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“I thought you would have done better?” Sergeant Francis berates your closed eyes. You can feel his spit hit your eyelashes covering your contacts but you can’t move unless you want “Freddie” to fall on your back. “Even Freddie thinks you could have done better.” Francis says grabbing a whip off the table nearby. “Maybe Freddie needs to remind you about our laws?” You close your eyes tighter as you hear the breathe of the devil approach. Your back screams. Training with the Space Army was the worst thing you have ever done. But since they were the only group, person, or entity that would accept you for a job or position you were happy to finally be off the streets and doing something. Your leading officer has put you personally through the worst. Thankfully, today has been a special day as you sit in your bunk ready for some sleep. The United Nations of Earth, the leader of the new colonies on Mars, have asked you to join a force headed to a distant planet for exploration. They neglected to unveil the details but the other crew members who were assigned all seemed pretty happy.
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You open your eyes to the bright glow of Yon, the sun of the desert planet Korinski. In a metal base, the size of a coffee shop, your bunkmates stir slightly. The beds hastily made from a lightweight material they call whood, is rough and splinters. It reminds you of something back on earth called wood. The room is tight, cramped, and smelly. Sharing it with your squad of “gentleman” is not ideal when you are afraid of the plague. You are however glad to have made a new friend. Unfortunately it isn’t much of a friendship. It’s more of a comradery. His name is Jeremy, but he has the unlucky fortune to have six fingers on each hand. Quite the coincidence? The pack regretfully named him Six. Many jokes have been made about how they should cut off one of Six’s fingers and attach it to you. The leader of the group, Shark, seemed to enjoy this greatly. Shark is a good leader once he gets done taunting you. He is six feet five, has great muscle strength, and is a born fighter and soldier. As you get out of bed, Six rolls over, eyes wide open for intruders. You raise your fingers to tell him to go back to sleep. You step onto the warm floor and head for the “kitchen”. As you cross the floor you can hear Shark call from his bed;
“Hey Thumbs, gunna go get a cold one? Or maybe you could open us a bag of chips!”
He rolls in his bunk laughing which causes his lower bunk mate to kick him in the rear. The door, airtight for a reason, shakes with a silent but disturbing rattle. Your senses scan the air for sounds of approaching missiles. Unfortunately the snoring of your bunk mates and Shark’s snickering makes that impossible. It has been five weeks since you left the capital Asnol in search of Raiders. All you found was sun, sand, and an army of raiders. Silently you walk over to the suiting station. As you re-cross the room Six gets up. He too has heard the noise. You put on your AOBS or “ABS” as it is called by the men. Termed the “Armies Oxygen Breathing Suit” it helps keep you safe from the Carbon Monoxide waiting outside for your lungs. You hate the suit, especially because it requires thumbs to help turn knobs and put on the sleeves. You found a way to put it on without any help but it is painful and sometimes you get stuck. You also found a way to fire the M-KM advanced sniper rifle without thumbs. The director of the mission was adamant you couldn’t fire it without them but you proved him wrong. The bulky sniper rifle is hard to operate and requires tons of muscles and calices, but it kills. It is five feet long and has two scopes for ultimate visual experience. You already have the most points in the squad. They call you Thumbs. The “special treatment” you receive when you get a kill is a big thumbs up. You hate it. On your twenty first birthday the soldiers celebrated by giving you your first beer. It was rough and tasted horrible. They also brought in any kind of food that required thumbs to eat, all in your honor.
A slight rumbling noise comes from outside. You head for the door. Six helps you open the first latch. Pressing the air-lock button you and Six wait for the green light to appear. Finally it turns on, now no one will suffer carbon poisoning in the cabin behind you. You make your way outside. Your suit hinders your vision, but the sensors and increased hearing aids help you lock in on approaching targets. You scan the sky. You have been training to catch even the slightest line of clouds cleverly disguised as missiles. You start on your left scanning the horizon that is full of sand dunes. The bright pink sky above reveals nothing. Suddenly out of a cloud near the largest sand dune you see a pencil-like object with a dissolving eraser appear. It dives towards your position. You turn to rush back inside but Six grabs your arm. Your brain goes over the possibilities. Can you really survive a 1,000 degree firebomb if you waste time trying to go back inside? You run. The first hill is easy, the second one you trip over yourself and watch the missile for a second before returning to your frantic flee. Six is likewise having trouble. As your gaze goes back to the camp you can see Six trying to get one of the speeder bikes operational. He is failing. You scream for him to just run. The alarm is going off behind you; the soldiers inside are trying to flee. You reach the third sand hill when you feel the earth violently shake. You turn around falling to the ground. A small forest fire has started at your camp and is quickly growing. It eats the first and second hill. Enraged like a lion it approaches your position. It engulfs you in a yellow and orange liquid. You feel the suit giving way but you push on your cooling system and you feel lukewarm air blow over your face. You hesitantly open an eye but the fire is all around you. Laying on your back the fire makes almost paintbrush figures circling your helmet. Your suit sparks under the heat and you feel faint. You black out wheezing on the ground like a drowning person.
