Faith In A Time Of Fury: A Science Fiction Romance

Chapter 1

Shura

I pass in and out of warm morning sunlight as I move through the top floor corridor of the Cube. If I cared to, I could look out the windows to my left and see the sprawling ruin of New Rio, and the bright patch of new construction where the Soldiers have been reclaiming the city bit by bit.

Our numbers have swollen to well over one hundred thousand strong, from Solari refugees to an ever increasing flow of Alliance and Coalition soldiers tired of war. It’s good news for the movement, but all of those bodies need shelter, food, and—most of all—protection.

Hence the need to expand beyond what’s still referred to as Camp Hope. It’s not really a camp anymore, having swollen to the size of a full blown fortress. The tents have all been replaced with modern barracks and facilities.

Not that I can remember a time before the sleek modernization of Camp Hope. I’d been wounded early in the conflict over the Signal tower, and had been put in cryo stasis since there was no doctor or equipment to save my life. By the time I was unfrozen and my broken body was repaired, I’d missed the Christmas Truce and the formation of the Soldiers of Hope.

It had been quite discombobulating to awaken in the hospital to discover that my left arm was gone, replaced by a sleek cybernetic unit with top of the line tech cobbled together from Ataxian, Alliance, and IHC robotics. Then the nurse told me my heart had been beyond repair, and I now had a mechanical replacement which would never wear out, never grow diseased.

Then I’d looked to the bed next to mine and nearly flown into a rage. There, laying as peaceful as could be as a ridged faced Vakutan. When I’d inquired, I was aghast to learn he was not, in fact, a prisoner.

Members of my old unit came around to greet me. Sipri, Tsurk, Odis, even Teeva. They all excitedly told me of the brave new world they were creating, and it took me a long time to realize they were not, in fact, ribbing me.

It didn’t take near as long to realize that while I could remember all of the times they spoke of so fondly—like the time I’d won the entire Twonk pot with a once in a lifetime hand—but I had no emotional attachment to them. It was like watching a movie where I happened to resemble the main character.

They chalked up my cold demeanor to exhaustion, and after effects of my major surgeries, but in truth I don’t feel like they’re my friends any more. The person known as Shura, three eyed Shorcu weapons tech specialist par excellence died on the battlefield. What they’ve done is reanimate his corpse, and even though I have his memories I don’t feel like the same person.

Soldiers of Hope. I’m not sure I even understand hope any longer, but I am a soldier. So I meet half the requirements for this unit, at the least.

When I first awakened from my stasis, I toyed with the idea of returning to the Coalition. I had been quite close to getting a promotion to officer level, but my ambition seemed to have flown along with the emotional content of my memories. I couldn’t even feel guilt over betraying my oath to the Ataxian government.

So I stayed, but I’ve kept my distance from my former friends. Fortunately, one of my surgeries makes it quite convenient to avoid contact with them. Part of my cerebellum had been destroyed, so they replaced it with a ‘chip’, though that name isn’t quite accurate. The Soldiers all seem to think that the chip in my head has made me more robotic, less emotional.

And that’s just fine with me. The less that people speak to me, the less I have to think. I can just carry out my orders in silence and not have to think about all that I’ve lost.

Of course, that was before I was assigned to the grim Reclamation duty, also known as the Cadaver Corps to those will poor senses of humor and little sensitivity. I protect the work crews who travel into the ruins of New Rio and extract the bodies, gathering them together for a proper burial and also moving them out of the way so we can develop the area.

Perhaps because their task is rather morbid, the people on the Cadaver Corps groups tend to be chatty and cheerful to the point of sheer annoyance. I realize they’re trying to keep their spirits up, but their mindless prattle grows old after a time.

I reach the end of the corridor at last and step into the lift, joining a pair of Vakutans. They nod curtly to me, and I return the gesture before turning my back to them. Fortunately, they aren’t in a chatty mood.

That’s not true of the clerk working the Hub, a circular reception desk with myriad consoles and two people working non stop to keep the flow of goods and soldiers between Camp Hope and our burgeoning settlement going smoothly. 

“Hey, Shura. Kill anyone yet today?”

I glare at the thin Grolgath, my lips twitching a snarl.

“I’m just now leaving headquarters, so if I have I imagine that would be murder.”

“Ha. You’re a riot, Shura. You on Reclamation guard duty today?”

“Every day, it seems.”

