Purple Heart

Moralez cursed his bad luck under his breath as one of the aliens turned casually, then started, staring for a moment with its compound eyes. Its mandibles waved erratically, and without it uttering so much as a sound, the whole formation turned to face Moralez and Azi. They ignited their blue energy shields and unholstered their weapons, knives drawn and pistols ready. Moralez closed his visor, taking a knee and starting to fire into the group. Azi launched herself forwards on her powerful legs, racing down the tunnel, covering the ground at a speed that shocked him. He managed to down one before its shield was up, but without the support of a fire team, he'd never get any shots through the phalanx that they formed. The drones were blocking off the tunnel, and with it their only escape route.

Azi waded into them, a blurred melee of claws, gunfire and plasma. She scattered the smaller insectoids, knocking them off their feet with her powerful strikes. Moralez muttered another curse and rose to his feet, slinging his XMR over his back and whipping out his 1911. He ignited the shield on his wrist, rushing towards the brawl. He couldn't fire on them without the risk of hitting Azi, not that she deserved such consideration.

The aliens were distracted by Azi, and so he fired around the shield, catching one of them in the back as it dodged her blows. It gurgled and stumbled, leaking yellow goo before falling to the floor. Azi had dispatched a couple of them with strikes from her hooked claws and point blank bursts from the energy weapon, but she was bleeding profusely from knife wounds as the aliens surrounded her, hacking and stabbing. It looked bad, but she wasn't going down, and Moralez had to remind himself of how resilient Borealans were. Two of the Bugs separated from the group and came towards him, Moralez blocking their green energy bolts with the shield, the plasma dissipating over the crackling surface. He returned fire, but his bullets melted, turning into showers of molten sparks as they hit the barriers. He didn't have enough ammo in his pistol for this kind of engagement, and he couldn't fire the XMR one-handed and keep his shield up. He wasn't like Azi, one good stab or well placed shot, and he'd be dead.

Fuck it, he'd have to get in close and personal. Wishing that he also had four arms, he holstered his .45 and crouched to draw his knife from his boot. He was trained as a marksman, this was downright medieval in comparison. He steeled himself, raising the dagger and crying a challenge. One of the Bugs unsheathed two curved blades from shaped recesses in its armored thighs, wielding them in its lower arms, the upper pair holding its shield and pistol. It met his challenge, charging towards him with its blades swirling. Their shields blurred together as he parried the attack, crackling and fizzing as their magnetic containment fields merged and twisted, warping as the Bug brought both knives towards his belly. He shoved it back, and it stumbled, temporarily out of range. He rushed forwards and drove his combat knife into its neck as it tried to bring its pistol up to fire at him, the sharp blade piercing the unarmored joint in its carapace. Despite being stabbed in the throat, it didn't go down, and Moralez wondered if the things even had lungs to begin with. It was distracted by the injury, however, ichor leaking from the wound and from its insect-like mouthparts. Before it had a chance to reorient itself, he spun his knife in his hand so that the blade was facing downwards, driving it into the creature's compound eye like a pick. The glowing lens shattered as if it were made of glass and Moralez felt his blade sink into something soft, the drone's mandibles twitching as it lurched backwards and abandoned its attack, clutching at its face.

The second Bug charged him, ducking under his shield blow and slicing at his chest. The ornate dagger dug into his armored plating, leaving a deep gash that didn't quite penetrate the Kevlar vest beneath. Those things were fucking sharp! He hopped back, taking a defensive stance and raising his shield. His opponent circled, its posture low and aggressive, its four arms constantly in motion so as to keep him guessing where the next attack might come from. It flicked its pistol under its shield, aiming low, but he parried the shot with his crackling energy barrier and took the opportunity to advance on it. It blocked him with its shield, and again the magnetically contained plasma fused, molding between the two opposing fields. Thinking fast, Moralez discarded his knife, whipping out his handgun and forcing the solid object through the two barriers. Bullets would melt, plasma would be dispersed, but objects could be pushed past the energy field. He gritted his teeth against the pain as the boiling plasma began to melt his glove, searing the skin beneath. He smelled his own flesh cooking as he pulled the trigger, the metal beneath his fingers blistering them. His opponent collapsed into a lifeless heap as ichor dripped from the exit wound in the center of its sternum.

