Murder of Crows (Book One of The Icarus Trilogy) (19 page)

“So they have effectively resurrected you three times.  I’m sorry,” Goldstein said before placing his hands back on Jenkins’ shoulders.  The young soldier didn’t shrug them off or brush them away with his hands this time.  He welcomed the man’s touch even if there were layers of power armor between them.  Jenkins felt comforted that something concrete was touching him; comforted that he wasn’t entirely lost in the universe.  The young soldier took a deep breath and sat down.  The merchant felt oddly exposed standing there in the open as Jenkins composed himself.  He suddenly felt guilty that he had told the new recruit the bare truth during a match.

It was actually rather foolish of him.

Goldstein felt the first bullet enter his chest cavity just above the diaphragm.  The shell was hotter than hell and it burned everything around it.  Goldstein was almost lucky in that it didn’t hit anything vital.  The second bullet hit him right above the kidney and tore through his right side.  He felt a great amount of pain as it passed through his intestines and his skin only to be stopped by the power armor covering his midsection.  He let out a groan before falling beside his comrade.

“Goddamnit,” he said before trying to look at the soldier who had shot him.  There were two Tiger rifleman swooping in from a ridge forty meters away.  Goldstein was feeling a great deal of pain but he mustered the energy to bring up his own rifle.  Luckily the gunshots had shaken Jenkins out of his daze and he trained his sight on the approaching gunmen.  Bullets whizzed by the pair of Crows as the soldiers closed the distance.  Goldstein cursed his luck.  They were obviously new soldiers.  Their aim was unpracticed; they shot at the Crows while they ran. 

Goldstein rolled his eyes as he planted a rifle shell in between the eyes of one of the soldiers.  The other Tiger looked at his fallen comrade and tried to get the man up.  Goldstein sighed in disgust at the behavior.  He couldn’t believe this had happened to him.  Goldstein was about to shoot at the soldier when Jenkins tagged the boy in the leg.  The Tiger dropped in pain and that made Goldstein smile. 
At least the kid is worth something
, he thought as he looked back at Jenkins.

Goldstein saw his comrade rise to his feet and he was about to say congratulatory words when he saw Jenkins’ shoulder whip around and cause him to fall to the ground.  Goldstein looked back at his wounded opponent to see the boy with his weapon trained on Jenkins.  He was hunkered down on one leg since the other one was useless.  Goldstein’s eyes narrowed as he lifted up his rifle and sank a round into the boy’s eye. 

The pain was starting to fade, but Goldstein knew that was just shock.  He huffed as he brought himself up to lean against the pile of scrap metal to his right.  He could tell that nothing incredibly vital had been hit; he was going to bleed out and it was going to hurt the entire time.  He sighed as he looked at his comrade.  Blood seeped from the wound in Jenkins’ shoulder but otherwise the kid was fine.  Goldstein bit his lip in anticipation for what was to come for the poor boy. 

The merchant’s hands closed around his lighter and cigarettes and he brought them out onto his lap.  He unclasped his helmet and threw it towards the two corpses twenty meters away.  Goldstein brought a cigarette to his lips and tried to use the lighter.  He couldn’t quite get his fingers to cooperate and he was debating just throwing it away in his frustration when Jenkins came to his rescue.  The boy grabbed the lighter with his left hand and flicked it on for his comrade.  Goldstein smiled at the young Crow and took a drag from his last cigarette.  He could taste metallic blood along with the smoke filling his mouth and lungs.  The merchant looked at his comrade and patted the ground next to him.

“Sit, sit.  We have some time, you and I.”  Jenkins looked at him warily but soon enough sat down where Goldstein had patted the ground.

“Sorry about all that.  I know that must hurt,” Jenkins said without looking at his fellow soldier.  He felt guilty for the man’s wounds.  Goldstein just laughed up blood.

“Don’t worry about it, kid.  Comes with the territory.  Besides,” he said before filling himself with smoke again.  He could feel it burning its way outside of his lungs.  “I kinda hit you hard with the stark truth there.”  Jenkins looked at his compatriot briefly before turning back to look at his feet.  He was trying his best not to think about the pain in his shoulder.

“Thank you for telling me.”  Goldstein looked at his team mate; Jenkins was still looking at his feet.  “I’d rather know they did that than think it was an accounting problem.”  Goldstein laughed up some more blood at that remark.  He supposed it was certainly a different way of thinking about it.

