Mission. Suit. Self.

Mission. Suit. Self.

1. The mission is more important than your suit.
2. Your suit is more important than your life.

Code of the Tank
Galactic Mechanized Infantry Corps

 

A bead of sweat slid down the side of Billy’s face as he surveyed the wall of green vegetation. Although the droplet of sweat didn’t distract him, he was aware of it, and thus a tiny fan in his suit switched on, drying his face.

Billy considered the mission. He was running point, laying out the beacons that would mark the defensive perimeter around the settlement. He wasn’t the best combat Tank, but everyone respected his ability to assess terrain, risk, and the strategic things that others missed. Billy saw the big picture.

He was staking out the north, and it was a dangerous mess. The forest canopy spread out overhead, removing any non-bio satellite intel, and the ground was thick with vegetation and trees. It was enough cover to give the natives an opportunity to get close and launch an attack before the Tanks wiped them out.

Billy knew the danger was real. While he and most of his squad skipped the cultural overview, they soaked up the tech and military briefings. The result was that while they may not have known much about what the natives looked like, they knew that they were extremely aggressive and had enough tech to do significant damage in the right circumstances. The mech infantry didn’t even bother calling them natives, they were just “hostiles.”

He entered a clearing, stopped, and ran a full visual and auditory scan. It was more chaos. The heat and vegetation made infrared assessment practically useless, and the sound of movement was everywhere.

He did have a good view of the topography from the clearing, and while he would ideally lay a perimeter with a much larger buffer between the hostiles and the settlement, there was a valley directly to the north that worried him. With the dense trees and the steep hills to the east and west, it would be much more difficult to defend than the flat terrain he was currently standing on. The added benefit of laying the beacon at his current location was that he wouldn’t have to wander alone any further into hostile territory.

“Rally One, this is Niner Point. Assessing northern topography. Any secondary intel for this quad?” He spoke, and his neural connection told the suit computer which channel to use. He really didn’t like the looks of the valley. The whole quadrant was crawling with hostiles, and if he was going to set the northern perimeter, he wanted it to be as simple to secure as possible.

“Hold on, Corporal.” There was a short pause. “Negative on that. There’s a satellite village about one klick north, but that’s it.”

Satellite village? Fuck. Why the hell did the settlers move farther north to seed a new village before the first one was officially secure? The rest of his squad didn’t have to think in those terms or consider such nuances. They focused only on the mission, and their mission was to defend the perimeter. But Billy didn’t have the security of the Code at the moment. He was establishing the perimeter.

There was an explosion behind him, and Billy flinched. The massive armored suit suppressed the movement but identified the surge of adrenaline and activated an emergency defensive scan. Billy breathed easier as the scan revealed no neighbouring activity. Something was going on to the southeast. His mind considered Echo Point, and the suit engaged that channel.

“…fall back Jackson. Ichi and J.F., advance and lay down some cover.”

“Roger, Rally One. Slight damage to my left arm, but otherwise good. They’re still coming, though.”

He refocused on his job, and the channel went silent.

The suit presented a map overlay of his known location and topography as he had made progress. The distance to the main settlement was pretty tight if he dropped the perimeter at his current location. I really should run the perimeter north of the satellite village.

“Rally One, this is Niner Point.”

“Sorry, Billy. We have activity in Echo quadrant. Radio silence unless it’s an emergency.”

Billy looked north again. They hadn’t briefed him on the village, which meant it wasn’t a concern. And with the valley and vegetation, no one would question him if he decided to lay the perimeter where he stood.

He couldn’t believe his good fortune. If the hostiles were attacking on the eastern quadrant, and he laid a beacon this tight to the main settlement, his chances for getting off the planet alive were excellent. This would be the easiest point mission he’d ever had.

He stretched his arm downward, and the suit mirrored his movement, augmented by the neural connections between the computer and his brain. A foot long metal tube extended from the end of the arm of the suit. He couldn’t feel it with his arm or hand, but he could feel the movement with his mind and nerves as naturally as if he had extended a finger. There was a click and compressed air drove the rod into the dirt.

Continuing to the west, Billy laid two more perimeter beacons, keeping the valley to his right. With the presence of the beacons, his squad’s mission was finalized: If hostiles crossed the perimeter, the Tanks would terminate them.

 ***

He hadn’t even had time to take a shower after punching out before Ned tracked him down.

