A Handful of Dust

by Jon Adcock

part 1

I died again. It was quick, messy, and unexpected, just like the last three or four times. It wasn’t even a particularly heroic death. My cohort was on a troop transport. There was a battle, and reinforcements were called in. Forty of us were on board, all revenants, each equipped with Battle Exos.

Just an hour earlier, we were under sedation in our rest pods. Now we were flying into combat, still groggy and waiting for the stimulants to shake off the cobwebs. The battle was in a narrow valley nestled between two mountain ranges. The transport came in fast and so low that tree branches scraped the underside as we cleared the ridgeline.

“Approaching the drop zone... prepare to jump,” the AI pilot announced across our heads-up displays (HUDs).

As each trooper stood, hooking into the bar that ran lengthwise down the transport, a metallic whine signaled the bay doors yawning. Our exoskeletons were bible black and resembled giant beetles as we crouched slightly and waited. Once we received the green light, we would leap through the open bay and free-fall, our Exos cushioning the impact on landing.

“Drop in... 10... 9... 8...” There was a burst of light... and noise...

Pain was my only companion when I regained consciousness. Debris from the flier’s wreckage scattered across a field half a mile wide. Small fires ignited by the crash burned in various spots. I hung a few feet off the ground, impaled on a piece of fuselage.

The jagged metal had pierced the back of my Exo, extending a foot or so through my abdomen. I was missing my left leg below the knee and was bleeding out. I hung there as the sounds of battle in the distance accompanied my death. It didn’t get any easier, no matter how many times I died. My last thought was: Goddammit. Not again.

* * *

After being resurrected once more, this time with a prosthetic lower left leg and a fresh array of scars, I was assigned to a new cohort for a search-and-destroy mission in a city whose name I didn’t even know. It was just another wasteland wreck, filled with shattered buildings and sun-bleached bones.

The day prior, a surveillance drone had detected an anomaly emanating from all the wrack and ruin, the faint whisper of a signal. After reporting it, the drone’s feed suddenly cut out. We were dispatched to investigate.

Our AI pilot landed us in a field on the western edge of the city, and we quickly scrambled out: a mix of revenant troops, biomechs, and one synthetic. The transports released the heavy weapon carriers they were carrying and sped away. Even though it was only 9 a.m., the heat was already unbearable.

Brightness screamed from the sky, and heat waves shimmered in the rubble-strewn streets. The synthetic deployed a swarm of surveillance drones for reconnaissance while the revenants unpacked the gear. The biomechs were lined up along the edges of the field in a picket line, with anti-personnel drones positioned in front of them.

I was paired with another revenant to make the weapons platforms operational. She had been resurrected so many times that she was more metal than meat. There wasn’t much left of her except a brain stem and some gristle, so we worked in silence, relying on the exoskeletons we wore to assist with the heavy lifting.

Dying and being resurrected takes a toll, and memory loss is common; we learn to cope with it. We didn’t even have names; instead, we had alphanumeric designations tattooed as barcodes on our necks. We were creatures without a past.

Except for me. I knew what my name had been. I still had tattered memories, mainly of a woman. In one of them, we were lying on a blanket at the beach. It was late afternoon, and the sunlight poured over us like warm butterscotch.

I propped myself up to watch her sleep. Several strands of hair had come loose from her ponytail, and I reached out to brush them away from her face. When she opened her eyes, they were a warm liquid blue, like twin pools reflecting a cloudless spring sky. As she spilled up into my arms to kiss me, she whispered, “I love you, Jason.”

I held on to every memory I had of her. They were evidence that my life had once been more than just killing and dying, that someone had loved me. Love was a luxury for revenants. After each mission, we would enter our rest pods, connect our feeding tubes, and sleep until needed again. Command discouraged fraternization, but some still tried to catch stolen moments with someone special whenever they could. As for me, I was content with my memories.