Awakening to ashes is like a nightmare. Your arms are covered in it. You breathe it, you taste it. Your suit has been melted. You freak out wondering “how on Korinski” you are going to breathe. You hold your breathe until you turn orange (hey you were never a great swimmer). Your lungs let go and you await the carbon monoxide poisoning that will kill you in seconds. Your brain begins to sway, your feel faint and almost in a trance. Suddenly your lungs are operational taking in huge breaths of oxygen. You are struggling to your feet but fall. You try to keep your eyes open but a blinding light makes you shut them. You wonder if this is heaven but realize it would suck with all this sand and heat. You yell for aid but something smoothers your mouth. You feel your face over and come in contact with an object. It goes from the top of your skull to your chin and somehow has been glued or melted onto your skin. It feels like plastic but durable and hard. You slowly open your eyes and after getting the glare out you stand up. In a nearby mound of sand you see your M-KM. Thankful that at least your baby made it through you pick it up. Checking its compartment you see that it still contains the 30 rounds you refill it with daily. Walking back to camp you discover many things. You find the camp burned to the ground. Your gaze searches for Six. You see him about a hundred yards away from camp. He had tried to flee but was too late. You wonder how you survived the attack as you race towards him. His face is scarred but otherwise his suit handled the situation pretty well. There are no serious injuries or derangements. You check his pulse and think you feel something very weak but still beating. He was lucky. A speeder partially melted next to him must have taken most of the inferno. Not wanting to leave Six behind to the hands of Raiders or wild beasts you slowly start to drag his body across the sand. Your goal is to take him up to the top of the hill you were on. As you drag his body you notice that your breathing has a voice to itself. Raspy and rough you sound almost “Darth Vader like”. Your vision also has taken a dramatic turn. You see clearly out of both eyes, with no hindrance to vision. You also can see farther then ever before in your life. The sky seems somewhat bluer and the detail of objects is sharper then your old contacts. The first couple of hills are easy but as you make the fourth your knees give way. Maybe your mind has given up already or maybe you are emotionally drained. You can’t decide. The body of Six lies next to you. You can’t decide if you should take off his suit or not. You look back at camp for what might be the last time. As your eyes scan the smoldering ruble movements on the horizon catch your attention. Ants crawling with dust in their wake march slowly towards you growing bigger. Soon you can make out the outlines of JAB’s or Jungular Assault Bioptics. These small hovering craft known as Skippers are the favorite mode of transportation for the Raiders; and they are deadly. Propelled by twin turbine engines on each side these agile fighters have twin machine guns on either wing making for an almost cavalry like unit. You act quickly pulling Six to the top of the hill. Thankfully he has all his equipment still in tact. You pull out his shovel, an ivory dagger, his grenades, and also his grenade launcher. You frantically dig on top of the hill and quickly have a crude sniper turret erected. You grunt in disgust as you realize your suit would have given you camouflage protection. You toss Six’s body over your side of the hill in hopes that after surviving this attack you will have enough strength to bring him home. You painfully load your rifle; the fact that you have no thumbs rings throughout the process. You have to shove the gun open with your four fingers and then push up on the bottom of the clip to secure it inside. The enemy is now halfway to the camp. You prepare for the assault.