“No problem, my friend.  Always willing to give you guys information.  I’m playing the same game, you know,” he said before turning to look at the boy.  “I just have a few extra rules I have to play by.”  Jenkins turned to look at the merchant and suddenly felt a great deal of empathy for the man.  He could see what Abrams had meant.

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think you’re as horrible as they say you are,” Jenkins said with a grin that Goldstein couldn’t see.  The man coughed up some blood and smiled as he laid his back against the scrap behind him.

“Hah, yes you do.  But it’s kind of you to say so,” he said before taking one last drag from his cigarette.  A gust of wind flew past him and scattered the ashes of the cigarette away from him.  The fire left with the ashes.  Goldstein smiled and then looked back at his comrade.  “Well, I guess I have one last request for ya, kid.”

“What’s that?”  Goldstein felt odd asking it of the young man, but he had his preference.

“Would you be a doll and sink a bullet in my brain for me?”  Jenkins was obviously shocked by the request and fell away from Goldstein’s dying body.  The merchant laughed at him.  “Oh, get a hold of yourself, kid.  It’s a simple request.  I just don’t want to bleed out here.”  Jenkins looked at him warily as he brought himself to his feet.  A bit of pain throbbed through his shoulder, but he was certainly not paying attention to it at that point.

“Why do you want me to do it?  Why can’t you just shoot yourself?”  Goldstein shrugged and pain lanced through him.  He wasn’t entirely numb yet.

“God, you really don’t know anything.  Whenever there’s a suicide they try to analyze the soldier’s mind and run a lot of diagnostic tests.  They basically hold ‘em in stasis until they figure out what went wrong.  I’m not a suicide risk or anything; we don’t need to involve them.   I just don’t want to die from letting all my blood out.  It’s a pretty terrible way to go.  If you just grab one of their weapons and shoot me it looks like they just got another round in me.  Win-win, as they say.”  Goldstein smiled as blood dribbled down from the corner of his lip.  He was doing his best to act nonchalant about it.  Jenkins just stood there as Goldstein continued to fade.

“Look, I’d really appreciate it.  I’d rather die quick, that’s all,” Goldstein said, letting the veil fall and showing Jenkins the man underneath the façade.  He could let the boy see his serious side.  Jenkins sighed and ran over to the two corpses.  He grabbed the rifle of the Tiger who had put a bullet through his shoulder and then ran back to his team mate.  Goldstein wasn’t smiling when the rookie came back.

“Thanks, kid.  I really appreciate it.”  Jenkins let his shoulders fall.  He didn’t feel like a war hero out here in between piles of scrap metal.  He brought up the barrel of the rifle to point at Goldstein’s head.  Jenkins was about to pull the trigger when Goldstein brought up his hand.

“One last thing, kid.”  Jenkins kept his finger on the trigger as he pointed the gun at his compatriot.  “I’m sorry about the shoulder.”

“It’s not your fault.”  Goldstein tilted his head and twisted the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry anyway.  When I see you back there I owe ya something.  Whatever you need.  I know how terrible it is.”  Jenkins looked at the man skeptically.

“What are you talking about?”  He didn’t like how many secrets the man kept hidden inside his head.

“You’ll see.  On the other side, my friend,” Goldstein said as he closed his eyes.  Jenkins decided the man was going to be cryptic no matter what. 

He pulled the trigger and felt little more than recoil.

-

Jenkins was walking to the rendezvous point and tried to think about what Goldstein had meant.  He had slung his rifle over his left shoulder; he didn’t want to irritate the gunshot wound.  The young Crow felt a little guilty for killing his team mate, but the man had asked him to do it; he didn’t want to deny the man’s wishes. 

The Crows had won yet again.  It was just a traditional game.  No annihilation; no handicaps were present.  It was as fair as it was going to get.  The Tigers were lower-ranked, but the influx of new soldiers on the Crows’ roster was enough for the Commission to think it was a fair match. 

The victory felt especially hollow to Jenkins.  He wasn’t fighting for anything he believed in.  He got nothing from team statistics or shallow pride.  It was all luck from his perspective.  He could have easily been in Goldstein’s place.  He could have bled out from his temple while Goldstein walked away.

Jenkins shook the thought from his head.  Goldstein would have been fine in his position; the merchant wouldn’t have even wavered about getting that gun from the other soldier.  It made Jenkins a little uncomfortable that the man was so callous about these things.  Jenkins wondered if he would end up the same way.

