Murder of Crows (Book One of The Icarus Trilogy) (27 page)

“Goddamnit, Jenkins, you there?  It’s Warner.  Jenkins!”  Jenkins broke out of his daze and shook his head.  He fumbled with the Comms link but eventually tapped the interface button.

“Yeah, still here.  Is that their mech?”  Jenkins took another look at the metal creature.  He could just barely see the pilot beneath all the twisted coils of metal and framework.  As he looked over the monstrosity Jenkins could see the still-smoking rocket launcher on the left arm and a mini-gun on the right.  The pilot was exposed from the chest up, but the whole contraption was intimidating.  In order to fire at the man beneath the metal support bars and bundles of wires, a soldier would have to face death incarnate.

“What?  Of course, dumbass.  Stop asking stupid questions,” Warner said over Comms before sighing.  Jenkins couldn’t argue with him.  “So we’re kinda fucked here.  I’m about a hundred meters from you behind some cover and the mech is between us.  We could get some good crossfire and distraction going for us.  That’s the good news.”

“Obviously Norris is burning up there.  I told him to move position after he killed those two Lion scouts, but noooo, the fucker wanted to paint a target on his back, apparently,” Warner said before breathing out deeply.  Jenkins looked towards the mech again and saw that the pilot had two other Lions as support flanking each side.  It wasn’t as simple as running around and trying to take out the pilot.

“So what’s the plan?  You wanna go for the support or the pilot?  They’re both going to be problems,” Jenkins said, trying to ignore the panic flooding his senses.  He looked back at the soldiers and saw that they were advancing towards Norris’ grave warily.  Jenkins knew that they could tell Norris wasn’t alone.  A sniper always had at least one spotter.  The young Crow gritted his teeth and tried to figure out the best plan of attack before grabbing the grenades from Roberts’ belt.  The boy wasn’t going to be using them.

“Yeah, no shit.  I say pilot would be best.  That thing is gonna tear us apart.”  Jenkins heard Warner’s statement, but once he thought about it he immediately disagreed.

“Well, you can shoot at him if you want, but I think we should throw a chaff and take out the support first.  Leave the mech blind.  Then maybe we can flank it and plant a round in the pilot’s head.”  Jenkins dreaded the coming moments.  It wouldn’t be too long before the three soldiers were directly in between the Crows.  Jenkins heard a crackle over Comms as he squinted at his opponents.

“You kids grow up so fast.  On three?”  Jenkins grabbed around at the pair of grenades he had taken from Roberts’ belt and wrapped his fingers around the chaff. 

“Start counting.  I’ll throw the chaff; just tell me when.”  Jenkins pulled the pin on the silver grenade and watched as the three soldiers crept forward to the still-burning wreckage.  He could see one of the Lions walking towards the convict’s cover.  The other slave soldier was about ten meters away from Jenkins’ position when Warner started to say “one.”  The young Crow threw the grenade and scrambled to bring up his rifle; he knew they weren’t going to wait for Warner to finish counting.

The chaff grenade erupted halfway to the mech.  All three of Jenkins’ opponents were well within the blast radius and Jenkins brought the sight of his rifle up to his visor.  The soldier closest to him was spraying ammunition wildly in his direction.  Jenkins couldn’t blame him; he would have done the same thing.  The young Crow took his time and aimed for the soldiers’ head.  He pulled the trigger and missed with the first bullet.  He cursed and readjusted his aim.  Jenkins pulled the trigger two more times and each time the bullets flew past the soldier’s head.

At that point the chaff effect was starting to wear off and the anxiety was getting to Jenkins.  The young Crow tried to carefully aim this time and he saw that the soldier was doing the same.  Jenkins only had a split-second before they were on equal terms.  The young Crow breathed out, doing his best to calm his nerves, and pulled the trigger one more time.  He kept his eyes open and watched as the soldier’s head snapped back and the corpse fell to the ground.

Meanwhile, Warner had popped out of his cover and had fired bursts at the soldier closest to him.  The poorly-considered clusters of bullets glanced off the soldier’s chest and forced the Lion to stumble backwards.  Warner cursed as his machine gun jammed and yelled in fury as he threw it at the man.  In his rage the convict grabbed one of the grenades on his belt and chucked it at the soldier.  Warner maliciously smiled as the soldier stood there unaware that death had been placed at his feet.  The frag grenade exploded into all directions and threw a good deal of earth into the air.  Warner couldn’t stop himself from grinning as the dust filled the air where his opponent used to be. 

