ailing Flashes, the torso of each of the kbots turned to face the
laser tower. The trio unleashed a mighty salvo of rockets. The projectiles screamed from
their launchers and in a split second were upon their target, tearing it apart before the
Rockos had even recovered from the recoil. A plume of fire lashed outwards from the
defeated tower, charring slightly the hull of one of the rocket kbots. The Rockos marched
on triumphantly. A few seconds later, the Bulldog reached the site of the skirmish. Reese
watched silently as the Bulldog passed the remains of a flash embedded in the plating of
a solar collector, still burning uncontrollably. Glancing to the left he saw the laser tower.
Scorched, battered and crooked, it hung it's head mournfully over the blackened remains
of two more Flash tanks. The last of the flashes was heavily damaged. Its tracks and
turret twitched randomly, it appeared that the nervous system of the clone inside had
been fried by the laser flash. Reese looked away. There was no time to put it out of its
misery.
Reese checked the time. It had been twenty minutes, and still the command squad had
yet to find a vital structure. They had easily dispatched several squads of infantry. In
the confined conditions the A.Ks had been unable to take advantage of their superior
numbers. But those victories were of little consequence, and had were no more than a
waste of time. The commander now feared for the success of the mission. The
background gunfire that had accompanied the group on their journey through the Core
base was dying off. From what Reese could tell there were only a few Arm units left, and
still there was no evidence of vital Core structures.
"Where are they hiding them?" Reese muttered in frustration. He threw his head back
against the headrest of his chair and sighed. What do we do now? He thought to himself.
Just then, he detected a disturbance through the audio sensors.
"Foy?" Reese said, sitting forward.
"I hear it sir." Foy replied, "Engine signatures. Definitely Core." Reese assumed that Max
and his squad had detected the noise as well. Sure enough the Rockos stopped dead in
their tracks, lying in wait for the approaching enemy. Two weasels pounced from behind
an energy storage unit thirty meters ahead of the Rockos. They skidded simultaneously
to face the Arm, and with a shrill buzz accelerated towards the waiting kbots. The rears
of the vehicles swung wildly from side to side as they swerved to avoid the barrage of
missiles unleashed by the Rockos. One was hit squarely by a projectile and burst in a halo
of flame and wreckage. The second turned sharply to a void the destruction of its
compatriot, but lost traction on the moist, grassy surface. It span out of control,
narrowly missing the left leg of Max's Rocko. Intead, it careered into the Bulldog. The
armour of the tank shrieked and groaned as the smaller unit exploded in its face. Reese
was nearly deafened and blinded as the sensors were momentarily overloaded by the
proximity of the blast. He and Foy were thrown against there safety harnesses, which
quickly catapulted them back into there chairs.
"Are you all right commander?" Foy asked.
"Yes." Reese said. "What's the damage?"
"There's heavy damage to the right track, and we've lost radar." Foy replied, juggling the
tasks of speaking and trying to compensate for damaged systems via the neural
interface.
"Can we move?" Reese asked.
"Not unless you were planning to go round in circles sir." Foy said facetiously, before
even considering who he was addressing. His humour could not have been more poorly
timed as four slashers emerged form behind the same facility as the weasels had. They
were moving in a square formation to fit between the tightly packed structures. Reese
opened a channel,
"Rockos, take out the first two slashers. Clog the path with wreckage."
"What about comm silence sir?" Max replied.
"Frag the damn silence!" Reese snapped, "I want smoking wreckage, and I want it now!"
Reese's patience had gone up in smoke with the Weasels. Fate had played every trick it
knew to keep Reese from his goals that day, and now he was loosing composure. "That
goes for you too Major!" Reese said, addressing Foy. The Slashers came to a stop ten
metres from the stationary Rockos. For a short time, the rival vehicles stood motionless in
a tense face off. Billows of smoke filled the air as the Rockos and Slashers unleashed
their charges upon one another. The atmosphere was permeated by the blast of the
rockets as they drew out vapour trails across the battlefield. The two swarms of
projectiles passed each other by and ploughed mercilessly into their targets. The two
outer Rockos were each hit in the chest by a single missile. Both slid back a few feet on
the damp ground under the force of the explosions, but their armour held. The central
Rocko sustained direct hits from two missiles. Much of its chest plating liquefied in the
intense heat as the recoil threw it away from the battle lines. Max's Rocko glided silently
through the air, trailing smoke and flames. Finally, it landed on its feet. It slid back a few
feet and stood motionless when it came to rest. Then it toppled forward. The Core had
also sustained damage. The two front Slashers ablaze, but still refused to yield to their
injuries. Both sides launched fresh volleys of rockets. This time, the results were far more
devastating. Both of the remaining Rockos eviscerated by violent explosions, as were the
two already burning slashers. Fragments of molten alloy spiralled up to the heavens as
the battle field was consumed by the fiery cataclysms. The Bulldog was totally
incapacitated, and had no way to escape being devoured by the monstrous blaze.
