G-1. A Slow Death

My name is Genevi Giacosa, and I am about to die.

They say when death approaches, your perception of time slows and your life flashes before your eyes. It’s a cliché, but I can confirm it’s true. I’ve stared down death many times, you see. Each time, I’ve been pulled back from the brink by a special someone, a precious existence who has fought alongside me since I was a child.

My kind, beautiful and strong sister, the rock that grounds me in this chaotic world. My dearest friend, Sabina.

Even now, as I tumble towards an alien ship in a half-destroyed Gravity Frame, I know she will rescue me. She will come charging in as she always has, and she always will.

I close my eyes and remember.

*****

Scene: Central European Industrial Zone, Italian Subdivision

Date: November 2036

The winters had grown colder every year. They said it had something to do with the aliens, and the gravity technology they used. The distortions meant less light was reaching Earth than had used to. Even the once-balmy coasts of my homeland were now ravaged by frozen, frigid winters.

All of Europe was frozen solid. The destitute peoples of Earth huddled around the great war factories that now dominated our cities, whose industrial fires burned day and night. My sister and me, being six years of age, were now old enough to work in those factories.

It was a blessing, really. With all resources pouring into the war, there was none to spare for the people. Only by working in the factories, or serving in the military, would the government guarantee us food and shelter. Even if that shelter was nothing more than a few blankets and pillow in a crowded room next to the production line, we were grateful for the warmth. Those outside the factory walls simply froze and died.

Sabina and I worked hard every shift and nestled together under blankets to sleep during breaks. It was a meager existence, but we were surviving. Hearing about all the humans who were dying on Mars, or were vaporized in the kinetic impacts that destroyed Minsk and Skopje, we thought ourselves fortunate.

My sister had always been concerned for my safety. Whenever bullies picked on me, she chased them off. Whenever I had to work in the smelter, she gave me her goggles. Whenever rations were cut, she gave me some of her protein bar. She was strong, and I was weak. She told me many times she would always protect me and I, in turn, adored her.

My precious guardian angel.

I was working hard on the production line one day, sorting good transistors from bad ones, when there was an accident. One of the smelters in the next chamber overturned, and molten steel spilled everywhere. It started a fire that threatened to consume the entire building. The fire spread so quickly, none of us had time to evacuate. As those around me passed out from smoke inhalation, I felt my own head grow fuzzy, and the ground rushed up to meet my face.

Lying there, dazed, flames drawing ever closer, time seemed to slow down.

Ah. This is it. I’m going to die. I thought with a surprising amount of calm.

It was then that I was scooped up in my sister’s arms. Holding me tight, she raced through the smoke and the flames, stumbling out into the frigid snow outside. The two of us lay on the snow, exhausted and coughing, while the factory that was our home went up in flames.

Turning to look at my sister, that was when I first knew. The fire before us was reflected in her eyes.

She would always, ALWAYS protect me.

I had to grow stronger, so I could protect her too.

*****

Scene: Western European Industrial Zone, Spanish Subdivision

Date: June 2045

When my Sabina and I turned fifteen, we were old enough to join the Revolutionary Army. Indeed, it was not a matter of choice for us. Our conscription was mandatory. We had known this fact since we were children. Now we resided at the General Military Academy in Zaragoza.

Academy life was a paradise compared to the factories. Of course there was harsh discipline, and endless drills, and combat training that left us exhausted every day. But soldiers were well-fed and got to sleep in proper bunks. The government took care of us, so that we’d live long enough to die on the battlefield.

That year, after 18 years of siege, Mars finally fell to the aliens. Our colonies on the surface were wiped from existence, and human casualties stretched into the billions. The news from the front grew graver every day, and humanity was pushed back to defensive formations around the Earth itself. Each one of us trained all the harder in desperation, eager to join the fight and prove ourselves on the battlefield.

It was at the Academy that I had my first crush on a girl named Monica. My sister, ever protective, had subjected poor Monica to a nearly four-hour interrogation before allowing her to date me. Monica later confessed to me she had never been so intimidated in her life, and I could only laugh in response.

The three of us quickly became fast friends and relied upon each other during squad exercises. During one such exercise I had my second brush with death.

We were piloting Construction Frames fitted with paintball weapons, carefully advancing through a field filled with landmines. The landmines had most of their powder removed, so a detonation would simply rattle a pilot and knock them over, but not seriously harm them. Opposing us was another squad of trainees, with their Frames painted red to signify their status as the “enemy” in this exercise. The Frames’ computers would register paintball hits and simulate the appropriate damage by locking up systems. Our melee weapons were blunted swords with foam edges.

During the exercise, I found myself in a position to disable an enemy Frame. With a quick swing of my sword I whacked the enemy’s gun from their hand, and then delivered a roundhouse kick that sent their Frame flying straight into a landmine I had avoided earlier. I figured the (mostly simulated) blast would disable the enemy with ease.

That particular landmine had been mishandled during the setup, however. Most of its powder was still inside. The resulting full-force explosion tore the other Frame and its pilot to shreds, and sent a barrage of shrapnel into my own. A jagged piece of metal pierced my cockpit, and I felt a sharp heat rising from inside me. Looking down, I saw myself impaled through the stomach and sitting in a pool of my own blood.

Once again, time slowed down. I looked down at my grievous wound and could do nothing but laugh. It hurt to laugh, sending jolts of unbearable pain through my chest, but I laughed regardless. To this day, I still don’t know why.