The smoke from the explosion mingled with the fog already present on the battlefield and Jenkins could see Warner turn his head to look at the “rookie.”  Jenkins watched as Warner was fine one moment, but then the bullets riddled his body and arterial sprays pumped out of the bullet wounds.  The Crow looked like he was having a seizure as he stood there.  Only after Warner’s body started to twitch and flail did Jenkins hear the whirring of the mini-gun.  Their small victories had left them with a sense of false security and Warner had paid the price.  Jenkins could only watch as Warner’s body stood, still propped up by the suit’s motor functions.  The young Crow was about to give into self-pity when he heard the rocket ignite and scream through the air.  Jenkins didn’t even think about ducking behind cover.  The Crow knew he was dead already.

But the rocket was not aimed at him.  The missile flew towards Warner’s body and exploded upon hitting the man’s chest plate.  Pieces of Warner flew in all directions and a red mist hung in the air where Warner had been standing.  The force of the explosion forced the smoke and fog of war towards Jenkins and he struggled to breathe.  He realized after stifling his cough that he had probably breathed in a small part of Warner.  The young Crow swallowed and tried not to think about it.  He looked at the mechanized soldier and wondered what he was going to do.

As he watched behind cover he realized that the pilot had no idea that Jenkins was huddled there.  Jenkins could hear the muffled voice of the pilot and guessed that the soldier was trying to speak to his teammates over Comms.  The young Crow wondered if it would be so bad if he just hid and waited out the rest of the game.  He didn’t think anyone would blame him for it. 

Jenkins looked down to check on Roberts and found a helmet and a full rifle clip at his feet.  In a panic, he whipped his head around and tried to desperately find his teammate.  He just couldn’t understand where the man had gone.  As he frantically looked for the missing Crow he turned back to face the mechanized soldier in front of him and felt his heart sank.

He found Roberts.  He was staring down the mech from ten meters away.

-

Roberts thought he could hear something.  He desperately wanted to know what it was, but always his thoughts would be interrupted.  The boy soldier could never get more than a half-second of real, true consciousness.  All he knew for certain was pain.  It was always there.  It wouldn’t abandon him just because of a few pills. 

The young Crow couldn’t see very well.  It seemed like it was night and that the moon had disappeared.  He tried to remember when he had gone blind.  Suddenly his ears started to hurt and he wanted to hit them.  He wanted to do something about the pain but he couldn’t think clearly.

The explosion rocked him towards consciousness.  The boy soldier opened his eyes and realized he had not gone blind.  He could see the pebbles in front of his visor shaking with each impact.  Each tremor brought another spike in pain for him.  Roberts winced involuntarily and craned his neck upwards.  He watched as Jenkins was looking beyond the ridge.  The older Crow hadn’t noticed Roberts’ awakening, which was not unexpected.  The boy soldier lowered his head back down to the dirt and hoped the soldier would forgive him.

Roberts unclasped his helmet and let it roll away from his head.  He didn’t want to live his last moments trapped in the piece of metal; he didn’t even remember when Jenkins had put it back onto his head.  Roberts looked back at Jenkins and realized that he was talking to the convict.  The boy soldier decided it would be best to get out of their way and whatever plan they were hatching.  Jenkins was a veteran now; he didn’t need Roberts' help.  The young Crow brought up his rifle and hit the button on its side, causing the magazine to slide out of the weapon.  The boy soldier caught it with his hand, which was enough to start off a dozen echoes of pain through his arm.  Roberts narrowed his eyes and then placed the clip next to his discarded helmet.

Jenkins was still talking over Comms when Roberts decided to crawl away.  He didn’t want to break cover and ruin their plans, so the boy soldier stayed below the rocks along the pathway.  Every time he brought his elbows down and dragged his body forward he wondered why he was doing it.  The pain was too much.  Somewhere along the line his condition had passed from inconvenient to unbearable and maybe he just hadn’t noticed.  Roberts wondered again what it would be like to overdose.  He wondered if it would be the best way to end his life.

