In the Heat of Battle, youll know who your true friends are: (they R the ones who wont let you down.)
I havent seen any short stories yet; I thot Id fill the bill. writing time: 5.5 hrs: 1 sitting: Val-Day Evening.
A Short Story: IN THE HEAT OF BATTLE.
How long had I been here? How long must I stay? His mind was pounding from the questions never answered, reeling from the shock of yet another salvo from beyond the enemys lines. That one was too close, he thought. I must get under their line of fire.
He gritted his teeth as he muttered something nearly incomprehensible to his squad-members: The only way out,... is through.
Slowly at first, & painfully, the dark-clad assault squad made its way out of its protected nook in the trench, & moved under cover of night into the cool ocean air. They had already come this far, millions of man-lengths, as they counted distance here, led by their intrepid Captain. Refreshed by moving breezes of sea air, they quickened their pace and found brief shelters to re-group within the war-torn coastal village. Moving steadily toward their goal, the enemys command headquarters, they encountered opposition. It was a band of ten silver-colored metallic beasts, brandishing various weapons, both ranged as well as close quarter: each nine foot at the shoulder. With the Captain, there were five men, making six in all. Spears of wood, and knives of iron, against THAT? one of the men whispered. It is enough! the Captain calmy whispered back. We have the element of surprise. USE your tools like I taught you, this is what you trained for! As the ten buzzing, metallic sentries rolled by in the center of the street, from two flanking positions, the six attacked. The gray-metal blades bit deeply into the silver hearts of machinery, lashed atop the wooden spear-shafts for added close-quarter safety clearance. Once the first six had been thrust through by the squad working as if it were one man, the death-throes began for the mighty machines. Spears were rapidly arced side-to-side that they might open the wounds further & bleed out the precious oils that allowed for their motivation. As the smooth whirring turned into short popping sounds, the enemys flailing & falling corpses provided a barrier of metal for the now entrapped four that occupied the center of the attacked patrol unit. Rather than risk injury to their own by ranged auto-fire, the remaining four machines quickly calculated that close-quarter weapons were in order. Just like the Captain had said, the men thought.
Within that pulse-beat of time that the mechanical giants switched to long, thin, sharpened implements, the squads convex-edged spearheads were used to slash & break the mild steel weapons of their opposition, using their recently defunct comrades as shields to work behind. Just as quickly, they slashed upwards with a twisting motion to place the edge-on blade portion through the head-thorax junction with clean sweeps... In just a few brief moments, the battle was over; for now. Now thats how its done, my friends. The Captain spoke. When all we have are knives.
You see, the freemen hadnt any guns left! Nor ammunition for them if they had, & no factories to build them in. Some had at first manufactured their own out of small one-man workshops, but eventually these were raided & confiscated. That had been two wars ago, & the only range weapons of any real firepower had been those taken from the enemy. The Enemy, or enemies: machines who could reproduce themselves with the touch of an assembly-line button-switch. Machines had proved more useful even than clones, as the first war revealed.
With machines, the freemen & freewomen could be systematically eliminated, removing hope in the process. Most had lost any real hope of winning the War, but surrender never seemed an option.
Some would arise to rally the troops here & there, but always, they would eventually die. But then along came the Captain.
The Captain: now he was a real enigma. No one knew where he had come from, but he moved through the ranks quickly in this New Army. It was as if he had had all the training somewhere else, before he came. It was apparent to all that had fought beside him, that in the art of war, he was NO NOVICE. A few times his fellow soldiers had heard him muttering something about an old world, a differing time, a time of peace, of contentment, where life was not lived as if every moment were your last. But those days were gone now, he would always conclude. Gone, hed say, holding his head like he forgot something important, unless we could infiltrate & knock out the command center of the adversary. That was his plan, the plan of the Captain.
The HU had said it was impenetrable, impossible to get through. HU issued warnings to the men: stay in the trenches, dont be a hero; the war would end soon. We were winning; it was only a matter of time.
The men had heard that all their lives. HOPE was an antiquated word, with an archaic meaning: so out-of-date, out-of-touch with the here-and-now of the gloom of unending war.
