Scarapace CH1 ~ Journey into the unknownA Chapter by Carbon MuseThe rear escort bounced along over the rocky terrain of the desert pass. Its camouflage no longer desert beige, but a dull rust color from the red sand kicked up by the troop transport lumbering ahead.
The soldier reached down between his feet and grabbed a water bottle from
the floor-boards. “So, where are we headed Sarge?”
he asked as he proceeded to drain it of its contents, water dribbling down his
chin.
“These runs are need to know only, Private…” his sergeant replied, yanking
the steering wheel hard to the left as he swerved to avoid a boulder too tall
to clear the chassis.
“Wowha!” Caught off guard by the
vehicle's sudden movement, the private slammed into the passenger door dropping
the bottle and spilling the remaining liquid on his lap. The empty bottle, bouncing around on the
floor before coming to rest next to his boot.
“Need to know? That doesn’t make
sense Sarge… Seeing as I was issued the
orders, wouldn’t that mean I would need to know?”
Rolling his eyes, the sergeant glared at him and snarled, “Don’t question
me, Private, didn’t they teach you anything in basic!”
“huh?” came the response as the private rubbed at his now soaking wet
crotch with the sleeve of his combat jacket.
Sighing, the sergeant just shook his head, keeping his gaze on the rough
terrain ahead. “Never mind, just keep a
sharp lookout.” ‘What did I ever do to
deserve this, this kids going to get us all killed’ he thought to himself.
“I don’t understand it Sarge, I don’t see what’s so important about this
troop transfer. These soldiers have only
just been released from hospital and it’s not like there is a rehab facility
this far out in the desert … nor are they ready for reassignment,” he frowned
as he steadied the rifle cradled between his legs.
The sergeant gritted his teeth and in a sudden violent outburst, roared at
him, “I SAID IT’S NEED … TO … KNOW, PRIVATE!
Now put your cover where it belongs before a sniper does me a favor and
aerates your head!”
The private, jumping at the sudden outburst, found himself tucked up
against the seat and the door, his hand holding onto the leather strap dangling
from the roof. Realizing he had nowhere
to go, he fumbled with the combat helmet on his lap and placed it on his head,
only to start grabbing at it as he realized it was the wrong way
around. Taking it off again, he acted as
though he was inspecting the lining, nodded to himself and fastened it back on
his head, this time the right way around.
Scanning the horizon, he puffed out his chest and
proclaimed, “All clear, Sir!”
Closing his eyes, the sergeant said a silent prayer, his knuckles turning
white as he gripped the steering wheel.
“How long till we get there, sir, I need to relieve myself.”
With that, the sergeant’s neck muscles gave way, his head rebounding a
couple of times as he banged it against the steering wheel.
***
For what seemed like the hundredth
time, she tucked the canvas flap of the tailgate around the corner post, just
to have it fly back out and flap in her face.
The troop transport was in dire need of an overhaul and it
showed. With each bump, the suspension
would creak and grown and the occupants would get jostled around without mercy. The hard steel benches they were sitting on,
burning hot from the desert heat, were no better. Part of the bench facing her was starting to
collapse to one side and the soldier’s unfortunate enough to be seated on it
had to clench the edge or risk sliding to the floor.
“NO!” bellowed the soldier as the transport lurched over a bolder. He clenched his fist and thumped it on the
side of the cab, yelling in frustration, “Take it easy would you!” bending down
to pick up the playing cards that had spilled out onto the floor.
“Settle down, they can’t hear you, you know,” said the soldier sitting
opposite him. “Always wondered why the
driver cab gets an inch thick armor plating while we sit under nothing but a
canvas tarp.”
Glaring at the soldier, he shook the few cards he had managed to recover
thus far, “I told you to keep the deck in your hand Vix!”
Vix just shrugged, “Hey buddy, I only have one hand you know,” he smiled as
he waved the fan of cards at him and continued re-arranging them.
Oblivious to the banter she stared out into the distance, her mind
replaying the same memory over and over again when something caught her
eye. Shielding her eyes against the
glaring sun, she half stood up to get a better look. “Raven!” she shouted with surprise and
pointed at the sky.
