The Adversary

I saw one of the Adversaries today. It looked… mundane.
Before this moment I must confess a certain apprehension I held towards the Great Adversaries, our Eternal Enemies and Arch-Rivals. I have only heard the stories from those who returned from the frontline: of the endless hordes of Adversaries, their seemingly endless numbers hurling themselves against our defenses after saturating the area with rocket artillery. “How many hordes are there in an Adversary platoon?” asked veterans of the Vattarian War, a grim joke amongst themselves.
For over three hundred years, our glorious Covenant and the Great Adversaries have fought each other, both in open warfare and in proxy conflicts. Official numbers state that just under one million lives have been lost in our great struggle against the Adversaries, but a common rumor amidst the officer corps is that the figure is actually close to a billion. One billion soldiers gave the ultimate sacrifice to contribute to our final victory over the Adversaries – a victory that has yet to materialize.
Veterans who have returned from a tour of duty at the frontlines, especially on planets in the Corrobus Nebula, whisper in hushed tones of the conditions there. Of how in each assault, thousands of our brave warriors are thrown into the fray, only to be beaten back, or annihilated to the man, against the Adversary’s defenses. Such is the situation in space as well. The Adversaries send in a few fast battleships and cruisers against a significant fleet, attacking and destroying a few ships here and there, then jumping into slipspace as quickly as possible, denying our forces an opportunity to counterattack. In this, there is no breakthrough, only death.
Now, these brave warriors dare not speak of this too loud, for fear of inviting the attention of the Ministry of Inquisition. Indeed, to even suggest that our righteous struggle against our Arch-Rivals has stalemated into an endless conflict, with little hope for peace and even less meaningful sacrifices on the battlefield, would be heresy of the highest degree. The Gods are our side. How could we falter?
Perhaps the Arch-Rivals’ One God was a Forerunner. Perhaps Xe turned away from Xyr kin, and chose the Eternal Enemy as Xyr’s chosen people. Perhaps Xe showered them with the gift of usage of the Holy Relics. But this One God erred, for the Adversary defiled and tainted the Relics for their own purposes, and now turned them against those who would revere them. Surely, this makes them deserving of the title of Great Adversary.
Now, with this new threat, Humanity, on our doorstep, troop numbers were drawn down on the Gorvod Front – my front. Several infantry divisions were withdrawn, and while they were moved with the utmost secrecy, this withdrawal only added to our concerns that the Adversaries might take notice and launch a full-scale assault on our positions.
In the months that followed, however, there was nothing, simply the usual exchange of artillery fire between 0600 hours and 1800 hours, as anticipated by both sides. Neither side’s shielding was disturbed for the duration of the bombardment. After such artillery duels came… nothing. No fighting. No shooting. No sudden charges across the desolate fields between our two frontlines. Nothing. A breeze from the east, the clouds parting to reveal twin suns, perhaps rainfall, but no fighting.
Towards sunset is when I spotted the Adversary. It peeked its head over the fortifications and spied us with binoculars. I watched in return with the scope from my beam rifle, for I was posted as a picket, right at a small bunker. A slight drizzle blanketed the hilly landscape. Years ago, this was the site of a fierce conflict between ourselves and the Adversary, but now, with the absence of large-scale, sustained fighting (the artillery duels were mainly against shielding, and targeting of meaningless ground with no enemy occupying it was rare), short foliage began to reclaim the wounded hills.
The Adversary glared at me through his spectacles, and I did the same with my rifle. He did not disappear upon spotting me with my rifle, and I declined to open fire. We just stared at each other. He was masticating on some sort of object within his mouth, perhaps some sort of candy. His uniform was standard for most Enemy infantry: a plain light brown cloth tunic, trousers, and gloves, along with some sort of metal helmet, green in color. Then, he said something, most likely to an unseen comrade nearby. I could not discern his utterance.
“Rik?” asked a voice from behind me. “Rik, do you see anything?” It was the voice of my friend and lance mate, Trev ‘Carummee.
“Negative,” I said.
“You lie,” he replied with a sing-song voice. “I can almost feel a pair of Adversary eyes sighting you. Come now, squeeze that trigger. Feel the recoil. Watch his head melt off.” There was silence from the both of us which lasted several seconds. Trev grew impatient. “Rik, have you gone soft? Please do not say so.” Then, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Oh, Gods, please do not tell me you are beginning to grow tolerant of the Adversaries!”
“That is untrue,” I replied with a similar hushed tone.
“Then shoot.”
I looked over my right shoulder and down, and there was Trev. He held a plasma rifle in one hand, and prayer beads in another, passing them through his fingers. I breathed in and looked back towards the Adversary lines. I cocked my head to the left, feigning a warning gesture as a nervous tic, and looked down the scope. As I sighted the Adversary with the binoculars, he had a look of surprise about him. He uttered some sort of explanation and ducked. Within this time span, I was afforded the opportunity to fire and kill him. I did not, instead pausing to wait until he was out of my sights. Then, I squeezed the trigger, felt the recoil, and heard the distinct pew! ring out across the hills. The beam struck the wall in the Adversary bunker. Immediately afterwards, I saw the same helmet the Adversary wore wave at me from below, before disappearing a moment later – perhaps a gesture of thanks.
“I missed,” I said.
“The great marksman, Rik ‘Kalaree, top fifteen in his class at the Sanghelios Global Military Academy, surpassed by few… missed?”
“Indeed.”
“Gods… Perhaps you need more rest.”
“Perhaps. Fortunately my cousin is not here to bear witness to this.”
“That Kai fellow, yes?”
“No, his elder brother, Del. I like Kai better.”
“Ah yes, of course, the short one. Where is Kai, do you believe?”
“In the last letter he wrote, he said he was serving within the Fleet of Unbroken Conviction, in the Human War.”
“Gods! I heard they are doing…” Trev looked around, and was apparently satisfied no prying ears were within hearing distance. “Much better than us.”
I nodded silently.
“Come now, hand over that rifle,” Trev said, beckoning me with a hand gesture. “Your shift is done, let me take over. Get some rest.”
“Alright. Good luck.” I gave the rifle to Trev and moved back slightly. I was still less than ten paces away, but far enough away to not be mortally wounded should a rocket explode in the bunker. I shuffled into a small alcove in the trench line where ammunition crates were stored, leaned my head back against the wall, closed my eyes, and rested.
Category:The Weekly