Bloodstained Rose

Chapter 6

Nomad was at the tail end of his third consecutive twelve-hour shift. Each day of this deployment had been the same—very little time to sleep while most of the days would be spent trying to keep tabs on the local populace. It had been a far cry from the days hiding on the outskirts of Kashmir with his family. After his father Shift had split up with the other crew, he ended up spending the last few years with him going from town to town. At this moment, it had been nearly ten years since Shift had finally passed. It was not quite clear what had killed him, but the lack of medical resources had caused a burden on his health. Following Shift’s death, Nomad and his older brother Shirow had been separated.

He was still young then and at his age, they had considered him still trainable. Anything that he had learned could be undone. He had been able to avoid physical enhancements like most of the other troops, which had often been considered a rarity. It was expected to be able to operate with the other bionic enhanced infantry and very rare cases would allow a person to skip both processes. Nomad had been one of those few. There was no need to upgrade him. Every physical and mental evaluation had shown that he was a top-notch candidate. With his abilities to tap into the Deep, he had been able to keep up with the other enhanced infantry.

Although still “whole” in a physical sense, he had never felt so empty. The stress from being stuck in a country far from a home he had grown to hate continued to eat away at him. Shirow had not spoken to him in years. With his brother being years older, he had feared that the G.E.I. would execute him. Shirow only chose to keep moving while Nomad had given in. If the two had met by now, Nomad wondered if there was a chance to reconcile. He had given into the G.E.I. only to spend the last decade wondering what life would have been like beyond the line.

In Kashmir, he had managed to move through the many schools and indoctrination centers to pick up some rank. By now, he was barely a lieutenant and already taking charge in the field. With a small ink pen in his hand, he started to think about the days living in the shelter with the other kids. Every time one of the fighters went beyond the line, they would have to tap out a code to get in. He regularly found himself thinking of it and reached down towards the control panel.

Do you remember the password? He could remember his father’s voice very well and started to tap on the control panel. The pen let out a loud scratch as he started to run it across the surface. Dash, dot, dot, dash.

This time there would not be a door opening to return home. There was no joining with a familiar face or family friends after entering the code this time. He stared back towards the empty panel to try and get focused on the current task at hand.

His current shift would have been nearing the final hour by now, but as usual there was always something that would stretch it on. He had been cooped up inside of the Mobile Carrier for most of the shift watching the radar. The massive vessel had lived up to its name—a station meant to carry troops long distances. It was rhombus shaped with a thick grey hull. Such a machine could handle any terrain and was the work horse of the G.E.I. ground forces.

Nomad had been alone for the past few days with his superiors every other day coming by for a brief. He was expecting his relief to come by but had been less hopeful after hearing the radio chatter constantly going on. Every day in the town he would hear reports of one of the locals being shot in a confrontation. It had been a slaughter. The people had no chance against their weaponry. Being stuck in here was mind numbing, but in hindsight he would rather be staring at a radar and driving the ship than having to clash with locals.

He started to doze off for just a moment. The realm of reality started to blur only before he had been greeted with a buzzing sound from the control panel in front of him. His eyes shot open just as his body started to dip back into his chair.

“Oh shit,” he muttered once returning to lucidity. A red light started to blink over the top of the panel while the radar screen flashed. He pressed his finger into the call button on his right to open the communication to the other units. “Bogeys detected; I’m activating the automated defenses.”

“Copy that, all units to battle stations.” A voice buzzed back.

Nomad wiped his hand over his face as panic began to take foot. He could hear the machinery inside of the Mobile Carrier starting to whir. The feeling of listening to the automated defenses starting to sight in on the targets had been surreal. On the outside of the vehicle, the railgun mounted on the side of the vehicle began to motion. The mechanical arm holding the weapon had started to rotate it towards the opening in the trees and towards the ocean.

