Friday, August 01, 2008
The Bugger Wars: A Day In Barney's Life
Barney glanced at the clock. Flush mounted into the light gray wall, it blended in, a natural part of the business environment. Mostly, it was his adversary, advancing like a snail, in no hurry, going no where. He sighed. The thing controlled his life, dicing it up into little increments. Even when he wasn’t at the office, it dominated every aspect of his existence. Tick, tock, the minute hand slid gradually to two minutes shy of the hour. He blinked. Nothing changed. The slow methodical arch of the sweep second hand started another round. Again, he sighed and dropped his gaze.
The report still rested in front of him on the desk. Lines and lines of data, meaningless to all except a trained eye. And Barney had eyes trained to cipher the meaning of the symbols, breaking them down into words and numbers. He moved the 12” metal ruler he used to assist his experienced eyes in following the symbols across the page to the next line to be considered.
Then he looked up to the computer screen sitting 24” away. The information matched. He placed a check mark on the paper and pressed a key on his keyboard. On the screen the next cell was highlighted. Barney sighed.
His workspace was a 3-sided, 5-foot high gray cubicle with a gray desk, gray file cabinets and a matching gray chair. The carpet was gray Berber weave with clear mats strategically placed in high traffic areas and under chairs. Chatter, a low level of human voices, phones and general activity drifted over his short walls in a never ending, mind numbing stream.
One of the many messengers entered his small world, unceremoniously deposited a pile of new reports on an unused corner of the desk, rendered him a non-sympathetic smile and disappeared all in one fluid seamless motion. He looked around. The grayness, the Monday of it all began to close in on him. Another glance at the enemy on the wall, one minute to the hour.
This couldn’t be his life, he wanted to scream. Stand up and shout it to the world, he thought, there must be more! He wanted to bury his face in his hands and allow the emotion to flow. Except, men weren’t permitted such expressions. Instead, he stared at his report fighting back the strong impulses welling up inside. An all too familiar panic rushed to overwhelm his spirit. This was his life and there was no escape! Predictably, the nausea was not far behind. His breathing increased as he fought to prevent his stomach from delivering its contents. Barney knew what was coming next, even while he tried to fight it but, to no avail.
The grays flowed together, twirled and spun out of control. The vortex formed.
“Oh God,” Barney prayed. “Oh God!”
An explosion to his right threw dirt, smoke and potential death across his foxhole. The Liberator flinched. Then he scolded himself for showing weakness. His soldiers needed strength, his strength if the next few hours were to be successful.
Quickly, he surveyed the battlefield. His mind was clear. He knew what had to be done. The end of the long road was near, in sight. He wore khaki, green camouflage, a bush-style hat barely on his head and a pistol belt around his waist. The 45 felt natural in his hand. The knapsack straps pulled against his shoulders. Everyone had to carry his or her share of the load, even The Liberator.
Boom, boom, incoming landed on his left and behind. This time he didn’t react. Unfortunately, one of the rounds found at least one member in his unit. He could hear his muffled cries. Never mind, it was time to move. His focus was the hive.
He scanned the terrain and checked his watch. Three, two, one…the earth shook in conjunction with the massive blast. From the sound, he knew Shattner had hit the wall with both missiles. But his unit was a decoy for the operation. They were so predictable, his enemy. They thought they knew his mind, understood his tactics. Wrong, again. The breach was no doubt a large one. The Buggers would now think he was the decoy and Shattner’s breach was the focal point of the attack.
A few rounds fell on his position but he knew they were tokens. The enemy fire had already shifted to the breach. He tried not to think about how many Shattner would lose, sacrificed to maintain the illusion. His ability to win hinged on allowing such thoughts little consideration. Too many were counting on his clarity of mind to betray them with those things he had no control.
Although it was unnecessary, he glanced around one more time to verify his troops were ready. He had trained them. Of course, they were ready. Two quick hand signals and they moved forward as one.
Off in the distance he heard small arms fire and the distinctive high-pitched whine of the enemy’s beam weapons. An anti-aircraft rocket left its launcher before finding a target. A hover craft was probably hit. Seconds later he recognized the sound of one crashing. If nothing else, that made the attack a success.
However, he was after a killing blow not just a wound.
