Outside the Wire

JANUARY- 2507. SHEEPDOG MINDSET.

“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE!” The squad leader held up his rifle next to the airlock. “Masks on, heads on a swivel! Locals are jumpy. Arrests last week got the poor blokes spooked.” Jak rushed to pull the straps of his breathing mask tight, helmet hanging by its strap in his off hand. “Still a perfectly normal patrol, soldiers. Through the marketplace, around by the slums, rendezvous with Second Squad, and around to the square. Make sure everything is nice and sorted, then we head back home. Understood?”

A chorus of affirmation rang out from the assembled troopers in the airlock, and the lights flashed as the chamber equalized. The harsh suns beat down against Jak’s exposed neck as he shrugged his rifle back around to a collapsed ready. He tugged at his earpro, sitting uncomfortably against one of the elastic straps of his polarized facemask. He wouldn't die if he took the mask off, sure, but there were plenty of local diseases he wasn't rushing to catch. Welcome to the Sandtrap, I guess.

He glanced down at the brushed electrum finish on his rifle, the edges of the weapon’s silhouette fading into the dirt and sand below his boots. The gates of the FOB— the first set, anyways— swung open, its outer doors laying in looming wait. Last month a squad had been found in the entertainment district, hung from the side of a pub with their own atmosphere hoses. He didn't want to be next. He tapped at the base of the magazine, the electromagnetic weapon sitting uneasily in his hands. He didn't hate the locals. Most were pretty good people.

If he had to, he'd drop any one of them in a second.

It had been five years since he'd signed up to defend his way of life, just like his father had before him. He'd had the pleasure of traveling the stars, meeting new people, and ensuring good, responsible governance was upheld across the whole frontier. Service was the family legacy, and he'd had a pretty good time of it until they'd sent him here. Everyone back home had made it all out to be great fun. Jak suspected none of them had made it this far out into the Frontier. The people out here were skeptical of the central authorities; De-Integrationism, with the terror and insurgency that came alongside, ran rampant.

Aside from that, the town was kind of nice, honestly. Jak had been to plenty of unpleasant planets, and this latest tour was no exception— but the small city they'd been encamped alongside had some charm. It was home to the only spaceport in the system, and great fueling ships launched out of the astrodrome every other day or so, destined to a mix of civilian freighters and Navy warships in orbit. This planet wouldn't have been of much interest without its helium-3-rich ilmenite deposits; scattered across the sands of the planet’s vast deserts from impacts with the shards of a fallen moon. It was only barely habitable, a sweltering affair on the inside of the star’s habitable zone. Jak had long taken to wearing the sleeveless variant of the uniform, and while it had started when he'd wanted to show off his new tattoos to the rest of the guys, they'd all come around to doing the same once they got here. He was glad he didn't burn easily.

They were marching for the marketplace. Their patrols, as much as they were for the purpose of finding and dissuading any troublemaking, served a second purpose. They showed the flag, and they showed the might of the state behind it, that it was more than a fabric standard, and that it could not be defied.

The squad was well-drilled, well-trained, well-oiled. In a fair fight, they'd outmatch any other fighting force in this part of the Frontier, and everyone here knew it. It was just a matter of getting them to accept what they already knew. Being a part of civilization was non-optional, and the fine soldiers would ensure that any delusions to the contrary would be quashed.

The marketplace was just ahead, and already he could see the streets clearing of locals and the shopkeeps packing away their wares. Even after months here they had yet to dispel the notion that they were robbers and cutthroats rather than the honorable peacekeepers Jak had always believed— and his squad leader had always demanded— his fellow warriors to be. It would come with time. Someday, long after he himself had left, they would forget a time when soldiers had not patrolled their streets, and not long after, they would no longer be needed.

---

The marketplace stood in the center of town, and there was never a dull moment. Jak and his team walked along each side of the street, rifles collapsed onto their chests, hands on their guns. “Well, they seem a bit less scared than last time.” Spirit noted.

“Maybe they got over the arrests. That or they got some good news lately. Trouble if they have.” Steeples glared down the street; the troops had all learned to respect the instincts from those two.

