the world I had grown used to or accepted was either translated to me thru an area or sensors cluster around my live feed viewport I had selected the thrumming sound of the engine that surrounded the cockpit.
I am a killing machine well patched into one thru subdermal links in my skin some triggers under my fingers and some when a press down my feet or left it hard translating sometimes just the motion of the tracks to the turn of the turret on top of the horror at my finger that is the fire mechs under my rough padded hands dealing death so simply. I sight the moving column unaware of my hiding spot amongst the trees, unmarked for citizen use I target the leader who gently yawns the turret tracks the first target of my rath and I switch with my pinky to flaming rounds of hot copper for the shock effect of burning thru the troop carrier selected on such a weak part of myself this power sickens me somewhat. the trigger to fire under my thumb awaits the lock on of the tracking software green icon as if to ignore green being the color of life now means the death of it the shinner it brings almost surprises me my thumb bounces once on the trigger without true thought and my body feels the brief shack from the around release. I jam my feet down leading with my fingers for target control as I burst out the mid shock of the hit at the front of the column consumed in flames I track a scout tank midline as it smacks into a troop carrier in front of it and without the promise of the locking program I release three bursts of the copper burning round blowing across it and splattering the troop carrier to which I assume deathly screams escape from unheard by my as I had no outward sound relays on making me more of a monster. I switch to heavy rounds of the hardening shoot to bring upon the moving artillery that is trying to reverse out of the wreak I had caused from my anarchy caused by such little effort. slamming across the heavy barrels three thumb presses from me go my rounds taking apart its lethal force and leaving the already frightened souls trying to escape likely dead from the shrapnel. the first mounted response almost comes as a shock from my focus as a heavy gunner managed to fire uselessly across my vision and the warning of rounds is met with me lifting my left foot hard and leaving no pressure on the right so I can swing hard into a front point now annoyed and ready to face down an enemy that should rightfully be running for there lives only to have my locking on to a sight of horror. behind the brave standing trooper firing and trying to move away from the column on foot is the sight of citizens trying to escape what must have been a moment they surely knew a higher power, but that was between the already full automatic fire stitching amongst the fleeing masses. I had already triggered the guns as I swung into place racking every carrier with lethal force and shooting into the crowd without knowing what I had done. in my shock, it took a moment to raise my hands and the red mist told me I was already too late having chewed thru and unproperly marked civilian transport trying to escape all this horrible war and I turned into there death. fast forward to 4 months and I have just left a hearing for killing twenty-five thousand citizens footage inside the cab and outside showed I had no clue of the act I had committed my verdict was "uninformed tactical error"my rank was the be increased being not a week later I had fought my thru an invasion force sized enemy assault attempting to take one of our heaviest zones with that very tank more seeking death then seeking to help my fellow soldiers. there is very little in a way of honor in my thoughts as I seat awaiting the files to load on my personal information log I carried in a tablet at the court the main floor mostly to see where my reward would be handed to me an less about what I earned rightfully in my opinion. I had even gone in without a advocate on my defense an still the layout almost in boorish manor to which the addressed my case was already processed before I had arrived being they just threw out those lives being it was an error I could not have foreseen by anyone. this isn't the first case of blood on my hands but adding so easily innocents to that pill is painful as I hear the ding and remove the cable assured my files and been updated an almost lost I walk from the floor dress wear suite feeling like a trap again not for the fist time in self implied moral choice only the living can ponder.
the blurry wandering that had me gone home to returning to a testing field unscheduled afterwards in my full battle suite almost shocks me on how easily I'd ignored life to seek out the only thing that makes since to my mind, my now unmarked tank an it's deadly gift to humanity.
the auto lift had placed it at the ride out point as if the monster with it dual barrel long range tubes an near countless other gun barrels master of death needed help being i could of used the lift engines to go up onto the training grounds screeching for effect.
i didn't fear it i disliked how easy it was it gave me deadly force barely reviled in our current battlefields the brutality consumed me so easily.
i say that but the 26 implant points to my nervous system tells a different story stitched across my flesh, of the cost of use to permanent presentation of who I am stitching across my body visible after the 20 vs 1 successful training session showing my response time higher then the un implanted tankers.
I'd taken down rookies with paint rounds to put the fright of how easily death comes to tanker from 1 source.
the looks from the team tracks of either envy of my talent or disdain for my implementation scares lacing across my body unknown to them I'd shut down my implementation an fought completely via tactical knowledge an will of rage to defeat them all.
I hadn't fought honestly as if my life was on the line or I'd of drawn out the attack points safely taking targets in a way to bunch them up an account 1 kill to 2 no I picked them off individually, this isn't a boast to my skill as a seasoned operator versus green crews but it shows my mindset to my observers.
I was rewarded for slaughter, always have been. but this version was bitter tasting as I looked at my ranking again on my cockpit view. who rewards for killing innocents, those who don't seek war and well run without aim if it appears on there door step. those we run to the cold instead of the blade.
"clear field, return to course lead"
the break in my inert silence shocked me a moment, that had come over my personal channel and I saw no name attached to the call.
"acknowledge. clear field, return to course lead"
the second call was more sharp but still I choose to answer it with a <acknowledge> text over the inter mission system and started to turn towards the lift to the main bay. it brought me joy I didn't have to use my actual voice, the pettiness only know to me.
the line newbies held up as I came into view of the lift, as senior I had right to return to first but only if I was already in line, this smacked of authority pulling bullshit rank. I wheeled onto the elevator with sliding stop and keyed my cockpit to open. this put me in darkness a moment as the lock body supports released across the shell.
the advanced death bringer tank (not its model name) was known as the coffin because of this opening sequence.
this could be because of if the sequence failed I was trapped an the air slowly running out in my own coffin, or better because there shaping matched early era coffins on earths original
YOU ARE READING
deadly nightmare
Science Fictionunfinished-unedited this was a dark moral question toward war and what is and isn't okay in it. this is from the inside of the world of soldiers not on the outside
