I heard the recorder snap to life as the shrink hit the power button on her datapad. My newest doctor, Janine Hammond, was a theorist in the field of psychology and metapsychology. She specifically requested me, due to some of the trouble I had stirring up in J.A.M.E. Not but a year previous, I had a close encounter with the strange and unusual. The room I was in was small, but comfortable. The whir of the office fan blew between the doctor and myself, disturbing the dull silence with a mechanical hum of blades turning the air. My head rested back on my neck, and I shifted in my chair.
My wife and I decided it was for the best. Not many suffer PTSD, and can deal with the normal facets of life on a casual basis, without some sort of help. I am not a huge fan of pills or medical treatment that involes needles or electric shocks. It's almost as hokey as voodoo used to be in the past. So called "Modern Science" to me was nothing more than the treatment of problems, so long as you return to the doctor in question. There is no such thing as a cure for anything anymore. I don't 'spect this would be much different. But, my wife recommended it, and I was ready to do it for her more than myself.
"So tell me Mr. Crush," She began, as she shifted in her seat, chewing on her stylus. She didn't sound arrogant or overconfidant, like some doctors do. "Can you begin with what happened on the morning of November 17th, this last year?"
It sounded clinical, and I hated clinical. However, it was for the greater good. I complied without negativity. "Yes Ma'am," I sighed. "Lessee here, I woke up a bit more earlier than usual. My wife and unborn son had nearly stolen all the bedclothes, and I was on the edge, waking up to the morning chill. I didn't wanna disturb no one, so I got ready for work and left a message for the woman, along with information of where and when I planned on being for the next 12 hour shift." I stretched my arms out, and leaned further back into the seat that clearly was meant for an Atrox of my size and build. It amazed me to some small degree that I didn't break it right as I sat down in it. "And then what?" Dr. Hammond replied, as if waiting for instructions. "Did your shift go as planned?"
"I got cleaned up, dressed up, and ate breakfast and had my usual morning pint of coffee. But just before I actually arrived at the office, that I had gotten a wave from one of my sargeants, who had told me that one of the boys had not called in during his graveyard shift. New guy, went by the name of 'Denton'. He had been on location for nearly two weeks. Just outta the recruiters, and moved up quickly. He had been on payroll for about six months before he bid for this contract on a patrol route for one of our contractors. His job was to make sure that the route was clear, return to location, and then safeguard the supply train coming out of Hope, to an underground base near a crater in Mort, not but two dozen clicks to the northwest. The route was easily almost an hour's transit, as the chirop flies."
"What happened to Denton?" Dr. Hammond scribed my details into her datapad, with a sort of nerdy journalist type of look to her. Dressed in her office whites, and her dark rimmed glasses, she probably would have been much more attractive if she let her hair down out of the bun that was wound behind her head. A single stick was hanging out of it, in I guess what passes for asian style. I looked at her a moment, attempting to size up her curiosity, debating on just how much I could go into detail and it not shock her.
"He failed to call in, after the third check point. It placed him on the way back, about 10 minutes from the destination. A scout was dispatched, but they found no trace of Denton himself. We found what looked like tracks and near as I can tell, signs of a tussle. But, no blood. No wreckage." I took a deep breath. It has always bothered me to loose people in the field. It happens sometimes, fights break out here and there. But never, unless under an extreme set of circumstances, do we ever outright 'loose' anyone in the field.
I checked the clock on the wall of the office, the one set smartly just above the hutch of her desk. She noticed.
"How did you react to this?" She asked, locking gazes with me for a moment. She had a certain level of intensity to her, in that time. Her grey eyes were professional, if not piercing in an unsettling way.
"I immediately set to policy. I spoke to his partner, and then the two scouts that dispatch sent out. They had nothing other then the details I just gave you. It seemed that Denton just vanished, someone must have airlifted anything that was left behind, because there was nothing that would be classified as containable evidence, other than rocks and sand." I looked up at the white ceiling, and took another deep breath. "Once we all but exausted all normal plausible options, it became a manhunt after that. We took out four fire teams, and scoured the northwest quadrant of Mort for nearly 17 hours. Each team went in all four directions, and were to report anything that seemed con****uous. I lead the team that went south, which was still northeast of the Sentinel base. It was my squad team's rear guard that caught something on the scanner."
The doctor's curiosity grew, as she bit her lip somewhat. "What did they see?"
