“Regrets? My only regret is that I didn’t kill more of the bastards.”
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-Private Lucas Briones, 91st Barcelman Skirmishers
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Fort Lorena, TUAF Occupied Territory
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Maltanarian Republic, Galnum, Galnum System
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247, 2512
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“Are you enjoying your stay here, ma’am?” the driver asked as he made a turn.
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“I haven’t been here long,” the young woman answered, “Nor do I plan on it. My superiors want me to finish this side venture quickly and be on my way back to Terra.”
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“Terra?” the driver asked curiously, “What’s it like? I’ve never been there.”
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“Crowded and loud. I don’t know how people sleep at night over there.”
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“My grandfather told me the first colony ships carried our people from the Europan block. I really want to go there one day and see our old home.”
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The woman glanced up at the driver and admired his curiosity. She turned off her datapad and sat up straight in her seat.
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“Tell you what. You help me with this assignment and when your deployment on Galnum is over, I’ll see to it that you get a week of leisure time on Terra. How does that sound?”
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The young man, practically a boy, smiled and turned to face her, “You would do that?”
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“Eyes on the road, soldier,” she told him.
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He quickly turned around, “Thank you, ma’am.”
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“Don’t mention it, what’s your name?”
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“Marco. Private Marco Pajarero. And you?”
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“Call me Izumi..”
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“But how could I help?”
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“I need a local army guide. Files and records only tell you so much. How long have you been serving?”
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“Two years, ma’am. Went to basic training as soon as I turned eighteen and they sent me here four months later. Been with the 93rd ever since.”
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“How well do you know the 91st Brigade?”
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“Depends,” he answered and pulled the MUT in front of a blocky building with two flags on it, “What exactly do you want to know?”
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One was the flag of the Terran Union. It resembled a black and orange target with its circles around which were six black stars. The other was the flag of the Barcelman Skirmishers, a red background in the center of which was a man with a rifle riding a black stallion. It was a simple yet accurate representation of what these men and women were. Fast and deadly.
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“Second battalion, third company,” Izumi said, and the young man’s eyes widened.
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“Los bastardos locos?” he asked, “You want to know about the crazy bastards?”
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“That’s my assignment soldier.”
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The two of them walked into the building. Inside, Izumi’s appearance caught the attention of pretty much everyone in the hall. Partially due to the color of her skin and the shape of her eyes but also because of her black and orange uniform that indicated she was a commissar. An older man in an officer’s uniform approached her and extended his hand.
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“Commissar Katsura Izumi?” he asked and she nodded and shook his hand, “Captain Leo Alonso, third company of the second battalion, 91st Brigade.”
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He turned his gaze to Marco and dismissed him in a different language but Izumi raised her hand before the private could leave.
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“He’s with me, I require a guide.”
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The captain said nothing for a moment and then nodded, “Very well. This way then.”
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He led them down the halls into the holding block. Izumi noticed that the vast majority of the cells were empty and the captain told her that the prisoners they did hold were there for minor acts of insubordination. But the prisoner she was meant to interrogate was no minor felon. At the very end of the holding block were two rooms built for questioning. In the one marked with the letter B sat a cuffed man smoking a cigar.
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"Senior Sergeant Manuel Venegas," Leo began, "First section of the first platoon. One of our best. A veteran of the Katalasha conflict. Decorated with the Cruz Guerrera and the Medal of Honor. Was wounded seven times yet refuses to stop going into the field. The insurgents call him 'halbish kalnuh tekal'."
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Izuma looked at Marco like she was expecting an answer.
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The boy stammered, "T-The literal meaning is 'the dog from below the earth' in the native tongue."
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"Interesting," Izuma said and pondered this information for a bit.
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"So what did he do? And why?" Marco asked
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"That's what we're going to find out. Marco, you will go in with me. Captain, you can watch behind the two-way mirror."
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"Are you sure?" Leo asked, "I can assign guards to you."
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"No need," she said and entered the room with Marco behind her.
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Manuel seemed uninterested as he lazily eyed her while smoking his cigar. The way he was sitting showed he wasn't afraid of her or her uniform. The commissar and the private sat in front of him.
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"So what's this?" the gruff stocky man asked as he blew a smoke, "Two ethnic groups down, why don't you bring the whole inclusion group?"