I must have blacked out immediately thereafter, because when I awoke it was several days later and I was in a hospital ward, my abdomen wrapped in bandages. Both Monica and Sabina were by my side. Monica was watching me intently and Sabina was dozing off, her head and arms sprawled on the side of my hospital bed. I noticed her own abdomen was bandaged too.

After a tearful reunion and much hugging, Monica explained to me that my wounds had been severe. The shrapnel had completely shredded my stomach and both my kidneys. Although surgery had saved my life, even the finest doctors could not replicate organs that had been destroyed. It was possible for me to survive without a stomach, but without kidneys I would have to spend the rest of my life undergoing dialysis at regular intervals. There would be no way for me to fight as a soldier under those circumstances, and upon being expelled from the Academy I would be relegated back to a hard life of factory work.

My sister refused to allow me such a sad fate, however. She had volunteered to donate one of her kidneys to me, and her status as my identical twin had maximized compatibility. With the transplant performed, I was now on the road to recovery.

I gazed upon my sister with adoring eyes and gently stroked her hair as she snored. Once again she had protected me, and I resolved to fight at her side until the day the slavering maws of the aliens took us both to Heaven’s gates.

*****

Scene: Tertiary Defense Line, Southwest Quadrant, Sector 47

Date: October 2052

On our third deployment, Sabina and I were assigned to the SGFC Chiroptera. By this time we were seasoned Gravity Frame pilots who had distinguished ourselves as a pair in many battles. We were so in-tune with one another that many accused us of having a telepathic connection. This was pseudoscientific tripe of course, but we did nothing to dispel those rumors so our commanding officers would see fit to let us continue fighting together.

Monica and I broke up just prior to graduating the Academy, and she was deployed to another quadrant of the Tertiary Line. We still corresponded with her via radio mail, and I was quite happy for her when she made the rank of Captain and got her own ship. Sabina and I never aspired to anything that great; we simply wanted to fight and die together on the battlefield, taking as many of the aliens with us as we could. But because neither of us was willing to let the other die first, we somehow survived and became ace pilots.

There was plenty of fighting to keep us busy. Even after being pushed back from Mars, humanity had continued to suffer defeat after defeat. The Primary Defense Line around Earth had fallen to the First Great Surge some six years ago, and the Secondary Line was shredded by the Second Great Surge only three years prior. Now the Sarchophage were surging forth once again, attacking every part of the Tertiary Line simultaneously. Their numbers were so great they blotted out the sun and stars.

Historians called this battle the Third Great Surge. We soldiers called it the Third Meat Grinder.

We fought. Desperately, madly, for days on end, we fought. Our fragile bodies and consciousnesses were held together by only adrenaline and stimulants. We became little more than extensions of our Gravity Frames, exhausted flesh bound in wires and uranium and steel. But in a war of attrition, even our single-mindedness could not bear us to victory, for the Sarcophage simply consumed their own dead and hatched more monstrosities to throw against our hellfire barrage of positrons and plasma.

Five days into the battle, the order came. It was broadcast on an open channel with no encryption, to anyone still alive to hear.

“All units, all ships. Fall back to the Absolute Lunar Defense Line. Wide-field positron barrage will begin in 400 seconds.”

The decision had been made to abandon the Tertiary Line. The Absolute Lunar Defense Line behind us was the largest gathering of weapons and fortifications ever seen in human history, a sphere of defensive might that encircled the Earth just beyond the orbit of the Moon. Within that constellation were hundreds of thousands of positron cannons, larger than those mounted on any ship. Having deemed this battle a loss, command had elected to discharge all those cannons simultaneously, which would send a devastating artillery barrage throughout the whole battlefield and destroy human and alien alike.

It was a desperate move, but under no circumstances could the aliens be allowed to survive this battle. If they breached the Absolute Line, the largest portion of our spacefaring industrial capacity on the Moon’s surface would be annihilated. If that happened, we would assuredly lose the war.

As our comrades retreated, I realized I could not. My Gravity Frame’s primary drive fins had burnt out from overuse, and with only RCS fins available there was no way for me to reach sufficient acceleration in time. My cockpit ejection systems had burned out as well, so I was trapped. I would die in the coming barrage.

I informed my sister as such. I felt death’s cold presence once again swirl around me, and time was slowed by adrenaline and fate. But my Sabina’s harsh voice snapped me out of it.

“FUCK THAT!” she proclaimed.

She ignited her Frame’s plasma blades and cut open my cockpit with astounding speed and precision. Taking my inertia suit-clad body in her Frame’s hands, she blasted off towards the Absolute Line while pushing her drive fins way past the redline. They too had seen long days of battle and burned out quickly, but by then we had attained sufficient velocity.

We passed inside the Line just as the barrage began. A brilliant wave of blue positrons seared the heavens, burning the aliens to ash. It was incredibly beautiful, a fitting wake for the millions who had died in the previous five days.

As I lay there, cradled in the arms of my sister’s Gravity Frame, I once more reflected on how blessed I was to have her at my side. I had striven to become strong and protect her as well, but she always was the one who rescued me.

She always had, and she always would.

*****

I open my eyes as a light fills my cockpit. It’s the brilliant arcing white light of a plasma blade, I’m certain of it.

Once more, my sister is cutting into my Gravity Frame. Once more, she is coming to my rescue. Either that, or the glorious light of Heaven has come to claim my battered soul at long last.

Whatever the case, I have nothing to fear from this light.

Many times have I stared death in the face, and God willing I will do so many times more. This is what it means to be a soldier. I am not afraid. I have never been afraid. I will fight until I die, and then I will embrace my dearest sister again in paradise.

I close my eyes and smile.