Downtime

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Downtime
The beer hung limply from Jackie’s hand, undrunk, and unopened. The bottle was warm, turned that way by the glaring sunlight, and her own pale hands. Her eyes focused on some far-off point, through the thicket of trees surrounding the barracks, even further than the horizon. She stared through it all, her mind locked on the events of the past day.
The staircase she sat on dug into her thighs. It wasn’t meant for sitting, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Two other Troopers sat on the same steps, leading up to the open door of the Trooper barracks, while a third sat off to one side, laying down atop two industrial barrels.
Jackie paid them no mind, twisting the cap off of the beer in her hands, and sipping on the contents. Not caring for the taste, not caring for the texture. She drank just to drink; to do something to distract herself.
“Was that your first time in combat?” someone asked her from atop the staircase.
Jackie turned her head, but kept her eyes fixed on that far-off unseen point.
“No,” she answered. 
“Your first time with Covenant?” A different voice asked, off to one side.
Jackie nodded, heaving a great, shaky sigh. “Yeah.”
“They’re different, aren’t they,” the first voice said.
Jackie fully turned around this time, her lips parting to say something in response. Some question gave flight from her mind, but lost its place somewhere on the path to her voice. She just stared at the other trooper; a woman of roughly the same age, though with two more tours under her belt. Her name tag read ‘Jillian’, and her eyes were gentle, but carried that same thousand-yard look that plagued Jackie’s own.
The Trooper nodded from her post down at the bottom of the barracks stairs. “Yeah.”
Jillian shifted in place, nodding her head. “I remember my first time shooting a human. Farm boy, no older than fifteen. We were clearing an Innie bomb factory,” she brought up two hands, pantomiming holding a gun. “And I shot him in the face.”
Jackie blinked. “Just like that?”
Jillian nodded her head, something between a smirk and a frown tugging at the corner of her lips. “Not quite how they show it in the vids, huh?”
Nodding, Jackie turned back around, taking another deep swig from the neck of her bottle. “You could say that.”
“Real war stories are shit like that, I’m afraid,” Jillian said. “This boy was just suddenly there, holding a shotgun. Birdshot, probably. Might not’ve even gotten through the helmet visor. But it was a weapon, and we were taught to shoot any threat, so,” she popped her lips. “Boom. One round, through the face, out the back. He went down and didn’t move again.”
“I didn’t see the first man I killed,” Jackie said, her stare back on that point on the horizon, her mind somewhere else. 
“No? You’re lucky, then.” Jillian hummed, nudging Jackie with the toe of her boot. “What were you? Sniper? Spotter?”
“No, just…” Jackie put a hand on her leg and twisted her body, not fully looking at the other Trooper. She caught the gaze of the third one on the stairs, sitting leaned up against the railing. This one listened to the conversation intently, name tag reading Isabelle.
Jackie shook her head. “No,” she continued. “I just hit the red on a frag and tossed it. Didn’t see it blow, and the shooting stopped, so. I assume I got him.” She drew deep on the neck of her beer bottle, letting the empty glass fall to the ground and sink itself into the soft soil. “I looked up over the barrels, and there was a hand. Just a hand. Didn’t see the rest of him,” she trailed off, looking down at her boots in shame. “I walked away to go vomit.”
“Yeah. Sounds about right. I felt sick for a week,” Isabelle said. 
Humming, Jillian tossed her own bottle down the stairs, reaching into her back for another one and sighing. “I’d lie awake at night, picturing this boy’s face. He didn’t know who I was, what he was doing. But he was an Innie, and I was a Trooper. It could only end two ways, with me or him on the ground.”
“I don’t…” Jackie squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s not that I killed him that gets to me.”
“No, I know.” Jillian stood up, squeezing past Isabelle and dropping herself down next to Jackie. “We all know,” she said, now sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with the young Trooper. “We’ve all killed men. Women. Enemies of the state, but human. Just like you or me. But now we’ve seen the Covenant, fought them, and we all wonder the same thing you’re wondering now.”
