Ashe stood amongst the smoking, body-strewn destruction. He looked up at the charred image of his own face staring confidently down at him, seemingly oblivious to the scene of carnage. Dust and grime was smeared across his visage, and a harpoon had pierced one cheek, a trail of thick rope hung down from it like a limp worm crawling out of his face. THE HOPPERS NEED YOU! TEST NOW AND SERVE YOUR PARLIAMENT! The slogan was still just about legible along the bottom of the image through the filth. Ashe sneered.
"No thanks," he said to no one.
He looked around at the rubble and wreckage around him. The clean-up had already begUn, although it would be slow work. Local sanitation crews worked alongside small clusters of able-bodied hoppers to pick through what they could of the scene, clearing any debris that could be moved by hand and collecting any corpses or body parts of hoppers and Provincers alike. The dead that had been recovered had been laid out as respectfully and neatly as possible along the quay. Various pieces of tarpaulin fabric stretched along the waterfront with the uneven shapes and outlines of the deceased hiding underneath. Stains of blood spotted the deck around them. Ashe watched as another innocent citizen's body was pulled from amongst the ruination; a young boy, probably less than twelve. His frail form was carried by a hopper and a medical response official towards the rows of deceased, and as they prepared to lay him down the boy suddenly managed a sputtering breath. The hopper cried out in surprise and the MRO promptly ordered him to set the boy down and then immediately radioed for assistance. Ashe watched two more MRO's come running, their crisp white and green uniforms making them easily identifiable against the greys and browns of the war zone. Ashe smiled solemnly, he was glad the boy was alive, and hoped he would recover.
Fire and law services had secured a strict perimeter around the immediate area, crowd control barriers had been erected forming a flimsy barricade between the quay proper and the rest of the island. The occasional truck or law wagon filled awkward gaps in the makeshift fence, sending a clear message of safety and reassurance to the public, whilst sending a warning to any prying journalists or vidcasters that this was an official operation and to stay away. It would be several weeks however before the wreckage could be sifted through and cleared properly, no doubt revealing more bodies and more spilled insides to identify. There wasn't a clear tally on the number of dead yet, nor a confirmed list of those who had survived or fallen during the attack, but the numbers would be updated over the coming weeks. So far, out of a hundred and fifty hoppers, eighty-nine had reported safe - most unharmed yet some with injuries ranging from the minor to the serious. Ashe himself had come away still in one piece but he'd taken a few bullets to the back and shoulders and his muscles were still sore under the protective plates of his armour. His head ached too. He'd clipped it on the side of the vessel as he plummeted overboard, but aside from a fairly large lump and gash throbbing on his scalp he was deemed okay by the field medics - a very minor concussion but no serious injuries. Thus, he was put to work collecting the ID tags of his deceased comrades - Commander O'Reilly's orders of course, probably punishment for Ashe's manoeuvre with the thunderfall. Ashe didn't regret his decision but he certainly resented the current outcome. O'Reilly was only a few years older than him but she had the air of a woman a decade more so, Ashe wasn't sure if it was due to arrogance or professionalism but he cared not for it. O'Reilly was the model soldier; by the book, obedient, seemingly humourless and Ashe disliked her immensely for it.
So here he was, trawling the corpses of the fallen. It was nauseating, thirsty work too and so he had stopped to grab a flask of water from a nearby medical tent. He took a long gulp, once again gazing upon his own image, forcing the liquid down his sandpapery throat. He felt dreadfully sick. He'd seen bodies before of course; in his relatively short service he'd been involved in several minor skirmishes, and had lost people he had come to know and respect but never before had he had to rummage upon their corpses for what were ultimately, worthless pieces of metal. A small part of him was thankful that most still wore their goggles and breathers, it meant he didn't have to look them in the face. He knew that, should they have been exposed – either appearing peacefully asleep, or staring blankly at the sky - that he wouldn't have been able to help himself; he’d either be sick, or resign on the spot. Consequences and duty be damned. Nevis, Xiu, Holloway, Bendis, Costa. People he'd trained with, drank with, laughed with. All of them with lives and families and stories and hopes and dreams, now gone. All because they were born with an ability they had never asked for or probably never even wanted. Just like him. Not a soldier. An athlete. I shouldn't be here.
At his feet lay the bodies of Agnarsson and Stern, between them, Corporal Freeman. Ashe looked down at her still fully armoured and masked body. Her left leg had been completely blown off in a mortar explosion and he assumed that she had bled out, perhaps because a field medic couldn't get to her in time. They'd had a good night together once, the two of them, after a lot of drink and a lot of dancing. The thought of them together now surfaced like flotsam on water. He could see her body writhing on top of his as if it were yesterday. Odd, the image had come to him so suddenly and yet he'd never really thought much about that night since it happened. There'd been many men, women and everything in between after many nights of revelry, one encounter often blurring into the next and despite all the times he and Freeman had trained together, fought together, and laughed together since that night it had remained a mere droplet in an ocean of debauchery. He felt a pang of sadness, and for some reason guilt. He was still here, and she was not. She was braver, stronger, better than he, and yet she was dead. The thought of their night together continued to flicker like candle light through his mind; her wavy chestnut hair cascading over her chest, her confidence as she took him to bed, her skin, her passion – he stopped himself. Thinking of her like that now seemed somehow disrespectful. He knelt down, avoiding looking at the bloody stump of her leg and placed his hand on her head, he kissed the cool mesh of her hood.
