Secondborn

He gives me a grunt of approval. “Maybe you’re not just a pretty visitor on her way through. We’ll have to see how you do.”

“I’m still not wiping your ass for you,” I reply, which leaves them all laughing despite themselves.

The door to the airship closes and we settle in for the journey to the front line. It’s the wee hours of the morning, and most of us haven’t gotten more than a few hours of rest. Once we’re airborne, some soldiers sleep. Snores issue from the bobbing heads around me. I’m too wired, and I don’t trust any of them enough to close my eyes.

A couple of hours into the flight, the hatch opens. Wind whistles through. The cold of the first gust makes my teeth chatter. Fear rattles through me, too, as if the hammer of some long-dead god is beating my heart for his war drum. I’ve only had one jump simulation.

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.