Roberts saw his surroundings suddenly illuminated and it made his eyes twitch in pain.  He couldn’t help but bring himself to the ridge and watch as Jenkins and Warner attacked the three Lions.  The young Crow was about twenty meters away while he watched his compatriots kill the mech’s support.  Roberts was surprised by their effectiveness, but he knew the two Crows were going to die; they were just overpowered. 

The boy soldier watched as Warner was riddled with bullets and as the rocket burst the man into pieces.  He could only sigh as he realized that Jenkins was going to die next.  Roberts looked at the machine wrapped in tendrils of mist and smoke.  After a moment the fog of war started to obscure the machine and soon it was just a black shape in the mist.  It didn’t look so monstrous, then.

Roberts looked down at his hands and thought about hiding there.  There was no way he or Jenkins was ever going to take down the pilot.  If he wanted he could probably wait out the rest of the game and then stumble to his pills.  He could die in his bed if he wanted.

But he realized that he didn’t much care, anymore.  He already felt hellfire within his skin and couldn’t even see it.  It didn’t matter if he died crippled in pain on his bed or if a few dozen bullets found their way through his body.  He grabbed his empty rifle and tried to stand.

It was pure torture, at first.  His legs trembled from his own weight and the reverberations throughout his legs were enough to set off another chain reaction of pain.  His mind emptied of thoughts and he was about to fall to the ground when he had a moment of clarity.  It was going to be just as painful to crawl to the mech.  Roberts gathered himself and tried to walk casually to the machine.  He failed; the best he could do was limp towards his doom.  He decided it was good enough and forced his legs to move him towards the reaper.  It was still cloaked in the fog and smoke and looked suitably grim.

Roberts smiled as he appreciated the image.  A small part of him hoped that this could be the last time.

                -

Jenkins watched in horror as his teammate limped towards the machine.  The young Crow could tell that the mech’s pilot hadn’t noticed the boy soldier yet and he desperately wanted to shout out to Roberts to run away, but he knew that wasn’t an option.  As soon as a single noise came from his position Jenkins knew the pilot would turn and send a rocket in his direction.  The young Crow watched as the soldier continued to limp towards the mech.  The fog swirled about the soldier as he approached the machine and Jenkins wondered if the boy knew what he was doing.  As Roberts got closer, Jenkins was able to see the boy’s face and it all became obvious.

The boy soldier knew exactly what he was doing.  His face was the picture of grim determination.  Jenkins’ breath caught in his throat as he watched the scene unfold.  It was not going to be pretty.

The pilot noticed Roberts when the soldier was only fifteen meters away.  Roberts had stopped by then and just looked up at his opponent.  Jenkins knew that the rifle that Roberts held in his hand didn’t have any ammunition but the Lion had no idea.  The pilot scrambled with his controls and soon enough moved the plasma cannon into position.  Roberts brought up his arm and pretended to aim at his opponent.

A beam of plasma lanced through the air and engulfed Roberts’ arm at the shoulder.  The beam was wide enough that it took out most of the limb, but the rest of Roberts’ arm below the elbow fell and landed with a wet thump at Roberts’ feet.  Roberts staggered as the beam burned off his arm but soon regained his balance.  Jenkins brought his hand to his face and hoped it would end soon.  The pilot continued to fumble with his controls and accessed the mini-gun function for the right arm.  When he started to aim at his opponent the Lion realized that the Crow was still just standing there.

Roberts wasn’t running.  He wasn’t trying to pick up his weapon or throw a grenade.  He was just waiting for the pilot to finish the job.  The pilot looked at the man and let his thumb hover over the button which would start up the mini-gun.  The slave soldier suddenly felt terribly guilty for all the people he had killed and for this boy he had just crippled.  The fog swirled about the young soldier and when the Lion looked he could tell that tears were falling down the boy’s face.

“Please.”  The pilot heard the word but desperately didn’t want to finish the boy.  He knew he had to do it, this was part of the game, but killing this Crow was the last thing he wanted to do.  It didn’t matter if the boy was asking him.  The soldier hadn’t come to Eris for this.

“Please.  This is too much for me.”  The pilot looked at the boy’s eyes and knew that it wasn’t his choice to make.  This boy was already going to die; the soldier might as well get a boost to his paycheck.  The pilot’s thumb pressed down on the trigger and the mini-gun whirred to life.