It's hard to begin a story for poor William Young. Our protagonist is a KIA veteran. I'll tell you the story of when I first met him. He was a great man with much potential and excellent leadership capabilities that would shape many who he commanded and those who placed their lives under his leadership. He was my commander and sergeant, under whom I was put under command.
Among all two hundred of us in the squadron of the 34th Brigade, I was a specialist for communications technician, a job that had an 85% fatality rate. To make things worse, among the 200 of us, I was the only communications technician.
In three months, we would be shipped to the frontlines, and therefore, I was ordered to train and conduct more research on communications technology for my peers around me. During our 3-month time course, I enjoyed what little time I could with my fiancé Julie, hoping that I'd come back from the front to see her. Fate would have another path set for me as those three months passed quickly, and she'd be the one to drop me off at the airport. We shared our goodbyes and our last sayings as who knows if I were to ever return from the front.
I remembered exchanging looks with William as we boarded the military aircraft with the drones. The drones eventually asked us for our identification numbers before letting us onboard. I then chit-chatted with some of my lower enlisted to assure them that this wasn't a dangerous close mission and, if anything, we had the drones to assist us. Yeah, 200 of us, to add to the others 10s of thousands of troops on the border of the Ravenian Empire, was not a dangerous close mission. No, this was supposed to be a minor repair, a three-month vacation before returning home. I remember being the only one who gazed back at the airport parking lot as our flight took off, assisted by drone-flown helicopters.
Things didn't go well as we advanced towards the front. First and foremost, our estimated time to arrive at our front base had been delayed by 48 hours due to our drones piloting the plane having flown off course and having to be manually directed by a command to reroute us to the front. Second, to make matters worse, our aircraft had to conduct an emergency landing because one of the engines failed en route to the front base. Finally, our situation grew desperate as the hours went by, as the last one of the drones that survived the emergency landing with us helped us with our equipment and luggage. William began a headcount of the 200 of us, which was confirmed by each of our squad leaders.
Two hundred out of two hundred were accounted for. However, out of our crew and pilot drones of 20 each, only one survived out of the 40. After verifying that everyone was okay besides the drones, William began planning a course of action with the squad leaders to set up a perimeter and send communications to headquarters about our whereabouts.
William set the drone to follow and protect me since I was the only communications technician in our whole Brigade who knew what needed to be done. The T-MK followed me as I tried to get a signal in this mountain terrain. I needed a signal to ping a location SOS to headquarters at our place. Our drone can no longer be directed manually by control and must be on autopilot and controlled by us as its defensive network systems are offline.
When people think of a robot or a drone, they'd think of a chunky metal robot armed to the teeth with weapons, but not in this case. The drones are very similar to us. They're approximately dependent on us, just as we are to them. Their height varies according to their last predecessor, who, in this case, is the drone with me; its previous predecessor is Margaret Kallstrom. As I continued my work, the drone followed me. I constantly commanded it to scan the area for hostiles, as it frequently replied with a negative.
As I continued, the drone suddenly stopped and pushed me onto the ground. "HEY, WHAT THE FU-" I yelled, falling onto the floor with the drone shielding over me.
"DETECTED OVER 300 HOSTILES, DETECTED ARMED HOTILES WITH LIGHT AND HEAVY WEAPONRY 50 METERS AND CLOSING!" The drone constantly warned me as it shielded me.
As I tried to command the drone off me, a rocket-propelled grenade flew past us and exploded somewhere, possibly close to our perimeter. All that could be heard next was an array of gunfire and people yelling in chaos. Finally, I got the drone off me and entered the perimeter with most of my lower enlisted already dead. The rest of the group tried to hold the line with whatever ammo or explosives were available.
With the drone following me closely, William instructed me to desert them before any intelligence of our communication leaked to the enemy. Not wanting to leave before I could say anything, William gets shot in his lower torso, and I get hit on my leg and fall over before I get another one on my torso before the drone shields me again, absorbing the rest of the shots. I felt a sting on my chest, and I tried reaching over to William's body before closing my eyes.