He looked over to Azi as he cradled his blistered hand. In the time that it had taken him to kill two, she had almost finished off the whole squad. They had been routed and were scrambling to get some distance from her in order to make better use of their guns. Azi looked like a demon, drenched in cuts and crimson blood almost from head to toe, her eyes wide and wild. He didn't know how much blood her kind could lose and stay conscious, but it looked like she needed help. He unslung his XMR, the shield collapsing into the projector on his wrist, and began to fire. He cut the distracted aliens down easily, the hypersonic slugs chewing through their chitinous armor.

He rushed past the panting Borealan, waving for her to follow him.

"Come on! More will come!"

She growled, bounding after him as they headed towards the light.

***

They emerged onto the rainy, windswept surface of Kruger III. Moralez savored the cool droplets of water on his face, his boots sinking into wet mud. He immediately activated his radio, scanning for active channels. They weren't out of the shit yet, he wouldn't relax until he was in orbit.

"Come in, come in, anyone on this frequency. This is Lieutenant Moralez of the forty-third, I am in need of immediate evac. Repeat, immediate evac required. I have information critical to the war effort. Is anyone receiving?"

He waited for a response as his helmet radio crackled and fizzed with static, his heart racing.

"Receiving you, Lieutenant, this is ground control. Why are you using an unsecured channel? Over."

"No time, I got Bugs on my tail, and I have critical information. Get me a bird down here ASAP."

"Roger that, putting your request through to the fleet, please hold."

Please hold, what the fuck, was this a customer service line? He pointed his XMR back at the hole warily. Azi was standing a short distance away, the pouring rain washing the blood off her skin to reveal numerous cuts and wounds.

"You good?" he asked.

She didn't reply, but she seemed fine. If he had any enduring anger towards her, he shoved it to the back of his mind. There was no time for that, survival was more important now.

"Your request has been approved by fleetcom, Lieutenant. Stand by, sending a dropship to your coordinates. ETA five minutes."

Five fucking minutes? If more Bugs swarmed out of the mouth of that tunnel, then they wouldn't last five seconds. He looked around frantically, searching for cover, but there was nothing. Just scraggly, sickly trees and a few scattered rocks, the whole loathsome planet was just a mud field. He still had his grenade belt, was it worth trying to collapse the tunnel?

Before he could decide on a course of action, a large figure emerged from the hole. Its shiny, blue shell reflected the sunlight in beautiful, iridescent hues. Its ornate, beetle-like antlers swayed as it marched onto the surface, sinking ankle-deep in the mud. A warrior, just as large as the last one. It extended its lobster claws, its serrated mandibles waving in a silent challenge. It must have been drawn by the fight in the tunnel, the stress pheromones and the stench of blood. It shambled towards them, picking up speed as it went.

Should they just run? The thing was massive, heavy, could it catch them?

As if to answer his question, the thing lowered its head and began to charge, digging its feet into the slippery dirt. It was faster and more agile than something of that size and weight had any right to be. It went straight for Azi, and Moralez fired at it with his XMR, the tungsten slugs failing to even irritate it.

It barreled into Azi, knocking her to the ground in a splash of dirty water. He couldn't just stand here plugging at the thing, he had to do something before it turned her into minced meat. He ran towards them as the warrior lifted its claw into the air, intending to slam it down on the Borealan as she slipped and scrambled in the mud, trying to get clear. He plucked a grenade from his belt, priming it, then threw it overhand at the monster.

"Grenade!"

The warrior turned to look at him, and that gave Azi time to dig her paw-like feet into the dirt and launch herself behind it relative to where the grenade would land. There was a flash of light as Moralez threw himself to the ground, covering his head with his arms as debris rained down from the sky. He rose to his feet, expecting to see a smoldering carcass, but it was still on its feet. Trails of smoke rose from the shrapnel wounds that peppered its body, the ugly tears leaking goo. It had lost a chunk of shell, too, exposing what looked like white crab meat beneath.

It clawed at the wounds on its body with its smaller pair of lower arms, a liquid that looked like pulpy orange juice leaking from the punctures and cuts. Why wasn't it dead? That shrapnel grenade would have mortally wounded an unarmored Borealan. It locked onto him now, its tiny, armored head tracking him. The thing started to stagger towards him, its uneven gait slowly winding up into a charge. It was a good distance away, he still had time, and the grenade had wounded it. He pulled another from his belt, raising the protective cap and hitting the primer button. He cooked it for a moment, waiting for the creature to draw a little closer, then lobbed it.

