13. Revnan

There is a ringing in my ears, and the world keeps fading in and out of focus. That one was too close.

"Come on, we've gotta get out of here," says Wilkes, grabbing my arm and dragging me over the rutted ground.

The force bomb has destroyed a nearby civic building. Countless innocent bystanders must have died in the attack.

"Help me." The voice is barely a whisper. I look around and see, by some miracle, that there is a survivor. A human man. Our eyes lock, and he stretches out a bloodied hand toward me. "I'm stuck, I can't move," he says, his voice hoarse.

I look him over. He's not stuck. His legs have been blown away. He's lying in a pool of his own blood.

I look again at his face. His skin is dark, but as his lips pull back in a grimace I can see his gums are pure white from blood loss.

Time is of the essence if I'm to save this man. I take a step forward, my hand going out to meet his outstretched one. I can see the shadow of death crossing his face, and I am determined to save him, to pull him out from beneath death's yoke.

Suddenly, his head explodes. I am sprayed with the gore of his destruction. I stare in incomprehension at his mutilated corpse. Slowly, I look around and into the eyes of Dagon, my commanding officer. He is holstering his gun. I stare incredulously at him.

"He was dead, anyway," he says gruffly. "It was a mercy for him."

I feel like I've been hit with a force cannon. My legs feel weak and barely keep me standing upright. "Yes, sir," I say. Logic knows he's right. We are way behind enemy lines and the guy really didn't stand a chance, but my heart screams at the wrongness of it.

"Come on, get off the field before they send another one," Dagon says as he turns and runs for cover.

I jog mutely after him. Nothing feels real anymore. Fuck this fucking war, what is it turning us into? I thought we were here to save the people, but our presence has caused the civilian deaths to multiply tenfold. Armstrong would be better off without us.

Ever since I was a child, I wanted to be a soldier. I believed all the propaganda about the evils perpetrated by the Alliance. How we, as good loyal Odex boys and girls, should do our duty to the Coalition to help save countless people from the depravity of the Alliance scum.

I know better now. I have seen with my own eyes how wrong the flash ads were that depicted the happy smiling families welcoming the Coalition saviors into their towns and villages. The flash ads which played repeatedly between the kid"s holo-vision programs and lit up every other billboard.

I'm sick of it. The mindless violence and bloodshed. All the statistics whose lives I have watched fade from their eyes. Men, women, children. Countless dead because two opposing superpowers want what they have.

We jog away from the field of destruction. The blast has annihilated our vehicles, so we scatter into the surrounding neighborhood. The skirmish follows us, and I can hear force bolts hitting buildings and homes from the district surrounding me.

Wilkes and I have found ourselves separated from our comrades. But that is fine. The protocol is to scatter and reconvene at the base if the mission goes south. Together we run down the deserted streets. The inhabitants have wisely dispersed or are hiding in their basements until the trouble has passed.

We arrive at an intersection. My comm-nav is telling me we should head left, but a glance in that direction shows the street is blocked with enemy soldiers.

"Fuck," I say. "We'll have to go around."

"I think we can get through if we cut back this way," Wilkes replies, zooming in on an area to our rear. The route is long, and it will take us into the night to return to the safety of the base. But at least we stand a chance of getting there alive.

"Lead on," I reply, my heart already pounding with exertion.

We turn on our heels and run back the way we came.

The buildings are high-sided warehouses in this part of town, the streets long and straight and clear of any kind of cover. Every instinct screams at me that this is not the place to be caught out in the open, but it's unavoidable if we want to get back tonight.

I'm relieved when the comm-nav indicates our turn coming up on the left. I know I'm flagging. I must have sustained an injury in the blast earlier that weakened me. Wilkes has pulled some way ahead. All I can do is focus on the mane of blue fur that falls out over the neck of his uniform as it bounces up and down in time with his step.

"Halt!" comes a voice from behind us.

My heart leaps into my throat. Wilkes is at the corner and dives for cover. I pull on reserves I don't have and send power into my legs, willing them to get me to safety.

There is a shockwave as the enemy"s laser fire hits the thick metal wall of the warehouse to my left, ripping a hole in the reinforced steel shell of the building. Instinctively, I veer to the right.

"Wilkes!" I shout, convinced he has been caught in the blast. There is no answer.

I am aware of intense heat searing the fur away from my skin, and I'm lifted from my feet and thrown a dozen paces down the road. The last thing I see before my world goes black is Wilkes"s terrified face looking at me from the side street.

"Run!" I croak, but I don't know if he hears me.

I wake under the glare of a streetlight. Why am I lying in the middle of the street?

The pain is the first indicator of recent events. My left-hand side is in searing agony. My nostrils are filled with the scent of burning fur. Wilkes's frightened face pops into my memory.

I look around for him, knowing if he left me here, my unconscious state convinced him I was dead and he had to escape. My logical mind knows that he had no choice, but my heart feels betrayed.

It's an odd sensation, though, as if I knew sooner or later, the time would come when I couldn't trust him.

I close my eyes and shake off the thought. Wilkes is my oldest friend. I'm only blaming him because the world is too much for me to deal with right now.

Her face appears in front of me, her eyes full of love and concern. "Ataxia?" I ask, believing her to be the Goddess that comes to claim our immortal souls at the end of our lives.

"No, silly, it's Alana. You remember me."

I do remember her, but I don't know where from.

Her face fades, and I feel utterly bereft.

When I come around again, it is still night. I'm freezing. My body is wracked with shivers. Where am I?

I take in the ruined street. From my prone position on the ground, I can see the hole in the warehouse wall.

Oh, yes, I remember. I'm dying.There is a calm acceptance of the situation. A vision of the woman from my dream swims before my eyes. She has always been there, I realize. Tucked away in my mind, coming out in dreams and secret longings from deep within my soul. I always thought I'd meet you. It feels strange that I will die without her, whoever she is, by my side.

At least the pain is gone. A small part of my brain is screaming a warning that this is not a good thing. But I ignore it. I'm floating away. Who knew death could be so peaceful?

I am followingher down a long tunnel. Her short black hair is tied into a ponytail, but most of it has escaped its bonds and falls around her face. She tucks the stray ends behind her ear. The action is so familiar to me.

She looks over her shoulder and flashes me a smile, and I"m certain I would follow her to the ends of the universe.

The tunnel ends abruptly in white oblivion, but she does not stop, does not pause, simply leaps into the air. My heart pounds into my ribs, and I take an involuntary gasp of breath. But she does not fall.

Now I know my body is dying, but it does not matter to me as I step off the ledge and spread my golden wings. At last, I am free.