“Man, you missed some action.” Ned lived for the moments when he was in his suit laying waste to hostiles, and he was incredibly efficient at it. Billy wondered who had been attacked to the east. The east perimeter was much larger, and they had two Tanks laying beacons.

“Don’t tell me they attacked Moot. If they did, they have an uncanny sense for knowing our weaknesses.” Billy smiled. He didn’t get along with Moot or his squad, who he felt took unnecessary risks. Ned kept pace as Billy continued toward the showers.

“No, you idiot. It was that village up from your beacons. The hostiles have it under siege. The civilians jumped on one of the military channels to ask for help, if you can believe that.” With the amount of metal embedded in a Tank’s face it was hard to frown, but Ned somehow achieved it. “I can’t believe we’re missing out on that.”

Billy slowed to a stop, taking in what Ned had said. “But I didn’t pick up anything on my scans.”

“They started when you were almost back. Small arms fire. Dangerous for the colonists, though—they’re not even in composite buildings if you can believe that shit. Probably a bunch of colonials wanting to go native.” Ned shook his head. “Still, they have a high end laser defense system, but…” Ned shrugged. Billy knew what the shrug meant—commercial defense systems didn’t last forever and weren’t foolproof. “So, why’d you bail on the village?”

Billy leaned toward Ned’s face. “I didn’t bail on the village!” Ned backed up raising his hands.

“Calm down, man. I’m not saying you did. Just wondering why you laid the beacons so close to the main settlement and away from the excitement. Defending a bunch of native sympathizers from the natives would have been fun”

Billy lowered his head. “It just wasn’t a good idea, Ned. A valley like that would be tough to secure.”

“Well, shit, you’re the guru, but we’ve had no problem defending worse.” Ned slapped him on the back. “But it sucks, man. Freakin’ hostiles taunting us.” Ned shook his head and wandered off.

Billy knew that Ned would probably forget the village even existed by the end of the day. His mission was to guard the perimeter, and that didn’t include the village. That wasn’t the case for Billy, because he knew that Ned was right—they had handled tougher defensive assignments than that valley.

His mind kept flashing to the moment before he laid the beacon, considering whether to include the village or not. Was it really the best decision? Did he let the attack on Echo quadrant rattle him? How many people were in the village?

Behind all the questions was the troubling thought that his main concern was getting off the planet alive. Billy turned away from the shower. He had to review the audio Ned mentioned.

Without his suit, he had to access the archive in the Comm Center. It was a long walk, which on legs accustomed to augmentation was an exhausting prospect. He doubted he’d see any other Tanks—they tended to avoid being in public for just that reason. The awesome image of might they projected in their suits was destroyed as they walked around on scarred, stitched-together, and often weak bodies.

There were whispers as he walked into the Comm Center. All of the personnel there had worked with Tanks for a long time, but it was still rare to see one without his suit. A private walked him to a link, and Billy could see a look in her eyes as she shot furtive glances at him. Was it curiosity? Horror? He didn’t know, and he wondered if he was losing the ability to read people’s faces.

He found it right away, some unsourced audio on the channel assigned to Whiskey Point.  He hit play.

UNIDENTIFIED: Hello, is there anyone there? We need immediate assistance. The Dahili are attacking from every direction, and we don’t know how long our defenses can hold. Please help us. [Pause] Is anyone there? Please, there are only five of us.

LIEUTENANT FRANKLIN BOYLE: Attention: This is a military operations channel, and you are forbidden from broadcasting on this frequency.

UNIDENTIFIED: Thank God, you are there. Please send help. There are five of us, and four will need medical transport. We are in the Peace Valley outpost.

[Long pause]

COLONEL GABRIEL RUIZ: This is a military channel. You need to use the distress frequency if you need help.

UNIDENTIFIED: We tried that! There was no answer.

COLONEL GABRIEL RUIZ: We are not equipped to do search and rescue. Please refrain from using this channel.

UNIDENTIFIED: Can’t anyone help? Just send a few of those men in the giant suits to carry us out? I’ve seen the holos of them knocking down houses with their hands. Certainly they can carry five of us to safety.” There was the sound of multiple gunshots in the background.

COLONEL GABRIEL RUIZ: I’m sorry. We gave an evacuation order. You are on your own. Now stop broadcasting on this frequency immediately.

