Mud. Thick, freezing-cold mud that came up to the waist and made fighting near impossible.
Mud was the first thing that came to mind when Syn though of this bloody war. It filled the trenches, covering equipment, weapons, ammunition; everything had it's own coating of mud.
Syn was covered in it right now, icy muck that threatened to swallow him whole if he stayed still for too long.
But right now, moving was the last thing on his mind.
The Army had located Syn and the Resistance two days ago. Since then, it had been battle-stations in the frontline trenches day-and-night for forty-eight hours.
And here they were.
War droids, or bots, as they were more commonly known. Syn could see every detail in their armoured shells through his rifle-scope. Red eyes stared straight ahead out of angular faces. Metal plating covered complex electronics, blazoned with the blue stripes of the Regime. Each one carried a cumbersome repeating laser rifle, too heavy for an ordinary human to use.
And every single one was covered in mud.
Syn let his sights settle on a bot, aligning the crosshairs over it's head. Around him, he could hear the whispered voices of his fellow soldiers as they readied themselves for battle. All were waiting for the same thing; his shot.
He made a quick adjustment to the optics on his sight, bringing the bot into perfect clarity. Consciously, he tried to control his breathing and slow his hammering heart.
'Come on then, bitch, let's see how thick that armour really is.'
He squeezed the trigger.
Nothing could have been more satisfying than the view down the scope as his bullet penetrated the armoured head of the war droid. In a fraction of a second, it's skull-like faceplate buckled and collapsed as the projectile made it's journey through space. The lights went out of it's eyes, and the bot dropped to the ground.
Battle erupted around Syn as his troops began to fire. Flashes of gunfire threatened to overwhelm his eyes, and the ground shook as the first mortar shell was blasted into the air.
The war droids were quick to respond, hammering the front of the barricade with a wall of fire. To his right, he heard the gargled scream of one of his troops, and turned to look.
A woman lay dead on the floor, her blonde hair fanned out behind her head. Plasma burns covered her throat. The bitter taste of regret welled up inside him, along with fresh resolve.
Syn threw down his sniper and took the compact assault rifle off his backstrap. Switching the weapon to full auto, he began to fire through a slit in the parapet.
"Great day for bustin' some bots, eh Syn?" Dek, Syn's Second-in-command, and the only man in the detachment tall enough to look him in the eye.
"Yeah," Syn shouted back, "Hardly a cloud in the sky, if you only count the white ones," Syn surprised himself with the hoarseness of his own voice.
Dek put a few bullets into the face of a bot, grinning and swearing as he did so. The man was a brick, a ball of muscle, pumped full of testosterone and covered in tattoo ink. He grimaced, showing several gaps in his teeth.
"Them bots won't slow up, Syn," Dek muttered, "We got to get the men out before they make chunks of us,"
Syn performed a 'tactical evaluation', which involved looking at a battered and outdated map of the area, looking at the advancing wall of bots, looking back at the map, and swearing profusely. Decisions like these were something he had come to hate in the past few months since the Resistance had been founded.
Syn heard the whine of a rocket, giving him just a second to duck down below cover before it impacted against the barricade. Red-hot fragments of shrapnel peppered the inside of the trench. He felt a shard of metal tearing through the flesh of his lower back, squeezing out a cry of acute agony as it did so. He grit his teeth and forced the pain into submission. It was just a flesh wound; he would survive.
He didn’t want to back down so easily, but the welfare of his troops came first.
"Get everybody out," Syn almost growled the words, spitting them out through the chokehold of pain. Dek began barking at the troops, his voice cutting through the din of battle.
He poked his head up for a brief look at the advancing enemy, trying to gauge their number, distance, anything that could help him plan their escape. Too many, he surmised, and too close.
Syn ran down the trench to the mortar pit, duckboards rocking under his massive bulk. The crew was still firing, in a brave but useless attempt to thin the ranks of bots before they reached the trench.
"Maus," Syn was nearly drowned out by the mortar as it belched another shell across the battlefield. Maus was a vast, with a body better befitting a bear than a man. He was not as tall as Syn, but still cut an imposing figure.
"Can you get the mortar out of here?" Syn asked. He hoped Maus could hear him over the noise.
"There would be no cover," Maus' baritone voice did not carry over the sound of battle, as much as under it.
Syn paused for thought. They needed the mortar. Hell, they needed anything they could get their hands on if they were going to win this war. It was a risk, but one Syn felt needed to be taken.
"Get the ammo, get the mortar, and get out. I'll clear a path," Maus nodded in acknowledgement, and relayed the order to his team. Syn took another look at the advancing bots.