The Raiders stop at your camp. Counting them quickly you come up with about forty. They also have about ten vehicles. You notice through your double scope that they all get off and spread out. They seem to be searching for something. You wish you had set mines at the camp. You grab the grenade launcher from your belt. You preferred the regular capped grenades at training but these new ones do more damage. You fire towards the vehicles. Hunkering down you place your M-KM at shoulder level and wait. If you can destroy the hovercrafts you might have a chance. Thankfully your grenade lands right in the middle of the clumped crafts. The Raider guard turns around with a start. He walks over to inspect the noise. He makes no sound as his legs make impressions on the sand. You can see his eyes roving the ground for any sign of disturbance. You are thankful the sniper rifle has such good scopes. Suddenly the raider notices your grenade lodged against one of the vehicles, he whirls around to warn his friends, but you pull the trigger. He hit’s the ground without a sound. You act quickly, detonating the grenade while at the same time plucking off two of the leading commanders of the group. The explosion and confusion rock the valley. Positioned high in the hills above you get a great view of the explosion. The sand sprays everywhere smothering most of the vehicles and also getting a few of the Raiders who stayed too close. You get to work quickly taking out most who attempt to get back to their craft. One in particular takes three shots before submitting to death. The rest scatter for cover. They still don’t know where you are but soon their keen eyes pick up your scope reflections. Suddenly the raiders are rushing your hill. They all have what humans call lightswords or laser pikes. Highly powered lasers concentrated into the shape of a sword, they make a swift cutting weapon that can pierce most armor. However they are no match for your quick hands and bullets. You remember your history about Sergeant York and quickly pick off the stragglers and ones in the back. Soon you have cut their numbers in half. You reach for your last ammo pack but find nothing. Your four fingers scrape your back in a frenzied search for your missing ammo. You glance down at the raiders quickly mounting the first ridge. Suddenly you spot the cartridge at the bottom of the hill. Damn, you most have dropped it! You quickly pull out your pistol and unload an entire round into the first row. The stupid raiders continue their charge, without formation or order, their roars rising high into the air. They look terrifying but as your face what could certainly be the end they actually look rather weak. Their bodies protected by Kevlar armor are strong, but your armor piercing rounds make short work of them. One by one they fall at your hands. Precious seconds are lost as you unload the last bullet into the closest of the group and reload. Shoving your four fingers into your pocket you retrieve your extra ammo pouch. Suddenly you lose your grip, the cartridge falls a third of the way down the hill tumbling in the sand. Cursing your missing thumb you fall down the hill to retrieve it. Frantically you shove the cartridge into your gun. The Raiders can see your position clearly and roar in triumph. You scramble back to the top of your hill and firing hastily. The Raiders carry on regardless of the many dead around them. They reach your hill. The first one manages to strike at you but you quickly dodge and with a behind-the-back hold you place a sticky-grenade on him and kick him down on his comrades. The explosion spews sand all over the hill side sending many raiders back to a different century, but the rest keep coming. Their dead bodies cover the hill but you keep shooting. You now know the reason they always gave you extra ammo. Suddenly something strong picks you up from behind. Your gun is kicked out of your hand and your neck is squeezed tightly. A raider holds you in his tight grip. His oily hands are slippery but won’t release or loosen. You squirm and kick at his knees trying to get any impact against the bullet protecting knee pads. More Raiders surround you yelling in a language that probably wouldn’t be very nice to listen too. You notice a weak spot in the lower region of their body. It reminds you of the place that “Buttlike” Buttingly had no protection at. You swing your legs hard. Thank God for soldier boots. You make contact and feel squishy flesh. The raider drops you. You grab your pistol from the ground and take out the first three in front of you. Jumping backwards you put your last sticky grenade on the pain ridden raider you kicked where it hurts and heave him at his followers. They scatter as you turn to run. The explosion sends you onto your stomach forward about ten yards. You get up straight into the face of Six. You make eye contact for a split second. You look behind at your mess. The sand covers the dead raiders with more of it slowly falling to the ground around you. Pulling out your dagger you approach the newly created graveyard. You notice you pistol lying on the sand and pick it up. Many raiders are still alive writhing in pain from the hot sand and wounds you have given them. One with a dagger attempts to swipe at you but a quick nine millimeter to the head silences him. The hill is deserted save for the remaining dead. You make your way down to the plain. The speeders and hovercraft lay all around you. Seeing one as the least damaged you walk over to it. You attempt to get it running but there is too much sand. Searching through the onboard bags you grab a flare. You walk back to Six and drag him to the plain. You administer some shots for recovery and hope he will survive. Lighting the flare creates a red smoke plum that rises high in the air. You hope your leaders back at base see it before the Raiders do.
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