Cyberdoom: Chapter 1

The landscape was baron. As the dust cleared the source of a devastating noise become apparent. Amongst the mist a tall figure eclipsed the sun, towering up into the sky. Looking up, and not yet discovered; the Corporal slowly and cautiously crept back to try and move to shelter behind some fallen debris on the battlefield, to be out of site of this mechanical monster. The noise was deafening, the machine seemed to scream out over the landscape with a hydraulic sound, bursts of steam shooting from vents in its huge limbs with every movement.

As he hid away from view, the machine raised one of its huge feet whilst making a gigantic step over where he was hidden, before slamming the foot down to the ground once more.  The earth shook under the thunderous sound; all dust on the ground vibrated. Within one step the machine was above him, for now it seems that he had evaded its eyes.  He jumped to the other side of the debris and watch as the machine took each step, walking with such disregard for the surroundings, crushing structure with each massive foot plant. Clutching his rifle tightly, he tried to steady his shaking breath.  If caught by that thing, he was surely dead, while it walked away he could relax to know that he lived to fight another day, but just as he felt his safety improving, the machine stopped walking. Beyond him this figure paused, its head moving from side to side, a laser from its eyes scanning the ground beneath it. He could feel his breath beginning to tremble; it was just him against the machine. All alone he waited, but he would never be able to out wait the machine, but he could never take it on by himself.

It seemed like a life time had passed, the machine had been scrutinising the ground around it, obviously in search of something. He was certain that it wasn’t him otherwise he would have been dead long ago. The machine seemed persistent in one area, every now and then its lasers pin pointing an area to focus on. Just a light caught his eye, a flickering of reflection behind a heap of twisted metal. A few flashes and then nothing, maybe it was just the light catching some metal in the wind. Then it happened again, this time faster- the same pattern. It was too coincidental to be the wind; it was a code.  Behind the wreckage, once the light had passed, he saw a young soldier looking his way. The light trick was to get his attention without the huge towering beast above him being alerted. The young soldier waved wildly, making no sense at all, his hands pointed up in the direction of the mechanical beast above him. It seemed like it was a cry for help rather than signals of tactics but there was nothing he could do, with only a rifle it was needles against the thunder. The young soldier looked even more out of luck, blood stained and helpless, hiding like a frightened rabbit behind the wreckage, the machine breathing over him.

All the pair of them could do was wait, both eyeing each other up, looking for a chance to move. With glances, the young soldier peered above the wreckage which covered him maybe in hope that the beast had vanished somehow- no luck. The machine still stood fixed although more lifeless than before, it seemed that it had paused its search for now. The young soldier seemed eager to make a run for it, looking at the machine and then around him, but having to be commanded to stay put by his friend, the Corporal, across the way. The machine may be dormant but it was still very much alert. Crawling on his hands and knees around the side of the wreckage he peered up towards the machine; it moved none.  Watching from a distance the Corporal watched as the young soldier cheated death with the machine, crawling out inches at a time to one of the giant feet which were heavily fixed to the floor. Each time he looked across to his friend for reassurance who was looking for any movement in the machine, nothing at the moment. The young soldier edged closer, this time managing to get to the giant foot. The Corporal had no idea what he planned to do whilst there, it seemed he was hell bent on getting beneath the machine, but to do what was unknown. Creeping around the foot he managed to get underneath the giant machine, this was a miracle in itself; the Corporal could only admire the young soldier’s courage. He seemed somewhat pleased with himself as he sat beneath the undercarriage of the machine, covered in its shadow but in unimaginable danger. If the machine woke now, the young soldier would never be able to run in time.

The young soldier sat with his back against the massive foot of the mechanical beast, looking across to the Corporal with some sort of arrogances at his achievements.  He slumped down and relaxed in his new spot, taking a swig from his flask with no care in the world. The Corporal watched this seemingly courageous but careless act whilst looking up at the towering machine which stood idle.  Waving, the young soldier urged the Corporal to join him, why? It all seemed like such a pointless activity.  What would they do once there? Shaking his head he denied the opportunity to join this man on his quest for nothing.

Watching still, the young soldier remained taking swigs from his flask, looking around carelessly, but now thinking how he should remove himself from this situation. Seemingly he was safe, obviously in a blind spot of the machine, but he couldn’t stay there forever.  As the soldier climbed to his feet, a loud clunk sounded! Freezing still he looked around, pushing himself up against the giant foot.  He looked over nervously at the Corporal whom eyes were fixed in fright at the beast. Waving for attention the young soldier was unable to deter the gaze of the Corporal. Just then more noises came from above, like a motor starting. The young soldier started to shake. Jets of steam shot out from vents in the machine it started to move. The young soldier looked for assistance; the Corporal ran behind wreckage and watched as the huge machine came to life, seemingly stretching its self up as it woke from its sleep. 

