Secondborn (Secondborn #1)(59)

I close the visor of my helmet against the frigid air. The visual access monitor lights up. A beautiful woman’s face and bare shoulders appear across it. She’s from the Fate of Diamonds, her perfectly coifed hair and ruby lips as unmilitary as one can get. Her voice is low and sultry, as if she’s outlining plans for an upcoming date night, rather than the mission at hand.

“Soldier,” she breathes with a come-hither smile, “you have been chosen as our first responder. Your mission is to locate wounded Sword soldiers, your brothers and sisters, and tag them with the red beacons you have been given. Once a disabled soldier has been tagged, a medical drone will be summoned to assist him with his injuries. After you have dropped your beacon on him, do not wait for the medical drone to arrive. Move on to the next soldier who needs your help.

“You have also been given black beacons in your first responder kit. It is vital that you place black discs on any enemy combatants that you discover wounded or active. This beacon will dispatch a death drone to your position. Once an enemy is tagged, it is best to move on, making sure that your pouch is closed and that other black beacons on your person have not been activated. In the event of multiple black-disc activation, discard the beacons and move away from them quickly. Failure to utilize black beacons will result in severe penalties. Remember, the more black beacons you place upon your enemies, the faster we can end this terrible war and enjoy the peace and prosperity we each so desperately crave and deserve.

“In the event that you are able to secure any weapons from the fallen and wounded, it is imperative that you collect them. Automated hoverbins will circulate through the battlegrounds. Simply place all discarded weapons into the hoverbins as they pass. Good luck, soldier, and thank you for your service. Long live the Fates of the Republic.” The visual screen turns off.

The soldier who gave me my pouch earlier walks up the aisle toward me and stands by the open door. A green light turns on. He walks down the line and thumps each soldier on the top of the helmet except for me. He goes back to the front of the airship. Holding out three fingers, he draws one back. Two fingers. One finger. All the soldiers on the airship rise and lurch toward the door, jumping two by two into the night.

The soldier directing the exodus waits for a few seconds, then he comes over to me and thumps me on the top of the helmet. My heart races. My knees shake. I rise from my seat and walk to the open doorway. It’s total darkness below me. The only light is above, a half-moon and the pinpoints of stars. The soldier holds out three fingers. Then two. Then one.

I jump.

For a few moments, I see nothing. Green outlines form as my night vision picks up the heat signature from the ground. The ground detector initiates the gravitizer in my suit, triggering the repelling force of a magnet that pushes against the molten metallic core of the planet. The pressure punches my chest painfully, making it feel like a safe has fallen on it. I try with all my might to keep my neck up and my chest out, grunting and gasping from the effort. The force eases as I fall the last few dozen feet to the ground, but the impact still knocks the wind out of me. Wheezing, I lift my head from the soil. The impact left an impression of my helmet. I search around for other soldiers, but I can’t see anyone.

It’s silent, and I’m alone, pinned down by the night. Pulling my glove back, I check the time on my moniker. It’s nearly dawn. Crawling in the dirt, I take refuge behind a small clump of trees. I check my rifle to make sure it’s fully armed. Leaning against a trunk, I hold the rifle on my lap and wait for sunrise.

As dawn rises over the field, the ground around me is brown and cloying. White wisps of fog and mist shroud the battlefield ahead of me, and I can hear something now, the sound of weapons fire and incendiary devices. Less than a quarter of a mile away, the sky lights up through the dense fog.

Barren trees twist deep purple in this light. I rise and walk toward the fighting. Near the former frontline trenches and bunkers, the bodies begin to pile up. Blood soaks the muddy terrain. A tide of war washed through here at some point during the night, laying waste. The carnage is everywhere. I lift my face to the sky, looking for an answer to it all. Mist on my visor is the only response.

I hear a groan near me, drop to my knees, and begin digging through mud and pieces of soft flesh. Wiping grit from armor, I see the sword-shaped emblem that indicates one of us. A wave of relief washes over me. I open his visor to see his face. He’s older, maybe in his thirties. Blood trickles from one of his nostrils.

“Help me,” he begs, his eyes unfocused.

“You’re going to be fine,” I assure him, hoping that it’s true. I fumble with the pouch clipped to my waist. My gloves are too thick, so I strip them off and clip them to my waistband. The air is cold. My fingertips turn pink. From the beacon pouch, I extract a red disc and place it on his armor. It sticks like a magnet. A red light flashes on and off, signaling a medical drone.

I begin to stand, but the soldier grasps my hand. “Please help me.”

“A med-drone is on the way. You’re going to be fine, soldier.” My voice is strained and low.

“Please,” he begs. I take his hand, holding it until the medical drone arrives, then I move back so it can work on him. Its blue laser light flashes over him, giving him a full-body scan. A robotic arm emerges from the drone, ratchets down, and sticks the soldier in the neck with a syringe full of white liquid. The soldier stops moaning and closes his eyes.