Then, Somehow, the Captain had gained audience with HU {Hi-Ups in the chain of command}, & gave them his master plan that he had cooked up. They said that it wouldnt work. That is, until the demonstration. One agreed, then another, until finally, it was done: a decision had been made: a Command Decision. A squad would be formed; its purpose: to advance to the enemy line, cut through it, then march, for days, weeks, more than a month if need be, living on what they brought or could find, until the Power Center was reached. Power Detectors had located it, but no one had been able to advance beyond the grim, unsmiling masks of the enemy robotics division outside Metal-Gate. Thats what they entitled it, here in the freelands. Metal-Gate, an unmoving guardian of unknown origin, keeping back the people inside from the freelands & vice-versa. Nothing had been able to get through that barrier, nothing on this side. No lock cylinder with tumblers to manipulate, so as to bypass that strong-hold of oppression it kept watch over. Just unblinking metal, in the curious shape of a huge eye, overlooking its domain, and with a view to beyond. Rather symbolic of oppression, the Captain exhorted the men, to always have an eye for what it could not contain. It daunted the bravest of the freemen & freewomen who fought for others liberty. HU had sent agents with satchel charges to bring down the door but to no avail. Each time the metal robots would cut the agents down without mercy. Even most of the Hi-Ups, (it became common knowledge), had given up hope then.
But not so the Captain: he had brought with him something, several somethings in fact, that could cut through the metallic sheaths of those hideous cyber-beasts, even slice through their steely exo-skeletons & penetrate their wiry steel hearts. Thats when the Hi-Ups decided, after he had demonstrated in their presence, in mock battle, the bashing, the piercing, the dominating factor of his weapons he had brought. The mock cyborg was no match for the indestructible things pitted effortlessly against it. The Captain utilized every part of his weapons with efficiency against the man-machine, proving their worth in battle. When the melee was over, a pile of wreckage at his feet, the Captain uttered the brief but effective ultimatum: Well? The Hi-Ups collected their collective breaths & one spoke: What do you call these... things that you use? From his dry & parched throat, the Captain spoke: I call them my best friends. Some I call my brothers & sisters, & this one, caressing the medium-sized smooth-edged hacker, I even call my mistress. At that point, it was settled. He would go. He was free to hand-pick the squad from the ranks of the rag-tag assembly, euphemistically termed: the Free Army. After a few weeks training, he knew whom he would choose: the ones named Benaiah, Ulysses, Samuel, Stuart, & Everett; they had proved themselves quick, strong, humble, & were each eager to learn how to counter every opposition & hardship presented to them. What weapons will we use? Benaiah asked. These. The Captain answered, pulling from his travel duffel ten knives, with handles of gray, some with tan. Just these? Ulysses queried. Well each make the King of Weapons with these, my friend. Spears. Each knife did have two holes adjacent to the rough-looking composite hilts, & seemed quite suited to this purpose. Each man was allowed to cut his own switch or shaft for his spear, & learned to painstakingly secure the blade to the shaft.
Strapped to each mans leg was another of the gray blades, for closer work. The Captain had three: one for his spear-head, one at his leg, & one crafted into a huge knife, rather a broad-like sword, strapped to his back. The Ultimate Advantage, he said confidently to Samuel when asked. That was the one that he used to pry Metal-Gate apart at its seams, bursting it from the confines of its frame. That had been more than a week ago.
After that, they had encountered several patrols, & quickly dispatched them as the others. So they moved onward during the night-times, toward the command-post. It seemed like lifetimes before they reached it.
The Power Detectors had indicated that this was the place. Stuart volunteered.
Old wooden steps led up to a warehouse humming with electrical power. Before they knew it, the wide doors were opened, and they were under attack! Each man, armed with nuclear fire-tempered spear-points, gave charge to the would-be assaulters, and ran them through! Barely through a second set of double doors set close to the first, they used their half-flat, half-convex slashing edges to hack through rifles, raised to fire, but not quite successful in the attempt. Each man, Benaiah, Ulysses, Samuel, Stuart, & Everett, carried his secondary hand weapon at the ready for quick deployment & dispatching. Sentry removal was complete.