Within seconds, the system onboard locked in on a few aerial targets as they came into view. There were three aircraft—all three dropships belonging to the Liberation troops. The ships were not visible to those on the ground, but the Mobile Carrier’s defense systems could detect movement from several miles away. After managing to lock in, the railgun let out a loud ring as the barrel of the weapon released its payload.

Thousands of feet over the ocean, the first ship in Liberation’s counter offensive—the Dunham—had been struck. As it had made its approach to the town, the vehicle had unfortunately been caught in the crosshairs of a railgun defense system below. The metallic bullet of death had struck at light speed, causing the ship to explode on impact. In less than a second, the crew inside had been vaporized. The temperatures had been so high that they had they had been wiped from existence just as fast as the weapon could detonate the fuel line. A ball of fire had erupted from the aircraft and caused the sky to light up with an orange glow.

Paxton had commanded the dropship next in line, the Kerrigan. The ship was only a few kilometers from the Dunham when it had gone down. He stared towards the blast, not flinching at the sight. It had not been the first time he had seen something of this magnitude. The inside of the Kerrigan had been illuminated for just a few moments while the Dunham’s remains fell to the ground below. Once the flash had burnt out, he took a deep breath in mourning knowing that a handful of his troops would not be coming home.

The inside of the cockpit had two other troops—Mezrich behind him watching the radar and his pilot, Brian. The two were much younger than him and had been on several missions together by now. While the skies continued to light up with munitions, Paxton continued to clench the arm rests in his seat.

“Looks like we just lost the Dunham.” Brian reported while the lights outside the ship started to dim. He had tried to keep control of the aircraft while the control panel in front of him began to light up.

“The enemy has a Mobile Carrier down there. Keep your hands on the stick and get us lower!” Paxton called back with his usual southern drawl.

“I’m holdin’ it.”

Mezrich had held down the communications just behind Paxton. The controls in front of him had displayed the current air traffic on a compact display. He had been in pain seeing the Dunham blip out of existence on the screen below. A red square had immediately lit up around the Kerrigan from the touch screen, this time making his stomach sink.

“They got a lock on us!” Mezrich shouted the very instant he became aware of the danger.

“Deploy countermeasures! All ships,” Paxton quickly repeated as he pressed his finger into the call-button and repeated, “deploy countermeasures!”

The sky behind them had suddenly started to glow with a bright pink flash as both the Kerrigan and the Munger had released their payloads. The flares had caused a visually disorientating mesh of lights and smoke while the two vehicles continued closer to land. The display in front of Mezrich remained unchanged. After a few seconds, a small dot appeared on the edge of the screen.

“They’re ineffective at this angle! Enemy missile approaching at seventeen, we can’t shake it!” Mezrich called back.

“Well, get this thing on the ground or we’re gonna end up in the incinerator!” Paxton ordered.

Brian had pressed into the yoke, forcing the Kerrigan to descend rapidly. It had dropped a couple hundred feet in just a few seconds, immediately causing the crew inside to feel the G-Forces starting to intensify. Paxton felt hairs starting to rise all over his body. The dive had pulled him up from the seat and into the safety belt. His stomach had turned, flipped, and been pressed against his insides. As the dip had started to get more intense, he let out a howl of excitement.

The ship’s altitude continued to drop while Brian tried to keep the craft moving starboard. As they continued to descend, a metal projectile detonated several feet away, causing shrapnel to bathe the side of the aircraft. At the same time, the port side wing had lit up in smoke as the flaps started to wobble freely in the wind. The ship started to dip to the left, slowly starting to lose altitude.

“We’re hit!” Brian shouted as he felt the yoke starting to slip from his grip.

“Keep her leveled!” Paxton returned while he continued to dig his fingers into the armrests.

The vehicle continued to plummet, barely leveling out as it had finally gotten over the trees and away from the water. They had started to drop faster. Any moment and they would be grazing the tree line.