“WHAT!” came the reply almost in unison from the rest of the occupants,
“What in the name of all that is holy is it doing out here in this waste!”
exclaimed one of the voices.
Almost all the occupants were now standing bent over at the rear of the
lumbering transport, pushing and shoving to catch a glimpse of the VTOL* as it
roared overhead.
“Man, what I wouldn’t give to be in one of those right now,” Vix sighed.
“Forget it,” groaned the soldier behind him, “You blew it, they wouldn’t
let you pilot a dropship
let alone a fighter, not after that stunt you pulled.”
“Screw you Fuse! I didn’t blow
anything!” he yelled as he shoved Fuse onto the floor.
“Shut up all of you and sit down!” a stern voice bellowed over the
commotion. They turned to face the
soldier sitting in the middle of the bench and looked at him in shock. With his arms folded he raised his head, a
jagged line running from his left brow down to his cheekbone. The white gauze covering his eye stained pink
with the red desert dust. “Look, we all
got a raw deal here, none of us deserved to be shipped off to some god forsaken
post for who knows what reason, now sit down!”
Fuse picked himself up from the floor and stared at him “Where are
they taking us anyway Sarge?”
“I said SIT DOWN!” the Sergeant hissed.
At that moment, the transport
lurched again. Those that were still
standing became airborne and seemed to float in mid-air before they came
crashing down on top of each other.
Having gone airborne with the rest of the occupants, she crashed down
hard onto the steel tailgate, lucky not to have been ejected from the vehicle
altogether.
“Good god that was uncalled for.” Fuse,
holding his head, started searching under the benches for his cards that flew
out of his hand when he took flight.
The sergeant sighed and shook his head.
“I swear Fuse you have to be the most insubordinate soldier I have ever
come across. Didn't the incident in
Sacris teach you anything...”
Fuse jumped at the comment, hitting his head against the bench he was
searching under and muttered, “I thought you just said none…”
“Shut up Fuse and deal a new hand would you!” Vix moaned.
Crawling out from under the bench, Fuse stared up at him. “All right, all right, keep your cammies on,”
he retorted as he pulled himself onto the bench and squared the deck of cards.
Vix, nursing his elbow, looked towards the back of the transport, “So what
about you ‘deadeye’, you’re the only one not from our platoon and I don't
recognise you from our company either, where did you fall out?”
“My name is not ‘deadeye'!” she cringed, still sitting on the floor with
her back against the bench where she had ended up after her brief introduction
to the tailgate. Her combat jacket
draped over her shoulders, she clutched at her right arm with her free hand.
“Could have fooled me, you sure spotted that fast mover long before we even heard it,” he retorted.
The soldier, seated next to him, dropped his cards and placed his hand over
Vix's mouth as he moved towards her, the transport jumping and jostling beneath
his feet, threatening to topple him over onto his companions.
"Mutts be mig oidea 8Ball!” Vix
mumbled through 8Ball's fingers.
8Ball knelt down next to her and studied her face. "What have we here," he smiled as
he noticed the tell-tail beads of sweat appearing on her brow, her complexion
as white as a sheet.
"Don't any of you listen to your commanding officer!" she hissed
as she glared up at him.
"Easy soldier, I'm just going to take a peek," he reassured her
as he lifted her combat jacket from her right shoulder. "That can't be good..." he commented
to himself as he studied the crimson stain growing on the bandage.
She cringed, turning her head to the side as he undid the bandage and
lifted the gauze. A single tear tracing
a line down her dust-covered cheek as he examined the open gash in her shoulder.
“That impression of a hummingbird tore your stitches.” He sighed, inhaling through his teeth as he
inspected the wound.
Trying to hide the smile spreading across her face, she dug her nails into
her thigh as he poked and prodded at her shoulder.
“This is no good.” he murmered, tossing the blood soaked bandage out the
back of the transport. “I don’t have a
field kit on me. I will have to make do
with a patch job.” 8Ball tore one of the
sleeves from his olive T-Shirt and wrapped it around her shoulder. “That should hold it for the moment, but you
need to get to the base medic when we get there.” He frowned and thought for a moment, “where
ever that is.”