"I hope you find peace," he whispered.
He stood, noticing his gauntlets were stained with blood. It was caked in his nails and along the exposed tips of his fingers - how many different kinds he couldn’t be sure. He reached down, rummaging in his belt pouch and closed his fingers around the handful of tags he'd collected, he held them tightly, saying a silent prayer for each of his fallen brethren. A handful of tears trickled down his face. Angry at himself he reached up and wiped away the moisture with his sleeve. It was then he noticed that a bullet he'd taken in the arm had torn his jacket, the gash running right through the middle of his uniform patch. The Capitals coat of arms were the bell and wheel of the Suri family. The Suri's had ruled Equatorial District for the last seventy years, and their words - Iustita unquam futurm – sat underneath the image in a curved banner. Translated, the ancient Latin read Justice, Ever Forwards. The Suri words. And this is what they get you, Ashe thought bitterly, looking around at the rows of dead. How poetic that the bullet had destroyed the very symbol he supposedly fought for.
He finished his water and tossed the flask aside. Sighing heavily and trying to keep his stomach calm he proceeded over to another tarp and lifted it, there was no body underneath, just a random assortment of limbs and armour pieces and he dropped the tarp recoiling. He couldn't look at any more, the body parts were the trigger he'd been avoiding. He stepped back and violently ejected the water back up onto the quay. He remained bent over for several seconds, breathing deeply. When he was composed he turned towards the harbour proper to see a small group of law enforcement officers holding back local press. The gaggle of fascinated onlookers yelled and waved recording devices. When they saw Ashe their enthusiasm intensified.
"Corporal Marvel! Corporal Marvel!"
"Over here Ashe! Over here!"
"How are you feeling Ashe?"
Fantastic, vomiting over my dead comrades on the evening news. And I didn't keep my hood up. Thankfully he was too exhausted to imagine the headlines or picture the worst-case scenario. Instead, he managed a brief wave and a wan smile before quickly turning the other way, walking with purpose and making every effort to look busy. A trio of city officials passed him, striding towards the press with an air of furious composure. Good, let them do the talking. I'm sure they'll make this all seem glamourous and full of glory. All hail the Capital! Thank goodness for the Capital! Ashe had a tenuous relationship with the press at best, and an outright antagonistic one at worst. No matter where he was or what he was doing they always seemed to catch him at his most questionable moments. A bar fight or aggressive night drinking? Camera flashes or recorders. Caught cheating or dating someone new? They'd be just around the corner. Facing the courts or law? They'd somehow know. When his mutation was uncovered and he was brought before the Games Committee to have several of his medals stripped away, he endured months of journalistic hell afterwards. The scrutiny and lack of privacy became so overwhelming and so demoralising that he'd fled; away from the Capital, away from the major settlements and away from his family. He was in hiding for three months before Parliament operatives found him and dragged his sorry behind back home for drafting. Alas, even now, away from the crowds and away from the glamour they'd caught him at his worst. Never in battle, never putting his life on the line, never protecting parliamentary interests – instead vomiting like a tender-stomached coward among the bodies of those he'd failed. He shouldn't have been here. He was better than this. So much better.
"Corporal Marvel, the Commander wants to speak with you." He jerked out of his thoughts. He wasn't sure who the voice in his ear belonged to - he'd removed his goggles along with his breather after the battle was done.
"Two minutes."
"I'll let her know."
Ashe knew Commander O'Reilly was at the main medic tent, he'd last seen her being escorted there as soon as emergency aid had arrived. That was after Ashe had stumbled his way up the quay. He'd feigned unconsciousness after getting off a shot at Goodman in the hope that he'd done all that was required and nobody would question his incapacitation. His stunt with the thunderfall has been nothing short of genius. It would warrant a medal surely, or at least a commendation - it may make the hell worthwhile. Another ornate piece of meaningless metal for his trophy room talking points.
He passed a group of sanitation workers hurling tider corpses onto a large truck. They tossed them ungracefully onto the barge secured to the rear. The bodies had been stripped of anything useful or valuable. A stack of weapons and haphazard protective gear lay nearby. The barge would be lowered into the water and set alight, burning away all evidence of the disgusting savages.
Ashe approached the field tent, and ducked inside. Marina was perched on a chair, stripped to the waist and bandaged from breasts to naval and talking to a concerned city official of some kind. She was severely bruised from bullet impacts or whatever had happened to her torso, and smeared in blood and dirt. She looked about ready to collapse. Ashe thought he knew the face of the man she was talking to from the occasional newscast. The Governor or Mayor perhaps? A hopper field medic Ashe didn't recognise and Lt Commander Travis flanked Marina. A handful of MRO 's attended to various injured in nearby beds and chairs.