I awoke to an electrical humming, and for a second, I instantly recognized where I was: still on the battlefield with my fallen comrades. The drone had saved me and itself by cloaking both of us amid the battle. I was going to begin moving when the drone insisted. I remained still as there were still hostiles around checking the dead. The drone and I remained silent as the hostile soldiers walked past us, checking for the dead and taking whatever equipment and pillaging seemingly useless items such as watches to sell or boots to wear.
At this point, it seemed one of their commanders yelled at them to drop anything they'd picked up as it was not theirs and that the Ravenian Empire didn't disrespect the dead by taking their belongings. Suddenly, as if it were a threat to their pride or discipline, all the soldiers who had taken items from my fallen comrades slowly dropped them and anything else they picked up.
I was astonished to see such a sight. Not only did they drop the items, but they also gathered up our fallen and placed them carefully not to disturb their rest. The Ravenian soldiers then gathered up whatever weapons and explosives and compiled them in a pile while sticking an Eagle and Stripes flag patch from one of my fallen comrades onto a weapon stuck upwards from the ground. Then, as if nothing had happened, their commanders and soldiers alike nodded, cloaked, and disappeared from the terrain.
I watched all of this in disbelief. These were enemy soldiers whom we were up against—a nation whose military has never lost a battle yet. There was no time for me to feel grief. I had to do something. If not for William, I would've been a dead man by now. I voice-activated the drone to scan for hostiles in the area.
To which it replied, "NO HOSTILES DETECTED…NO HOSTILES DETECTED." "Good…" I thought to myself as I sighed in relief and slowly got up as I recovered myself from the ground.
Wait, where's the pain? And the blood? I examined myself as the drone, and I stood up, as did the last two survivors of the onslaught that had just happened. My blood dried up on my uniform, and my wounds healed. There was no pain of any sort, nor was I losing any blood or in shock from losing blood. Was this a dream? I pinched myself to ensure that I was still alive and awake.
I smiled, seeing that it must've been luck, or maybe the almighty god had given me another chance to live. My dumb ass must've danced and cried so much that I even danced with the drone to celebrate that I could return home and be with my fiancé. It didn't last as I slowly stopped to face the drone, which was riddled with bullet holes all over its protector plates and armor, and that's not to mention the electrical spark from a loose electrical wire hanging out of its back.
"Oh no…" I told myself, "No….NO!! I can't lose you too!" I began crying like a kid who had lost his favorite toy. No, this was worse. I called because I didn't want to be left alone on this wasteland with nobody to tell me what to do and where to go.
Suddenly, the drone raised its hand to wipe the tears on my cheek. It responded with, "IT'S OKAY, WE'RE GOING TO BE ALRIGHT, WE'RE GOING TO GET HELP…" it paused with another spark from its electrical wire on its back, "SPECIALIST, PLEASE VERIFY THAT MY POWER IS CHARGING…"
I glanced at its rear torso; its power core had been fatally hit and exposed to the wires hanging by the threaded copper. No good, the drone was done for. There was no way I could repair it, as I lacked the tools and knowledge to help the drone.
Understanding its fate, the drone reminded me again, "IT'S OKAY… WE'RE GOING TO GET…HELP…" I sobbed in despair. My only companion who wasn't even a real person, and I wouldn't be able to save it. "GET…HELP…GET…HELP…" the drone repeated, "HELP..." I stood up as the drone slowly dropped to a kneeling position as it slowly powered down. Swallowing my tears, I braced for whatever there was to come.
"SPECIALIST?" the drone uttered.
As I replied with a "Yes?"
There was a breeze of wind as it uttered its last message, "Don't… don't forget…forget…me…me…okay?" This time, a tear ran down my cheek, and there were no words for this drone. It had done more than its duty.
I was about to run off to get a signal before I noticed bullets that were bloodied on the drone's hand. As I put my head against the drone's head, realizing what the drone had done while I was passed out, I cried even more as I clenched the bullets in my palm.
An automated voice message played over as the drone powered down: "TITANIA IS LOW ON BATTERY; SHUTDOWN IS NOW INITIATED." Then, I was alone on the wasteland, surrounded by dread and death.
