Reapers: The Shadow Soldiers (9 page)

“What modifications have been made to make the variants we are wearing safer?” he asked.

“A layer of dust?” Index shrugged.
 

Burns lowered his eyebrows. “You haven’t made any modifications at all?” he asked, starting to feel the regret coming on once more.
 

“Its only purpose for your mission is as a protectant from enemy fire. Don’t use it past its limits and it won’t kill you,” she said. “This is Rhett’s primary assignment—he’ll help with what buttons to push and which to avoid.” Burns looked away as he shook his head. Naturally, diving onto a planet overrun with terrorists wasn’t already dangerous enough for Intelligence.
 

“Seems like quite the hassle to gain an edge,” Brosi mentioned.

Index crossed her arms again. “At this point, it’s all we have left. This is our last desperate measure to save the Dominion as we know it,” she told him. Burns still couldn’t help but feel like Brosi was right. This
was
all a great hassle, especially when the Dominion already had a military trained for situations just like this.
 

“Why not just send an invasion force?” he asked, feeling a little obvious.

“We’ve tried that,” Index countered. “They were shot down.” Burns was taken back. Everyone knew that a Dominion invasion force was led by Deep Space Eliminator Cruisers, and everyone knew that DSE cruisers were unstoppable.
 

“Eliminator cruisers can’t be shot down,” he stated, still confused.
 

“Tell that to the United Liberty Collective,” she blurted. “They commandeered Silverset’s rotating asteroid defense system and used it against the invading ships.”
 

Great,
Burns thought to himself. The last thing this mission needed was a giant cannon.
 

“That is your purpose,” Index continued, pacing across the room as she descended into monologue mode. “We need that cannon taken offline. Brosi can handle the technical specifics as long as he’s delivered safely. If we can indeed get that cannon shut down, we’ll be able to land a fleet and take back the world.” She paused a few moments for emphasis and then continued. “However, we haven’t yet been cleared for departure. So, for the time being, we’ll stay aboard this station and prepare. That means diet, exercise, and combat training. Any more questions?” she asked, looking directly at Burns. He had a few but remained silent.

“Right,” she confirmed, “let’s head topside.” Following her lead, the group left the armor in its darkened hole.
 

Burns now saw a lot of things in a different light, especially Rhett. He was no longer a Special Forces cowboy, but a man who’d undergone a great struggle and survived. Burns could tell it was eating him up. If only he knew how much Burns understood. Survivor’s guilt could destroy you, and he would have to make sure that didn’t happen to Rhett.
 

On that point, he’d also have to make sure the armor didn’t destroy them either. He let out a deep breath—all these responsibilities were really starting to make him feel like a true colonel. He just hoped Control had known what he was doing when he picked him for the job.
 

COMPLICATIONS

During the days after the mission had been revealed, the only thing to do was train. Burns had weights moved into his quarters, and he used them heavily. If he wasn’t exercising, he was in the mess hall trying to find the healthiest options he could. He had a lot of bad choices to work off, so much so that sometimes it seemed an impossible task.
 

Still, he had to admit that he was feeling a lot better. Those few days of training, he didn’t have to deal with hunger or hangovers. He just wished he could say the same positive things about the operation. Intelligence still hadn’t told him where the Syncopate was, and that made him leery. What could they be hiding?
 

He supposed it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when their promised week of training was cut off after three days.
 

“An urgent development has occurred on Silverset,” Rhett informed him as he stood in Burns’ door.
 

Development,
Burns scoffed to himself. It was never details. Nevertheless, he headed out and followed the man.
 

They were soon joined by Brosi, who was given the same notification. Rhett lead them both down a series of white-plated corridors to what Burns figured was going to be some sort of operations room. They walked in a group, and for once Burns felt comfortable around the men. They had become some of the only people in the facility he could feel he trusted. That said, he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask just what this development was. If even Rhett knew, he doubted he could tell him.
 

