Kindred Soldiers

Kindred Soldiers

  A short story by

  John A. Ferguson

  Copyright © 2011 by John A. Ferguson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions,” at the email address below.

  John A. Ferguson

  johnanthonyferguson@gmail.com

  www.johnaferguson.co.uk

  The internal cabin of the troop transport was dully lit from the illumination panels. The cabin provided room for eight soldiers; it had been full when it started its mission but now Garret sat alone. He had no one to talk to, no one to offload the emotional baggage he had gathered from the horrors he had seen, or the atrocities he had committed himself. The door between cabin and cockpit remained locked. It was a typical procedure during troop transportation. Most Foot Soldiers had no wish to interact with others outside of their own circle during these stressful events. However, Garret was growing tired of the enforced solitude created by the death of his comrades. He had arrived with seven other members of a Special Forces Unit, but he was the only one who had not fallen under enemy fire.

  His combat uniform was covered head to toe with blue Seridian blood, although the lighting made it hard for him to realise just how drenched it actually was. He had picked up one or two bad habits during his military service; he took his trench knife and continuously wiped the blade on his upper arms. Occasionally, he would cut through the material of his uniform. At times, if left unchecked, the blade would make it through to his flesh. The limited few within his circle of trust were able to stop the subconscious routine before any physical harm was done, but none of them were here now. He continued the motion, the material of his combat uniform starting to erode; his conscious mind unaware of how close he was getting to his skin. His eyes were vacant and what ever part of his soul had remained until his adult life, had now escaped through his empty gaze. He was lost in a dream. The cognitive function of his brain processed images and afterthoughts of the hell he had just escaped; a hell that in part, he had helped to create.

  Garret finally broke the trance as he detected a notable change in tone of the transport's engines. The oscillation of the sound pitch was enough to distract him. He broke the blade's dance just in time as it was now within millimetres of his flesh. He now suspected the ship had disengaged from its faster than light generator and dropped back into normal space. His gaze lowered, looking down at his watch as he considered the possibility he had misjudged the passage of time. Perhaps the ship was about to enter back into Earth's solar system? The thought lasted only a moment, the rational thinking centre of his brain concluded that there was no chance the transport could have made in back in such a short FTL jump. Garret stood up from his chair and walked toward the cockpit access hatch; he entered his access code allowing the door unlock and slide open. Both the pilot and co-pilot turned their heads as Garret walked in. "What is our status Lieutenant?"

  His entrance may have been unusual but not all together unexpected. They assumed any military officer would be able to hear and understand the fluctuating tones of a ship's engine. "Our sensors detected a ship through our course trajectory. Standard procedures require us to investigate and report our findings Earth Central."

  Garret's head sank at the thought of a further delay to his return home. His last mission had been a two-month drop on an enemy held planet. His small unit had been wiped out; however, the mission had been successful. Now all he wanted to do was get back to Earth, breathe some normal air, and sleep without worrying about a Seridian soldier standing over him ready to end his life. "Don't suppose I could convince you to forget you saw anything and just take me home?" It was nothing more than a light-hearted question, said in such a way to have no real meaning to it but there was part of him that was completely serious. He was tired, physically and mentally exhausted, and he just wanted to get back on Earth.

  "Afraid not Corporal Kayne." The Flight Lieutenant unwittingly released a small capricious laugh as he had already considered the notion himself. Yet he was a man of duty and regulations were regulations. "Sadly, we all answer to the same person." The pitch of his voice rose and his words laced with just the right amount of sarcasm to introduce a touch of humour to this unfortunate turn of events, "And you know how they like procedure." The desired effect was achieved as smiled spread across both their faces.

  They knew procedure was important and while it sometimes created awkward moments of tension, their stance on following the chain of command, and the procedure, contributed to an extensive and effective military force. The Armed Forces provided that thin red line against an alien invasion.

  The troop transport majestically glided towards the unknown ship under the steady hand of the Flight Lieutenant. Garret was himself a skilfully gifted pilot and smiled with a great deal of satisfaction as he admired the highly proficient manoeuvres displayed before him. The co-pilot had started to work on the sensor instruments; she hoped to get a better idea of the status of the large alien designed ship that was starting to fill the cockpit window. Garret poked his head forward trying to give himself a better view but the first sight of the ship sent a cold chill down his spine. "How far are we in Earth Controlled Space?"

  "We are fairly deep in the core," the Lieutenant replied. "Why do you ask?"