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Izumi took out her datapad and placed it on the table. With the press of a few buttons, the pad showed images of dead Galnumians in brown uniforms. Their normally pale skin was burned and they all had multiple bullet times all across their bodies. Marco recoiled at the sight.
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"Care to explain?" Izumi asked.
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Manuel leaned forward in a pretend expression of intrigue, "A bunch of dead dumbfucks. What of it?"
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"They were found dumped off of a hillside. Most of them were hogtied. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be too much of an issue if it was just a run-of-the-mill unsanctioned execution. But it wasn't, was it?"
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The sergeant's expression stiffened ever so slightly. He bit into his cigar and released another puff through his nose.
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"They were found south-east of the Maltanarian border. In Talnishian territory."
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"The Talnishian Confederacy?" Marco asked.
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"Exactly. The very same Talnishian Confederacy that signed a nonaggression pact with the Terran Union six years ago."
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Manuel sat up straight and slammed his fists on the table, "They were aiding the Grays during the war! And now they shelter the insurgents and even send their mercenaries against us!"
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Izumi said nothing for a while. She waited for the sergeant to calm himself as best he could before they continued. Manuel slumped back and spat out the cigar he had in his mouth on the floor.
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“I couldn’t let them get away with it. Hijos de puta,” he said, looking away from the commissar and private.
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“Who and with what?” Izumi asked as she prepared her recorder.
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Manuel glared at her, “You wanna know? Fine. I’ll tell you. But you gotta promise me something. My boys don’t go to prison, you leave ‘em alone? Trato?”
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“Tell me what happened.”
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— — — — — — —
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17 days ago
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Malashan County, Maltanarian Republic
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It was a day like any other. Routine, practically drilled into my head. We were on patrol that day, just passing by the construction yards in Halsha. Those malditos bastards did a number on the county a month ago, used it as a staging ground to move up north toward Fort Martina. Lucky the drones found them when they did. We sent half a damn battalion to flush ‘em out. But they had the place rigged. Still, things ended up as well as anyone could expect. Now we were on the lookout for new threats. My section was walking alongside one of the Strikers while drones buzzed over our heads.
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“Lanu!” a native kid shouted, “Lanu lanu lanu!”
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It meant ‘brown’ in their language. ‘Cause of the lack of sunlight, all the natives had pale skin so whenever they saw us they would get excited.
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“How are you?” the kid tried to ask me in Spanish. His name was Likab.
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It was funny when they copied us. The locals had mixed feelings about us being here. Hell, some blamed us for the insurgency. When the Katalasha conflict ended, the world governments had collectively signed a treaty with the Union and it was all supposed to be over. But then remnants started popping up and here we are.
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“I’m great,” I answered the kid, “And you?”
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“Good,” he said, “Want to play?”
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I chuckled, “No no, I have work to do. Maybe later.”
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Then another kid ran over, a girl this time. It was Likab’s sister, Lova. Both of them had been orphaned when the war started seven years ago. If I had to judge based on our clock, Likab would be eleven and Loba would be thirteen. It was a sad sight no matter how much they warmed my heart.
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“Eat,” she said, “I made for you.”
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She gave me a small square-shaped yellow cookie with chocolate chips. None of us thought these people would like our food but since Antonio set up one of the food trucks near the town fountain, they couldn’t get enough of it. I bet they would have loved it even more if some of those Apennine Grenadiers showed up.
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“Thank you,” I said and ate the cookie. It was a bit too sweet for me but I still smiled like I enjoyed it.
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"Venegas!" my lieutenant called out, "Let's go, we have to circle back around the town square."
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I reluctantly followed the stickler. Lieutenant Ricardo Garcia wasn't a bad guy, he was new. It was just his attitude when it came to assignments. No matter how small he treated it like we were defending Barcelma itself. Although I guess that kind of mindset was important at the time.
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"What about the fourth company?" I ask, "Any word from them?"
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"They're headed eastward. Something about reinforcing the river docks. Have the drones picked up anything?"
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"Negative, sir," Estela said, "Other than local wildlife we have nothing on the thermals or motion trackers."
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Ricardo sighed and went inside the Striker.
