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PREVIOUS CHAPTER INDEX NEXT CHAPTER Dark Crimson By Nick P. As the buggy rolled on, my eyes couldn’t help but fall to the rocky terrain that stretched into a rockier horizon. Funny how such a barren and depressing place can be at the same time so valuable. A hundred metres below us were rich platinum deposits that the UTC undoubtedly wanted to get their hands on, and their tool of doing this was the Coalition and ComSec military. I was sure that this was a deeper reason and that, as soon as Stroggos is won, thousands of drilling machines would be dispatched here. I waited for this moment. And yet, the Stroggs wouldn’t crawl out waving tattered little white flags. No, they would go down fighting. Because of heroism? Patriotism? No, not at all. The Stroggs would all die fighting because most of them were mindless. They were animalistic and didn’t have the brain to know when to stop pulling triggers. But they would have the brain to run to Mr. Kurt and his little movement once the Stroggs fell apart. And then Kurt’s little movement wouldn’t be so little. Or so said ComSec Intelligence. Shit. That’s all that came to my mind. This was merely my second day on Stroggos and I already despised the place. Why the hell didn’t they just blow it into fuck? Why kill thousands of soldiers when you can push a button and have thousands of missiles with hydrogen bombs for warheads whiz through the air and blow the whole damned planet? The platinum, I thought. This was, of course, my theory. But it made sense and was based on factual information. The harsh air continued to irritate my lungs. I coughed and spat to the side, watching the mucus trail down the red rock moments before it was whisked away as our buggy rode on at a fairly reasonable speed. Reasonable as it was, it would be over a week before we got anywhere near to Kurt and his headquarters. I had a week to think. But it could turn into a week that would drive me insane. I dreaded finally getting there. I didn’t know what I’d do when Kurt is there, standing before me. And what would happen to these young soldiers that had come with me? They didn’t know where the hell they were going. Probably think that we’re circling around to some place of entry into Karoggon. Their naivete could kill them. Because of this, I knew that I’d have to eventually tell them the truth. Oh well, I thought. In a couple of days, I might have to make this revelation to only a fraction of them. The fraction that survived. Stroggos was not, after all, a mere whisk through drill hall. The alien sun had reached its mid-cycle and talks of lunch were amiss. “Man, this place is so barren,” Chef was saying to the others, partly reading my mind. “I can’t imagine why the hell they didn’t just nuke it. I remember Somalia, Vietnam, and all those places. They had decent jungles and wildlife. I wish I was there, walking through the jungle and gathering mangoes. I used to do that almost everyday while I was stationed there. A morning stroll through the jungle and mangoes. I’d make a nice mango cream pudding.” He licked his lips dreamily. “You ever try mangoes?” Lance looked away absentmindedly. “Nah,” said Clean. “Well, you guys are in luck,” continued Chef. “I happened to bring a few from my own private collection.” Here Clean snickered and Chef seemed somewhat offended. “What? What kind of person does not have his own stash of mangoes? I only have a few; they’ll last a few days. What about you, Captain? You ever try mangoes?” I shook my head. “Man, all of you fellas have been missing out. Hey, did you guys notice that the toilet went to hell?” “What?” Clean asked. “The crapper, the restroom, whatever. The shitter. It doesn’t work anymore. This morning, at least, it wasn’t. Damn, don’t you fellas gotta piss or something? I’d thought you’d know by now. It’s not working. What are we gonna do cause I gotta take a piss right now?” I gestured towards the orange desert that stretched in every direction. “What do you want, an invitation?” “Shit, man, pull over first.” I reached over and bumped the Chief on his shoulder. Soon, the buggy came to a halt and a halo of reddish dust slowly rose and encircled us. Chef coughed and looked around for a bit. “Go on. Here, I’ll come and keep guard.” I holstered my heavy shotgun. “You don’t want to go out there alone unless you know the territory. That, and unless you’re a skilled marksman armed to the teeth.” “Are there any dangerous animals here or something?” Lance asked. “Forget that, man. I’m gonna freaking pop if we don’t get a move on.” Chef jumped from the buggy, not bothering with ladders. I climbed down after him. “Damn,” he remarked, bending forward. “This thing’s higher than it looks.” We drew a little distance away from the buggy and moved behind a rock. I climbed on top while Chef did his business below. My eyes scanned the horizon. In the far distance, to the Southeast, there were the rugged peaks of reddish mountains. Then the land flattened out into the endless crevices and hills and rocky boulders that we were familiar with. They were all a burning reddish-brown against the