Each time I died, my greatest fear was losing everything and becoming an empty shell like the woman working beside me. To prevent that from happening, I wrote down every memory and kept the pages folded in a pouch I wore around my neck on a chain. On the first page, I wrote in large block letters: “Your name is Jason.” After each resurrection, I would read through the pages to ensure nothing had disappeared.

Once the platforms became operational, the synthetic issued the order to move out. The biomechs were on point. Heavily augmented, with a mastiff used as their base, they were deadly in close-quarters combat. The weapons mounted on their harnesses scanned continuously for potential threats. The two AI-controlled weapon platforms followed behind, one on each side of the column, hovering thirty feet above us.

The city resembled an open-air charnel house. We were miles from ground zero, but most of the buildings were partially collapsed, and the effects of the thermal flash were still evident. Bones bleached by the sun lay scattered throughout the rubble, and other remains filled many of the rusted vehicles. The rad counters on our wrists flashed yellow intermittently, indicating the area was still within the range our nanites could manage.

Five hours later, our cohort marched along one of the main roads. Dust devils swirled in the distance, and the wind moaned down the deserted streets as if trying to express the city’s pain. So far, it had been a bust. The only things we had encountered were rats and a few sickly feral cats. The adrenaline that had fueled us on arrival had long since burned off, and boredom set in. That was when they hit us.

“Incoming!” The synthetic’s warning flashed across our HUDs an instant before a Hellfire drone exploded overhead, its cluster bombs raining down on us. I sprinted for cover. The Exo propelled me in long, leaping strides toward a partially intact warehouse thirty meters away.

One bomblet detonated nearby, and I curled into a ball, hoping the Exo would absorb most of the shockwave. The blast hurled me into one of the rusted wrecks that littered the street. There were more explosions. I hugged the ground and tried to make myself tiny.

When the explosions stopped, I crouched behind the car and quickly assessed. Physically, I was fine; all my limbs were intact, and none of my lacerations were life-threatening. Equipment was another story. Multiple warnings flashed across my HUD: both shoulder-mounted weapons were inoperable and my power unit flagged. The command link was out, either hacked or jammed.

The cavalry wasn’t coming anytime soon. The local network still functioned. Damage reports for the rest of the cohort scrolled in the corner of my display. Many of them were in worse shape, if not dead.

Smoke and dust filled the air, severely reducing visibility, but I could see the weapons platforms a klick to the north, firing as they advanced. Streaks of light converged on them, and there was a burst of radiance and noise. As they blew, the platforms briefly illuminated the area like twin suns gone nova.

Afterward, silence enveloped everything like a shroud. A low rumble began to resonate as the minutes passed; it was initially imperceptible, but gradually growing louder. As the dust settled, the enemy became visible: at least fifty soldiers, each equipped with their own version of exoskeletons and carrying large force shields. They moved in leaps and bounds, resembling gigantic grasshoppers. Two warbots were half a klick ahead of them. The bots were bipedal, twice the size of an Exo-equipped soldier, and protected by depleted-uranium armor.

Nearby, six revenants were hunkered down behind a pile of brick and mortar. I joined them by running in a hurried, stooped dash. The loud rumbling faded into an eerie silence as the enemy troops slowed their advance. As our revenants crouched behind their shields, the weapons mounted on their Exos rose on struts. Dozens of insectoid drones buzzed around them, providing additional protection and enveloping the enemy troops in a dark haze. Strobe flashes erupted as our drones clashed with theirs, the opening bout to the main event. The seconds stretched out like hours, and it felt as if the world was holding its collective breath.

The warbots were the first to open fire. High-velocity rounds slammed into our barricade, sending chips of concrete raining down on us. We ducked lower. The synthetic had recalled the surveillance drones, so I quickly scrolled through their feeds, looking for a way to flank the bots. Pressing my helmet against the closest revenant, I instructed him to follow me. We moved in a strafing run, caroming off rubble and wrecked vehicles for temporary cover.