  "What you have there Lieutenant is a Seridian passenger liner. They use it for civilian transportation, although sometimes modified for other purposes. Few weapons but heavily shielded." Garret's Special Forces training had resulted in numerous missions operating behind enemy lines. During these times, he had picked up a thing or two about the enemy. He understood their tactics; he recognised ranks and ship design; and he had even picked up several elements of their language. Garret was still somewhat of a new comer to the war; he was of low rank, yet in his time, he had seen and survived more action than many of the officers considered the best.

  The woman who sat as co-pilot appeared to be slightly younger than Garret. She was still wearing the clean, almost unused, flight suit of a cadet. Yet she had played a part in a flight extraction behind enemy lines to bring Garret home; so either she was quite skilled herself or the military was getting desperate for pilots. She continued to work on her sensor scans but nothing was becoming clear to her. She tried to confirm Garret's observation utilising every scan protocol she was aware of, nevertheless ever technique utilised revealed very little. "The best I can say is that the ship's systems are definitely offline." She turned her head towards Garret; part of her intrigued by the Foot Soldier and she wanted a better look at him. Her glance was short, not wanting to draw attention to her curiosity. She quickly turned her head back to her commanding officer and continued with her assessment. "There are no signs of external damage."

  The mystery was laid before them and it was one which they would be forced to do something about. "Corporal I am afraid I am going to have to pull rank on you," the pilot said. Although both men technically operated for different branches of the military, the fact that Garret was onboard a Space Force ship meant that he was under the command of the ship's ranking officer. "We have an enemy ship operating in our space, we have to investigate it and find out exactly what it was up to."

  It was the last thing Garret had in mind, yet he knew he was duty bound to take on the mission. Despite the Flight Lieutenant's expertise as a pilot, this type of operation required someone with more covert training; this
mission required Garret. He walked back into the transport cabin from where he had started. The overhead compartment held his maser rifle, which he had put in storage there. He brought the rifle down giving it a quick pre-check. Foot Soldiers were taught to check their weapons in the fastest way possible. In a combat situation, a defective weapon would only result on one possible outcome, death. Although the energy cell was starting to show signs of depletion, the rest of the weapon was in good working order. The typical design of these weapons allowed for a two-month life cycle before recharging was required. Garret was a not a liberal user of the weapon as he preferred to make his kills in a more upfront, personal way. He gave a few moments thought to recharging the power cell but decided that it would be unnecessary.

  He kitted himself up in his own usual manner; he ensured his boots were comfortable and securely fastened on his feet; his combat knife was held in its inverted position on the left side of his chest. His body suit was formed from the most advanced lightweight, and strong, fibres available. It was only a few centimetres thick and sat on his body in an almost skin-tight fashion; although it appeared flimsy, it was in fact the most perfect and durable suit designed for frontline combat action. There were several augmented areas of the outfit which provided possibilities for modular compartments to attach. These modules provided a different functionality depending on the nature of the mission. Some were designed to hold additional weapons ranging from handguns to knives, others were more simplistic and used to store medical and ration packs. In essence, the suit could be adapted in any way to suit the needs of the combat situation.

  Garret opened up the module storage compartment. Most transport ships contained these lockers and it was standard procedure to have these well stocked in case unexpected missions arose. Garret eyes scanned for the essentials, nothing fancy or over the top. He attached a small flashlight to his wrist and found a few particle grenades, which he promptly attached to his belt. He was ready to exchange the lonely isolation of the dark transport cabin for another dark grim place; this had become the nature of his existence.

  He returned to his overhead compartment for one last item that he normally stored in a more obscure secretive location. He pulled out his kukri, a Nepalese knife, which was about eighteen inches long. This was his true weapon of choice and something that he loved. It had been a standard issue weapon for some of the old Earth militaries, but as the old regiments vanished into history, so did the use of this particular weapon. There were still people though who respected some of the old styled weapons and Garret was one such person. He removed the blade to check on its condition, his eyes examined the curved blade to ensure it was in pristine condition. Only when satisfied did he prepare to place the finely folded steel back into its decorated goat skinned wooden scabbard. He pricked his finger with the sharp point at the base of the blade drawing his own blood. It was an ancient tradition to which Garret followed religiously. He then clipped the weapon to the back of his belt.

  While he had been preparing himself the troop transport had moved into a closer position to the Seridian passenger liner. Garret returned once again to the cockpit. There was almost an instant transformation in his stature; the young corporal took on the persona of a brutal killing machine. The young cadet co-pilot allowed herself to turn once again to look at the Foot Soldier. She had been unprepared for what she saw. Although she had focused her mind on her job, a small part of her succumbed to a surge of animalistic attraction as her eyes fell on Garret. Yet she could not feel comfortable with this unexpected emotion. It may have inadvertently arisen due to his well-toned physique and his mysterious nature, but she could sense an inner darkness in him that did not sit comfortably with her thoughts.