There was another loud blast that threw up a cloud of filthy water, this time too close for comfort, and he felt his armor stop a hail of stray fragments that would have penetrated had he been a little closer. As the cloud of water vapor cleared, the thing was still standing. It staggered now, parts of it missing, but it kept coming. He only had one grenade left, if that didn't kill it, then nothing would. He heard Azi's pistol firing at it, but it was unconcerned, reaching its claws out towards him like some kind of shambling zombie.

He held his last grenade in his hand, flipped the cap, and pressed the button down. He'd have to run when he threw it, this was too close.

The world suddenly exploded around him, great clods of dirt thrown into the air as he was knocked onto his back by the impact. The sound of a cannon rolled over him, delayed in relation to whatever had fired on them. A Penguin gunship cruised over his head, the engines roaring as it banked for another pass on its stubby wings, the close ground support cannon on its nose smoking and glowing orange. A UNN dropship followed close behind it, the thrusters on its belly spouting blue flame as it slowed and began to hover. Fleetcom had sent in the cavalry, their evac was finally here, and it had brought an escort. The Bug was making a nightmarish gurgling sound. Its heavy shell had been split open like a fruit by the twenty-millimeter cannon, and its viscera was rolling out of it in clumps, yet still it marched inexorably towards the prone Moralez.

The gunship hosed it again, the massive rounds tearing into it and kicking up a blinding wall of dirt and water that showered down on him like a heavy rain. He felt a sharp pain in his lower leg, maybe some shrapnel had hit him. He couldn't see, his visor was covered in mud.

Where was his grenade?

He fumbled for it, trying to wipe the filth from his visor and dig through the mud around him simultaneously. His hand closed on a hard ball, and he felt for the primer, his gloved fingers slipping on the muck that caked it. If he could just press the button again, there might still be time to disable it.

His world went dark.

CHAPTER 3: IN THE LINE OF DUTY

Moralez opened his eyes, they were blurry, unfocused. He saw a white blob above him, shifting and warping as he blinked, trying to clear his vision. Was he dead? Was this what being dead was like? No, it was a light fixture on a ceiling, also white. As his eyes came into focus, he tried to raise his head to look around him, but his neck was sore and stiff. Now that he was more aware, his whole body was sore and aching, his extremities were numb. What had happened? Where was he?

He heard garbled voices, and a shadow moved over him. He squinted, trying to make out the figure.

"Lieutenant Moralez? Can you hear me? You're confused, please keep still. You're in a hospital."

A hospital? So he was alive, then. He had survived his ordeal on Kruger III.

"W-what..happ..."

"Don't try to speak yet, just rest, there's no hurry. Everything has been taken care of, you're safe here."

He lay back on the soft pillow. The soothing voice, female he thought, had told him not to move but he very nearly couldn't. Every muscle in his body felt like it was cramping and his arms and legs were immobilized, was he tied down? The fingers on his right hand itched, but he couldn't move the left to scratch them. He heard movement, then felt the overpowering fatigue of a sedative wash over him.

***

When he next awoke, he couldn't tell if hours or days had passed. In fact, he had no idea how long he had been in the hospital bed. He still felt numb, and one of his feet was cold, it was probably protruding from below the blanket. Everything still hurt, but less than it had before. He wanted to check himself over, examine the new scars and punctures that were no doubt hidden beneath the sheets, but he couldn't move. Perhaps that was why they had tied him down? Surely they could tell from the innumerable scars that already littered his skin that he wasn't squeamish, he just wanted to know the extent of the damage. If he could just reach between his legs and make sure that the twins were still at home, he'd be able to relax.

His eyes were clearer now, and he looked around the room. He was in a military hospital, not a field hospital, a real one. He must be planetside, or on an orbital station somewhere, there were no windows so that he could be sure which. He was in a private room with only one bed, and various unidentifiable machines were hooked up to his body. There was no drip in his arm, that was odd. Instead, various wires snaked under the sheets to his torso. He watched a monitor with a green line that pulsed in time with his heartbeat, displaying numbers and values that he didn't know how to interpret. The room was basically a bare, white cube save for his bed, the machines and a chair beside them.