They moved silently through the busy but uninhabited warehouse, until they saw the raised room in the center. Robots this far in, never calculate that sheeple are a threat... The Captain observed. Flanking the central rise, the squad trusted again to the miraculous metal that cut through their opponents armor and weapons. The Captain had his ever-faithful Broad-tipped Sword to slice & skewer, as the opportunities presented themselves. Moving up & through the rampway, ahead of the line of rifle fire being laid down, he struck one of the rifleman with his Sword simultaneous to plunging his spear into the other at his left. Three men armed with rifles stood in the control room.
The Captain quickly hewed through one soldiers rifle before he could adjust to take aim, then anothers, but his strength had all but given out, and as he cut part-way through the weapon, he felt the weight of the rifle at the end of his spear, and dropped it. He knew that his squad would quickly dispatch those that had wielded them. Then there was but one man left standing of the enemy squad, and the Captain, breathing hard, with his Sword. The man was staring wild-eyed at the unruly weapons that had cut through his comrades firearms, lock, stock, & barrel, as they say...
What IS that? the only remaining squad member gasped, attempting to focus on the dull gray blade of considerable length. The Captain paused, had pity on the poor flinching soldier, and answered his request: Its the INFI-nity-Sword: it was made by the late Busse Knife Company three world wars ago. My father inherited it from his father before him, then he bequeathed it to me. It is all that is left of the old world, before the fabled Gleaming Star touched the earth, & vaporized the common materials of our planet.
Busse
the man spewed forth. Ah, he had heard the legends, & now knew they were true. It was staring him right in the face, and he could not deny it. Then I have fought for the wrong side, for all these years... havent I? Perhaps, said the Captain. "But its not too late to join us. We are few, but we have all we need, and we are content with that. The Captain spoke with compassion, catching his breath. I... I, uh, I would like that, the man stammered. But if I join you, do I get to use a Busse, too? Oh yes, said the Captain; I take care of my soldiers.
Moving beyond the now friendly soldier-in-shock, the Captain swung his Ultimate Advantage toward the Ultimate control-board console, at the juncture of cables in the metal tube housing them. This would be the conduit leading to the robotic manufacturing controller from its power supply. With a clanking of metal-on-metal, the sword sliced cleanly, and it was through! No one trained to fix it left alive,: Everett noted, except you. He pointed his medium-large battle-blade at the young soldier left alive from the crew. I, I will go with you, never to return here. He stammered, but with resolution in his voice. And so he did.
At the arrival of the hero squad as they were dubbed, a ceremony was preceded by much exultation.
The Hi-Ups honored each man with promotions, & rewarded the Captain with a promotion, as well. The chief Hi-Up stepped forward & offered: You may only be Major in rank now, but I think everyone here knows that youre really the Commander of Armies for Freeland.
Speech, speech! The crowd roared. The Captain, earning the promotion to Major for his bravery, was not one for long words. Hope gleams her brightest only in the darkest hour: her gleam is reserved for those not judging by circumstance, but by faith & ability. While there is still but one Busse knife left, there is still hope for mankind. As the good Lord provided these as means, so use them to secure your end, which shall be peace. Never forget that. Always hold on to your hope, and she will never forsake you; this, my friends, is the true art of faithfulness. Stay true to her, & her edge will always stay true for you. But you, you must be responsible for where you direct her edge; for evil, or for good. Stay true, & do the good.
And with that, he stepped back from the podium, with a face like he had just remembered something of great importance, and with a broad smile beaming from his road-weary cheeks, he vanished.
The crowd, shocked with wonder, looked about, but he was not to be found. Then the young man from the enemy camp, who had come to his senses ~in the heat of battle~ rose & said: He left us a legacy! Let us keep it, & keep it always sharp. And from that day forward, a new flag flew in Free-Land: a silhouette of a battle blade thrust into the top of a hill, sun rising from beyond, just below the cross-guard. From the projecting handle hilt-top flew a miniature flag, and so forth... The colors were Yellow from Gray: Hope from Gloom.
And so it came to pass, that sons & daughters learned to whittle wooden flutes in the freedom of the woods, that they might make music; to cut their food in the enjoyment that comes with peacetime, that they might grow strong; & to find other peaceful purposes for a scary looking knife...!
May it ever be; in our land of the free, as long as she has, well, yknow, it starts with a B
.!
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Clif
"Percival... I never knew how empty was my soul until it was filled."
Arthur the King upon sipping from the Grail.
[This message has been edited by Climber (edited 02-16-2001).]