"Nothing at first. Someone was playing shadow games with us for about half a click. Whomever it was, had camouflage tech on them. The heat of the scrubby dunes had hidden them from visual. It was not but 30 minutes later that something came up on radar. A small dust cloud was forming at our northern flank, behind us and to our right. Inside the twister was a vehicle that looked like a skiff of some sort. I could not tell who it was by design. It seemed to have been built for something other than aesthetics, because we almost mistook it for nomads."
"Then what?"
"It came upon us fast. Whatever it was, was a very mobile hovercraft, complete with troop transport. It swung past us in a skid, stopped for about 5 seconds, and drop shipped two squads of Cyborgs just behind us. They dropped their tetherline, disembarked, and were on us like they had been planning it for weeks. Very efficient. My team was outnumbered 3 to one, and we were not outfitted for an actual skirmish. We were all carrying light rifles and hand to hand gear, lightly armored, in a recon formation. We had only enough time to duck and cover. I sent up the order to draw fire, while the squad scrambled to set up a defensive position behind some rocks on a hill. We had the advantage of high ground, but not much to fire behind. Our cover was small, at best. I suspect if they let us get us further north, we could have had a much more defensible position. It's no wonder why they sped in and grabbed us while we were trying to discern the problem." I grabbed my water glass, which was on the table beside the pleather and wooden monument that was my chair. "One of my squad reclaimed, within the first few seconds of gunfire. The situation looked dire, but I am no easy prey to cyborgs." I took a sip of the cool liquid, and placed the cold glass against my cheek.
"I had my radio guy wave the entire raid group. I only had a moment to really call in our position, and situation. If I spent longer than 20 seconds doing it, we would have wasted valuable regroup time. So, I made the call, shouted a few orders to the troops, and I fast enabled bioshielding as I charged them, drawing the second volley of fire. I shouted to the cyborgs as their bullets mashed against the protection of nanolayering. Several defensive charges were thrown near me, but the blasts did not throw me off balance like they had hoped. I crossed 30 yards, and was in the middle of their spearhead. Cyborgs are accurate and efficient, and they move as a cohesive unit. However, their tactics are arguably formulaic at best. This is how we manage them. They will almost always deal with the highest threat first. I actived about half a dozen nanoprograms, while the cyborgs tracked right on me. They encircled me, firing volley after volley. They must have been mashing metal into my suit for nearly 45 seconds, while my squad had been sharpshooting the flanks. Their commander stood nearly as tall as I was. A massive onslaught ensued, and he and I were tangoing the two step while out of the corner of my eye, their reinforcements were starting to home in on our postition."
Dr. Hammond looked on the edge of her seat. "Several members of my team were reclaimed in that second engagement. They altered their tactics and focused on my support, while their commander dealt with me. Like me, their commander had some grasp of nanotechnology designed to mitigate tissue damage as well. He got a few lucky blows in, dizzing me as I took it on the chin. In his left hand, he had what appeared to be a dreadloch enhanced panther. More than likely one he managed to claim as his own from a previous encounter. I fell down into the dirt, as he stood over me. Raising the piston over his head, he was about to drop it on me, when around us, several hunters warped in via the grid. It was our rapid search and rescue team, with one of my best companions, Cascius, at command. Cascius ordered several people to lay down fire while he began to spam his long range healing on what was left of me and my squad. The cyborg commander looked in their direction and I used that distraction to kick him in the junk."
The doctor blinked. I needed something to break the tension. "Ok, I realize how dumb that sounds. But it was the first thing I could think of." My excited hand motions were also telling my story. Janine mocked a grin for me, and I wasn't sure if she was amused, or just humouring me.
"I kipped up, swung my leg out, taking the cyborg off balance. He grabbed me by the shoulderpad and we both wheeled into the dust. I had beat on him what seemed like minutes past. The barking sounds of gunfire had dulled into the background. Nothing mattered to me at that point in time. All around me, the drone of bullets, shouts, and people dying just sorta coalesced into nothing behind my head. I rolled and managed to get the mount position on the general. My sword had fumbled away in the brawl. I had nothing left by my bare fists. Somewhere in the middle of the battle, I could have swore I had seen Denton's face. But I was so angry, that I couldn't focus or concentrate on what was going on around me. I only knew that it was me or this guy. And I decided that there were just gunna have to be two dead people here, because there is no way I was gunna die alone."
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