The Corporal watched as the young soldier panicked beneath the machine, now crawling on all fours in random directions within the shadow of the beast above. With one giant movement one of the feet began to lift. The soldier shaking with fear at his exposure looked in all directions for an answer before taking the leap and making a run towards the Corporal. Shaking his head furiously for him to turn back the Corporal watched as the young soldier came running towards him, exposing him to the sunlight and in full view of everything. As he ran; the dust kicked up from his steps, the beast behind him alerted to his escape.

For a machine as big as it was, it moved quickly to focus its sites on the fleeing target. As the young soldier got closer the Corporal began to wave him in, shouting words of encouragement as his feet began to tire and his breathing got heavy. The terror in his eyes was immense as the machine began to turn towards him. A distance to go, he ran, as fast as he could, the beast in the distance focused on him. Running more, the Corporal watched as a red beam appeared in the smoke and traced across the floor from one of the arms of the machine. It moved up behind the soldier fleeing until it focused on his back. He shouted towards the soldier just as the guns spoke. A hail of bullets from the beast cut the soldier down, tearing through his flesh and spraying blood all over the Corporal before falling lifeless to the floor in what was now a bloody pulp in a human shape. Now exposed the Corporal stood dripping, frozen in fear as the machine turned to him. He watched as that terrifying beam traced at his feet, up his legs and to his chest before the noise spoke once more.

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Clutching his chest he woke into a nightmare, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum, sweat dripping from his body; soaking his old bed clothes below. He sat in a semi relief but soon fell back into his bunk breathing deeply and still hearing his racing pulse throbbing in his ears.  It was a comforting sound compared to that of the distant drone of explosions and thunderous gun fire.  He lay there, staring into the black, his shadow flickering on the ceiling above him, dancing in the light of a bare candle by his bed side.  He rested his eyes. In the distance he heard the shouts, the cries of the wounded, and then the patter as the rain started.  The drops became heavier; bouncing off of the stacked creates outside his makeshift room before leaving a heavy smell of freshly soaked mud in the air. He always loved that smell; it reminded him of a much sweeter time.

It seemed like the chaos outside had died down, or at least the noise of the storm had drowned it out. Either one was good for his ears; the rain was usually a welcome relief as long as it wasn’t your turn on the line. Rising from his bunk he rubbed his dry eyes, they were sore from the lack of sleep, and all the Corporal wanted to do was curl back into his bunk but the nightmares every night kept him from resting easy. It was the same dream every time, a different location, a new situation, but the same ending. A play out of a situation he had seen many times, and a reminder of the dawn of the new era.  Sitting on the edge of his bunk he felt his chest, running his finger tips across the risen scars and stitches in his skin. The bullet scars had left crater like holes in his chest and his burnt flesh rippled as it covered his shoulder, wrapping around his left arm and waist. He was lucky to be alive, at least most would think so.  His weariness of a seemingly unbeatable war was hard to shift, being a leader of men he was called on to inspire the young and give them hope. How could this be so when he had none? Unlike his superiors who played war games from desks and behind the fields of paper work, he had seen the enemy with his own eyes many times and was almost killed just as much.

He stretched his back and took the candle from his bedside to light the hanging lanterns around the rest of his room. The power supply in these parts had been down since the machines had bombed the generator station a few weeks back. Since then there had been no lights in the trench homes and the place had to resort to the workings of the humble candle.  It wasn’t perfect but the subtle light gave a kind of cosy glow to the room.  It was the best that could be done with mud walls and a mock up planked floor with a canvas flap as a door which did nothing but flap around wildly as the rain beat down hard. At the makeshift sink, the Corporal splashed his face with water from a bucket of cold water and took a mouthful from his hands before spitting it into the sink. Wiping away the dust from the cracked mirror he looked at himself. The reflection stared back as a tired and battered man, seemingly twice his age and not resembling the man he once was, “This war had taken everything” he thought, touching the scars on his chest, “almost.....” 

The rain got harder as the night went on, thunder sounded loudly ahead. It seemed like the machines had a dislike for the bad weather just as the soldiers in the Corporals trenches did. It was a somewhat mutual peace time in the camps, the machines didn’t seem to want to attack and the men were more than happy not to retaliate, although one was always ready. It was nights like these when conditions were at their worst, life seemed at its sweetest. The Corporal now somewhat refreshed, rummaged around his bedside table through an assortment of empty pill bottles which lay sprawled out across the place. Since his last encounter with the machines he had been dosed on a cocktail of medication.  A wild concoction of pain killers and sedatives got him through the days and helped him sleep with a mix of pills to keep him awake. At this time his head throbbed wildly with no meds amongst the pile of empty bottles to assist him. It was just his way, leaving it to the time he has a headache to get medication rather than stocking up before like everyone tells him to. It was doubtful that the infirmary would still have stock. Since the machines became more hostile there was a lack of a lot of things around here. Supplies were scarce and the deliveries had to be made less frequent and less scheduled so the machines couldn’t predict when to strike. Although till now this plan had worked well and the supplies had more success in reaching the soldiers, in the time between it was becoming more difficult to cope with the strain on resources.  Clearing the empty bottles into his pocket and blowing out the candles the Corporal pulled his heavy trench boots and raincoat on before preparing to walk into the rain, lifting his hood over his head.