He sends my marching orders to my data pad, and then I move to the adjacent garage. My crew is already gathered together, a mostly human bunch who do have one thing going for them; they tend to leave me out of their mindless conversations.

“Our guard cometh.” A spectacled young man with a pot belly but an easy smile points toward me. “We got Jolly Green today.”

“Jolly Green, live and in in living color.” Another man, this one a bit older but thinner, slaps me on my shoulder as I pass. “Ow. Jesus Christ, you’re built like a damn tank.”

“Hey, don’t take my lord’s name in vain, Roger.” A swarthy skinned human stares daggers at Roger until the other man blanches.

“Hey, sorry Santiago. I know you don’t like that shit.”

I address the spectacled man, because he is the official leader of this crew.

“Jerome, is the team ready to depart?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Shura sir.” He snaps off a salute, which I know he doesn’t intend to be mocking. I still glare anyway. “Ah, ready to leave when you are.”

“We’re still waiting on a decon kit, Jerome.”

“We don’t need a decon kit, there’s no radiation in the area we’ll be working today.” 

The crew gets on board the twenty foot long hover transport, its cargo bay specially designed with pods for sapient remains. I climb into the gunnery seat, manning the quad ion cannon turret.

Jerome takes the control stick and eases us out into the morning sunlight. We speed over newly paved roads for a time, until we reach the ruined portion of the city. Then our progress slows a great deal.

Eventually we reach our goal, a massive human Cathedral with half its wall collapsed inward, though the steeple remains intact. 

We vacate the transport, and I check the perimeter while Jerome gets his crew up to speed.

“All right, team, this is going to be a tough one. People tend to cluster in houses of worship during terrible times, so we’re going to have to make several trips. If anyone needs a break, be sure to take it.”

Everyone nods, and then sets about their grim task. I take up position just outside the church’s formerly grand, now crumbling entrance.

A mirthless smile stretches my lips as I take in the partially toppled structure. These people died here because they believed their god would protect them. Well, look how that turned out. Faith? Please. What an irrational concept. You don’t need a chip in your brain to realize the utter illogic therein.

Gods or no gods, faith or no faith, sooner or later everyone meets their end. Every end is a beginning? Well, sometimes an end is just an end. I’m not making the same mistake twice. In this new half life I’ve been given, I’ve resolved to make no attachments to anyone or anything. That way, when the end comes, I won’t even care.

My three eyes narrow suddenly. Shorcu have the best vision in the galaxy, though some of us—not me—are sensitive to the higher spectrums of light and need protective goggles. I spot the seven figures skulking in the deep shadows of the ruined church several ways; thermal, infrared, and ultraviolet.

“Jerome,” I call over comms. “Get your people down, on the floor. Now.”

It’s all the warning I have time for. From what I can see, these are former convicts, gangs of which have plagued us from the get go. It’s gotten worse now that they’ve been damaged by their time under the influence of Richard the brain in a box. Now they’ve lost all rationality, and behave like stalking packs of predators more than sapient beings.

They still know to use weapons, however, and the Reclamation team is unarmed. It’s up to me to protect them.

I dash toward the skulkers and raise my cyber arm, activating the built in blaster cannon. The fingers fold backward, the palm splits in half to reveal the lens of a powerful energy weapon. I slide to a halt, spread my legs wide for stability, and fire a pulsing but continuous beam toward the hiding convicts.

The red beam rakes across their line, felling two savage warriors by cutting them cleanly in two. The remaining five take cover behind the crumbling ruins, and I deactivate the cannon. It needs a few seconds to regenerate its power cell, but I have other options.

I reach down to my belt and snap off a cylindrical grenade with a long handle for distance throwing. My arm snaps back, then forward, sending the deadly explosive over the raider’s cover. A second later they come scrambling out, eyes wide with terror, but it’s too late. An orange flare of super heated plasma envelops them, burning their flesh right from their bones and leaving steaming skeletons contorted in poses of sheer agony.

Coming around the corner of the improvised redoubt, I engage my arm cannon again, but find that all my foes are dead.

I start to give Jerome and the others the all clear signal, but find that they’re already surrounding me, hooping and hollering and carrying on like I’ve just saved the galaxy instead of slaughtering some mentally ill criminals.

Despite my protests, they insist upon taking me out for drinks later. I start planning ways to avoid it immediately as they return to work.

Ironic that this church, a supposed sanctuary, is the sight of so much slaughter. But that’s the galaxy we live in. Will the Soldiers change it? Maybe, but I remain unconvinced.

Fuck faith.