Signal in the Concrete Sea

            Debris from the constant skirmishes warped the layout of the city into an unrecognizable state that hindered Emily’s progress to her waypoint. Buildings stood like corpses on display, their insides blown apart and scattered in the streets. Steel support beams stuck out from the rubble all gnarled and frayed. They made her think of scorched hands grasping for a world above the destruction. It helped her to ignore the real bodies.

            Her mission consisted of a single objective; to signal the resistance’s surrender. Their forces were crippled beyond recuperation and all communication was blocked. Even after weeks of sustained loss this decision wasn’t easily reached. Senior officials were whittled down to a handful that no longer held majority against the younger generation of leaders that wished to continue fighting. Rhetoric of honor found in death clashed with the sound advice of living to carry on the spirit and will of the people. It took a concentrated assault from Domain forces to draw the conclusion that surrender was best.

            Since contact with Domain was limited to firefights their options to convey the message were severely limited. A traditional blue signal flare would be the only certain way to get the message across. The only issue left was how to deliver it.

Emily had long been disillusioned with the war, so when the declaration was given it was as if she had suddenly been woken from a deep, numbing slumber. To be asleep while so much was at stake weighed on her, so before requests for a volunteer went out she demanded to be given the opportunity. Taking cover in the charred husk of a school bus did little to dissuade her from the mission.

Her overly large coat made it difficult to squeeze into and out of confined spaces, and the bulky flare constantly threatened to become dislodged from its clip on her shoulder holster. There weren’t many elements not conspiring against her at this point, but it only made her more determined, if not outright defiant. She would strip away Domain’s reasons for slaughtering citizens and extinguish its apparent lust for doing so.

All she needed was time.

***

            “I’m telling you, Commander, all we need is more time.” Captain Moore said, exasperation clear in his voice. “We are close to discovering their base of operations, and once we have that we can deliver a final blow to the resistance and be done with them forever!”

            “I understand your reasoning Moore, but compiling a majority of our forces into a single entity is an invitation for attack. Battles haven’t been fought like that in over a hundred years and for damn good reason.” Commander Dufresne took a slow drag from his cigarette then put it out to save it for later. He ignored Moore’s tantrum of knocking over a lamp and storming from the room, spitting out curses as he went.

In his long and storied military career there was no end of brash upstarts. The medals on his chest mattered less and less, apparently. For years it sickened him to be forced to deal with them, but the high turnover rate ensured their stay was strictly temporary. Soldiers he hated to bury; they fought with singular purpose: officers he gladly disposed of; they schemed to avoid the responsibility of war.  In that way he respected the rebels; they fought with purpose as well in spite of it being wholly wrong. They deserved to die; nothing less was acceptable.

            “Commander Dufresne?” said a voice over the intercom. Dufresne acknowledged it with a grunt, and the person continued. “We have intel that needs your attention, please report to central command.”

            “Noted. I’ll be there in a minute.”

            “Very well, commander.”

          

~~~

continued in Stranger and Fiction Anthology 2

The Signal by Ritche Sacilioc. Inspiration for this story.