Turning and entering another corridor, Burns noticed this one was far less empty than those before it. One of the Syncopate workers seemed to be off schedule. She leaned on the white walls with her arms crossed. Her dark hair was tied into a ponytail behind her head, and she seemed to have somewhat of a gruff expression. She was also a little bit taller than the average woman, despite her being average in every other sense.
 

The worker remained in her place as they approached, which Burns thought was weird. The station crews didn’t socialize much, and when they did, it was with a purpose. So what was her purpose? He did get an interesting feeling about her, and it wasn’t because she was wearing civvies instead of the usual white jumpsuit attire of the crew. She seemed...dangerous.
 

As the group walked by, Burns kept aware in case she made a move. To his surprise, she actually did. Just as he thought they were cleared, she shifted off the wall and grabbed Brosi by the shoulder. Burns was ahead of the man, but he’d heard the whole thing. He swiftly turned and pushed Brosi out of her grasp, then grabbed her shoulder and threw her against the wall.
 

“Now, what was that?” he asked, face only inches from hers.

“I’d ask you the same question,” she responded coolly. The situation was beginning to feel a little like déjà vu
.

“What?” he asked. “You think because we’re in your facility you can just do whatever with us?” Burns didn’t trust any of the crews here. He refused to believe anyone could retain their humanity in this place. Yet, the woman didn’t seem to know what he was talking about.

“My facility? What is this? Some sort of hazing ritual?” she asked, seeming completely confused by his line of questioning. “I’m just looking for a guy called ‘the Colonel.’ I was going to ask your friend there, but—” she stopped, feeling like she’d made her point thoroughly enough.
 

Burns thought back to the armory room. One of the cases of armor had a smaller set than the rest. It must have belonged to this woman—she was his final member. He released her and stepped back a bit, looking over at Rhett to get some sort of confirmation that this was indeed his final member. Rhett only gave him a shrug.
 

“So, you’re him, huh?” she asked, readjusting the unbuttoned, black jacket she was wearing. Burns gave her a silent nod.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Zenia Carmen,” she answered.
 

Burns gave her a confirming nod back. “Right, Carmen. We’ve been told there is an immedi—” Rhett lightly pulled on Burns’ shoulder as he stepped forward.

“Hold a minute, Colonel. I wasn’t notified about a Zenia Carmen,” he said as he positioned himself to block her from moving down the hall. She slightly glowered at Rhett’s defensive position.

“Listen,” she impatiently urged, “I was approached by a tall, creepy guy who said he needed a medic.” Burns lightly pushed Rhett back. Describing Control was all the clearance she needed as far as he was concerned.
 

“So, you’re a doctor?” Burns asked. She seemed perplexed by the question.
 

“No, I’m a coroner,” she answered, and Burns was taken aback a second. The last person you wanted to revive you was someone who routinely worked with people who were already dead. “I went to medical school though,” she clarified.
 

Rhett pushed his way forward again, but this time Burns didn’t care. He’d begun to feel a little out of breath. His worst fears were starting to realize themselves. Intelligence wasn’t being as fastidious as they usually were. They were desperate and they spared no concern. It was possible that they didn’t really care about him or his team. If they lost, so what? No one would care about four civilians, certainly not the politicians. They were expendable.
 

Rhett began speaking again. “Battlefield medicine is a little different than its civilian counterpart. Besides, we needed a marksman,” he informed Carmen.
 

She bowed her head. “I can hit long-range targets, no problem.”
 

“And what’s your experience?” Rhett badgered, standing with his arms crossed. Carmen scoffed a little.
 

“I’ve shot a rifle before,” she remarked with a slight pitch of annoyance in her voice. Rhett shook his head back at her.

“This mission is for the survival of an entire planet—if not the entire Dominion. We need a little bit more experience than general knowledge. It has to be instinct,” he said, hovering his finger in front of her face. She pushed it away.

