Gavin G. Smith - Veteran

Veteran

Gavin Smith

To Ruth &James Nicoll.

Two members of anextraordinary generation.

Dog4

The soldiersenvironment is mud. It doesnt matter where they go. Tundra, woods, jungle,even paved colonial suburbs, by the time a few thousand tanks, walkers andarmoured personnel carriers have tramped through it, once the defoliants havebeen sprayed, all thats left is mud.

What we terraformwe can still destroy. Its why all the colonies look the same to me. Its alsohow I knew I was dreaming; I couldnt taste the mud, couldnt smell it. Thiswas more like watching a viz. My dreams were becoming less real than my time inthe sense booths, but what was another loss?

It had been aforest once. You could still see the rotted stumps of alien trees pushing upthrough the plain of mud. Defensive trenches ran across the plain in a way thatwas probably supposed to be planned but looked utterly random to me. The harshburning brightness of Sirius A was sinking beneath the horizon; even from thefourth planet it looked huge and too near for a sun to someone whod grown upon Earth. Behind us the much smaller Sirius B was rising, casting its paletwilight light.

I watched ourshadows shrinking and distorting in the changing light. The strangeness of it addedto my feeling of being comatose with my eyes open. Four days, no sleep, keptawake by Slaughter and amphetamines. None of this seemed real and it hadnt atthe time. Which was a good thing because what we were doing was thought of asdifficult and dangerous, driving through an enemy armoured push.

Off to my leftI saw Mudge pop out of a trench as he gunned the armoured one-man scout hover.He was on point. He wasnt even military, certainly shouldnt have been outwith us. He was a journalist; sense, viz and even old-fashioned print if theheroin made him nostalgic. Howard Mudgie, Mudge to his friends, a crusader whenhe started, then a war junkie, now a burn out and as good a soldier as any.That was why he was on point. His scout hover sank out of sight again.

Nobody wastalking. Our encrypted comms lines were silent; everyone was too tired. Allaround us They advanced. Their heavy tanks made out of what looked like chitinand reactive liquid. Their honeycombed ground-effects drives glowing pale bluelike Sirius B. They were in a staggered line as far as the eye could see ineither direction.

According tothe orbital data I had received, this new front was over two hundred mileslong. They were just rolling up the joint British, French and Congolese taskforce as they went. Their troops were still in the tanks; they were big enoughto act as APCs as well. Their Walkers policed the gaps between the tanks.Organic mechs with tendrils and rotary shard guns that fired bone-like razormunitions. It was the Walkers that were making the Wild Boys life difficult,that and trying not to dump the Land Rovers in a trench. That wouldve beencrap as well.

We were coveredin mud. It was everywhere, except on the weapons, which had been treated with astay clean finish. Spinks slewed the Land Rover round a tank. They wereignoring us if we ignored them. Close behind us Ash sent up a similar wall ofmud as she followed us in the second Land Rover.

I saw thetrench coming but didnt need to mention it. Spinks was jacked into the jeep.In the weasel-faced Essex wide boys head was a 3D topographical rendering ofthe surrounding terrain. It was as up to date as our orbital support, Mudgessparse scout data and the vehicles own sensors would allow.

Spinks foundthe high ground and gunned the Land Rover over the trench. This used to beexciting. In the air, I saw Mudge shoot by beneath us in the trench. Weshowered him in mud, once this wouldve caused comment. I barely registered thejarring impact as the Land Rover sank into the earth, the independently drivensmart tyres biting into the mud for traction.

Walker, Isaid quietly as we skidded round another tank. Spinks didnt show a sign ofpaying the slightest bit of attention but the Land Rover was suddenly going inanother direction. Straight at one of their tanks.

Theres notenough ground clearance, I muttered, mainly to myself. Spinks was alreadycommitted. Shards started coming our way. Something hit my helmet. At first Ithought Id been shot but it was Gregor folding the heavy plasma gun down andlying on the bed of the Land Rover.

Get your headdown, he told me. If he hadnt, I doubt Id have had the presence of mind todo so. Under the tank their ground-effects drives pushed us and the Land Roverdown. It was like a warm wind. I heard something get torn off the wagon and wewere out the other side. I barely noticed when we hit the second Walker.

Spinks wrappedthe front of the Land Rover round the Walkers legs. We stopped and it had itslegs knocked out from beneath it. I was vaguely aware of Gregor bailing out ofthe Land Rover. I looked next to me to find an alien war machine lying on thewagon, tendrils flailing. It looked like parts of the alien machine werebathing in what used to be Spinks. Flailing tendrils flung bits of him around.I tried to feel something for my friend and squad mate but there was nothingthere any more.

I could hearshouting from the rest of the squad. I climbed out of the Land Rover, and thenstopped. Id forgotten my SAW. I turned and went back for the weapon. Moreshouting. The Walker was trying to right itself. By rights one of its tendrilsshouldve torn my head off by now. Then I had the SAW in my hand. The smartlinkconnected to the palm receiver, and the weapons crosshair appeared on myinternal visual display. It sounded to me like I started screaming. There wasan orange blossom, flickering but permanent at the front of the SAW, it seemedto go on for an age. The Walkers carapace looked as if it was rapidlydistorting as I played the SAW across it.

Things wentquiet as my audio dampeners kicked in. Gregor was at my side, his railgun heldhigh on its gyroscopic mount as he fired it down into the Walker. The SAWmuzzle flash stopped. At some level I knew that meant Id fired off the entirecassette. Id put two hundred rounds into the Walker. I felt a hand on my arm,strong, boosted cybernetic strength pulling me back. It was Gregor. How did hehave the strength, always there getting me out of trouble?

Mudge was infront of me. I was pushed pillion onto the bouncing hover scout. I heard thesound of superheated air exploding behind me. Hydrogen pellets heated to aplasma state impacted again and again into the Walker as Bibs fired the heavyplasma cannon on the other Land Rover. I was vaguely aware of the sensation ofmoving as we began to bob across the mud.

Where the fucksour artillery! Where the fucks our air support! Mudge screamed with moreanger than I could muster, but he always had better drugs. He knew the answer,like I did. We were finished here. Dog 4 and the rest of the Sirius system wasTheirs now. I just hoped Theyd let us get to an evac site.

Dundee

I awoke from thedream with a start. My knuckles ached from where Id tried to extend my blades;I ran my fingers over the domed locks, a compromise to let someone with mycapabilities walk free after hed served his country and his species. A rightthat had been won in blood and vacuum.

The bruises fromlast nights pit fight were now tender memories, thanks to my bodys implantedinternal repair systems. As ever I wondered why the same systems couldnt helpme with the white-hot throbbing lance of pain that was a dehydration headache.The pain seemed to live just behind the black polarised lenses that replaced myeyes. Why was it that man could create millions of tons of complex engineeringcapable of travelling across space but could still not find a cure for ahangover? One of the many skewed priorities of our society.