From inside the bulldog, it sounded as if there was a thunderstorm raging outside. The
blast of air caused by the explosions howled around the vehicle, and mighty clangs rang
out in the cockpit like the peal of a giant bell as hunks of shrapnel struck the outer hull.
The heat was becoming unbearable as the tank was roasted in the inferno. Reese pulled
the neural interface helmet from his head allowing a stream of sweat to pour from hid
forehead down his face. He winced and shook the perspiration from his hair.
"Foy!" Reese gasped, "Do something about this temperature before the machine
overheats!" There was no response. "Foy?!" Reese shouted over the wailing of the
fire-storm outside. Still there was no reply. The commander leaned forward and jabbed
the Major in the arm. Foy did not flinch. The muscles in his arm were seized up. Reese
dropped back into his seat as he realised that Foy was dead. An over load in the neural
interface had scrambled his nervous system. It was only now that Reese noticed that the
insulation on a number of the wires that lead to Foy's helmet had melted, a result of the
heat caused by the flood of meaningless digital information that had crashed Foy's mind.
Reese sighed. The only thing he could do now was to wait for the flames to subside.
A loud scraping resonated within the cockpit of the Bulldog as Reese twisted the release
on the access hatch above his head. The handle was still warm, but apart from the
groaning of the hatch mechanism all was silent. Reese assumed from the calm that the
hell fires that had raged around the exterior of the tank had subsided. The release locked
up, and Reese pushed upwards against the hatch. As the seal on the hatch was broken,
billows of grey smoked tumbled down into the cockpit. Reese paused for a second to
cough, and then proceeded to open the hatch. The door tipped over, striking the hull
with a dull clunk, and the commander thrust his head upwards into the comparatively cool
air of the outside world. Reese squinted at first, expecting his eyes to be ill adjusted to
the light levels, but his eyes slowly widened as he realised it was quite dark outside as
well. Standing on his chair, he turned gradually through 360 degrees to get a panoramic
view of the scene. All around, damaged structures belched fire balls from mouth like
fissures in their armour. Towering spires of smoke reached up to the heavens, blocking
the warm rays of the sun, which now only appeared as an ethereal orange disc behind a
veil of acrid smog. A number of VToL aircraft were also visible, scavanging the remains of
deceased units like wasps upon a discarded piece of fruit. It seemed that the battle was
over. He reached down into the cockpit and grabbed the neural interface helmet and
disconnected it from the vehicle with a firm tug. All it was useful for now was remote
communication. Reese placed his hand on the hull of the tank in order to haul himself up
to a better vantagepoint, but pulled it away with an anguished yelp. The armour of the
bulldog was still very hot. Reese placed the helmet on his head, pulled his hands back
into the sleeves of his overalls, and then hoisted himself up through the access hatch.
The plastic sole of his right boot hissed as he placed it on the smouldering plate. He then
stood up to his full height, and groaned as stretched his weary muscles. The view from
here was just as grim. Though the devestation appeared widespread, from what Reese
could tell there was only damage to non-critical structures. It was nothing the Core could
not deal with quickly. Now the dark possibility that the mission had failed was dawning on
the dejected commander. Reese scoured all communications channels. All he could find
were a few rudimentary commands being passed back and forth between core
construction units, and a small number of encrypted transmissions that only the higher
Core units would be able to decipher. Ironically, it appeared that he was the only one left
alive. Demoralised and defeated, Reese toppled back into a sitting position on the roof of
the Bulldog. As his head dropped into his hands, a small indicator sounded in his mind. A
weak transmission was being received. Reese raised his head,
"Hello?" he said timidly, "Who's there?" The transmission was still weak, and without
sensors to back up the receiver there was no way to tell where it was coming from.
Suddenly, a voice emerged from the static.
"Hello? Comm..." The voice was swallowed once more by the writhing sea of interference.
Reese hurriedly compensated.
"Hello." Reese said with purpose, "Identify yourself." A short, static filled pause followed.
"Commander?" the voice surfaced once more. "You're alive." The tone was frail and raspy,
but Reese recognised it straight away.
"Max." Reese murmured to himself. He turned and scrambled to the leading edge of the
bulldog. Before him lay Max's stricken Rocko. It lay face down in the churned up earth, its
scorched body bleeding red coolant from gaping wounds in its hull.
"Max!" Reese said as a smile began to spread across his ruddy face. "Hold on Max. I'll get
you out." Reese threw one leg over the side of the tank preparing to disembark, only to
be halted by the Corporal's reply.
"No, commander."
"Corporal?" Reese replied, bemused by Max's unwillingness to co-operate.