“Hey, lay off man!” she sneered. Burns agreed that Rhett was being aggressive, but he couldn’t intervene. His hands and arms had become ghostly white, and he felt flush. He assumed this was what death felt like. Rhett continued his onslaught nonetheless.

“We already have one civilian on this operation. I wasn’t okay with that but it’s not up to me. However, I don’t think—” he was then interrupted by Brosi, who stepped up and pulled on his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” he started. “This whole mission is dependent on my ability to disable that cannon, so I think I’m a little more necessary than convenience,” he argued. Rhett turned toward him.

“Don’t overplay your use,” he grumbled. “There are plenty of technicians in the military that can handle your job.” Burns had now stepped out of the circle, and his only focus was on breathing. Sweat ran down his forehead profusely—more than it had during his exercise.

Brosi continued. “Then why did they select me instead of those guys, huh?” he asked.
 

“Because they’re looking for people stupid enough to think they could be heroes,” Rhett answered, arms crossed once more.
 

“So, now we’re idiots?” Carmen jeered.
 

Rhett shook his head, facing her again. “I didn’t say idiots.”

“But you meant it,” Brosi argued. “You don’t truly think we can win do you?” Both civilians were in his face, but Rhett maintained his calm despite being outnumbered.

“I did...once,” he answered. “However, proper soldiers know that victory isn’t always guaranteed. These men are disciplined, focused, and trained. Not civilians fresh off the streets.”
 

“Civilians?” Brosi mocked. “Who are you to judge anyway? You let them lock you away in this facility! You gave up on the Dominion entirely!” he exclaimed, gaining Rhett’s full attention as the man began to leer over him.
 

“Really?” Rhett snarled. “What would you have me do? Fight against the crew? Disobey my orders?” The man simmered as he stepped forward. “Let me tell you something, Brosi, life is dirty. There is no such thing as a win-win situation.” Physically, Brosi stood no chance against Rhett’s brawn—yet he didn’t waiver.
 

“No,” he concurred, “not when you give up.” He looked Rhett squarely in the eyes. The two scowled at each other, neither wanting to give it up.
 

Burns suddenly let out a whimper as he collapsed to one of his knees. It was too much. The lies...the faulty armor...the cannon...the gravity of it all! He couldn’t breathe.
 

“C-Colonel?” Brosi stammered, noticing the struggling man and giving up his feud with Rhett.

“Stop!” Burns bellowed. “Stop calling me that! I’m not a colonel—I’m—” he frantically tried to find the rest of the sentence but could not. He stood weakly. All he knew was that he needed space to breathe. He stuttered down the hall, pushing off walls as he tried to find a place that he recognized.
 

He needed to reach his quarters, and he needed to see Evelyn.
 

As he stumbled forward, he noticed his team wasn’t following him. However, the maze of halls made it difficult to find his quarters. He ended up busting into whatever room he could find and quickly found the nearest wall in the darkness. He didn’t dare turn on the lights. He just slid down the wall onto the floor and gulped breaths.
 

Even though the mysterious room was dark, Burns managed to look upon the portrait. He should have never come along, that was blatantly clear now. He should’ve known the whole thing would fall apart. He’d been looking down on Brosi’s naïveté this entire time, but maybe he was just as hopeless.
 

The door then opened with a hiss, and the bright light from outside spilled in.
 

Burns looked up and saw Index’s thin silhouette standing in the doorway.
 

“What do you want?” he grumbled.
 

“I came to help,” she said as she entered. He watched her every move.
 

She walked forward a bit and then leaned on one of the objects concealed in the dark. Even though she wasn’t standing in its place, the door remained open, casting a few slivers of light onto her slightly narrow face.
 

“You’re hardly a therapist,” Burns dismissed her help, looking back down at the portrait.

“No, you’re right,” she concurred. “I’ve always been a lot better at deception and destruction.” She crossed her arms while still leaning on the object. Burns grimaced—she’d finally admitted it. Of course, it could still be a trap.

“Then why are you here?” he asked, looking back up at her.