UNIDENTIFIED: What kind of monsters are you? They have guns. You can easily stop them, but we can’t! Why won’t you help us?

COLONEL GABRIEL RUIZ: Whiskey Point, we are switching to backup channel two, effective immediately.

UNIDENTIFIED: Hello?

[Long pause]

UNIDENTIFIED: You bastards are just going to leave us here to die? Why?

[Unintelligible background voices]

UNIDENTIFIED: They aren’t coming.

Billy sat back in the chair and took a deep breath. Everything made a terrible sense. Command issued an evacuation order and called it a day. If someone didn’t or couldn’t evacuate, well, that was their problem. Still, he wished he had known all this as he was setting up the perimeter. He wasn’t sure he would have made the same decision.

He punched up Ruiz. His assistant answered but put Billy right through when he identified himself. Ruiz didn’t bother with a greeting. “Corporal, I don’t like hearing from Tanks unless they’re on a mission. Is there a problem?” He was gruff and sounded unhappy.

“That’s why I’m calling, sir. I set the perimeter about one klick too far south.”

There was a pause, and then Ruiz answered, “Wait, is this about the satellite village?”

“Yes, sir. It’s unprotected.”

“Not a problem, soldier. There was an evacuation order.” Ruiz sounded more relaxed now that he knew the topic. “You made the right decision, now go jump in the hot tub or something.” The line went dead.

Five people were under assault and helpless thanks to him. He turned the comm to the channel that Whiskey Point had originally used. He tapped the talk button a few times nervously and then pressed it.

“Hello? Are you still there?” He cursed under his breath. He wanted to sound commanding, but was sure he came across as tentative and unsure. He just wasn’t used to communicating outside of his suit.

He waited for someone from Comm to ask him what he was doing, but no one else was on the channel. Command must have abandoned it when the woman from the village refused to give up the frequency. After a minute or so, he tried again. His voice was more confident this time. “Hello, is there anyone there?”

A voice replied immediately. “Oh my God, I thought I was dreaming. Yes! We are still here.” There were gunshots in the background. “Who are you? Are you coming to save us?” She didn’t wait for an answer as her words came out in a rush. “I don’t know how long the solar cells will last as the trees block all the sunlight. Please help us!” He didn’t know how to respond. Hell, he didn’t know why he even bothered contacting them. There was nothing he could do. Now all he had done was given them false hope. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” Billy replied. He struggled to think of what to say, but decided to just tell the truth. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what I can do.”

“Can’t you just defend us? You have Tanks. I heard that just one could defeat hundreds of regular soldiers.” The voice was more confident than pleading, as if she could inspire him with her words.

“Yes, but we aren’t impregnable, and there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of hostiles, and your village allows attacks from vertical and horizontal angles from all directions.” His voice was cold and flat as he explained the strategic basis for his decision to abandon them. He caught himself, and softened his voice, adding, “But maybe there is something else.”

“Couldn’t you just carry us out? Maybe we could find a wagon or something, and you could just come in, and pull us out. Don’t you do that?” Indeed they did. It was called extraction and required an entirely different kind of Tank squad.

“I’m sorry. You just don’t understand. We’re a combat unit. Our suits don’t even have hands, and the calibration needed to adjust the sensitivity of my arms would take too long.” He paused trying to think of a way to explain. “I’d be just as likely to crush you as save you.”

“But there’s more than just you! Can’t you bring more people to help? Certainly you all could protect us?” Desperation was again creeping into her voice.

Billy didn’t know how to answer. They had a full squad assigned to guarding the northern perimeter, and despite his conservative assessment, he knew they could defend the village, too. But it was too late. The mission was finalized. Guard the perimeter. The village wasn’t within the perimeter.

It was as simple as that.

The Tanks would fulfil their mission at all costs, but the moment Billy laid the last beacon that mission didn’t include the five people in a village with no name. Billy dropped his head in his hands. He had explained the strategic reasons, but he knew the truth. He dropped the beacon south of the village because he was afraid.

“You’re not coming, are you?” The voice sounded utterly defeated.

“I’m coming.” It was a quiet voice, almost a whisper, the words spoken without a hint of confidence or force.

But he had said them.

“Oh my God, thank you!” Billy didn’t answer. He didn’t have any idea what he would do, and he didn’t know what to say.

After a period of silence, the woman spoke again, her voice a whisper. “So what’s your name?”