They reached the outer wall and started jogging parallel to it. He touched the cold stone. Suddenly he felt the difference, vibration. More hand motions and the charges were attached. Holding the detonator, he checked his watch then covered his face with his arm and triggered the small explosion. The enemy would never know. Shattner’s timing was perfect, sending rockets into the breach. The effect hid from enemy sensors the small hole he had punched.
The fortress had a weakness. The generators built into the walls to maintain the dome shielding were accessible by maintenance tunnels used to service the machinery. The Liberator knew because he was the only human to ever enter the Hive and escape alive. Although, escape was not altogether an accurate term. He had jumped into another reality. The tunnels were empty. All available enemy fighters were at the breach repelling Shattner.
No map directed them. His memory and instinct was all on which the attackers had to rely. Leading his unit, they went deep into the Bugs’ fortress for what seemed an eternity through the twists and turns, forks and side passages. The silence, except for the soft footfalls and heavy breathing of his people, was deafening. The sounds of the battle above could not be heard. Rounding a corner, they found the door to the room and quickly eliminated the Bugger warriors guarding it. He signaled. Six grunts would follow him in while the remainder planted charges and took up defensive positions. They all knew, at this point they had won, whether or not they lived a minute longer. The charges were more than sufficient to destroy the tunnel and, by default, the target.
But he and his hand picked six were going to make certain the task was completed. They stormed the nest.
The room was filled with a red and yellow hue. The Queen, a cross between a large worm and a humanoid creature with six legs, two antennas and big fire-red eyes that beat down on The Liberator, was perched on her nest. Bathed in the light, drawing power and strength from it, she was surrounded by her wasp-like nursery workers, their wings fluttering as they labored. Before the workers could act, his troopers shot them. Their bodies withered in their death throes but the she-creature was powerless to help herself let alone her aids.
The soldiers rapidly set their charges and retreated to the doorway in a semi-circle, ready to defend him if need be.
He slowly approached the nest, his eyes glued on those of the creature. An egg slid down a tube at the side but with no worker to shelter it, the red glob fell to the floor oozing a slimy substance. He carefully positioned the explosive from his knapsack at the base and switched the detonator on. They had 10 minutes to escape. His charge was the master controlling all the others now.
The creature’s fire-red eyes glared hatred down on him. For his part, he lacked any emotion at all. And he was surprised by his response. He knew the soldiers behind him were anxious to leave, though they would not display impatience. Still, the Mother of the Buggers captivated him, so long had he planned for this moment. Nevertheless, he lacked any real hatred of the monster. The path bringing him here seemed so short now that he arrived. Uncertain as to how he should feel at this moment clouded his mind.
Then the beast made a sound. Indescribable, he nonetheless recognized it as defiance. To the bitter end the thing which had sucked the life from humanity, almost to the point of extinction, sought to dominate him with bravado calculated to capture him in fear.
He aimed his weapon but instead of the she-creature, he shot the food pouch hanging near her head. The liquid that had once been human lives, poured onto the floor. He looked back into the cold red eyes and laughed. Then he and his soldiers were gone.
The creature, in the midst of birthing, could not move. Trapped by her natural reproductive cycle, she would be totally along when the end came.
He led the way out, not because he was afraid of dying in the tunnels but because he knew his soldiers would be determined to stay with him regardless of the cost. Speed of the leader, speed of the team.
Topside, they raced from the hole in the wall. Not surprising, the battle still raged. Shattner and his attackers were to press long enough for their comrades to make entry into the hive then pull back. Instead, as he suspected, his commander had kept up the attack. What they must have endured, he could not imagine. The last of his people made it out when the charges blew. The gaseous air and confined spaces of the hive’s nest magnified the effect. The earth rocked, flames shot from every opening, including his hole, and the fortress was engulfed in smoke. A second later the first of many secondary explosions erupted, sending a cloud into the sky.
Barney jerked. He looked cautiously around. His eyes saw nothing but grayness, tedious, drab dullness. The chatter rushed back into his ears like a blast of dynamite. No one paid him the slightest attention. He took a sip of coffee, it was cold. He sighed and moved the ruler to the next line and verified the data on the computer screen. Above his wall the minute hand of the clock slowly advanced to the hour.
The two humanoid-like wasps behind Barney emitted a sound that, to the human ear, would resemble a buzz. That is, if the humans could hear or see them, which they could not.
“Every time he comes closer to finding his destiny. It is inevitable he will eventually discover our presence.”
