When The Fog Clears

The fog was so thick it felt like it was clinging to our suits. Without the Nav HUD I’d lose all sense of space and grounding.

But it kept us hidden. The perfect cover.

Ahead of us in the shroud was the spaceport, seized by the enemy. Bastards had dropped on the location and rounded up three thousand civilians. Like a bank robber holding a victim at gunpoint.

For three days we’d walked with a pipe up our asses, having to piss and shit in tubes and eating out of another. We were starving for a steak, or at least something that required the use of our teeth.

The Thermal Attenuation Suits were our only lifeline in the fog. Without them the AI drones would spot us kilometers out. We did buddy checks every klick. Thermal diagnostics, weapon systems, air supply. If one failed, the mission failed.

We were sealed inside mechanical exosuits. Carefully monitored internal heating with highly sophisticated shielding technology. Or so they said. Deodorized air recycling and sweat collection system. It still smelled. It was a closed system, not unlike EVA suits. But this wasn’t space. This was a swamp.

I kept getting fits of shaking. Other times, constantly viewing the world from inside a visor made it all feel distant, like watching a recording. Thanks to our chief chemical officer we got the benefit of smoothing all that out for the next phase of the mission. The rest we bottled up. This was the job.

We were getting close. The deep roars from freighters and transports could be felt in the ground and as vibrations in the air. Later that evening we could make out the lights from the tower through the warm grey canvas that surrounded us on every side. It was a relief to have something the eyes could fix on at in the horizon and not relying solely on the augmented display, so I turned it off and let my eyes rest.

As soon as we could make out the dark outline of the tower we squatted behind some foliage and did one last diagnostic and visual inspection. This was the last stretch. The point of no return. Once we crossed the outer grid line we'd be in the open.

And blocking our way was a twelve-hundred-meter surveillance grid around the target. Drones in randomized patrol patterns. Advanced scopes covering the ground through infrared, heat signature and motion detection. Sleeper dogs were hidden throughout the surrounding area waiting for activation by the slightest movement. That was the intel.

I ordered a halt and took a knee to update the mission log. I marked checkpoint RUBICON, then dialed up the passive scan to maximum range. The drone count kept climbing far above what was estimated in the mission brief. Something was wrong. Before us lay an impenetrable grid of aerial drones, patrolling mecha-dogs and sensors. And those were the ones we did see.

Then everything on my HUD went dark and the suit became a statue. A low clunk settled in the power unit on my back, like a lock turning. A text appeared before my eyes.

"WEAPON ARMED".

The suit let me move again and a playback chimed in my ear. Low and calm. The voice of our commander, recorded days before.

“Sergeant. If you’re hearing this, chances are you’ve already guessed it. You’re not painting the target. You are the weapon.” He let out a sigh. “There’s no extraction, no second half of the mission. I’m sorry. But it’s the only way we break them.”

It hit like a brick. No one spoke. Just the swamp sucking at our boots, and the tower lights sharpening through the mist.

"I had the chemist cook up something special for you. That combined with your suit will make you a sledgehammer. You’ve got your targets. Give them all you got.” The commander's voice got sullen. “You’re a damn fine soldier, Hanssen. All three of you. We won’t forget this."

The recording cut to silence.

We turned and faced each other. Questions marking our faces. Then slowly, a sense of recognition. The tension in my body released. We understood. Three thousand lives were at stake.

“Guess we’re the warheads then,” Rico muttered, breaking radio silence.

I marked Proceed on the HUD. "Been a racket serving with you, boys."

"Same here, Sarge." Rico answered, with his deep steadfast voice.

Martino nodded and grinned. "Semper Fi."

I shook my head. "No, boys. This time it's Ad Finem. Faithful to the End."

The chemist had loaded us like bullets in a magazine. The commander had aimed us at the target. Now it was up to us to pull the trigger.

"Ad Finem" they both replied before we all activated our injectors. The juice surged through my veins and pushed out the emotional brew stirring inside my chest.

This was no sedative. A sharp heat burned up my spine and lit my consciousness like a floodlight. My surroundings brightened. A thousand needles pricked at my skin. All I wanted was to run. Run right around the whole damn rock we were on. None of us managed to keep this in, and we let out a cry that made my ears ring.

Alerts went up on my HUD. Incoming dogs and drones. The number kept climbing. But I didn't care. The only thing that was on my mind was the clearly marked target in my HUD and the augmented route towards it.

I moved forward. Instead of regular strides, I leaped ahead several meters. The next one was even further. Incoming drones were like swarms on my HUD. The suit went into auto defense mode and launched counter missiles targeting as many as I had a loadout for. When the missiles ran out, I pointed my arm forward and the chain gun extruded from the forearm housing. I unloaded as I leaped at the incoming mecha-dogs, smashing, shooting, trampling. I was a force.

"See you on the other side!" Rico yelled through the comms.

Then a massive drum shook the ground. The surrounding buildings lit up around me. The Transmission Tower was history.

I pressed on with a single mind. Kill. Destroy. Push forward.

Through the comms, Martino was still roaring when the Shield Generator went. This time I turned enough to catch the blast. The shockwave hit me hard and sent me tumbling. The world spun around me before the suit's AI interceded and landed me on my feet. I pressed on.

The number of drones had thinned out. I closed on my target. This was the final sprint.

The HUD cleared all other data and singled out a location twenty meters up the Air Defense Tower.  My movements in the suit didn't register anymore. The AI had taken over. The suit shot off the ground like a rocket. I was pulled into the designated target and clung to it with magnetic force.

That was it. My last run.

I managed to turn and look at the devastation from the other two blasts. Communications and shields were down. And the spaceport in the center of the installation, intact. The many souls somewhere inside praying for liberation. Above the fog our Valkyrie fleet was ready to answer those prayers once the defenses were down.

The countdown on my HUD became heartbeats. Silence engulfed me. My mind drifted to the steak I wished I'd had, just one last time. I closed my eyes and wet my mouth with a memory of the tender fibers melting on my tongue.

***

M. Rougne