  Garret was not immune to the effects of human attraction. When the doors of the cockpit first opened, he had found himself instantly drawn to the co-pilot. It had been sometime since he had been with a woman. Its just sex Garret, that's all your after. He let the words repeat several times in his thoughts as a means of rationalising his animalistic feelings. Nevertheless, the attraction was still there. He sensed confusion in her, there was a moment of warmth and compassion transmitted through her pure bright blue eyes, but then replaced with the same haunting stare that most people had when they looked upon him. They saw the face of a kind handsome young man and the eyes of a monster.

  She had moved her hands away from the sensor console abandoning the scanning that she had undertook. Her cheeks had started to flush slightly; Garret could not help but notice the effect on her pale skin but assumed it was a result of her failure to do more with the scanners. "There isn't anything else I can tell you about the ship. Systems are definitely offline but I can't tell you why." There was a nervous edge in her voice now; her thoughts had become altogether complicated. She was embarrassed, not for her failure on the sensors but for the ambivalent emotions surging through her.

  "Well I guess I will find out when I am over there." Garret leaned closer to the pilot and pointed out an area on the holographic display of the Seridian ship. "Lieutenant, there should be an access hatch at the stern, on the underside."

  The small troop transport edged closer and closer to the Seridian ship, a few short blasts of the manoeuvring thrusters turned the ship by one hundred and eighty degrees to allow its underside to come into contact with the access hatch. These access ports followed a designed to allow the easy transfer of resources or even people. Most ships, Human and Seridian alike, had these types of hatches. The troop transport had its own located on the floor. Its use was not common but now it would serve a purpose.

  The sound of metal grinding against metal echoed through the ship almost as if the interior cabin was acting as a resonator. As the grinding noise amplified, an electrical hum started to develop. The generation of this sound was enough to indicate to Garret that the two ships had interlocked together. The Lieutenant took his hands of the controls and slackened the straps that held him to his chair. He moved through to the aft section of his ship, into the rear cabin, to join Garret who had already made his way to stand over the floor hatch. The safety checks were the first step to opening the passageway; once again, procedure had to be followed for everyone's safety.

  The Lieutenant took a hand held scanning instrument and held it against the access hatch. It started to cycle through its various preset programs, each of which returned the required information the Lieutenant was looking for. "Gravity plates still seem to be initialised; we have a breathable atmosphere although carbon dioxide levels are slightly elevated and the temperature is sitting at Twenty-One Degrees Celsius. You are good to go Corporal." There was an agreeing nod between the two men and the Lieutenant pressed his hand against a palm-scanning interface that formed part of the circular access hatch door. The conformation of the Lieutenant's palm print initiated the opening sequence and the door opened up like an iris. "Remember Corporal, recon only. Fact find and return so we have something to transmit to Earth Central."

  Garret nodded in acknowledgment of the Lieutenant's orders. He attached his maser rifle to his back. "Keep the engines running hot just in case we need to make a quick escape, and I am sure I don't have to remind you Lieutenant, as soon as it looks like I have been compromised in any way, you have to leave...Procedure!" Both men laughed, this simple word seemed to have bonded both of them in an unexpected way. Garret didn’t usually have time for such sentimental nonsense. Friendships often seemed more hassle than they were worth, must be tiredness, Garret thought to himself.

  The Lieutenant held out his hand in an offer of friendship and unexpectedly Garret, without hesitation, reciprocated the gesture. "Happy hunting Corporal."

  Garret bent down and pulled a handle that was imbedded into the door structure on the Seridian ship. It was clear that that this was not his first time entering into a Seridian access port. As the door hissed opened Garret stood up and moved slightly back; then in an unexpected motion, brought his entire body into a perfect handstand. The Lieu
tenant screwed his face up but quickly realised what the Corporal was doing. Both ships were attached to each other base to base. Their gravity generation plates would be working in opposite directions and so when Garret passed into the influence of the Seridian ship, he would be upside down from the troop transport perspective. He walked on his hands and straddled the hatchway; in one strong perfect motion, he pulled himself through to the other ship. The transition created a very uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, his brain tried to rationalise the sensation of passing between two gravity fields working in the opposite directions; however, it was such an unusual concept that his brain could only react by making him feel slightly nauseous.