Happy, on the other hand, was more nonchalant. As they entered the marketplace proper, his eyes darted back and forth across the stalls. He wasn't looking at the people, looking for threats, he was looking at the merchandise. If they were to mount a charm offensive, he’d be the face of it. Still, it was hard to make people like you from the other side of a polarized oxygen mask.

Jak felt something tug against his leg. He whirled about, rifle ready. Fortunately, when he saw the local child staring up at him, he wasn't aiming it.

“Do you have faces under those?”

“I do.” The child seemed unsatisfied with his curt but comprehensive answer.

“Yeah, we’ve all got faces!” Happy added. He took off his helmet and pulled off his mask. The child stared up at him in abject horror.

Steeples ran up and slapped Happy across the back. “Keep the mask on!” She switched to a whisper. “You have no idea what's going on here. Besides, there’s like twelve different diseases going through this city we have no immunity to. Best to keep safe.”

Jak turned back to the child. “You sure you wanna see more of where that came from? You stay safe here too. Find your mum or something.” The child ran back off into a crowd of snickering youth.

Happy grunted. “Steep, I know you can’t smell this place now, but whatever that is, I want some.” Steeples sighed. “I am not writing the after-action report for your digestive tract’s losing battle.”

Happy strolled around the marketplace, approaching a stall with a sizzling grill. As he came near each, the locals glanced around, the crowd pulling back to the corners of the marketplace, adults staring at his rifle, children staring at his face. Neither seemed welcome here.

Jak began to raise his rifle. Spirit put a hand out. “Well?” She addressed the crowd, trying her best attempt at the local language through the translation device. “You really going to let him cut the line like that? Go about your business!”

“Spirit!” Jak stared at her. “This is a perfect ambush situation.”

“Look at where their eyes are. They’re just scared! Let’s not give them more reason to be.”

The crowd’s unease didn’t fade, but they all filed back into the market. Happy came back to the squad with a husk of a local crop stuffed to the brim with spiced meat. “See? Meat’s the universal language.”

“What’s the word for mistake?” Jak glared.

“Grease?” Some of it had already begun to drip down Happy’s chin as he crunched into the meal. “Huh, pretty good.” He went back to the stall, slapped down some of his cash— another reminder of the government that had sent them— and took a second husk to a child in the crowd. Team N had begun to march in across the way, the other half of their squad watching Happy’s one-man hearts-and-minds effort with skepticism.

“He’s too nice.” Tapper, the other team’s point man, sighed. “That’s gonna get him killed.”

Happy had already finished reattaching the mask by the time he rejoined the formation, though Jak could see the fit was loose from a greasy smear on his cheek. “You guys are way too twitchy. If you find me dying from food poisoning somewhere, let me lie. It was delicious.”

---

He heard the whine of a convoy coming up the street, and by the time the LaSo trucks arrived, they’d be blocking off the path to the rendezvous point. The squad leader gestured a stop. As the convoy was passing in front, it stopped as well. An officer emerged from one of the lead vehicles, producing a packet with new orders.

“Jump in, soldier. Your patrol has been retasked.”

The squad wasted no time getting in.

“What’s the change for?” Tapper cocked his head.

“One of the patrols was doing a routine search east of the old colony ship. They haven’t reported back since, so we’re putting together a Kinetic Site Assessment leading to hopefully, Enhanced Retrieval Operation.” He opened the packet and pulled out a tablet, clicking to a map. “We’re targeting building 22-18 here, most likely assets of interest are being held in a basement, or in the orchard tool shed here out back.”

The squad leader surveyed the faces of his soldiers. Jak was already throwing his tactical poncho over the standard armor. “Understood and all ready, sir.” He said, readying a cartridge for his rifle.

---

If Jak could have wished for one more thing, it would have been the element of surprise. That, and and another team providing fire support from across the street. And maybe they could have simply flattened this building instead of trying to take it room by room. There had been plenty of room to improve this plan. Now he was stuck trying to raise an injured Steeples back to safety atop the neighboring building before she bled out, and once that was done he’d have to run back in to the upstairs before Happy and Spirit were cut down like her.