He no longer felt tired, he just wanted answers.

"Hey! Is anyone out there? Hey!" He shouted at the door, his throat dry and sore. Damn, he could use a glass of water. He waited for a minute, then as he prepared to shout again, the door opened. His brow furrowed as a tall, furry creature entered the room.

It was a Borealan, but different from the ones that he had seen previously. This one looked more like a real cat. Where Azi had smooth skin and toned muscle, this one had off-white fur dotted with black spots like a leopard, and it was pudgy, thicker than the others that he had encountered. It was holding a tablet computer in its large hand and wearing a white lab coat, or some kind of scrubs that clung to its figure. It was another female, egregiously female, and his eyes were drawn to its impressive hips and bust. No, not this again, no more Borealans.

"Lieutenant? How are you feeling?" She spoke good English, but her accent was unusual. She watched him curiously as he shook his head, shooting her an angry look.

"No, I want a human nurse."

She looked taken aback.

"Well, I'm sorry Lieutenant, we don't have the time nor the personnel to accommodate such requests." She walked over to his bed and checked on the machines, recording the data onto her tablet computer with a stylus. Her massive, puffy tail trailed behind her, waving gently as she wrote. She was large, taller than any Borealan he'd ever seen, probably skirting nine feet. She didn't have that wound-up, spring-loaded look that the naked variety had, it was hard to articulate.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"Fort Hamilton."

Moralez wracked his brain, he had heard that name before, but where?

"Pinwheel? What am I doing here? This is light years from Kruger."

"Yes, the station also goes by that name. Tell me, Lieutenant, have you any idea how long you've been here?"

"No, how did I get here? What happened to me?"

She lay her tablet down on his bedside table and sat awkwardly on the chair, which was too small for her.

"You were badly injured during your extraction from Kruger III. You were stabilized, put on the first available jump capable ship and brought here. Our medical and rehabilitation facilities are the best, besides perhaps Earth or Mars."

Rehabilitation? What was she talking about?

"That was nearly two weeks ago," she continued. "You were kept in an artificially induced coma while we removed shrapnel from your body. The damage was extensive. Much of your digestive tract has been replaced, along with one of your lungs and both of your kidneys. Your heart was badly damaged and had to be repaired, and-"

"I'm alive though," he interrupted, "I survived."

"You are indeed alive," she replied, her round ears twitching as she peered down at him. "I don't know how to put this lightly, but you're a seasoned soldier, I think you can handle it straight." The color drained from his face, what was wrong? Brain damage of some kind? "You have lost both of your arms and one leg. Your leg was severed below the knee by cannon fire, however, it had to be amputated at the thigh to prevent a bone infection. Your arms were destroyed by a grenade, it very nearly killed you, but your armor protected your face and torso reasonably well. They were gone when you arrived, unrecoverable, likely vaporized."

The memories came flooding back to him. The monstrous insectoid towering over him, scrambling in the mud trying to recover his primed grenade, that idiot flyboy strafing him. He reeled, he felt dizzy. This couldn't be true, she was fucking with him. He didn't trust these aliens as far as he could throw them.

"No way, you're fucking with me. I know what you Mad Cats are like."

She looked more sad than angry, but she stood, hooking the blanket that covered him in her claws and pulled it away. His cry caught in his throat, turning into a sob.

"Oh fuck...no..."

He looked down at his body in disbelief, his head swimming. His torso was wrapped in gauze, what skin showed between the bandages was purple and bruised. Tears welled in his eyes, and they became bleary as he looked at the space where his leg should have been. He wanted to wipe his eyes, embarrassed by his outburst, but his arms were gone. The right was missing from the shoulder down, the left just above the elbow, ending in bandaged stumps. The Borealan crossed her arms, watching his reaction. He looked to her for support, comfort, anything. Her gaze was cold, emotionless. Someone who worked in a military hospital would be accustomed to seeing these kinds of injuries and delivering bad news. She gave him a moment, then covered him with the blanket again. He tried to squeeze the hot, stinging tears from his eyes, tried to regain his composure. But it was impossible. This must be some kind of nightmare, he must still be on Kruger III or in the dropship, knocked unconscious. This couldn't be real.