  His entire body passed through the hatch and soon both of his boots were firmly placed on the deck of the alien ship. His heartbeats remained calm, as did his breathing. He had trained so intensely for many years that he had almost complete control over his body's instinctive reactions to stress. The maser rifle was instantly detached from his back and held in its ready to use position. The butt of the rifle nestled into his right shoulder and the weapon was elevated to bring the sight to eyelevel. His balance was perfect and he was ready to move through the ship.

  When in the heart of Seridian territory he had always felt uneasy. Not because of the situation he was in, but something about the Seridians themselves disturbed him so intensely. They were almost too human for his liking, which made it difficult to establish in his mind that they were in fact enemies. Seridians looked distinctly humanoid, their heights varied from person to person but on average, they were six foot. They had varies tones of grey skin and a single darker grey ridge that ran down the central line of their bodies. They had only one eye colour, bright green, but the construction of their eyes was almost identical to humans. There were people on earth that believed that the pattern of evolution for a species perhaps followed some form of standardised blueprint, others believed that their similarities just further argued the case for some form of divine influence in the humanoid appearances.

  The origin of the war had always been a matter of hidden debate. The Humans and Seridians were only hours away from signing a peaceful treaty of co-existence and at the final hour, it faded away. Without reason or cause, this conflict started.

  There were always questions that ran through Garret's mind yet as a soldier he did not have the luxury to ask too many questions. Hesitation at crucial moments had caused many deaths of men and women in the Armed Forces and he did not intend to add to their number.

  This was not the right time for Garret to question the war effort. He had now entered an enemy ship, a ship that had somehow found its way into human territories and appeared effectively dead. The corridors were lit by the ship's emergency lighting, a stretch of electrically excited quantum dots embedded along the floor edge joining to the sidewalls. Garret tapped a small device located in his right ear, it had started as an almost invisible insignificant object but expanded and grew into what was clearly a communication device. All Foot Soldiers underwent relatively minor surgery to add these devices to their ear canals. "Kayne to Transport." The advantage of these communication devices meant that only the Foot Soldier could hear the transmitted communication. "Lieutenant, I am in. This ship should have three levels. It'll take approximately thirty minutes to do a ship wide search."

  "Understood Corporal, the hatch has been resealed. We'll only open it on conformation of your passcode. Do you copy?"

  "Copy that. Kayne out." The communication device retracted from its expanded structure to become once again invisible and unnoticeable within his inner ear.

  He had already decided on his strategy, simple and straightforward; search the ship deck by deck until he ascended to the forward control room. He knew from his times invading similar ships, or engaging in ground attacks on landed vessels, that the control room was located at the highest point on the bow of the ship. This lower deck would give him access to the ship's engines and maintenance rooms.

  He started his movement forward, gently moving his legs in a timed rhythmical fashion. His walk almost emulated a ballerina's dance, each foot purposely placed to maintain his central line of balance. His eyes continuously scanned the area all around him, despite his head appearing to make little movement.

  This area of the ship should have been noisier than it was now; in fact, there was very little sound at all. Though not all power was lost, some systems appeared to be online. The fact that he could walk through the ship and not need an oxygen mask was a testament to that. There was an occasional whirl of liquid travelling through exposed pipes running along the wall. Garret assumed that these were either the water supply pipes or waste management systems. Nevertheless, they were working and doing some kind of task. This is not a dead ship.

  Garret edged closer to his first set of closed doors. He read the Seridian script written across the doorway. As far as he could understand, it read engine room. Garret was never really one for languages. He had entered military school at the age of twelve and experienced a varied education from mathematics to music. He had always been an exceptional student but the study of languages was never his strongest attribute. The Seridian language was unknown when he was a child, as the Seridians had still to make first contact despite how far humans had spread themselves through the galaxy. Those aspects of the language he could comprehend, Garret had picked up while on missions.

  He found the access panel which still appeared fully functional. He pressed it and the door hissed open in front of him. Garret had reached a stage in his life where very little shocked him. He had witnessed friends killed in action, even at times slaughtered before his eyes. He had killed Seridians with his own hands. For a young man he had witnessed more death and destruction than anyone should see in a lifetime. He was very much battle hardened and almost emotionally detached from reality.

  Garret moved in, his eyes had caught the sight of a figure lying facedown in the corner of the room. He maintained his cautious movements, only when he was close enough did he extended his left leg to turn the corpse over with his foot. He wasted very little of his time examining the dead body, he didn't have to. He could tell just by looking at the way the body had fallen, and the darkened marks around the Seridian's neck, that he had been executed from behind with his neck twisted and broken. It would have been a quick and quiet death. Garret knew this would not be the only body he would find.