Once we were in position, we waited behind the charred remains of a semi. The sound of the warbots’ servos grew closer. There was a breeze, but it was hot and dry, offering no relief from the oppressive heat. Rivulets of sweat ran down my back.

When I gave the signal, we stepped out from behind the truck and tossed sticky grenades. The nearest bot evaporated, but the other one sustained only damage to its right leg. It swiveled its turret towards us as its leg collapsed. As it fell, a burst of high-velocity rounds shredded my companion while missing me. The bot thrashed on the ground, its weapons waving wildly as its AI attempted to lock onto me. My last two grenades destroyed the bot.

I pulled the corpse out of its Exo, hoisted what remained onto my shoulders, and sprinted to rejoin the revenants nearby. It was the beginning of a rout. The shields were something new. We fired from our positions, then fell back, unable to pierce their shields or slow them.

Their remaining drones wreaked havoc by slamming into our troops at high speed. Some of them were equipped with explosives that detonated on impact. More of us fell, and the survivors dragged the dead with them. We left no one behind. After winning a firefight, the enemy ensured our deaths were forever by using burn pits salted with thermite grenades.

“Emergency help required,” the synthetic’s message flashed across my HUD.

“Query: Status,” I replied.

“Multiple system failures. Mobility at 40% and falling.”

“Coordinates locked. There in one mike.”

A battlefield map appeared on my HUD, with a flashing dot showing the synthetic’s position. It was located in a park, approximately 300 meters northwest. I handed off the corpse and took two revenants with me. We sprinted, drawing enemy fire; bullets zipped around us like a swarm of angry hornets.

Drones took out both revenants before we made it to the nearest cover, a fountain filled with slime and stagnant water. I crouched behind the fountain for a count of ten, then made a last dash.

Weeds that were four feet high overran the park. Excellent cover. Once I entered, the nearby outbuildings blocked the enemy’s line of sight, providing additional cover. My HUD flashed a yellow warning light. The suit’s power supply was on reserve.

Synthetics were six-limbed, silver, and resembled a cross between a human and an insect. Their upper torsos were humanlike, with arms ending in three-fingered hands. The head was smooth and featureless, except for a vision strip located halfway up. It was crawling through the weeds when I found it. The synthetic had extensive damage, with green fluid leaking from several shrapnel wounds. It ceased crawling when it sensed my presence.

“Query: Status,” I asked.

“Mobility at 15% and falling.”

I pulled up the feed on the remaining surveillance drone. The enemy appeared as red dots, lying between us and the remnants of the cohort. I hoisted the synthetic onto my back and headed north, away from the battle. I cursed softly when the feed showed two dots breaking away from the mass of red and heading in our direction.

Our exoskeletons weren’t as heavily armored as those of the enemy, but they compensated with greater speed and agility. I pushed the Exo to its limits, trying to distance myself from the two pursuing troops with long, leaping strides. As I reached the riverbank, the warning light on my Exosuit turned red and flashed rapidly, indicating it was on the verge of shutting down. I dismounted and, after some difficulty, pushed the Exosuit over the riverbank and into the water.

“Query: Status,” I asked the synthetic.

“Mobility at 3% and falling. Shutdown imminent.” It lay where I had dropped it, with one arm weakly moving.

“C&C requested.”

“Control transferred.”

I checked the condition of our remaining troops. In addition to the surveillance drone, three medical drones accompanied the retreating cohort. I ordered them to abandon the survivors and converge on the two soldiers pursuing us. As I issued this command, the status of three more revenants went dark. Our cohort was being decimated, but protecting the synthetic took priority.

The medics weren’t weaponized. However, I ordered them to ram the pursuing enemy. They sped away from the battlefield, flying nap-of-the-earth before striking the soldiers with a last burst of speed. Both enemy soldiers fell; only one stood up again. The other soldier was alive but injured, with a badly damaged Exosuit. After treating his buddy, the remaining soldier continued, limping slightly as one leg of his Exo dragged.

* * *

Proceed to part 2...