Marina shook the officials hand and acknowledged Ashe with a nod. The official passed Ashe and smiled.
"Mister Marvel," he said, exiting.
Ashe saluted Marina and stood at ease. "You wanted to see me, Ma'am."
"Could you give us a moment," Marina said to Travis and the medic.
"Aye." Travis passed Ashe and gave him a comradely pat on the shoulder.
The medic picked up her pack. "Well done, Marvel," she said, exiting behind Travis.
There was a brief silence.
"Are you well, Commander?"
"A couple of busted ribs, I've fared moderately well, all things considered. I suppose I'll be out of the field for a few weeks."
"Perhaps you could take a holiday?" Ashe said casually.
Silence once more, Marina merely looked at him. Ashe shuffled uncomfortably as the Commander seemed to choose her words.
"What you did, Marvel -" Marina began.
"Was necessary, Ma'am."
"Was reckless; and you disobeyed a direct order from your CO."
"I saw no other angle, we were struggling and were hopelessly outgunned. People were dying. And if I may speak freely, Commander, today should not have happened like it did. Parliament -"
"Parliament gave us everything they could," Marina cut him off. "Everything they had at their disposal for the situation at hand."
Patriotic bitch, Ashe thought.
"You shouldn't have burdened yourself -" Marina continued.
"Should I not burden myself with saving lives? Isn't that what I was drafted for?" Ashe looked her right in the eyes, challenging her.
"What you did today would warrant a court-martial. You were given an order several times which you chose to disobey."
"But, Ma'am -"
"I am talking, Corporal. Quiet."
Ashe swallowed his next words, and his anger, with great difficulty.
"That being said," Marina continued. "You were right."
"I'm sorry?" Ashe shook his head briefly, swearing he'd misheard.
"Something went wrong today. We had a lag in intelligence that meant we were unprepared and unmatched. You thought outside the box and gave us a window - however reckless - to possible victory. Although, I'm still not sure if we could call this a win."
"Thank you. Ma'am." Ashe was stunned.
"Tell me what happened when you reached the vessel?" Marina asked.
"I landed on the thunderfall cannon itself, I emptied several rounds into its workings whilst taking fire from the remaining crewmen aboard. I was clipped on the arm here," Ashe showed her the torn patch. "The angle and force of the blow caused me to lose my balance and my position, and I fell overboard, briefly grazing my head upon the ship - or the cannon itself - I can't be sure which. I fell."
"You are here to protect those that cannot protect themselves, not to show off or flaunt your ability."
"I understand Ma'am, but have you not just complimented me?"
"I did, Marvel. I will have to put this in my report and will have to discuss it at debrief. However, given the...unusual nature surrounding today's engagement, I'll defend you. I believe your actions were with the best intentions, and that you allowed us a higher chance of apprehending Goodman, or removing him from the state of play entirely. I give you my word I will stand by you."
Ashe was speechless. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.
"I...thank you, Ma'am."
"You're welcome," Commander O'Reilly paused, she looked slightly awkward. "Corporal, I know you don't want to be here, I know there are many hoppers just like you who wished for a different path; but this is the path you've been put on and today you tried to walk it the best you could. I respect you for that, but don't ever disobey an order again. Next time your CO may not be so forgiving."
"Yes, Ma'am"
"Dismissed."
Ashe saluted and made to leave, but he stopped.
"Corporal? Is there something else?"
"If I may, Ma'am, how many were lost today?"
"From what the Governor has told me, forty-nine civilians at last count. The hopper report hasn't changed since the last update. All in all, it's very low, given the scale of the raid."
"The turrets? Do we know -"
"No. I have my theories though. That’s something I'll discuss with Parliament."
"Well, you can tell Parliament -"
"I will deal with Parliament. The Admiralty too."
"It seemed...very precise, very...targeted."
"Word from Kionis is that Goodman's men took a...selection of computing parts. High spec hardware. I'm not sure why but a detailed inventory will be sent over to the officials for debrief."
"To do what they did...it must be important."
Marina smiled. "You a detective now, Marvel?"
"No Ma'am, I -"
"Careful Corporal, I might start to think you care."
Ashe said nothing. It wasn't a mystery he cared about solving, he just wanted answers as to why good men and women had to die for lousy computer parts; women like Cassie Freeman. It seemed ludicrous to him. Raids for loot and riches made sense, it was the tider way, but this...this simply didn't warrant the atrocity.
He nodded at Marina and turned towards the tent's exit.
"Oh, and Corporal?" Marina's voice came from behind him.
"Yes, Commander?"
"That shot you took at Goodman, thank you. I think you saved my life."
Ashe turned back, managing a genuine smile.
"You're very welcome, Commander." Ashe wouldn't ever admit it, but he may have felt a brief swell of pride.
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