“Corporal Billy Whitaker.” He tried to sound confident, to sound like the savior he had just promised, but he couldn’t.

“You’re going to get in trouble for this, aren’t you, Billy?”

He thought of his training, the words “mission, suit, self” repeated again and again until it was part of his psyche. And here he was abandoning the mission and putting both his suit and himself in danger.

“Yes,” Billy finally said. The woman didn’t reply immediately.

“My name is Ruth. The four people here are Tom, Ahmed, Iona, and Julie. We are all nice people.” She paused. “That’s worth getting into a little trouble, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” The answer sounded small and inconsequential, and Billy wasn’t even sure he said it loudly enough to be heard. But he meant it, and the fact that he did frightened him, because he had no idea what he would do. “I need to go, Ruth.” It sounded strange saying her name. She was now a person. Not a mission, a person.

“Thank you, Billy. Thank you so much.”

Billy walked as quickly as he could to the staging area. Her comment about the solar cells worried him. He guessed they had a motion-activated laser defense system in place. It probably had a target limit, but the hostiles wouldn’t know that. That was the good news. The bad news was that they were clearly testing it every so often, and the commercial batteries weren’t meant to handle constant laser fire for very long. And without strong sunlight, how much time would the solar cells give them? Hours? Minutes? Billy picked up his pace.

***

No one thought twice as he lowered himself into his suit. Between the long hours on duty, the neural connection to the computer, and their own bodies augmented to work with the suit and not outside it, most soldiers preferred to spend as much time suited up as possible. Some even slept in their suits, hanging inside the metal cocoons off of the staging area, emerging in the morning only to feed before returning to the safety of an environment perfectly tuned to them.

He punched in the ordnance for ground combat. That also wouldn’t generate attention. The life of a Tank was so focused that it wasn’t uncommon for off-duty soldiers to voluntarily assist in ongoing missions. The northern perimeter was assigned to five active duty Tanks, but Billy wouldn’t have been surprised if there were more than ten out in the field.

Claws dropped from the ceiling and detached his arms. His physical arms went numb as the neural connection to the suit’s nerve center didn’t have anything to connect them to. His arms glided down a track and disappeared into a storage area. The claws returned with larger arms, the hands made of cannon barrels, and the forearms embedded with specialty munitions—rockets, flame throwers, and chemical weapons. The arms were placed in position, and after several twists, the claws retracted. The suit reconnected his nerves, and Whitaker felt his arms tingle. He felt lightheaded as his brain adapted to its new arms.

The arms now attached to him could hardly be considered arms at all—with their cannons, lasers, and defensive countermeasures—but they felt entirely natural to Billy. He ran his final systems check and then took a deep breath.

Billy Whitaker, the strategic pride of Phoenix Platoon, had no idea what he was going to do.

He set off with the simple idea of just fighting his way to the village and then holding off the hostiles for as long as he could. It was a ridiculous plan. He would destroy countless hostiles, but eventually one of them would get a lucky shot or they would hit him with a cannon or, possibly, he would collapse in exhaustion.

He couldn’t see any other result. No one would come save him. He would be beyond the perimeter, and in the Tank culture of mission-suit-self, he would no longer be part of the mission. As he half-heartedly returned the wave of the technician on duty, Billy realized an even more depressing scenario: Command may just destruct his suit by remote before he even had a chance to get to the village.

His prior path out to the perimeter was now wide and clear, the thick vegetation and small trees crushed under the feet of massive suits weighing a ton each. Fallen tree limbs lay strewn along the path, and laser burns scorched the trees that were still standing. Billy checked his bearings even though he didn’t need to. The valley to the north was as clear as the perimeter line marked by the beacons he had laid earlier.

He knew that once he hit the perimeter line the path would split to the west and east, where the thump thump thump of Tank legs walking the path would be an auditory warning to the hostiles, while the pounded dirt they left behind served as a visual one. Beyond the perimeter line there would be nothing but thick vegetation and trees.

They had five tanks guarding the northern perimeter, and Billy considered that he’d have a decent chance of meeting one of the guys from his squad at some point, but when he reached the intersection he was alone. He attempted an infrared scan, but it was once again useless. He went silent and did an enhanced audio scan. He could hear an approaching Tank from the east, its telltale footsteps obvious. There was rustling all over the forest in front of him, but he couldn’t make out any voices. He heard sporadic gunfire from the north, which filled Billy with relief. The village’s defenses were still holding.