"Sir, I'm too badly injured." Max explained, "An overload in the neural interface as
paralysed me totally. Besides, even if you could get me out, where would we go? We're
stranded in the middle of Core territory with no weapons and limited communication. I
don't think we're going anywhere sir." Reese knew Max was right. He sat down, his legs
dangling over the edge of the tank, and pondered his situation. It seemed that fate had
dealt him one final irony in leaving him alive whilst almost all of the rest of his forces had
been destroyed. As he glared into the baked earth, Reese began to overflow with
emotion. He was frustrated that after all the hardship of the days before his mission had
amounted to nothing, and that was being forced to watch as the life of his adoptive son
ebbed slowly away. He was angry at a world that would allow him and his soldiers to
endure such misery. Reese just wanted to throw his arms above his head and cry out to
the heavens for answers from a greater power. But this simply fuelled his frustration, as
he knew there could never be a response for a soulless clone such as himself. But more
than anything, he was scared. Scared, as he stared into the dark cowl of death. Scared
of what may lie on the other side. Scared that he would meet his end one last time
without purpose. As Reese turned his stare upwards to the darkening skies, a single tear
rolled down his grimy cheek. He closed his eyes hard, and opened them to clear the saline
that was impairing his vision. A small group of VtoLs feeding on metallic carrion no more
than three hundred metres away caught the commander's attention. They circled their
meal slowly as the stream of nanites digested the recyclable material. Suddenly, the
beams dried up. This is it, Reese thought. He was certain that the Core had detected his
communications of a few moments earlier, and were now coming to reclaim the Arm
vehicles, along with himself and Corporal Max. He swallowed hard as the construction
craft rose ominously into the air. They stopped at about twenty metres and hung almost
motionless above the smoking battlefield. Then, something unexpected happened. The
VtoLs turned their backs on Reese and the Bulldog. The commander looked on in
bewilderment as the rear thrusters of the construction crafts went from a dull orange to
brilliant white, carrying them slowly away from him, and from the remaining wreckage.
Reese hauled himself to his feet and dragged his forearm across his face, removing the
dew from his eyes. He took in a panoramic view of the scene once more. Sure enough, all
around him VToLs were leaving their assigned tasks uncompleted, and were slowly ebbing
away from the killing fields that they had been feeding from so vigorously only moments
before.
"What the hell?" Reese muttered to himself. Reese's sentiment had reached further than
his own ears however, as the comm link to Max had been left open.
"Sir?" Max said, sounding weaker than before, "What's going on?"
"They're all leaving." Reese said, not thinking to explain in more detail.
"Who, sir? What is ...." A sharp whistle cut out Max's voice over the comm link. Reese
frowned with discomfort, and reached for the side of the neural interface helmet to
compensate for the interference.
"What was that?" Max enquired as the link was re-established.
"I don't kn..." Reese stopped himself. He did know. The commander turned to face the in
the direction from which the convoy had arrived, and began to pace slowly across the
roof of the tank. The thumping of his boots on the hull increased in tempo, as did his
heart beat as he approached the side of the vehicle. There he stopped, and squinted,
struggling to see through the thick fumes. On a patch of pure blue sky only barely visible
between two mighty pillars of smoke, Reese caught a glimpse of what he had hoped with
all his heart to see. I pin prick of white light, growing larger as it traversed the firmament.
Reese's jaw dropped. Then the surprised expression evolved into a broad smile.
"They did it." He said, "The S.O.Bs did it!" He reiterated, this time almost laughing.
"What? Who did what?" Max asked, desperate to know what was occurring beyond his
alloy sarcophagus.
"A nuke." Reese said, sounding as if he barely believed his own words. But it was true.
While the Core had channelled resources into fending of the Arm's suicide assault, the
distraction had given the Arm HQ the valuable time they needed to not only set up
adequate defences, but to build a long-range offence system. And now they were
harvesting the fruits of their sacrifice. The missile was now above the limits of the Core
territory. It thrust through towers of smoke, tearing them asunder like a scythe through
stalks of wheat. Reese looked on in wonderment as the projectile drew nearer. Now the
rumbling was becoming audible as it cruised in.
"It's getting close." Max said, now also able to here the roar of the rocket engine,
"Sounds as if it may land nearby." He paused, "I'm kinda sorry they won't be able to
retrieve my recall chip. This is one mission I would've liked to remember in my next
incarnation." Reese felt no such regret. He now knew why he had survived so long. He
had lived to see the success of the mission, and that his sacrifice had not been in vain.
As he watched the missile tilt downwards and begin its plunge, he felt no fear or
apprehension. What he saw was not a weapon of mass destruction, but an angel
descending on wings of fire, the chorus of its engines calling his name. After two
thousand years of distinguished service to the Arm, Commander Zeek Reese was about to
receive the highest honour imaginable... peace. In a distant corner of Reese's mind, he
heard Max's voice.
"See you at the cloning facility, sir."
"No Corporal," Reese replied serenely, "You won't."
The missile struck...