orange sky. The wind rustled softly against me and its thumping filled my ears. “Hey Chef?” I said, turning back to the young soldier who had finished. “Yes sir?” “How come they call you that?” He looked at me questioningly. “Call me what, sir?” “Chef, why do they call you ‘Chef’? Is it cause you’re obsessed with mangoes and stuff? Or is there a deeper reason? “Oh, uh, no sir. It’s cause I’m a real chef, sir. A saucier.” “Saucier?” “Yes sir, raised in New Orleans. I was born to be a great saucier.” “What the hell is a saucier?” I asked. He propped himself against the rock, hidden in its shade. “It’s a person that specialises in sauces. All kinds of them. You’d be surprised at how much stuff goes into being a saucier. The preparation, the vast quantities of sauces, it’s crazy. Then one day I got called to get a physical and was drafted. I heard that ComSec and Coalition Navy division had better food than the other places, so that’s where I applied.” “You make mango sauces?” He laughed. “No, but that’s an idea. No, it really is. Yeah, but anyway, I was screwed over in the Navy, and so here I am.” “And how was that?” “Well, first day of cook school: they lined us up along a table lined with perfect meat. Rows and rows of it. I wondered just how we’d prepare it when they pulled out these huge vats, dropped in all of it just at once. And they boiled it and it turned grey and nasty, the usual slop I heard they feed to other military divisions. Not even basic spices like salt or pepper! I thought to myself, screw this. They killed the artistry. So I moved to military electronic computation and analysis.” We turned towards the buggy, and as we did, rocks shifted behind us and a few stones rolled down one boulder. Chef and I froze. I glanced down at my gun and its readings, making sure it was ready for any and all action. I shifted around so the gun pointed in the direction of the noise. “What is it?” whispered Chef. “Enemy?” Suddenly, the ground there erupted upwards in a fountain of stone and a mechanical thing rose from the ground and high into the air. It had a series of lenses in the front, mounted on tubes of additional optics. The tiny cylindrical robot looked as if it had tons of eyes dotting its metal composite face. From the sides and downward hung a series of knife-like projections, long and tapering into curved sharp ends, four of them mounted unevenly. And over the entire metal body hung a sort of halo, a transparent skin with a screaming human face, wide mouth stretching into the blades below. The non-existent symmetry of the thing made it evident that it was of Strogg origin, confirmed by the skull with the protruding rays marked on its side. It zoomed up and away before I could get a shot. By then, we were running towards the buggy. Chef was yelling something indistinguishable. The boys back at the buggy seemed to be somewhat shaken at hearing his screams. They hadn’t seen battle yet. “Jesus, what the hell was that?” Between my heavy breaths, I said, “It—It was… a… a Strogg spy.” Everyone looked at me. “They are unarmed little probes with only blades in case they get into deeper trouble. They’re just things that gather intelligence but don’t carry firepower.” Someone murmured, “Shit!” “A spy,” said the shaking Chef. “A fucking spy.” “Well,” said the Chief Phillips. “I guess the enemy knows about our whereabouts now. They know how many of us there are, how we’re armed, and so on. We’re gonna be killed before we even get close to Karoggon.” “We’re not going into Karoggon,” I said simply and went downstairs into the living quarters. I didn’t want to tell them yet. As I went down, leaving the fearful stares of the young soldiers behind me, I heard the Chief yell: “Let’s go!” “Spy, damn. I’m never getting outta the buggy.” Chef said quietly. “A fucking spy… Jesus, and all I wanted was to cook, all I wanted is to fucking cook. It’s gonna be alright, it’s gonna be alright…” I wondered how they’d react to a real enemy and not a robotised one. Never get out of the buggy. Absolutely goddamn right. Unless, of course, you were going all the way. Kurt got off the buggy. He totally split from the whole damned program. And how did that happen? What did he see here that first tour? Thirty-eight years old. If he joined the Green Berets, there was no way he’d ever get above Colonel. Kurt knew what he was giving up. In the artificial life, in my bunk bed, I started to flip through his files again. The more I read and began to understand, the more I admired him. His family and friends couldn’t understand him and his actions, and they couldn’t talk him out of it. He had to apply four times and he had to put up with a load of shit. It came to a point where his solution was a threat to resign. They didn’t want to lose him, so they gave it to him. The next oldest guy in his class was half his age. Who knows what they thought of him: some crazed-out old man tearing over the course. I did it when I was eighteen and it near wasted me for good. He was tough. He finished. And from there, he could’ve gone for General, but went for himself instead. |
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