By the time he got back, the room had quieted, and Happy and Spirit were still standing— or rather, crouching, with a flipped table providing modest concealment. As he took a second’s peek into the room, a shot singed the air where his head had been. An instant’s reply from Spirit sent the attacker tumbling down the stairs.

He gathered his squad and ushered them in, stopping at every door to make sure each closet and room was empty. Team N was still fighting downstairs, and hitting the insurgents from both sides could hopefully bring the fight to a swift end. With the upper level cleared, Jak proceeded to the stairway, chucking a stun grenade down the flight of stairs while he clambered over the dead insurgent. He swapped to his thermal sights and started slowly leading his group down. As he rounded the corner, he heard a cry of rage as a maniac charged at him, seemingly holding two knives. He was dead even before he thudded into Jak’s body armor; Spirit had unloaded four rounds into his torso. So much for stun. Happy was already pushing ahead to take out the last visible targets. Spirit took a moment to compose herself. “Dumbass,” she muttered, kicking the body, and followed Happy onwards.

Before the grenade smoke had cleared, a volley of shots sprayed into the building from the orchard. Jak dropped to the floor, making eye contact with Knight from Team N in the process. It only took a second’s worth of gesturing to learn that Lead was immobilized in one of the front rooms, they had already searched the basement and found nothing inside; they’d have to search the orchard. It was on him now.

Jak adjusted his helmet straps to let him better peek around, precariously raising his weapon up to the window. He set it for a wide-angle burst, likely to cut down anyone actively ready to shoot him. Once he pulled the trigger, the sound of a scream and a thud confirmed his work.

The teams congregated in the center. Team N, Knight, Clinch, and Tapper, would take the middle, Happy and Spirit would take the north while Jak took the South. They counted down, 3, 2, 1, and burst out into the orchard. Clinch put a few more shots into the downed gunman’s body, for safety. Jak ran to the wall. No one visible to the fence. Head on a swivel. Tapper, Happy, Spirit all in position. Move ahead past the first row. 3, 2, 1, no hostiles, just Tapper. Second row, 3, 2, 1, no hostiles, just Tapper. Third row, same as before. Fourth row, same as before. Now the shed. Gesture: Tapper, Hold. Clinch, Happy, Spirit pushing to the fence. 3, 2, 1, no hostiles, just Clinch.

Finally they could breathe. Whatever surprises were left, they'd be confined to the tool shed. Jak gestured for Tapper to start on the door, while Knight and Spirit came behind him to provide covering fire. Jak took up station, still watching for threats from behind. He heard Tapper open the door.

“SHIT!”

Jak only had enough time to turn and see the shed wall flying towards him before the world turned to darkness and pain.

---

Jak slowly came to the awareness that the buzzing sound in the room and the piercing agony in his head were, in fact, two entirely separate sensations. So too, was the smell of cleaning fluids, and the light shining through his eyelids. He took in a weak, wheezing breath.

“Good. You're conscious.” The harsh sound of a synthesized voice rang between his ears. “Exertion now will lead to tissue damage, remain in a comfortable position and breathe gently.”

Time passed. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours. Eventually he felt the strength and courage to open his eyes. Still that awful light. He reached up to shove it aside, but his arm would not move that far upwards.

“Doc!” He groaned. Soon, he saw a shadow pass overhead, and felt cold metal arms prodding at him. “Get… that… light… away…”

“Higher functions returning.” The Doc brushed aside the lamp with another armature. Jak turned to stare at his blank, glassy face. It was hard to care for Doc without the slightest glimpse of a soul behind that face, but from time to time he showed that he cared plenty. “You’ve been the beneficiary of some truly extraordinary medical expertise. Your superiors are informed to expect your full recovery within 637 hours.”

“Spirit?”

“She will live.”

“Tapper?”

“I can only approach the miraculous.”

So, there would be a lot of payback owed.

---

“That’s ridiculous, we’re not just leaving!” Jak said, slamming his good arm into the table for emphasis. The food tray clattered in response, leading Happy’s eyes to it.