I clenched the bullets and then stood up in determination. My comrades had fallen, and I was in unfamiliar territory, and I didn't want their deaths to be in vain. I quickly regained my composure and snagged the identification tags off my fallen comrades, peeling the sticker off the drone's helmet and sticking it onto my own helmet. Never had I run so fast up the mountainous terrain to hope I'd get any signal.
I remember climbing slopes and rocks with the hot sun on my back with all my gear and weapons, constantly testing to see if I'd get a signal with my device. Finally, after about an hour of climbing, I reached the side slope with a ridge connected to the mountainside, about what looked like a goat path. As I took out my canteen to drink and rinse my head from the heat, something touched the back of my helmet, followed by a command.
"Drop the weapon, or I'll drop you." I followed the command.
I thought, "Man, this is it; as far as I got, I'm sorry everyone, I tried." As I placed my weapon on the ground, the person behind me kicked it away.
"Identify yourself.", the person demanded. A FAMILIAR VOICE SPOKE UP FOR ME before I could speak or say anything.
"Hold it! That's Specialist!" I still had my hands on my head, as I couldn't turn around with the gun's muzzle pointed at my head. "Put that down. He's one of ours!" The muzzle slowly lifted from my head as they spoke, and a familiar figure dusted me off. Colonel Thul dusted me off as the rest of the soldiers with him stood at ease (weapons pointed down and still in formation).
"I'm sorry, specialist." The sergeant who pointed his gun at me apologized.
I turned around, seeing them face to face as the Colonel approached me and reassured me, "You must've been through a lot, huh, son?" There were no words. No words could ever compensate for what had happened. All I could do was nod in despair.
"Get him home. We still got to find the others, too," Colonel Thul commanded. Two of them grabbed me before the Colonel returned to meet with the squad leaders about looking for the missing aircraft and personnel in different areas.
I interrupted their meeting with myself, breaking free from the two escorting me, and stated that I knew where the aircraft and personnel were.
In his long years of commanding and searching, the Colonel patted me on my shoulder and advised me, "Son, I need you to rest…We can't have you fighting, not with your condition. How will I explain to your fiancé if anything else should befall you?"
For a second there, he was right. My uniform was in tatters. My armor was in rags; worse, I looked like a bum you'd find right off the streets, minus the military gear and weapon.
"I appreciate your efforts, Specialist, but you must let us do our job too. Otherwise, those who've passed on will be unable to rest, alright, Specialist?" The Colonel reassured me.
"Yes sir…" I obeyed weakly.
He reassured everyone and told his squad leaders he would use the technology to locate the missing personnel and aircraft by tracking the drone code I had on my helmet. I was then transported via drone helicopter to the front forward base. As I arrived, the Colonel and his group had located the aircraft, personnel, drones, and equipment.
I was brought into a room with windows to be interrogated about my actions and responsibilities as a soldier, to which I answered everything honestly. After about 4-5 hours, I would receive a documented file about my discharge for being unstable for duty. I would be transported back home and honorably discharged.
Or so that was the plan anyway… I remember walking past the plane loaded with my former comrades' coffins and seeing the drone mechanics work endlessly to ensure the drones were repaired. Then, upon examination, I came upon the same drone with the missing sticker on its helmet; this one…
"Hey, don't touch them. We're working on them, you!" one of the mechanics yelled at me as I touched the drone's helmet.
"I'm just returning this…" I replied as I restamped the sticker from my helmet onto the drone's helmet.
The mechanics looked on in disgust and shrugged, "Eh, thanks anyways, it doesn't matter as they're going to get reassigned."
"Reassigned? To go back out into the field of war?" I thought, getting angry just as I would start a fight with the mechanic.
A messenger drone interrupted my train of thought, saying, "SPECIALIST, YOU'RE RECEIVING NEW ORDERS AND WILL NO LONGER BE SEGREGATED FROM THE MILITARY SERVICE. YOUR ORDERS ARE AS FOLLOWS: TO TRAIN AND CONDUCT MILITARY COMMUNICATION WITH T-MODEL DRONES FOR TECHNOLOGICAL COMMUNICATION TRAINING. RECEIVE ORDER? YES, or NO?"