Life, the Martial Challenges, and Everything.

Category: Sci-Fi

Eye for an Eye

Copyright 2008
DISCLAIMER: Eye for an Eye is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

There were days that you were unstoppable, and there were days where nothing you did was right. For Sanen Kyom, Enhanced Individual, this was clearly one of the latter days. His fight with Hasa Suyei, Common Person Protector, was ending, and it probably had something to do with the plasma carbine pointed at Sanen’s head.

He pulled the trigger and instantly Sanen’s vision disappeared in a flash of white-hot. Hasa laughed as his opponent fell back, writhing on the floor in pain. There was no blood, the caustic energy contained in the beam burned through all of the veins.

“You’ll pay the price for defiling the natural law and order of things,” Hasa stated, and not for the first time.

Sanen continued to writhe on the polished floor, clutching at his face. He couldn’t even groan in pain it hurt that bad.

I’m shutting down your higher brain functions now Sanen, a voice said inside Sanen’s head.

‘Wait Ain!’ Sanen thought forcefully.

You won’t survive the pain; your body is already going into shock, Ain told him.

‘I can still beat him,’ he tried to argue.

You don’t have a hope in hell Sanen, Ain said sadly, but give me control and I can beat him.

‘You weren’t designed to maintain control for long periods of time,’ Sanen reminded Ain.

That’s not going to be a problem; we aren’t going to last long either way. We won’t die alone; I’ll make sure Hasa dies with us.

Sanen reached his decision. ‘Do it.’

The effects of his words were immediate. Sanen Kyom quickly stood up and straightened, trying to bore his now-vaporized eyes into Hasa Suyei’s.

“How is this possible?” Hasa demanded.

“It is possible because we do this for every EI Citizen!” Sanen/Ain roared, lunging forward and slamming a powerful fist into Hasa.

The CPP doubled over clutching his stomach and stumbled backwards. The urge to vomit rose sharply, but there was no time to entertain such thoughts, Sanen was already bringing a fist down on him again. Hasa spilt blood over the white floor and was on his way to meet it when a hand gripped his eyes and temples quickly and aggressively.

“You end here,” Sanen/Ain proclaimed, lifting Hasa up off his feet.

“No! Mercy!” Hasa pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears.

“You cry for mercy?” Sanen/Ain felt like laughing it was so pathetic. “You, who denied so many innocent people of their lives, cry for mercy? You, who relentlessly hunted down my brothers, cry for mercy?”

“Please,” he tried, futilely struggling to get the hand off his face.

Sanen/Ain closed their grip, digging fingers into Hasa’s skull. Flesh gave way first, dribbling blood. Soft cartilage was second, followed by numerous veins and nerves before finally Hasa’s eyes were crushed as his face was ripped out.

“An eye for an eye. Hasa Suyei,” Sanen/Ain said, dropping the body to the bloodied floor.

We’re reaching the ends of our limits, Ain informed him.

‘We’re dying,’ Sanen translated.

There is nothing more I can do, I’m sorry.

‘Can you teleport us to the next room?’

I believe so, but it will likely kill us.

‘That’s hardly an argument; we’re minutes away from death as it is.’

Good point. Very well, Ain conceded.

‘I’ll see you on the other side Ain.’

Ain laughed inside Sanen’s head. Not likely. AI’s aren’t programmed with a heaven or hell.

‘Neither are humans, EI or CPP, but some choose to believe nonetheless. But I meant after the teleport.’

My mistake. Sanen, thank you for everything.

In a blue flash, they left the room and appeared in the one where they had left the other EI rebels. Sanen dropped to the floor and groaned.

Goodbye Sanen Kyom, Ain said as he shutdown.

‘Goodbye Ain,’ Sanen replied knowing he was too late.

“Oh god, Sanen!” Sanen’s sister Mika cried out.

She rushed towards his body, cradling his head in her lap. “What happened?”

Sanen coughed violently, leaking more blood from his mouth. “Is that you Mika? I can’t see.”