Outside the rain was hard but walking close to the trench wall gave a little bit of shelter from the battering wind.  It was a thin walkway, just wide enough for two men with a high wall on the left and room openings and makeshift streets on the right. The crude planked floor was caped in a mud layer about an inch thick which had been washed down from the mud walls. Soldiers along the path wedged wooden struts and beams against the wall to stop the flooding while scooping the flowing water away from the doorways of the rooms and offices dug into the dirt. Through the flapping canvas doors the Corporal could see into the other rooms. Guys behind desks lit by candle light working hard while others plotted on maps in dark corners.  As he walked further on the corridor became a little wider and a sort of dug in community appeared. The soldiers had made the place as close to home as they could by naming the streets and erecting signposts on the corners, each street having a somewhat humours, but fitting label. It was interesting that in times as desperate and troubled as these, that man still maintained a sense of humour about the situation and found joy in such small things. Somewhere between Dead Man’s Climb and Officers Row the Corporal turned into a room, wiping his boots on the rough mat by the entrance and pulling down his hood.

At a table in the corner a man sat arched over a desk lit dimly by the candles. He sat there quietly writing in a book with a stubby pencil which had seen better days “hey,” the man said quietly “how you been Joe?” His throat was sounding a little rough as he spoke while still writing in his book. The Corporal walked towards the desk and pulled himself a chair and sat down “not too bad,” the Corporal answered as he picked up an old photograph from the desk of two men and a girl standing together. With seeing the young men in the picture looking full of youth and beaming with ambition, the Corporal ran his fingers across his shaved head before yawning. Looking at the photo he grinned “what happened to these guys?” He said jokingly with a smile as the man at the desk looked up and then down at the picture.

Slouching back on his chair and tossing the pencil down on the desk, Aiden stretched his arms and cracked his neck as he rolled it to one side, before taking off a battered pair of glasses and throwing them to the desk also. He seemed frustrated, although Aiden was never the most relaxed of people in any situation, a complete contrast to his brother who seemed to remain calm in the most chaotic of conditions.  He pulled himself out of his chair rubbing his eyes and made his way over to another desk in the corner and fumbled around with the bottles and jars that lay on top, looking even more agitated as he did so. “The supply train didn’t make it this week but hopefully these should help for now” he said as he pulled a couple of dirty brown containers from the shelf and tossed them to his brother, “it got hit coming in by them damn raptors so we are low on everything really. I just had to log it all down. It’s the third time in a row, we really need those supplies. I have guys coming in needing medical help and I can’t do anything,” he said as he gestured to line of injured men lying helpless in a room, divided by a curtain.

The raptors, as they were known, were small enemy self controlled fighter craft. Usually scouts sent out over the terrain to pick out or recon any new activity. They were hard to fight and often avoided detection due to their almost silent movement. Giving off only a whistle, they past by at an astonishing speed leaving a loud sonic boom in their wake like an arrogant reminder that they had been and gone without contest. They would fly high above and sometimes vanish on the horizon but would strike with deadly accuracy. Within the last couple of months the raptors had destroyed three convoys of supplies over the wastelands, cutting off the trenches from the main headquarters and crippling the war efforts on the front line.

Joe looked at the containers in his hand, wiping the faded label with his thumb and trying to make out the smudged print. It didn’t seem to make a difference, inside the pots was a concoction of different coloured pills all mixed together for what was probably a lethal cocktail. In desperate times it was a matter of take whatever you could get, and with the supply trains down, this looked like it had to do. Aiden said no more; he returned to busying himself with his bookwork, whether it was a hint to Joe’s departure was unclear so he took it as a good time to leave.  He stood without a word and pulled on his heavy, mud ridden coat before walking once more into the rain.

“How did we get into this mess?” He whispered silently to himself whilst looking up into the quiet night sky. Deep down, he knew exactly how. The entire thing had unfolded in front of him, but was disregarded by the eyes of an innocent. He stood in the still of night, rain pattering down his hood and washing the mud further down his body. It was pitch black apart from a few glows of lanterns swinging from posts along the makeshift streets, and the moon gave a shimmering, silver pathway across the wet dirt. The stars were bright tonight, as they always were. From the trenches, it was like the gods had punched a thousand pinholes in the night, well, if you believed in that sort of thing Joe thought. It was hard to believe in anything anymore. There was one star among them all that he looked at every night since he was young, the planet of Mars. For some reason to him it seemed so much brighter than the rest. It was the subject of such curiosity and wonder as a child. Now it had his focus for a much sinister purpose.........