“The Oracle has spoken. There is little we can do but watch. Watch and hope our power is sufficient to defeat him when the moment arrives.”
“Perhaps when his consciousness awakens, they will not believe in him?”
“It is doubtful. Our only hope is that he will be unable to believe in himself in the end. Otherwise, he will defeat us.”
The report still rested in front of him on the desk. Lines and lines of data, meaningless to all except a trained eye. And Barney had eyes trained to cipher the meaning of the symbols, breaking them down into words and numbers. He moved the 12” metal ruler he used to assist his experienced eyes in following the symbols across the page to the next line to be considered.
Then he looked up to the computer screen sitting 24” away. The information matched. He placed a check mark on the paper and pressed a key on his keyboard. On the screen the next cell was highlighted. Barney sighed.
His workspace was a 3-sided, 5-foot high gray cubicle with a gray desk, gray file cabinets and a matching gray chair. The carpet was gray Berber weave with clear mats strategically placed in high traffic areas and under chairs. Chatter, a low level of human voices, phones and general activity drifted over his short walls in a never ending, mind numbing stream.
One of the many messengers entered his small world, unceremoniously deposited a pile of new reports on an unused corner of the desk, rendered him a non-sympathetic smile and disappeared all in one fluid seamless motion. He looked around. The grayness, the Monday of it all began to close in on him. Another glance at the enemy on the wall, one minute to the hour.
This couldn’t be his life, he wanted to scream. Stand up and shout it to the world, he thought, there must be more! He wanted to bury his face in his hands and allow the emotion to flow. Except, men weren’t permitted such expressions. Instead, he stared at his report fighting back the strong impulses welling up inside. An all too familiar panic rushed to overwhelm his spirit. This was his life and there was no escape! Predictably, the nausea was not far behind. His breathing increased as he fought to prevent his stomach from delivering its contents. Barney knew what was coming next, even while he tried to fight it but, to no avail.
The grays flowed together, twirled and spun out of control. The vortex formed.
“Oh God,” Barney prayed. “Oh God!”
An explosion to his right threw dirt, smoke and potential death across his foxhole. The Liberator flinched. Then he scolded himself for showing weakness. His soldiers needed strength, his strength if the next few hours were to be successful.
Quickly, he surveyed the battlefield. His mind was clear. He knew what had to be done. The end of the long road was near, in sight. He wore khaki, green camouflage, a bush-style hat barely on his head and a pistol belt around his waist. The 45 felt natural in his hand. The knapsack straps pulled against his shoulders. Everyone had to carry his or her share of the load, even The Liberator.
Boom, boom, incoming landed on his left and behind. This time he didn’t react. Unfortunately, one of the rounds found at least one member in his unit. He could hear his muffled cries. Never mind, it was time to move. His focus was the hive.
He scanned the terrain and checked his watch. Three, two, one…the earth shook in conjunction with the massive blast. From the sound, he knew Shattner had hit the wall with both missiles. But his unit was a decoy for the operation. They were so predictable, his enemy. They thought they knew his mind, understood his tactics. Wrong, again. The breach was no doubt a large one. The Buggers would now think he was the decoy and Shattner’s breach was the focal point of the attack.
A few rounds fell on his position but he knew they were tokens. The enemy fire had already shifted to the breach. He tried not to think about how many Shattner would lose, sacrificed to maintain the illusion. His ability to win hinged on allowing such thoughts little consideration. Too many were counting on his clarity of mind to betray them with those things he had no control.
Although it was unnecessary, he glanced around one more time to verify his troops were ready. He had trained them. Of course, they were ready. Two quick hand signals and they moved forward as one.
Off in the distance he heard small arms fire and the distinctive high-pitched whine of the enemy’s beam weapons. An anti-aircraft rocket left its launcher before finding a target. A hover craft was probably hit. Seconds later he recognized the sound of one crashing. If nothing else, that made the attack a success.
However, he was after a killing blow not just a wound.
They reached the outer wall and started jogging parallel to it. He touched the cold stone. Suddenly he felt the difference, vibration. More hand motions and the charges were attached. Holding the detonator, he checked his watch then covered his face with his arm and triggered the small explosion. The enemy would never know. Shattner’s timing was perfect, sending rockets into the breach. The effect hid from enemy sensors the small hole he had punched.