Looking at her shoulder she studied the patch job, “Thanks... I guess...
You’re the medic I suppose?” she asked.
“That’s right, you can call me 8Ball,” he said with a goofy grin on his
face. 'Not as frail a little bird as you
make out to be, are you', he wondered to himself as he studied her deep blue
eyes. Her gaze, cold and calculating,
sent shivers down his spine. He was
about to return to his seat when he brushed against her by accident, allowing
her combat jacket to drop from her other shoulder. "Uh...", 'Tha ... that
insignia! I've seen it before!' His eyes grew wide as he studied the tattoo
on her shoulder. 'Wha ... what! That can't be!' Counting the symbols below the insignia, his
heart stopped in his chest, a cold chill creeping through his body.
Puzzled, she frowned at him, trying to make sense of the curious name. “8Ball?”
8Ball nodded, relaxing his gaze as he draped her field jacket over her
shoulders again “… long story, I will tell you some other time when you are not
in pieces.” He held out his hand to her
as she tried to hide another smile, shaking her head.
“Thanks, but if it’s all the same, I’d rather stay closer to the floor this
time.”
Shrugging, he pointed at her shoulder, “How did you manage that
anyway.”
With a blank expression, she looked back over the tailgate as though they
had never spoken, the wind sucking loose strands of her blonde hair out towards
the desert.
“Suit yourself,” resigned 8Ball, bumbling back to his seat. Sitting back down on his bench, he made a
gesture with his fingers on his thigh.
His sergeant nodded in silent acknowledgement, none of the other occupants seeming
to notice the exchange. ‘That can’t be
right … something’s wrong here …' the sergeant thought, a grim expression
spreading over his face.
"Don't lie! I can clearly see
the card tucked under your leg Vix!"
Fuse, standing over Vix, clenched his fist as he ripped the ace of
spades from under Vix's leg.
"Don't look at me," Vix replied, holding his hands in the air,
"You’re the one supposedly picking the cards back up from the floor."
"Why you! Don't think you can
worm your self out of this one you cheat!"
Fuse glared at Vix, raising his clenched fist, and froze. "What the!" The two of them stared at each other. The odd sensation of the vibrations still
reverberating through their bodies, yet the jostling had stopped.
"Hey! 'deade...', lass ... uh
... whatever your name is god damn it!
What are you staring at?"
She sighed as she stared over the tailgate.
“Specialist Cassidy if you must know. And to answer your question, nothing …
there’s nothing, it’s smooth as silk.”
The two rushed over to where she sat and gawked at the smooth surface
streaking away behind the transport.
“There’s not a ripple or a stone.
Not even a pebble,” Vix remarked, as he studied the powdery
surface.
“Deserts are smooth, you dumb-a*s,” remarked Fuse, shoving Vix aside so he
could get a better look.
“Not in this region you clout!” Vix
retorted as he clobbered Fuse over the head with his fist.
Fuse, once again having to nurse his head, retreated back to his corner and
sat brooding with his arms folded.
"Stop bashing my head in will yah!"
Vix looked back at their escort, the desert dust trailing off the bodywork
in wisps as it sped along. Deep in
thought he lowered himself down to sit on the bench across from her but just as
he was about to sit, someone behind him yelled out.
“Get off you mutt!”
“Sor... Sorry Hopper! Geeze, you’ve
been so quite I thought we lost you out the back.”
“I was sleeping you insensitive brute!” Hopper planted her right boot on Vix’s
rear and shoved him towards the sergeant.
“Sit down Vix, I think we’re almost
there.”
“Hey? What you mean Sarge?” Vix
enquired as he plodded down next to the sergeant.
“I have a hunch.”
Vix just rolled his eyes and leaned back against the side gate, his head
bobbing against the canvas tarp. © 2015 Carbon MuseAuthor's Note
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5 Reviews Added on November 29, 2015 Last Updated on December 1, 2015 Tags: Science Fiction, Military, War, Saga Author
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