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NEW AUTHORS SHOWCASE

 

23-09-08

6M

p11

Operation: 180

by

Nathan East

Synopsis:
   A shift in global rules of engagement has taken place; stemming from the 2050 Global Unification Summit, each

country has been authorised a maximum level of re-armament. Many years and minor battles pass, and by the start of the twenty-second century, two forces dictate Earth: Handa and Mixon. The year is now 2112 and a prodigal soldier, along with his twin brother, is on the brink of being born into the Mixon Way. Due to their parents purgatory and defection into exile, the two siblings are born between army’s: Michael Drake Kowalski is reclaimed savagely by Mixon, but Jacob Stenson Kowalski, with the aid of the oldest man on the planet and tribal outlaws Erco, finds refuge in a Handa region.

   Accounts of the past are relayed to Jacob by Albert Davis, the oldest person alive and once Chief-of-Staff in the Kowalski home town of Monto, and the recipient sets about rising through the military ranks of Handa; from foot soldier to Sergeant, and from Sergeant to Major General, Jacob is then nominated as Field Marshal. With his 180 degree rotation complete, Jacob Kowalski can exert his vengeance. Initially, Jacob signs-over sixty percent of the Earth’s land and water to Mixon, an attempt to resolve the planets animosity via diplomacy. However, global conflict gathers momentum and Jacob is advised to commission research for mass-artillery; with the planet engaged in War, scientists release a nuclear reactant that obliterates the human race. The age of Man is dead, but the planet lives on.

                                                                           1.     ROLL-CALL
(The beginning of)
   The room looked and smelt the same as when they had first locked eyes on each other nearly fifteen years ago; a

primitive set-up, with a double bed in the centre and built solely by breeze blocks. Surrounding the bed was only one

writing table that was equipped with a lamp that seldom worked and a cupboard too small to fit two people’s belongings in. The room was also devoid of decoration whatsoever; no carpet, paint on the walls or ornaments were seen. As a

consequence the room was bare and cold, even when the sun was at its highest point and its rays shot into the chamber. This was not personal to Jan and Analina, they were all like this.
   “Hi,” whispered Analina softly, dragging the vowel on for a while.

   Jan had started to open his eyes, though Analina still remained as quiet as possible. Running her fingers through his hair and kissing him on the forehead, she continued. “It’s six o’clock baby, I dare you to go back to sleep.”

   Jan did not reply. Instead he threw the covers back, exposing an almost perfect physique. Then supporting himself using his right elbow that he dug into the mattress and his right hand that cupped the back of his head, Jan was ready to reply.
   “Six o’clock, but that means that we have already missed six hours of what I am sure is a glorious day!”
   “Hee hee,” giggled Analina, kissing Jan once more, this time on the cheek. Continuing she said. “You always say that, whatever time you wake up!” and she rolled her eyes in playful disbelief. With this brief show of affection over, Analina quickly jumped out of bed and began to get undressed. Jan shuffled across to meet his companion, and began kissing Analina on the neck (matrimony was prohibited, one year prior to their union in military dominance, companionship became the only acceptable bond so to not deter ones’ thoughts from army duty). He was soon causing aggravation.

   “Jaaaan,” said Analina, again letting the vowel in the word linger. In addition to this she also raised a smile reminiscent of Mixon-Minors; bashful and alluring at the same time. Fending her lover off, she spoke once more. “We have to go, now stop.”

    As Jan was kissing his beloved, he was also making noises like a tiger. “Jan. No more!” said Analina angrily, and stood up to face her companion. “Now get up Jan. I do not like this part of the day, but it has to be done.”  Analina’s voice was clear, and left its recipient under no illusions. It was as if the inspection had already started, and it was she who held the reins.
   “Alright, alright.” said Jan, rubbing his eyes and yawning. When the moisture had subsided, Jan glanced at the clock: 06:05 am. Roll-call always began at 06:15.

 

   The town of Monto was the closest inhabited piece of land to the Mixon base-camp and housed over one million people (this is an estimate as all paper records ceased in 2100). Dwellers of the town were mainly civilians, some of which had had combat-training, but a proportion were frontline soldiers. The latter engaged in clearance operations : pushing back any Handa forces that approached Mixon territory, to which Jan had on occasions been a part of. Monto was also the primary outpost for squadrons who were on a mission and required any of the following: rest, ammunition, food, water, or a

mid-mission debriefing. In fact so close was Monto to headquarters, that the command centre of Mixon base-camp was

visible from Jan and Analina’s single barred window.  06:07am, the clock ticked on.
   Both Analina and Jan were rushing, as missing any item on the daily schedule would result in an interrogation by the Chief-of-Staff; Jan was wrestling with his t-shirt as it seemed reluctant to go over his thick neck. Analina was much the same; trousers for women were customary, as were tops that covered a female’s torso and neck. This was an attempt to

prevent any sexual advances and cause friction between indigenous groups; the constant battles with Handa were difficult enough, a momentary lapse in concentration could prove to be fatal; minds and bodies did not need to be distracted through the primitive human emotion of lust.
   “Come on. Come onnnn!” shouted Jan as he tried to button-up his trousers. The harder he tried, the more difficult the task became; his body shook as his muscles convulsed to bursting point, agitating him more. Finally, after much aggravation, both were dressed.
   “Check me,” Said Analina standing rigidly, arms at her sides and nose in the air. “Check me, but do not touch me. They may already be watching.”

    Jan, shaking his head at Analina’s submission to the Mixon Way, began the inspection. Though he should have been

paying close attention to creases and the like, Jan’s mind wandered; she had the perfect figure and he desperately wanted to hold it against his.
   “Fine, all fine.”  said Jan, and he stood up and smiled at Analina. His companion sensed that something was not quite right, so she set about questioning him.
   “That was quick,” replied Analina. “Now, were you checking me or appraising my uniform?” With this Analina folded her arms. She then frowned sceptically believing that the former was true. Holding her pose for some time, Analina wanted a response. “Well! Answer me Kowalski.” Jan made haste in his reply.
   “Both my dear, I do try my best you know,” and he gave a subtle wink and a half-smile. Then drooping himself because it was his turn to be scrutinised, in a reluctant tone he continued. “I suppose you have to check me now?”
   “Yes Jan,” replied Analina, becoming restless. “It has to be done. You know how strict they are. Last week they carried off singlet Julia for having shown her neck, and she has not returned since has she?”

   Both companions reflected on this incident; Julia Grey, only seven rooms from Analina and Jan, had left Monto kicking and screaming. It was true her neck was bare, however, it was more to do with a re-issued top than a defiance of the regime; Mixon had given Julia a top that was a size too small; too frightened to question it, she had seemingly paid the ultimate price. Jan’s look said enough, and without further objection Analina began to move around her companion. She would do this not once, but three times, tugging at anything that resembled a crease.
   “I love you.”  whispered Jan, as Analina began.

   Though her eyes never met his throughout the inspection, after a brief period of silence Analina replied:  “I know.”
   When Analina had finished her examination the two companions of room 1221 stood side by side, waiting in anticipation of what was about to happen. A deafening clunk rang around the room, the doors were opening. Light from the outside world raced in like a free-flowing river and blinded them. The heat from the sun scorched their cheeks. However, it was a sound that unnerved them the most.
   “Room 1221, Jan Nowak-Kowalski, Analina Mary Hollow,” said a low robotic voice. “You are authorized to take one pace forward.”

   Both companions began to move, their hearts pounding against their chests.

 “If you take more than one pace forward it will be deemed as an act of disobedience and you will be arrested immediately.” 

   Roll-call was underway….