Protoculture Wars
Children Of Hope, Children Of Despair
                                                          Aubry Thonon 

                             Survival Syndrome


    The sun shone down on the rocky plain, relentlessly beating all
living beings on it into submission. The plants looked withered and
dry and even the lizards had taken refuge in whatever shadows they
could find. In a small section of the rocky terrain, two plumes of
black smoke rose to the sky, snaking in the wind, occasionally
partially obscuring the merciless sun.
    Steven was lying in a patch of short brown grass, feeling the
brittle stems breaks under his weight. <Emergency pack gone in the
crash, water container shattered, left leg crushed, hips broken, a
thirst you wouldn't believe and a sun that's only just started its
journey across the sky. Face it, Steve: unless you find yourself some
shade and soon, you're a goner.>
    Moving ever so slowly, Steven started to scan the horizon. <Well,
scratch one Alpha. At least I got the son-of-a-bitch traitor that was
piloting the Invid mecha... And looks like he got me, too.> The sky
was free of clouds except for the occasional contrail that had been
left there during the dogfight. But even those wispy tufts of
condensation were starting to break apart. Finally, about a hundred
meters from where he was lying, Steven spotted a small outcropping of
rocks. The stony surface rose like a stylised wave and on one side of
it was an overhang which promised some relief from the battering heat.
    <One hundred meters with a busted hip and leg - in full sun.
That's gonna be tough.> Gathering his courage, Steven started to crawl
towards shelter.

    "Hey, Steven! What've they got *you* doing today?"
    "I lucked out, Harry. I'm patrolling the North East Sector.
Nothing much can hide on that plain, so I guess I'll have a quiet
day."

    <Hah. Quiet day. Famous last words, Steve.>

    "QTB-12 to base. Nothing here so far. This plain is as empty as
Harry's little black book."
    "I heard that." came the reply over the 'net. "Just for that,
you're buying me lunch when we come back from dawn patrol."
    "Cut the chatter! This is supposed to be a secured line."

    The impact shook his plane as shrapnel flew from the nose of the
Alpha. The canopy developed cracks and warning buzzers filled the air.
"What the...?" Steven looked about and saw a humanoid-looking mecha
flying towards him, its missile bays still open. "Son of a b-" Banking
right, Steven dove and turned, bringing his weapons to bear. "QTB-12
to base. Do you read me?" The headphones answered back with absolute
silence. The absence of static could only mean that his radio had been
a casualty of that first strike. <Damnit, why didn't I pick him up on
radar?> The answer was obvious as soon as he had asked the question -
the mecha had been flying NoE and Steven had been too busy admiring
the flawless sky.

    <And now this flawless sky is going to kill me if I don't get to
that shade.> From where he was, Steven could now see the patch of
darkness. It was not big, it would probably barely hide him from the
sun. But between the lack of water and the severe blood-loss he had
already endured, Steven knew he would not survive to see the end of
the day if he remained in the light.
    Movement attracted his attention to his right. Focusing his bleary
eyes, Steven gazed towards the movement and gasped. Barely twenty
meters from him, having just cleared a dip in the terrain, was the
enemy pilot.

    His missiles had almost all completely missed their mark, but
Steven could tell from the plumes of smoke rising from the enemy mecha
that at least a *few* of them had hit true. He nudged his Battloid
further away from the ground, trying to get the advantage of height
over his enemy.
    The enemy Battloid opened its missile bays and paused for a moment
before closing them again. <Good. So you're out of missiles too.>
Steven dove at the mecha before its pilot could react and grabbed its
left arm, wrenching hard. With a sickening sound, the entire limb came
away from the Battloid and Steven brought it back up, then down onto
the mecha's head, pummelling his enemy with its own arm.
    From this close, Steven could see right into the cockpit of the
Invid mecha and see the pilot inside. <I thought those reports of
human pilots were just rumours. I guess I was wrong.> Anger filled him
at the thought of Humans turning traitor and serving the Invid,
killing their fellow Humans. He dropped the Invid's arm and brought up
his GU-XX to bear, emptying the rest of the clip into the enemy's main
torso.
    The Invid mecha pitched backwards and started to fall. "Say hello
to your pals in Hell, buddy." snarled Steven. The snarl was cut short
as pillars of white smoke streamed away from the falling Invid towards
his own Battloid. Steven's face went pale. <I guess he *wasn't* out of
missiles after all.>

    In unspoken unison, both pilot had started crawling towards one
another. <There's only room in that shade for one of us. Looks like
Benedict Arnold over here figured that one out, too.> Steven stopped
for a moment to take a better look at his opponent. The pilot was
wearing some sort of yellow and brown skin-tight outfit. It seemed to
be favouring its left side, Steven could see bones protruding from its
rib-cage and left leg. <Damn. How can it keep moving like that?>
Steven squinted and gasped, finally noticing the blood on the pilot's
outfit. <Green blood? Same colour as that stuff their mecha spurt out
when we shoot them. *That's* what the Invid look like?>
    The Invid pilot had stopped too, trying to catch its breath. Its
<his?> breathing was shallow and quick as it tried to nurse its
savaged torso. It took a look in the outcrop's direction before
continuing towards Steven.
    <Dedicated son of a bitch, aren't you?> Steven resumed his
crawling towards the Invid, picking up a rock along the way. Progress
was slow on both side, like two snails charging one another. Only from
this charge, only one survivor could emerge.
    Eventually both pilots came face to face, looking in each other's
eyes. The Invid swung its right fist up to hit Steven who countered by
thrusting his left fist into the Invid's rib-cage. The Invid doubled
over in pain, its movement all but forgotten. Steven raised his own
right hand, the one with the rock in it and brought it down upon the
Invid's skull. There was a sharp crack and the Invid shuddered once
before laying still.
    Steven let out a sigh of relief and brushed the sweat away from
his brow with his hand. In an effort to conserve water, he brought his
hand up to his mouth and sucked on the moisture there. This done, he
dipped his finger into the green pool of blood, put it on his tongue
warily. Immediately he spat. The Invid's blood was burning on his
tongue and in his cheek. <No help there.> Feeling more tired than
ever, Steven turned back towards the o5tcrop and stopped suddenly.
"*NO!*". He turned back to look at the dead body. "You *bastard*!" he
cried, bringing the rock down on the Invid's skull over and over. "You
knew. You *knew*!"
    At the foot of the outcrop, following its daily cycle, the patch
of shadow had disappeared.

    The sun shone down on the rocky plain, relentlessly beating all
living beings on it into submission. The plants looked withered and
dry and even the lizards had taken refuge in whatever shadows they
could find.

Neoculture===============Crash-Test Wraith On The Information SuperHighway
    He makes no friends who never made a foe.
                                              -- Alfred, Lord Tennyson
===============================================Aubry.Thonon@qed.qld.gov.au
           ProWar -> http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Towers/1467/
           R:APoV -> http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Towers/4164/