Krish Sanghavi

Classics

5.0  

Krish Sanghavi

Classics

The Zephyr Of The Mordenization

The Zephyr Of The Mordenization

3 mins
278


As they looked in the mirror they were amazed to find two completely different people smiling back at them. The genetic alteration had worked perfectly on the two fresh-faced recruits, changing their DNA to that which seemed suitable by the Human Army. Their smiles wore off quickly as anaesthetic did, and both men now realized that they had become no longer individuals, but template, only recognisable as different by differing numbers branded upon their shoulders.


Private B617 was still feeling the after-effects of the treatment as he was carted into the adjacent room and the service uniform was being fitted roughly onto him. His mind wandered to the past, to a time before his name was a letter dogged by 3 letters, to a time when he was Alvin Salvatore, a farmer back on his homeworld. The day was palmy and lazy, and his charming, cherry-red haired wife was beckoning him inside from the bright yellow cornfield as the golden orange Sun faded in the sky. He remembered a helicopter, and military personnel greeting him. Something about a war against a race from far away, something about intervening after a neutral planet had been invaded, something about doing his duty. Everything after that blurred and mixed and gyrated together in a swirl of color.


Private B617 woke up from his daydream to find himself gripping a combat rifle in a helicopter amongst a group of identical faces. Outside, the lashing rain bounced off flying helicopter, and in the distance, there was the muffled crackling of gunfires. B617 noticed that he was being addressed; a figure with a white stripe down his shoulder-pad was bellowing orders against the cacophony of the noise outside. He was saying they had thirty seconds until their drop, and their objective was to assist in resisting an enemy counter-attack in this area. After a brief pause, the order came.

"DROP!"

The helicopter side-door was flung open and one by one, each soldier hurled themselves out into the darkness... The noise hit B617 like a wave. All around him was gunfire, screams, groans and the inevitable death! As one, the soldiers opened up their parachutes and glided down to the scarred battlescape below them. He landed behind the charred wreck of a helicopter, next to a soldier who seemed agitated and was frantically attending to a stream of red on his arm. Getting back to the task in hand, B617 looked up from the wreck, whipped out his combat rifle and began firing blindly at dim specks of black against the tormented sky. Suddenly he felt a searing pain in his chest and bent double as if he had received a blow to the stomach. His head fell down onto the soft, wet Earth as his chest stained it red. With his last ounce of strength, he looked up.


In front of him was his sweetheart, her long, hair streaming through her shoulder almost shimmering against the orange sky. The bright yellow corn was swaying from side to side in the cool summer breeze and all was quiet. Alvin smiled and then collapsed from exhaustion. Amidst the chaos and bloodshed all around him, he allowed his eyes to rest. Like the retreating ride. Harry slowly lost his consciousness and another template quietly faded away...


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