Taking a deep breath, Billy stepped over the perimeter.

Less than ten seconds later, a concerned voice filled his head. “Billy, is there a problem? We have you advancing. Have the hostiles engaged?” Billy turned off all of his comm channels. It suddenly struck him that if command didn’t know what he was up to they wouldn’t destruct his suit. He heard one of the Tanks pounding toward him so he plunged ahead.

After about fifty meters and without thinking Billy stopped for a standard initial mission assessment. As he realized what he was doing, Billy smiled grimly. He shook his head, wondering how he could assess a mission that didn’t exist. He ploughed on.

He skipped the full visual range scan and kept to human-visual. There was some movement at one o’clock. Audio picked up voices. Then there were voices at ten o’clock. He heard the click of native weaponry being armed. He cursed and charged straight north.

The gunfire started a few steps further and came from every direction. His briefing told him to expect a high volume of hand-held projectile fire, which was low-risk against the heavily armored suits. With that in mind, Billy simply ignored the constant barrage of bullets and rushed forward. His hope was to get to the village without engaging in a major firefight.

The vegetation blocked much of his visual range, but he was moving so fast that he surprised several hostiles. They were bipedal, with reptilian skin and large eyes that protruded from their heads. Their four arms made them highly efficient at firing multiple weapons, which explained the volume of fire Billy faced.

He burst past a tree and hit the last thing he had expected to see—the hostiles had created their own perimeter. It was an almost pathetic patchwork of tree trunks piled in a loose wall from east to west, hidden from the recon satellites by the dense foliage above. There were more gaps than wall, but it provided some semblance of cover. Still, it was little better than tissue paper against a Tank. What it did provide was confidence, and that worried Billy more than anything, because bullets were hitting him from every direction.

He knelt slightly and spread his arms. He felt his skin open and the weapons extend as the suit launched missile grenades at the barrier to the left and right.

Pieces of bodies and wood flew amid bright explosions. Despite the carnage, the rate of fire didn’t decrease at all. The bullets continued to bounce off his face plate, chest, and limbs. He retracted the missile launchers into his arms, strode forward, and extended the cannons that acted as his hands. High caliber bullets shred the barrier in front of him.

Screams filled the air, and Billy adjusted his aural range to focus on the low and very high ranges. He didn’t want to hear screams. He wanted to hear wood snapping, footsteps, and guns firing. He leapt the ten meters over the remaining barricade. There was a high-pitched sound from behind, and Billy switched to his rear view and initiated defensive countermeasures.

The lasers mounted at his shoulders turned and filled the woods with a lattice of deadly light. Shredded leaves fell like rain. Tree limbs fell. Anything that moved was pierced and sliced by the lasers. Three hostiles near a cannon that had been hidden fell to the ground in pieces.

But it was too late.

The first and only shot of the cannon hit him below his right shoulder, knocking him forward and to the ground.

Billy jumped to his feet and recalibrated, maxing out three hundred sixty degree countermeasures while he did field assessment. Both lasers were still functioning and were firing at anything that moved.

Bio came out normal, but the right arm of his suit was at twenty percent functionality. It was a disaster. He hadn’t even gone a hundred meters, and his suit was badly damaged. He closed his eyes, disengaged audio, and thought, the lasers flickering in the background his only distraction.

What he really needed was his squad. You can encircle a squad, but you couldn’t surprise one with a cannon shot in the back. Drops of sweat started to form on Billy’s forehead, and the suit engaged its fans.

He tried to put thoughts of the squad behind—they weren’t going to save him or the village. They would observe the perimeter. That was their mission, and if anything defined the power of the corps, it was their rabid devotion to finishing each and every mission, no matter how small—even if it meant leaving suit, civilian, or friend behind.

And in the depths of that cold knowledge, a solution formed in Billy’s head.

He turned back toward the perimeter and re-oriented the systems for maximum defense and speed. The cannons in his arms retracted, and the lasers on his shoulders switched to full power.

He leapt back over the demolished barrier and turned to the southeast. An alarm entered his consciousness. The battery was exceeding its safe operational range. Billy manually overrode the alarm. There wasn’t much he could do. The lasers took enormous power as they fired nearly continuously, and he would be traveling at speed, which also took a lot of power.