“I’m gonna bank her to the right and away from the town. Disabling the reactor,” Brian shouted. He had already run his hand across the controls in front of him. After pressing a few buttons, the whirring from the turbine began to cease. “I’m going to drop the gear down. It’s about to jerk!”

That was the only warning they had to work with before the ship jerked. The three had been thrown forwards with the belts catching them in the air.

“Holy shit!” Paxton immediately shouted once he caught himself.

It had felt as if his head was wanting to keep going forward while his body remained locked in place. The ship entered a violent shake that had only lasted a few moments. At that moment, Brian was relieved that the sudden reduction in speed had not torn the fuselage apart. The yoke continued to fight him, but he fought to keep it level to prevent a crash.

“Alright, I see a meadow up ahead about four clicks. Hold onto your butts!” Brian shouted finally.

He pulled back on the throttle and yoke simultaneously. The nose of the Kerrigan had climbed as the back end of the ship had started to lower to the ground. The wind had failed to pass over the left wing, causing the craft to wave in the air. On the opposite end towards the fuselage, the landing gear had started to emerge. A few trees below grazed the underbelly of the Kerrigan, giving her a nudge.

“Everybody hold on!” Paxton sounded off into his hear piece as a screech from the wind filled the cockpit.

The ship had started to rapidly decelerate, pulling the crew ahead of it ever so slightly. They had started to graze the bottom of the meadow, tearing up the ground. Brian had mashed his feet in on the brake pedal with his foot. The vehicle had started to glide against the grass, very roughly navigating across it while decreasing speed. After another series of violent shakes and tearing through several small trees, the ship started to slow to a crawl.

“I got us on the ground! That’s what I’m fucking talking about!” Brian screamed enthusiastically as his voice had broken into a squeak.

“Alright cowboy, get us over there in those trees. G.E.I. troops are gonna be all over this area,” Paxton said back. He had signaled to Mezrich and the crew behind the cabin, concluding, “Get ready, rebels!”

In the last minute, Nomad had watched the entire sky turn into a display of blinding lights and explosions. The enemy forces had seemed to come and go in a blink. The radio had been silent for far too long. He continued to stare out the side hatch, watching the burning skies settle in awe. The thought of a completely different militia arriving on the scene made him think of the days back in Kashmir as a child.

He had never been able to see any of the battles his father had taken part in, but he had been familiar with the sounds of war. Seeing the railgun obliterate the ship overhead had been jarring to say the least. Once the stars had started to form above the burning sky, a cold breeze from the winter air began to creep its way into the vehicle. He felt his teeth beginning to chatter as the chill grabbed onto him.

“This is Varsity Three, anybody there?” the receiver on the control panel inside buzzed.

“Shit,” Nomad muttered under his breath before making a dash back over to it. “This is Varsity Four, onboard defenses are still on standby. We struck one of the aircraft, over.”

“Copy that,” the voice on the other end replied. The man speaking had a Slavic sounding accent—something common among a chunk of the Eurasian populace in Kashmir. The man continued, “We are withdrawing troops to the Alferov. Stand by for further orders, over.”

“Another long shift,” Nomad said to himself before reaching back over to the receiver. “Copy that.”

The area around the Kerrigan had already been covered at every angle by some sort of ordinance. Now, there were nearly a dozen men already making rounds in the immediate area. The forces of Liberation had all donned green utilities with the O.W.O. patch over the shoulder. While they had made the sweep, Paxton had already been on the line with the crew aboard the Munger to gather as much intel as possible. The unexpected loss of the Dunham would be disastrous for the mission up ahead. It was more losses than he was expecting—even more painful to experience so soon in the operation.

“This is Major Paxton reporting from the Kerrigan,” Paxton said with a drawl, pronouncing ship name like ‘kurr-igan’. “I need to know your coordinates. There's more enemy troops on the ground and we are gonna need backup.”

“Copy that, we’re headed south, bearing one-seventy-three. We can’t get any closer to the town. We will have to rendezvous tomorrow morning.” A voice called back.