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"Maybe they're giving up," Bruno said as he walked over to us while munching on a burrito, "For the past month we've been beating their asses back."
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"And it's been easy," I added, "The most we've ever killed in one engagement was around forty or so. If we count the other cells that the second and fourth companies cleared, there can't be more than a hundred of them."
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"So what's your point?" Bruno asked as he pushed the rest of the Burrito into his mouth. Crumbs fell off his chin and on his belly.
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"They're planning something. Something big."
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"Another one of your gut feelings," Estela asked with a grin.
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"I just don't like how things are playing out."
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While we were talking, a chorus of laughs and giggles drew our attention. A few native girls were huddled around a helmet-less skirmisher, whose smile was as wide as Bruno's shoulders were broad. He said something in the native tongue, winked at the girls, and walked over to us.
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"Briones," Estela called out, "You know you're not supposed to mingle with the locals."
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Private Lucas Briones chuckled at that and winked at Estela, "You're just jealous I'm breaking the rules for them and not you."
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She punched him in the shoulder and he laughed. I saw something around her neck pop out. It was a necklace with a blue and white half-circle with a weird-looking symbol on it. I glanced behind her and saw a young native man watching us, her especially, from behind a corner.
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"So what's new, boss?" he asked me.
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"Not much.”
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“Is that a good ‘not much’ or a bad ‘not much’?”
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“I hope it's the former.”
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Lucas nodded and turned to Bruno, “I bet you ten creds something goes down within the hour.”
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“Deal,” Bruno said and the two men shook hands.
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I immediately grunted in annoyance when the lieutenant rushed out of the Striker.
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“Fourth company has been ambushed!” he shouted over the comms, “Dock-7 is under attack! All units have been given orders to converge at the Marble River!”
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We rushed into the Tortoises and legged it. I saw Likab’s and Lova’s worried faces as we drove off. I’ll be back, I kept thinking to myself.
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The Marble River wasn’t too far away from us. A nice place, named after its spotless white stones. Command had us construct a series of docks along the river’s length to help with patrols and transport. I was right. They were planning something. The fourth company was meant to reinforce it.
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We got out of our transports far enough away so they wouldn't see us and began sweeping the forest and following the sounds of gunfire. They weren't like the ones back home. The trees were much thicker at the base but became thin rather quickly. Despite this, they still had dense crowns which were a nightmare for any aerial or orbital scans to get past.
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"There they are," Bruno remarked.
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I saw them. They were firing at the pinned survivors of the fourth company, who took cover. Behind their damaged or destroyed vehicles. One of the insurgents aimed a rocket launcher at one of the APCs. I shot him before he could fire.
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"All units, engage!" the captain shouted.
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No other orders were given. We cut them down one by one. Bullets zoomed past the trees and into their backs and heads. Most weren't facing us and some didn't even notice their comrades dying. Some scored a few lucky shots, wounding several of our men. But soon enough they scattered, surrendered, or died. I remember killing eleven. Bruno got five seventeen with his machine gun. That was more than usual.
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Grenades exploded around the tree stumps and
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Lucas shouted at the insurgents to get on their knees while Ricardo spoke with Captain Rivera of the fourth. That's when something bothered me. The insurgents wore brown uniforms with dark green and blue spots. Then I remembered the way they fought. It was too… right. Too professional. They were too clean.
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"Ask them where they got the weapons and uniforms," I ordered Lucas who translated my question.
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Their spitting and taunting told me they didn't like it. One of them was louder than the others. His glare at me was especially ugly.
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"They don't want to answer," Lucas said.
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"Why?"
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"They say we're filthy godless sons of whores."
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I closed my eyes and took a sharp inhale. Then I slowly exhaled and shot the idiot in the thigh. He was even louder than before while the others were silent.
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Before I could do more questioning, an explosion boomed in the distance, and a cloud of smoke rose from the river. I saw the kneeling insurgents grinning at the sight. They were pushed to the ground and cuffed while we advanced. That must've come from the dock, I told myself. And I was right. Three patrol boats were burning on the water while dozens of insurgents tried to break down the gate.