The transport was sitting above a ridge nearby.  Jenkins walked towards the ship and grimaced as his shoulder plate jostled against his wound.  He could tell the bullet hadn’t hit an artery; he would be dead otherwise.  That didn’t mean it wasn’t hurting.  The wound was seeping blood into his clothing under the armor as well, and that wasn’t particularly comfortable.  He wished he was back in the clinic already; he wanted the thing patched up so that he could stop worrying about it.

Most of the Crows were already sitting down in the transport.  Jenkins sat on the left side towards the middle of the bench and looked at his comrades.  There wasn’t any joking or discussions.  They were all just sitting there.  Jenkins checked his visor to see if there were any other soldiers out there on the field and he could see three more ID tags closing the distance.

He started to feel anxious at the silence and looked across the aisle of the transport.  Cortes was sitting there looking at his gun.  The young Crow thought about what he could possibly say to the soldier.  The last time they had really spoken Jenkins had beaten the man beyond dignity.  As far as he knew, Jenkins had nothing in common with the man.  In the end the silence was more uncomfortable than the prospect of awkward conversation.

“How are you, Cortes?”  The Spaniard looked up from gazing at his weapon and tilted his head at Jenkins.  The rookie figured the man was raising his eyebrow from behind his visor.

“I’m…ok, I guess.  Alive, at least.  Can’t say the same for everybody.”  Jenkins could tell that Cortes wasn’t especially enthusiastic about continuing the conversation.  He was about to let the whole thing drop when Templeton piped up from further down the aisle.

“Hey, Cortes, weren’t you paired with Norris today?”  Cortes turned his helmet back to the new soldier.  The thin, black man hadn’t been with the team long enough to respect any boundaries.

“Umm, yeah.”

“Where is he?  He has the best stories.”  Jenkins’ brow furrowed at that.  Norris may have had stories, but Jenkins had never thought any of them were good.  He sighed inwardly at Templeton; the thin soldier tried his patience.

“Not here, rookie.  I think we’ll leave it at that,” Carver said from the other end of the transport.  He hadn’t bothered to look at the other soldiers and instead gazed at the wall in front of him.  Jenkins wondered what the man thought about outside of battle.

Silence followed after the elder soldier’s remark; Templeton wasn’t brash enough to venture his opinion again.  After some time Jenkins forgot that his shoulder was hurt and shifted in his seat.  He regretted it instantly and let out a small gasp in reaction.

It was noticed.

Cortes looked up from the floor and saw a trickle of blood flowing out of the bullet hole in Jenkins’ shoulder plate.  He squinted through his visor and hoped that he didn’t see what he thought was in front of him.  The coward unclasped his helmet and put it in his lap.  Without the mask in the way he could see the broken metal for what it really was.

“Jenkins, did you get hit?”  Jenkins looked at the man and was put on guard.  The other soldier looked genuinely concerned.  He nodded and gestured with his left hand.

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s that serious.  I can’t really move it but I haven’t bled out yet.  I think I’m safe,” Jenkins said, trying to down play the pain that he felt; he didn’t want the soldier to worry.  It seemed to have the opposite reaction.  Cortes looked down and rubbed his eyes before breathing deeply.  He then turned his head to Carver at the end of the aisle and waited for an answer to a question he didn’t verbally ask.  Jenkins was starting to get worried as Carver broke out of his train of thought and looked back at the young soldier.

“Damnit, kid.  Where’d you get hit?” Carver asked before taking off his helmet and walking down the aisle.  Jenkins was confused enough to stay where he was.  Carver propped himself on his knees and inspected the young soldier’s armor.  He immediately noticed the blood trail coming from Jenkins’ shoulder and touched it with his gloved hand.  He tilted his head back and forth as he inspected the wound.  Then he yanked on Jenkins' right arm.

The pain was unbearable.  The young Crow almost blacked out as the elder soldier backed away and put his hands around the back of his helmet and sighed.  The rookie fell to the floor in pain and couldn’t focus on anything else.  He’d only experienced pain like that rarely in all of his lives.  Jenkins regained his composure after a few seconds and tried to pick himself back up but faltered.  Cortes helped him back up to the bench as the elder soldier stood by.  After concentrating on breathing for a few moments, Jenkins could finally think again and looked at his elder in a subdued rage.