“Yes Sanen, it’s me. You’re going to be okay.”

“No I’m not,” Sanen coughed again. “Hasa Suyei is dead. I’m not far behind.”

“You can’t die, not now, we still need you,” Mika argued. “I still need you.”

“You’re strong Mika, you’ll keep going.” Sanen convulsed painfully, wracking up more blood. “I’ll miss you.”

My sensors indicate your brother has passed away, Mika’s AI announced.

‘Thank you Ait, I noticed,’ she replied bitterly, fighting back her tears.

I’m also detecting movement four rooms away. It could be more CPP forces, Ait warned.

‘Any suggestions?’ she asked, gently lowering Sanen’s head.

We need to regroup, Ait said simply.

Mika stood, straightening her shirt. “Ait is detecting movement, but he doesn’t know if it’s EI or CPP forces. We should regroup and figure out a game plan.”

“What about Sanen?” another EI asked.

“Ain was the only one who could teleport. I don’t like it, but we’ll have to leave him here.”

The EI rebels left the room behind, seeking out more of their people. As they left, Mika took one last look at her dead brother.

‘Goodbye Sanen.’

Goodbye Ain, my brother.

–Kiyoshi “The Prototype”
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This Is War

Copyright 2010
DISCLAIMER: This Is War is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The flashes from the muzzles of the artillery very briefly lit the area, serving to let the enemy know that another salvo had been fired. Smaller flares from machine gun nests shot over the distance as the tracer bullets lit the darkened sky. The otherwise brilliant moon couldn’t penetrate the haze of clouds and smoke.

Several men used various objects as cover for their advance, trying to join up with the rest of their platoon and engage the enemy head on. With all the jamming from both sides, satellites and even homing beacons were useless, and no one wanted to send up a signal flare to mark their position. It would probably invite certain death.

Armoured boots crunched over the soil and grass and bits of concrete as one soldier came to hide behind what was once a pillar. His elbow pads clicked faintly against the concrete and he slid down to one of his armoured knees to peer around the remains. Other men rushed past him, the rustling of their fabric audible to him as they passed. Everything seemed so much louder when they were trying to be quiet. He waited a few seconds, scanning behind him with his helmet – one of the few pieces of tech that hadn’t been jammed in this war – and then moved forwards again, continuing the leapfrog.

They had gained almost one hundred meters of ground when bullets hissed past them. “Close,” the man muttered but continued onwards. They didn’t return fire, for all they knew, the enemy was simply firing at random for targets of opportunity, or to scare them into thinking they were discovered.

But when a bullet snapped right beside him into the former building foundation, he knew that they knew. Crouching again, he looked over at a few of the men he was with who were hiding some metres away under their own piece of rubble. They cocked the hammers on their rifles and readied themselves.

He took a deep breath to calm the shakes that were starting, and as his team swung their rifles overtop of the rubble, he followed suite and they opened fire as one entity. It was blinding and deafening, he could barely tell if his rifle was firing or not amidst the noise. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man go down from a shot to the throat – one of the few body parts unprotected – and then somebody yelled “Grenade!”

The explosion outdid the noise and muzzle-flares from the rifles tossing them all. He felt pain all over, and noticed that some of his body was warm while other parts were cold. He felt fragments of metal shift in his body as he sat up. His rifle was nowhere to be seen and his helmet was missing as well.  The situation was getting bad, bleeding from wounds all over, few options and fewer weapons.

Boots crunched soil, grass and bits of concrete as many pairs approached the area where he sat. The lit visors that surrounded him weren’t blue like the one he once had, but red. His enemies. They could see him as he pulled a grenade from his vest and hold it out and he could feel the rifles aimed at him as they all waited for what he would do. “This is war,” he said and pulled the pin.

As the grenade dropped to the ground, the soldiers pulled their triggers. It was a nanosecond race between the bullets and the grenade to see which would kill the man first. But with all the light and noise, he couldn’t really tell.

Or even care.

It was war.

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