The fortress had a weakness. The generators built into the walls to maintain the dome shielding were accessible by maintenance tunnels used to service the machinery. The Liberator knew because he was the only human to ever enter the Hive and escape alive. Although, escape was not altogether an accurate term. He had jumped into another reality. The tunnels were empty. All available enemy fighters were at the breach repelling Shattner.
No map directed them. His memory and instinct was all on which the attackers had to rely. Leading his unit, they went deep into the Bugs’ fortress for what seemed an eternity through the twists and turns, forks and side passages. The silence, except for the soft footfalls and heavy breathing of his people, was deafening. The sounds of the battle above could not be heard. Rounding a corner, they found the door to the room and quickly eliminated the Bugger warriors guarding it. He signaled. Six grunts would follow him in while the remainder planted charges and took up defensive positions. They all knew, at this point they had won, whether or not they lived a minute longer. The charges were more than sufficient to destroy the tunnel and, by default, the target.
But he and his hand picked six were going to make certain the task was completed. They stormed the nest.
The room was filled with a red and yellow hue. The Queen, a cross between a large worm and a humanoid creature with six legs, two antennas and big fire-red eyes that beat down on The Liberator, was perched on her nest. Bathed in the light, drawing power and strength from it, she was surrounded by her wasp-like nursery workers, their wings fluttering as they labored. Before the workers could act, his troopers shot them. Their bodies withered in their death throes but the she-creature was powerless to help herself let alone her aids.
The soldiers rapidly set their charges and retreated to the doorway in a semi-circle, ready to defend him if need be.
He slowly approached the nest, his eyes glued on those of the creature. An egg slid down a tube at the side but with no worker to shelter it, the red glob fell to the floor oozing a slimy substance. He carefully positioned the explosive from his knapsack at the base and switched the detonator on. They had 10 minutes to escape. His charge was the master controlling all the others now.
The creature’s fire-red eyes glared hatred down on him. For his part, he lacked any emotion at all. And he was surprised by his response. He knew the soldiers behind him were anxious to leave, though they would not display impatience. Still, the Mother of the Buggers captivated him, so long had he planned for this moment. Nevertheless, he lacked any real hatred of the monster. The path bringing him here seemed so short now that he arrived. Uncertain as to how he should feel at this moment clouded his mind.
Then the beast made a sound. Indescribable, he nonetheless recognized it as defiance. To the bitter end the thing which had sucked the life from humanity, almost to the point of extinction, sought to dominate him with bravado calculated to capture him in fear.
He aimed his weapon but instead of the she-creature, he shot the food pouch hanging near her head. The liquid that had once been human lives, poured onto the floor. He looked back into the cold red eyes and laughed. Then he and his soldiers were gone.
The creature, in the midst of birthing, could not move. Trapped by her natural reproductive cycle, she would be totally along when the end came.
He led the way out, not because he was afraid of dying in the tunnels but because he knew his soldiers would be determined to stay with him regardless of the cost. Speed of the leader, speed of the team.
Topside, they raced from the hole in the wall. Not surprising, the battle still raged. Shattner and his attackers were to press long enough for their comrades to make entry into the hive then pull back. Instead, as he suspected, his commander had kept up the attack. What they must have endured, he could not imagine. The last of his people made it out when the charges blew. The gaseous air and confined spaces of the hive’s nest magnified the effect. The earth rocked, flames shot from every opening, including his hole, and the fortress was engulfed in smoke. A second later the first of many secondary explosions erupted, sending a cloud into the sky.
Barney jerked. He looked cautiously around. His eyes saw nothing but grayness, tedious, drab dullness. The chatter rushed back into his ears like a blast of dynamite. No one paid him the slightest attention. He took a sip of coffee, it was cold. He sighed and moved the ruler to the next line and verified the data on the computer screen. Above his wall the minute hand of the clock slowly advanced to the hour.
The two humanoid-like wasps behind Barney emitted a sound that, to the human ear, would resemble a buzz. That is, if the humans could hear or see them, which they could not.
“Every time he comes closer to finding his destiny. It is inevitable he will eventually discover our presence.”
“The Oracle has spoken. There is little we can do but watch. Watch and hope our power is sufficient to defeat him when the moment arrives.”
“Perhaps when his consciousness awakens, they will not believe in him?”
“It is doubtful. Our only hope is that he will be unable to believe in himself in the end. Otherwise, he will defeat us.”
