Mikhail Akzhiba:
Alternative Soldiers
By Scott Carter
Prologue:
Seven years ago…
Imagine that time, back in the second grade, when you were playing dodge ball with your friends, and you were the last man standing on your team, left to face off against the rival team, numbering massively against you.
Imagine the feeling of dread you felt when you realized that they were all armed with something to hit you with, and that you couldn’t possibly dodge all of them.
In this case, war was quite similar.
But instead of a big, red ball, the other team had sub-machine guns, sniper rifles, shotguns, assault rifles, and heavily-calibrated machine gun turrets, all pointed at you, and you alone.
And in this game of dodge ball, when you got out, you would never get back in.
Nor would your teammates.
Besides. In war, when you get hit by a ball…
The people you love dig you a six foot hole, and put your dead body in a wooden box, then that wooden box in the six foot hole. They stick a stone in the ground, where your head would be, and they write the words:
“In Memory of Mikhail Akzhiba,
2015-2067
Father, Son, Friend, Brother
Died in the company of honorable soldiers.
May God rest his soul.”
~~~
“Akzhiba!”
Master Sergeant Mikhail Akzhiba woke to the sounds of screaming, gunfire, and explosions. His ears were ringing, and he could just make out the sounds of his own heart slamming into his ribcage with every solemn beat. Through his blurred vision, he saw Sergeant Kyota Kuchiki, his best friend and rival, running towards him with a medical kit, while Warrant Officer 02, Jordan Heartgauge, the team’s demolitions expert, kept asking if he was alright. Captain Max Kasano was too busy with the main fight to notice that his assistant team leader, and their sniper, was down.
Not too far away, Mikhail noticed the still form of Corporal Norm Houston, the team’s sniper, in a pool of his own blood. There would be no saving him.
Bravo Team’s leader, Lieutenant John Carson, was nearby, screaming coordinates for an air strike into his radio headset over the sounds of the war. His team charged out ahead of him, the sniper and demo guy staying back to provide suppressive fire. The sniper was knocked off his feet and onto his back before he could even set the bi-pod on his rifle. Blood exploded from his chest and coated Carson’s helmet.
Mikhail’s senses slowly came back to him, and Kuchiki dragged him behind a wall, reassuring him that he would be alright. The communications expert of the team, Rider Johnson, peeked over the small debris pile in front of them, and his head consequentially exploded in a cloud of red. Akzhiba’s hand shot up to his face to keep the red matter and rocks from hitting him, just as a grenade bounced to his feet. It had fallen from his backpack.
Subconsciously, Akzhiba’s training took over, and he picked up the grenade, pulled the pin, jumped to his feet, and launched it far into the open, landing it squarely in the barrel of a nearby mortar, blowing the team operating it to pieces, and rendering their equipment useless.
“Looks like you’ll be alright,” Kasano said, running by Akzhiba and tossing him an Asaro X-32 carbine. It took the general shape of a standard AK-102 Saiga rifle, with an added fore grip attachment and mini-scope. Akzhiba weighed the gun in his hands for a second, checked the clip, made sure the safety was off, then crawled over to a location where it would be hard to see him. Like behind the fallen body of Houston.
Balancing the gun's barrel on Houston's chest, Akzhiba aimed carefully at one of the building gunners firing down on Delta team. When his sights had settled on one of the snipers, he pulled the trigger...
A kick from the butt of the rifle jolted the scope, and as it resettled, Akzhiba saw that the window was no longer occupied.
Setting his scope on another soldier, Akzhiba pulled the trigger again, and again as his scope sought out more and more of the enemy mercenaries. Until his clip suddenly ran out of ammo and shot itself from the gun. The convenient part of this feature was that you never had to fumble too long with the gun before firing. The bad part... it made a lot of noise. In the cold and windy mountains of North Alrue, Akzhiba knew that noise meant detection. And just as he had expected, a gunner had located him. Rounds suddenly pelted Houston in the side, jolting his dead body along the ground with every lurch. Akzhiba rolled out of the way and ducked behind Kuchiki, continuing to fire at the gunners.
A muffled cough and then a screech.
That could only mean bad news.
"Mortar! Get away!" Kasano screamed, ducking behind a busted car. As the rest of the team scrambled away from the debris pile, an explosion tore it apart. Akzhiba felt himself go flying into the air, and he landed next to Delta team's Captain, Jacob Rotter. Jacob grabbed Akzhiba and threw him behind a concrete block. For only 5' 4", Jacob was a pretty hardy guy. Five times now, he'd been shot, and he still kept going. Even Kasano, who, himself, was hard to take down, considered the option that Rotter was on every drug that increased human capability that had been invented. Even PCP.
Akzhiba looked over the stone block and saw the one thing that no soldier enjoyed seeing, other than bloodshed and death:
A tank.
A freaking tank.
"It's a god damn Jimbo! Shit! We're fucking screwed!" screamed Heartgauge, making good on his use of swearing in everything he said.
"Jimbo" tanks weren't easily destroyed by rockets, mortars, or mines. They were heavily plated with several layers of armor that prevented complete destruction in one shot. But because they were so weighed down by this armor, they were ridiculously slow and hard to maneuver, especially with their 120mm smooth bore dual-cannons. But it didn't matter, because a Jimbo tank could blow a house to pieces in one shot.
Akzhiba had no other choice but to get up and run into enemy fire. Thanks to years of living in hostile environments constantly at war with themselves, he had received early training in combat, and the Mercenaries were getting a face full of lead because of it. He pointed his rifle up to where the other mortar was on the second story of a house and shot the operators, then ran up the stairs and took over as a one-man crew. He quickly grabbed a rocket, aimed the launcher, dropped the rocket into the launcher, covered his head as it was instantly expelled, and proceeded to load another rocket as the first one exploded. Mortars were his forte - ironic, since he was a secondary sniper by default.
The first rocket had slammed right into the top of the tank's main turret, destroying both the guns and turrets, leaving it vulnerable for more attacks. Before Akzhiba could fire the second mortar, a rocket screamed through the air, leaving a small trail, and exploded just under the treads of the Jimbo's left side, blasting it up at a slight angle.
In that instant, Akzhiba dropped the second rocket down the tube, covered his head, and watched as the projectile made short work of the undercarriage - and consequently destroyed the tank.
A jeep screeched to a halt as soon as the dust cleared, and more Mercs jumped out, firing at Akzhiba's position. He darted up to the roof as bullets splintered the balcony under his feet. He had a perfect vantage point from there, and he was going to make damn sure that he didn't leave until he had expended his ammo.
From the roof, he could see his team, Delta, and what was left of Bravo all making their way strategically through the streets, he himself taking potshots every now and then when he had the chance. It was like one crazy game of chess that nobody wanted to play.
Then came the noise of cows mooing madly.
Psychological warfare tactics stated that by mooing, this would cause the enemy to seem larger, therefore breaking the other side's will to fight. Sure, Akzhiba didn't understand how that worked, but it certainly meant trouble.
Out of the blue, he felt a massive ringing followed by three seconds of migraine going through his head at ridiculous speeds. He noticed all the other soldiers, Mercenary and PMC, going through the same thing. It seemed as if somebody had set off a sonic reactor nearby. Then he noticed that the Mercenaries had already recovered, while his team, Bravo, and Delta were all writhing on their knees, clutching their heads in pain.