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Just as their rockets blew a hole in the surrounding wall, we threw our grenades and opened fire. Lacking proper cover, they fell quickly to our guns. One of our Strikers drove forward and gunned a group of them down before it was shot by a rocket. Then another insurgent fired a launcher into the air and the shell popped into tens of small explosives that fell on us. The detonations killed four of our men and wounded seven more. He was about to fire another round before Estela shot him in the head with her marksman rifle.
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She targeted the insurgents based on threat level now seeing that they weren't the same aggressors as before. And again the questions filled my head. Where did they get those weapons and uniforms? How did they learn to use them effectively? It's too sudden.
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We finished them off in roughly twenty minutes but the damage had already been done. Those who surrendered or were injured were rounded up for questioning and their weapons were confiscated. So much destruction in such a short amount of time.
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"Squad check."
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"Lucas, check."
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"Bruno, check."
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"Estela, check."
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"What the hell was that, boss?" Lucas asked, "How the hell did they get cluster launchers?"
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"I wish I knew."
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"I just hope this is the last of them," Bruno said angrily, "Those fucks killed Gonzales and Pedro."
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None of us added anything to that. We were always taught that war shouldn't be taken personally. That it's our job to fight. Everyday belief is stretched to its limit. And at that moment it was shattered for us.
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Muffled radio calls appeared on every channel. For a while, we couldn't understand anything. But they slowly became more and more clear. Cries for help and reinforcements, casualty reports, sounds of gunfire, and explosions. Then we heard a line that froze our spines.
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"They're attacking Halsha! They're burning everything! Our drones are down and the turrets won't respond! We need-"
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It cut off abruptly. We went back as soon as we could, most of us running through the woods. The Strikers got there before we did but there was nothing they could do. My men and I watched in mute horror and disgust at the sight. Dead bodies riddled the streets and alleyways. Blood poured into the sewers. Houses were burned or blown apart along with APCs and trucks. No matter where we turned we saw death. Men, women, children. Civilians. They were all dead. But what distributed me more was how they were left on the ground, organized like in front of a firing squad.
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Aside from them, there were also more insurgents, all in the same brown uniforms. How did they bring down the drones and turrets? An EMP? If so then this goes past local insurgency.
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"No!" Estela shouted and ran toward a dead young native man, "Kalish! Kalish, please, no!"
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She sobbed as she held his and her necklace in her hands. Bruno rummaged through the rubble of a collapsed bakery, throwing away stones, bricks, and wood. He dug until he found the crushed and mangled corpses of three old women and sank to his knees. I saw Lucas shakingly touching the native girls he spoke to today. Their naked bodies were bruised and cut all over and blood dripped from between their legs.
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Fucking animals, I thought to myself. As I walked down the street, I noticed something moving in an alleyway. It was a cardboard box. When I lifted it I saw Likab, bruised and bleeding, holding Lova tightly.
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"Likab!" I shouted and held them close, "Medic! Who did this? What happened?"
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Lova wasn't moving. Her body pulse was gone. Likab shivered when I put my hand on his shoulder and strained himself to look at me.
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"Get me a medic here now or I swear to God I'll shove a brick up your-"
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"Ta-", Likab gagged out, "Tal…"
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"Easy, son. Just breathe. What happened?"
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"Tal… ni… shi…" he barely uttered out past his lips.
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"Talnishi? Talnishians? The Confederacy? Did they do this?"
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He closed his eyes and his head slumped down on my shoulder. I heard him take his last breath before his lungs and heart ceased. I desperately tried to hold back my tears as I held both of them close to me.
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They didn't deserve this. None of it. I… If only I was faster then maybe…
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"Clear the sight and leave the bodies!" I heard Ricardo shout coldly, "The investigators are on their way! Gather the dog tags."
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I stood up immediately and stomped toward him. It took both Bruno and Lucas to hold me back from slamming his face into the pavement.
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"There were kids here!"
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"And there's nothing we can do. The best course of action is to regroup, wait for reinforcements, and make sure it doesn't happen again."
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"Oh really? Why don't we put a nice sign that says 'We are all gathered in one place! Please use your new guns on us!'."
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"What are you getting at?"
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"We have to attack! They're across the border in the Talnishian Confederacy!"
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"How do you know this?"
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"Likab told me."
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Ricardo snickered, "A child? How could he tell?"
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"They're local, they can tell the difference," Lucas answered.