The hostiles hadn’t anticipated him rushing back south, and the cannon team was in disarray as he fell upon them. The lasers took out the hostiles, while he crushed the cannon itself with two blows from his left arm. He rushed onward, running parallel to the northern perimeter.

And there it was: the first beacon. At this point, Billy was more concerned with Command than hostiles. If they realized what he was doing, he didn’t know how they would react.

He knelt down, gunfire striking him in the back, but with the lasers wreaking destruction within close range, the projectiles had significantly slowed. He reached for the beacon. With his combat array, all he had was a small two-pronged maintenance claw. The rest of his suit was nothing but weapons. He reached for the beacon, but it slipped. God, please make this work. He wiggled the beacon and then pulled again.

It slid out.

He held the beacon against this chest with his damaged right arm. It was precarious but worked. He ran. He could hear another Tank approaching from behind and to his left. Wondering if they would try to stop him, he arrived at the second beacon. It came out easily, and he ran to the last one.

Ned was standing next to it, motionless in his suit.

Billy ignored him and knelt down and worked on the beacon. There were some explosions, and he looked up. Ned was wreaking destruction on hostiles in every direction. His missile launchers were firing in harmony with his cannons in a terrible symphony of destruction. Missiles shattered trees, cannons flattened logs, and screams bled into the upper range of Billy’s audio.

Billy stood up and opened up his external speaker.

“The perimeter is moving north, Ned.”

Ned nodded, his faceplate mirroring sunlight and falling leaves. He didn’t move.

Billy felt the heat of the battery against his skin so he turned off the lasers and put all energy into field assessment and mobility. He sprinted toward the valley. With the beacons cradled against his suit by his right arm, he had to avoid even small trees rather than just knocking them out of his way. He had every sense turned to the max. The sound of gunfire and ricochets off his suit were so constant, he tuned them out.

Focusing on sound, Whitaker avoided areas with heavy hostile audio indicators. It took him longer, but he side-stepped immediate danger. After a few hundred meters, the gunfire slowed down. He switched to full visual and could see the lasers from the village firing in the distance. He passed the village, added a fifty meter buffer, and then knelt down. The rods tumbled out of his right arm. He grabbed one with his working claw and shoved it into the dirt. He awkwardly pounded it in with the barrel of a cannon. He fumbled with the other two beacons, cradled them under his arm, and moved east.

He had just laid the second beacon when his audio warnings screamed. It was too late. A cannon shell smashed into his back and threw him forward in a rolling mass of metal. He slammed against a tree.

He engaged full countermeasures, but they were non-functional. He did an emergency assessment. The suit had cushioned his body, so his bio assessment was at ninety percent, but the suit itself was ruined. Limbs non-functioning. Legs non-functioning. Helmet mobile but visual non-functioning. All other functions failing.

Billy ignored it all.

The new perimeter was incomplete, and he had to set the final beacon. Billy engaged his emergency exit. The wires that connected his brain to his suit retracted into the box at the base of his skull. He blinked. He felt deaf and blind.

Plugs that connected the nerves up and down his arms, legs, back, and body jerked out as the carapace of his suit opened up at the chest. He never got used to suddenly having a sense deadened for hours returned to him, and the smell of forest decay, burning ozone, and dirt staggered him.

Billy Whitaker, half naked, his nerves raw, his senses overwhelmed, looked around. He heard rustling somewhere in the trees as his eyes alighted on the last beacon, lying on the ground five meters away. He half-ran half-stumbled to the beacon, picked it up, and ran east.

He surprised a hostile, who didn’t fire as Billy ran past him. Of course, they are expecting a Tank. That thought was short-lived, however, as a bullet whizzed past his head. The shot must have alerted the hostiles, for he could hear them rustling through the vegetation in every direction.

As he considered whether he had gone far enough, Billy felt a bullet smash into his left arm. He tried to turn on maximum defensive countermeasures but then realized he wasn’t in his suit. Leaves rustled and branches cracked. It’s now or never, Billy.

He stopped, pressed the edge of the beacon into the ground, and leaned all his weight against it. It slid about six inches when another bullet hit him in the leg. He fell to the ground next to the beacon, pulling it downward with his body. Another bullet hit him in the side of the chest.

Looking up, all Billy could see was green, a beautiful verdant green. In the distance, he heard a thump thump thump, and then he started to cry. He had lost his suit. He had lost his self. But the mission lived on.

–END–