“It may be ridiculous, doesn’t mean it’s not true.” replied Steeples. “You’ve been stuck in sickbay so long you wouldn’t even realize. I just did a shift guarding the comms center. They’re taking units off-planet everywhere. We’ll be next.”

“That looks good, you done with it?” said Happy, pointing at Jak’s tray.

“It’s not, but I’m still going to finish it. You eat enough already. Is that all you can think about?” Happy stared off into the distance, trying to imagine something he thought about more than food. “Don’t you care about staying here? Finishing the job? You can’t see what they did to Tapper and Spirit and decide to just give them what they want!”

“Mountain sends the orders, we just follow them. Where to go, who to shoot at, no difference to me.”

“But why leave here, now, when there’s so much left to do?”

“Something big must be going down, far away from here.” Steeples interjected. “I’m sure we’ll be plenty busy wherever they send us.”

As she finished her sentence, an alert rang out through the mess. All troops, report to briefing officer immediately.

“Look and see, they’re about to make it official.”

---

It was astonishing that the starport could be so busy and so quiet at the same time. Maybe it couldn’t be any other way, given what was about to happen here. An entire city milled around beyond the gates, seemingly unaware that the fighting men who had been their benefactors and their terrors were about to slip away in the dawning light. As the two suns rose above the horizon, Jak watched beyond the gate. The plastic grip of the gun turret was still cold from the desert night, slowly warming in the grip of his good hand, his injured arm awkwardly propped against the body of the gun. “Do you think they know?”

“Doubt it. Once they find out, though, they'll be rushing the place.” Happy shrugged. “Good news is, we only need to run faster than Jak.”

“It's my arm, not my legs,” Jak rolled his eyes. “And remember when we get to the transport, I can shove perfectly good with one.”

The squad snorted.

For everything that had happened in this city over the last couple weeks— that's how long it had been since he'd blacked out, if Happy wasn't screwing with him, anyways— the crowd seemed calm. Perhaps they'd gotten used to it, these last couple years. How they could just accept living in the middle of a war, let alone a war this important, defied him. A chatter rose up from the crowd, small at first and buzzing into a storm. His hand tightened on the gun’s grip. “I think they just found out!”

He braced himself. If they came for the gates, they'd have about five minutes before they either collapsed or found another way through. The video from his training played in his head, the mob cresting like an angry wave. That video was fifty years ago, and it was clear as day in his mind. He hoped his face wouldn't be on the training video fifty years from now.

Steeples raised a finger. “Quiet down. I think I recognize what they're saying.” Happy raised his rifle. “Do we care?”

Jak watched in horror as the tide of the crowd swelled, and receded.

“What the…” Happy lowered his gun. “They're running away!”

“Shut up! I can't hear them!” Steeples admonished him. “Wait… I can't understand most of it, it's in their language… Wish Spirit was here. But… there is one word. ‘Quarantine’. That's from ours.”

“Quarantine?” Happy’s eyes widened. “Why in blazes wouldn't they tell us?”

“They're gonna put a quarantine down and they send out a guy with a broken arm?” Jak felt his stomach sink. “Why bother with this thing, then?” He tapped the gun with his good arm and jumped down from the turret’s seat. He scanned the spaceport, a column of transports rising up to the sky, and the crates of equipment long gone from their staging areas. “How close to wheels up?”

“Too close.” Steeples was on the verge of hyperventilating. “Gentlemen, I don't believe it would be considered desertion if we made a break for it now.”

The three sprinted for the transport, the last remaining ride out of the Sandtrap. The loading ramp beckoned, the crewman waving them in. “Took you long enough! Belt in, heads down. Cover your eyes in three minutes. Clock starts now.”

As soon as Jak put both feet on the ramp, he felt the plane begin to rise, the hydraulic door closing underneath him as the shuttle lifted to the sky. He scrambled to the last free seat, lowering his head as far as he could drop it, watching as the crewman pulled the filters down over the windows. He did everything he could to cover his eyes, but his injured arm just wouldn't reach.

Muted flashes caught the corner of his vision. What a waste, he thought, What a waste.