Breaking Ranks

Samantha: Death to Regulation Breakers

My HUD pinged with a new location; a cluster of trees and rocks beside the thin trail of smoke. I stalked forward like a wraith in the night, flanking the group of huddling figures that lit up our thermal imaging goggles. Henderson crept forward, perhaps thirty meters distant, while the others snuck close in an enveloping vise.

I stayed silent and hushed as I positioned myself behind a stout tree. The moment felt so still, so quiet, that when the sergeant's voice transmission came through I half-jumped in surprise.

"Do you see any weapons?"

I scanned the area. "Nothing here," I reported, Henderson chiming in agreement after a moment.

"A couple with swords," Potter reported.

"I see them too," Kaltran responded.

"Alright, here's what we're going to do. Potter, Kaltran, get into a good firing position and take out the ones with swords. Once they're down we move in. Don't shoot the others unless you have to... yet. I want to give them a stern talking-to about breaking Regulations."

I raised my assault rifle, crouching low, stepping forward under the cover of bushes and low trees. I suppose this must simulate what life on Earth must have been like for the Ancients. No doubt there were many times when one tribe stalked another, crouching outside their smoldering fire pit, but at least we had the benefit of communicators and modern weaponry.

"Firing," Potter said, and a moment later the sharp crack of his rifle sounded, followed a half-second later by a rattling burst from Kaltran's machine gun. I bounded forward, seeing the startled faces turn to me, and stormed out of the undergrowth with my rifle pointed at the chest of the closest.

A man, with a short salt-and-pepper beard, looking over at me in fright. Beside him others had fallen to the ground, men, women, and children. Quite a few children.

"On the ground!" I shouted, then grabbed the man's shoulder and sped his way down when he hesitated. Around the clearing the others had arrived, shouting and forcing them down, children wailing in dismay. One of them looked over, tears streaming down her face.

"Father! Father, no!"

I turned to look over, at the bloody carcass where she was looking. The man had taken Kaltran's burst of fire full in the chest. He must have been dead before what was left of him hit the ground... much consolation that would be. An axe lay beside him. Or a hatchet, perhaps.

"Don't touch my Ella," one of the men snapped, but he fell silent as Sergeant Gunnarson swiveled his assault rifle to face him.

I blinked as I heard the name. My mother was named Ella. Strange to hear it spoken here as well.

"On that fire, Henderson," the sergeant snapped, kicking a recalcitrant woman to the ground. "Get it out, now!"

Henderson strode forward, stomping it out with his armored boot, pitching the rest of us into utter darkness. It was easy enough to look over the captives with night vision but now they were left in darkness. Unable to hear us, unless we chose. Left with a confused blur of a sudden attack, a few quick deaths, and now nothing to do but lay on the ground and fear the worst.

"Potter, Henderson, bring it in. There's not too much to worry about from this bunch," the sergeant said, pacing around the edge of the camp. Between him, me, and Henderson, they were all covered by our rifles. Not that it was necessary. There really never had been anything to worry about from them.

"Sergeant, I think this may be a family," I said over the comm after a moment.

"Leave the assumptions to the veterans," he replied in annoyance. "Multiple adult males, multiple females, and what, seven children?"