They were right at the edge of the trench. A few more meters, and they'd be in the trench.
Syn grabbed a pack, and began stuffing it with shells. Maus looked at him with a questioning gaze, then took a glance over the parapet. He too began shovelling ammunition into his own backpack.
Having filled his pack to bursting, Syn slung it over one shoulder and, pausing to let Maus lift the heavy mortar onto his broad shoulder, set off down the length of the now abandoned trench towards the escape tunnel. Abandoned, except for the dozens of bodies that lay strewn where they had fallen, covered already in blast shrapnel, ash and mud. Syn’s stomach dropped. There was no such thing as someone who was used to warfare. He could only hope there were more people alive than there were lying here.
Syn was jerked out of his thoughts by a thud from behind him, followed by panicked shouting from the mortar team. He turned to see one of the crew slumped against the wall of the trench, blood still pouring from a deep slash in his throat. Another lay pinned on the floor, a bot standing over him. It’s storable armblade was buried deep in his back.
Syn dropped the ammo and pulled out his gun. The bot struggled to remove the blade, giving Syn all the advantage he needed. He fired, tearing deep holes into it’s armoured carapace as the superheated plasma impacted against it.
Another thud and a splash of mud up his calf alerted Syn to the presence of another war droid in the trench. He turned to see the bot already advancing, armblade extended and held high. He threw his right arm up in defence, and felt the sharp weapon knick the bone as the bot brought it down upon him. He grit his teeth to hold back the impending scream as the bot wrenched it’s weapon free. Crimson welled in the wound and spilled out over his ebony skin.
‘Never back down’
He lashed out and caught the bot with a strong left hook, cracking the glass of it’s eye and extinguishing the light.
The bot tried to strike again, but he pushed the barrel of his gun up under it’s chin, pinning it against the wall before firing.
At that range, the result was something like fireworks.
Syn was thrown back by the recoil as the bot’s head exploded, showering sparks in all directions. Fragments of white-hot metal hissed as they hit the cool earth walls of the trench. The duckboards split under Syn’s weight. He lay there for a moment, dazed and unable to think straight.
The ominous, skull-shaped face of a War Droid came into view. It’s eyes seemed to glow a in a deeper, more menacing way. Syn tried to move, only to be pinned down by the bot’s heavy metal foot. He felt it’s heel spur digging into hit shoulder, drawing blood. The bot raised it’s laser rifle and aimed it at Syn’s forehead- he could see right down into the barrel.
‘Typical Syn…’
The head of the War Droid snapped backwards with enough force to split the metal plating of the throat. Syn moved his head just in time to avoid having the heavy rifle dropped onto his head as the bot toppled to the floor. In it’s place stood Maus, hand extended to help Syn up.
“Syn, the mortar-” Maus began, but Syn found his attention attracted to motion in the background. Too late he realised what was happening.
“Maus! Down!” Syn tried to pull his comrade out of the way, but it was no use. A single bolt of superheated plasma entered the base of Maus’ neck, vaporising much of his head and leaving only a fragmented jaw behind. Blood and bone fragments spattered against Syn’s exposed face and arms as the near-decapitated body was flung forward by the impact.
And just like that, a man Syn had known for years was dead.
Gone.
Syn looked up. The guilty bot stood opposite him, weapon smoking in the cold.
That bot had killed Syn’s friend. He would punish it.
The war droid raised it’s laser rifle. Syn ducked under the incoming fire and pulled the trigger on his rifle. Nothing happened- the barrel had been melted by tense point-blank shooting.
He threw himself against the wall as the bot fired again. Seizing his chance, he pulled the backup pistol from Maus’ belt and began to fire. Time seemed to slow down as he pumped bullet after bullet into the bot’s torso, ripping open the armoured shell and shredding the complex mechanics within. The war droid fell to the ground, motionless.
Syn’s sense of relief was short-lived.
He’d killed one bot- one bastard bot that had murdered his friend of twenty years- but Syn knew that the best revenge would be to win the war.
For Maus.
That one thought dominated Syn’s mind, drowning out the last sounds of battle. Slipping in the mud, he ran in a half-daze towards the escape tunnel. The level of adrenaline in his system threatened to overwhelm him completely. He nearly charged straight past the escape tunnel, so loud was that one thought in his mind.
Sunlight hurt Syn’s eyes as he emerged from the other end of the tunnel. He saw Dek, saw his lips moving, the confusion in his eyes, but he did not hear him.
He just stood there, lost in thought.
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