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"Listen here. I don't know what you think he told you but I know this. The Talnishian Confederacy signed a nonaggression pact with the Terran Union six years ago. They're neutral in this conflict and because of this, we have no authority to launch an operation into their land. Doing so would be a declaration of war and a few words from a dead kid are not enough to start one."
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Then I broke free and punched him in the face. Blood burst from his nose as he fell on his ass into rubble. He rubbed his face and stood up slowly.
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"You're suspended, sergeant. I'm reporting you to Colonel Diaz!"
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He stumbled off. Like I gave a shit.
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"What's next boss?" Lucas asked, "What do we do?"
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That night we snuck out through the forest. It took us a while before we reached a stream between several large trees. It acted like a land marker. A natural border with the confederacy. But there was no going back. All twenty of us crossed it without a second thought.
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As we went further into the woods, we could hear laughter and chattering. We split into five groups of four and observed the outposts or at least what passed as one. It looked like a small village with a bonfire in the center and two dozen men around it. Roughly twenty more were walking around sporadically and I could only assume there were more of them inside the houses.
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They were clearly celebrating something as many of them were somewhat drunk or drinking while the others told stories and made charades. Lucas heard they talked about Halsha. That's all I needed to hear.
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"Move in."
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We started taking them out silently one by one with knives. Estela made sure no one snuck up behind us as we hid the bodies. Slowly, we carved apart every son of a bitch on the outer perimeter. After that, each group further split into two duos and took positions at each of the small houses. As one, we threw grenades through the windows. The detonation killed or injured everyone inside. Those that didn't die were riddled with bullet holes from our rail guns or burned by flamethrowers.
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The assholes by the bonfire sprung up and ran in all directions. Estela picked them off with precise shots while the rest of us kept killing. Several of them took cover behind me inside an intact house. Bruno lit the whole thing up with his machine gun so much that it collapsed. Others tried to flank us but Lucas was faster, shooting them in the head with his pistol or slitting their throats.
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We spared no one. Those who tried to run were shot and those who hid behind cover were blown apart or burned along with it. One of them jumped on me when I advanced too far and tried to stab me in the chest. I rolled us both over and gouged one of his eyes, then his other one before bashing his face in with a rock.
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Soon there were only thirteen of them left. They quickly threw away their weapons and knelt as they mumbled in their language. We surrounded them and held them at gunpoint. Most of them eyed the flamethrowers with fear.
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"They're begging us to spare them, " Lucas told me, "They want mercy."
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I looked at their terrified pleading faces and shook my head.
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"No."
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The flamethrowers lit up and scorched them to a crisp. Their screams no doubt echoed through the trees. Those who tried running away were shot or burned to death. Their flesh fell off their bones, their eyes melted in their sockets, their blood boiled in their bodies and killed them from within. None of us cared.
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— — — — — —
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Present
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"We turned ourselves in the next day," Manuel said, "Ever since then we waited."
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"Did you order your men to follow you?" Izumi asked.
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"No."
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"Do any of you regret anything?"
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"No."
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"Even the fact that two of you died?"
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Manuel said nothing. She nodded and wrote several notes into her datapad. Marco fidgeted nervously the whole time. After a few minutes of awkward silence, he found the courage to ask the sergeant a question.
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"Is it true that you once beheaded a man with one slice of your knife?"
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"We're done," Izumi said and stood up.
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Marco hurriedly followed but glanced back to see Manuel nodding with a devilish smile on his face.
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"And?" Captain Leo asked.
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"I will inform the commissary of this and then take full command of the Talnishian investigation. Private Pajarero and Sergeant Venegas will assist me."
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The captain blinked in surprise, "Excuse me?"
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"Sergeant Manuel Venegas will be released from custody and put under my direct command and supervision. This is an order."
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She handed him a smaller datapad.
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"Please give this to Colonel Diaz."
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Izumi walked away and Marco followed her. When the two got outside and close to the MUT, Marco asked, "Why, ma'am?"
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"Why what?" Izumi asked as if surprised by his question.
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"Why have him a part of this? He'll be… unstable. Aggressive. Best case scenario a small shootout happens between us and the Talnishi."
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The commissar grinned slightly as she opened the back door.
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"That's exactly what I want."
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