Retirement

Smokes breathed calmly once more. Death was a welcome rest for him, brief seconds of quiet solitude in amongst the chaos. As he came too in the respawn tube, he coughed wheezily and wiped his eyes with a crooked arm. They tell you that genetic sequencing can recreate you perfectly, but in reality your mind and body only hold together for the first thousand lives. Now, he was just a confused, lame old dog.

Suddenly, an angry buzz beside him made him jump. A dark pit of realisation opened up inside of him. He’d heard the stories. Ten thousand deaths.

Sure enough, when he opened his eyes Sergeant Hallam was standing there in his battered blue armour, flanked by two young troopers. He mashed nicotine with a lazy jaw.

Smokes sighed deeply, holding himself up at the threshold of the spawn tube with a trembling hand.

“You know, don’t you?”

Sergeant Hallam nodded respectfully, a frown on his grizzled face.

“You know it ain’t nothin’ personal Captain. It’s just regulations.”

The two young soldiers beside him shifted nervously, fingers on the trigger of their rifles.

“Do you know they do to soldiers in retirement?” Smokes murmured towards the floor, rage welling up within him.

“Yessir, I do.”

“I WON’T be vegetated like the others. I’m a Conglomerate war hero goddammit!”

Hallam beckoned him with an armour-plated hand. “Come on Smokes, this don’t have ta be difficult.”

Smokes clung stubbornly to the glowing tube casing. After a few seconds, Hallam lowered his arm, staring at the ground as if in deep thought.

“I tell ya what, Smokes. You take me down, I let it go. You’ll be free until they catch ya. I owe that to ya at least.”

Hallam unstrapped his rifle, letting it clang dully on the metal floor. The two young soldiers glanced in surprise. One raised his gun.

“Sir, this isn’t… “

“STAY OUT OF IT HOWIE!” Hallam roared. “Get out of here, both of ya! No one touches Smokes!”

The two buzzcut men stepped tentatively backwards out of the metal-lined spawn room, shaking their heads. Hallam unclipped his blue nanoweave chest plate, throwing it to the wall, and drew a long, glowing knife from his side holster. A second he slid across the floor to rest at Smokes’ feet. Hands trembling, he recouped the naked blade.

“I won’t hold back, Smokes.” Hallam said flatly, crouching lithely into hand-to-hand combat position.

Smokes’ knees creaked noisily as he followed suit. He nodded respectfully.

“You’re a good man, Hallam. No quarter.”

Suddenly, Smokes launched forward, his first thrust parried sideways by Hallam’s knife arm. The broad Sergeant punched his free hand into Smokes’ chest. The old trooper tumbled, his lungs heaving as he clattered backwards onto the steel plating.

Harris lunged downwards with the point, stabbing through a grate just inches from where Smokes lay. His second jab sliced through the back of the bedraggled veteran, who rolled away, clattering into the wall.

As Hallam leapt for the coup de grace, Smokes turned, desperately twisting his knife hand into the air at random. He struck the landing Sergeant dead in the heart. Hallam gasped, spitting blood as his strong legs gave way, his head drifting towards the cold floor. His wide eyes pulsed with agony. For a few breathless seconds he stared at Smokes, his lips moving rapidly with shuddering whispers.

“Ea – East. Go east, Smokes… The ca- canyons.”

Inured to the suffering before him, Smokes hauled himself up without emotion. His back stung from the knife wound. He’d had thousands before. He knew could make it. He grabbed Hallam’s sinking hand and shook it firmly.

“Take care of the boys.”

He limped unsteadily to the glowing spawn exit, his back trailing blood along the bullet-ridden wall. Turning back once more, Hallam was immobile, expelling his final, ragged breaths on the floor of the spawn room.

“Thanks, Hallam. It’s been a pleasure serving with you.”

Hallam couldn’t return the compliment. He whispered groggily to himself as the world faded before him.

“Ha – Happy retirement Smokes. Y- You earned it.”