“Sounds good, I’m sending you the coordinates. Report here at 0700 hours.” Paxton finally declared, pressing the receiver back down on the resting point.

He stared back towards the rest of the crew as they finished setting up the camp outside. The winter air caused his breath to linger in front of him. By now, Mezrich had already relayed the needed data to the other ship using the onboard computer.

“We’re going to have camp set up soon. We have the first shift on patrol now.” Mezrich reported.

Paxton had finally released the straps pinning him to his chair. He had still felt tilted by the wild maneuvering experienced just minutes earlier.

“Sounds good. I need to thank this mad man for getting us on the ground!” Paxton shouted over to Brian, aggressively shoving him while the two remained seated.

Brian chuckled and started to playfully scuffle for a moment. He had been just a surprised to do such a wild landing without losing the ship or injuring any of the crew.

“Those G.E.I. guys couldn’t build a machine with this kind of talent.” Brian said, boasting about his skills while finally getting to his feet.

“Those guys don’t believe in that stuff. They’d probably cut the talent right out of you if they found it.” Paxton replied.

“Don’t even talk about that. That shit really freaks me out,” he shook his head nervously at the thought. “Who would even do that?”

“A populace that’s been beaten to the ground so bad that they don’t want to exist anymore, that’s who. That’s who were here for.”

They made their way outside to breathe in the frigid winter air. A collection of camouflage tarps had covered the top-half of the ship, helping to obscure the aircraft for when the enemy drones would eventually pass over. The crew on the ground had been very precise with the operation. Having the ship take a hit had been devastating and only assured them they would be stuck here for a few more days. Paxton had taken a seat in the dirt by the port-side fuselage. In his hands, he had held a small electronic tablet with dozens of files for the mission ahead.

“Alright, we need to start getting a game plan together. What do we know about this area?” Paxton had asked the two while starting to swipe away at the touch screen.

Mezrich flinched, quickly saying, “We know that this village has enemy forces in it.”

“That’s obvious enough. Judging by the looks of it, I would be willing to be the locals don’t really care for some foreigners giving them the business.” Paxton said, pondering again.

“I’m certain there has to be somebody in the village that’s sympathetic to our cause.” Brian quickly added.

“The locals here are a lot more primitive, they may not grasp the same concepts as us.” Mezrich fumbled his hands about as he spoke.

“Nonsense, I know these indigenous types. I’ve been fighting across this globe for decades brother,” Paxton declared proudly as he reached up to give his moustache a brush with his fingers. “I tell you with utmost certainty that there is one thing that all walks of life understand and that is the concept of freedom. Authoritarianism has no solid true form and can manifest itself anywhere.”

Paxton stood up, causing the ship to rock slightly as he continued, “And when it rears it nasty head and you get caught in its glare, you know that you’re facing evil; and when that evil shows its face, we’re the fist that comes to knock its lights out.”

“Alright,” Brian said jovially, slowly clapping his hands, “now I’m certain we can just waltz in without encountering the G.E.I.”

“Leave it to me on that one. I should be able to get inside that village indiscreetly.”

“I’m certain with that accent you would blend right in, sir.” he said to Paxton with a smirk. He had tried to keep his spirits high with the night air dropping the temperature every minute.

“Exactly, that’s why I need to do this one!” Paxton proclaimed without a doubt in his mind. He was certain that getting into the village would be easier than it appeared. Brian had started to laugh at his enthusiasm, but respectfully tried to keep his bearing.

“So, what do we do?” Mezrich chirped.

Paxton had casually tossed the tablet to his left. Mezrich reached out, grabbing the device midway through its arc and cradled it in his arms.

“Try to get in contact with the crew on board the Munger. In the meantime, I’m going undercover in town to get some intel. I’ll report back by 0630. Good to go?” Paxton asked finally.

“Sounds good to me, sir.” Mezrich replied.