The woman’s face was just as gentle as her eyes. 
“Which is?” Jackie asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jillian gulped, wetting her lips and smiling a sad smile. “What was the point?” she asked.
The question hung between them both for a while, the other two Troopers with them lapsing into stillness. 
“That farmboy with the shotgun, your man behind the barrels,” Jillian continued, shrugging her shoulders, and holding her hands out. “What did they die for? Those colonies are gone now, and yet here we are.” She made a circling motion with her hands. “Remembering the faces of the humans we killed, while the aliens all blur together. Why did we bother, now that something worse is killing us all?”
“God.” Jackie broke, hunching over and burying her head into her hands. “It’s never gonna stop, is it?”
“I don’t know,” Jillian said, putting a hand on Jackie’s back. “Jackson,” she shifted. “You remember your first time with Covies?”
“Oh, ja,” the man atop the barrels raised his hands as he spoke. “Was in a swamp. Attached to a Marine detail, unofficial position, mind you. Ad-hoc, local aid, they called me, or some shiesse.” He swung his legs over the edge of the barrels and hefted himself up, groaning as he did. “Three of the big ones came out of the bush, into the knee-high water. Took out three Marines before we could even blink. The rest of us had to focus fire, we brought them down, but three of them for five of us.” He scoffed. “Hardly fair, nein?”
“Isabelle?” Jillian moved her head. “Your first?”
“Building sweep. Looking for refugees. We only had to deal with the one lizard, but it was one of those with Av-Cam, and a sword.” 
Jackie lifted her face from her hands, sniffing, and craning her neck to get a good look at Isabelle as she spoke.
“Two guys went into this room,” the woman continued, shaking her head in slow, somber motions. “Never came out. We went in, found ‘em dead, and no ell-gee-em. It picked off five more before we got it with a grenade from a 319. Point blank, blew off the shooter’s arm.”
Jackie let her eyes shut again, deflating at the stories. “How do you guys do it?”
Jillian looked down at her. “Do what?”
“Keep going,” Jackie said. “How? What’s the point.”
Jillian hesitated for a while, before shifting in place to lean herself forward, twisting the bottle cap off of the bottle of beer in her hand. “My first time,” she began, “those little ones came charging over a hill. Hundreds of them, just running straight at our perimeter wall.” She smiled a wide smile. “It was easy, at first. Fun, even. Popping the suckers with some well-placed shots,” whistling, the woman blew her hands out big, making a noise like an explosion, then she trailed off. 
“But, then we saw on the top of the hill, the big ones with the real guns were waiting, and watching. Vehicles, too. Just watching. The little ones kept coming, we ran out of ammo,” she paused, bringing the bottle up, then pausing with it halfway to her lips. A few drops of beer spilled out onto the grass below, and she sighed. 
“The turrets span down, and the second wave came in. About a hundred of us got away, out of a garrison of nearly five thousand. But you know what?” 
Jackie watched her, and suddenly her face and eyes weren’t so gentle anymore, but steely. 
“Every single person who died that day took one of those aliens with ‘em,” she emphasised with a point of her fingers in Jackie’s direction. “That’s the point,” she said. “To hurt them as much as they hurt us, because if we don’t, then they’ll hurt someone else. And nobody deserves that. Not the man behind the barrels, not the farmboy with the shotgun.” She pinned the tip of her finger to Jackie’s chest.
“Nobody.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Jackson said, hopping down from the barrels.
“Me too,” said Isabelle.
Jackie and Jillian held one-another’s gaze for a few more seconds, before Jillian handed over the open beer.
“Here, kid. Drink. You need it, and you’ll need it many more times before this is over.” She relinquished the bottle, nudging her shoulder into Jackie’s
Jackie took the bottle, and swung it up to her lips, draining it in one swig.
Category:Short stories
Category:SilverLastname
Category:The Weekly