Not My War (Rex Pain Space Soldier #3)

By Kenneth Guthrie

Ripped from the clutches of death, Rex has returned. Even the hardest warriors of humankind could not kill this space soldier, so now alienkind is going to take their shot. Enslaved and forced to fight a brutal war on Helix 5, Rex will need to do everything he can survive against the massive alien fighters who are said to be undefeatable. Can Rex Pain survive to earn his freedom? Find out within.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lunatic Ink Publishing
• Release date: Jan 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301886449

Kenneth Guthrie

Kenneth Guthrie is a writer of sci-fi, fantasy and crime novels.Profile image credit: Vincent Gerbouin at Pexels.com

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Not My War

Rex Pain Space Soldier #3

Kenneth Guthrie

Copyright 2013 Lunatic Ink Publishing

Find more at Kenneth Guthrie’s Book List

Mars

IT WAS THE HARDEST FIGHT OF REX’S LIFE. Mars burned in multicolor glows of blazing beauty that seemed to go on forever to Rex’s suit enhanced eyes. The red sky of the sand planet was a hell created for man to trim the fat from the weak and weary war torn human race that had expanded to the reaches of the galaxy and beyond, only to find that resources – the source of all war in 2521 – were limited in an environment were rampant consumption was the norm and the human worlds consumed their fill at a frenzied pace that left little doubt that the end was near.

He ducked low as a laser light shell hit the ground just past where the squad had dug its foxholes. The enemy was getting closer with every shot. Rex looked up wondering if they might have some form of reconnaissance drone up there. The word on the network was that the enemy was being much too efficient. Infiltrators, traitors or technology: which would it be?

A big burst of fire came close enough to throw rock and debris over his position. He could feel the heat of the artillery round’s energy burning off in a big wave of fire. He grinned as the usual agony of scorched skin flowed over him. He knew this pain well and relished it. This was the taste of war. Some men relished the feeling of living. Rex relished the feeling of death – or coming close to it.

He rolled over the corpse that was lying on the ground next to him. Private Wilks Sanderson had lived for the first few hours, firing freely and dying as a true soldier despite his inexperience. Rex could almost respect the man, if he wasn’t dead.

No respect for the dead. Dying meant you couldn’t receive anything. Wilks didn’t care about respect. If he had been alive right now, he would be begging for life. Rex could understand his attitude if not relate to it.

He checked the number of rounds in his X300 Assault Rifle. The gauge told him that he had a variety of modes still left available to him, but that he wasn’t going to last long when they really came for him.

He picked up Wilks’ weapon, flicking on the round counter. It was dry too. He had already collected every single usable bit of ammunition using the charger cable that came with the rifle. There was nothing left, but new ammo would be here soon. The enemy would be bringing it with them when they arrived for the cleanup.

That moment was what he was waiting for. No one else was alive in the foxhole, all had died in one manner or another. Rex was the only survivor. The last man standing in a war between men that was little more than a fight for a bit of iron deep within the depths of Mars. It was neither an important conflict, nor one that Rex particularly cared about, but it was conflict and that was his first love.

He touched the barrel of his rifle to the front of his helmet. Sensors created the sensation of the metal touching his lips giving them a slightly cold burning sensation that always came when touching a well used barrel. His future was in its hands.

The artillery stopped. Silence filled the empty wildness of the desert around him. Rex could hear the sound of his suit’s breather system on stealth mode pulling in gas and creating good clean breathable oxygen filled air as fresh and crisp as the cold morning air of the countryside of Pluto.

The sound of someone trudging along the dirty rock face of the sand world told him that the time for his life to begin or end was near. He took his finger from the side of the rifle and put it on the small trigger on the base. He didn’t shake, nor stir. His muscles were ready, but loose and his mind was clear. He was in the valley of death and the reaper was stalking him slowly.

The footsteps stopped and there was a small buzzing sound. He could hear the men communicating above. They were over confident and sloppy. He would have cut his communicator and went in quiet. That they were making noise at all told him that they were inexperienced.

A man stepped up to the lip of the foxhole above him. Rex leapt up in the low gravity environment. He slammed the butt of his rifle into the gap in the man’s armor just between where the helmet and the neck supports began. The air slipping out as the fabric ripped away.

The man’s eyes went wide. Rex paid the shocked man little heed. There were over 80 or perhaps more men behind him all lined up and slowly advancing. Confidence in numbers. That explained their lack of discipline.

He reached down and tapped a few of the detonator switches on the dying man’s grenade rig as he kicked him back.

The man floated back, hands flailing, as he slipped back into his teammates bringing death as he did so. There was a bright flash and the ground shook.

Rex slammed into the back of the foxhole and breathed through the pain that was close to overwhelming him as the pressure from the multiple explosions pushed him hard into the wall.

It took a few seconds for the smoke to clear, but once it did the enemy returned to the glorious test of wills with full determination. Laser rounds tore the edges of the foxhole in controlled bursts. The smell of burned earth coming through his suit’s sensory system, which allowed for enhanced smell, touch, hearing and sight, was enough to send his head spinning in battle lust. This was the scent of his mistress.

The fire stopped and small silver objects flew up into the low gravity and stood still in the air. Rex watched them sitting there knowing that the magnetic grenades would need a little time to fix on to him before they started to hurtle down.

They started to move and he flicked his assault rifle to beam mode. One quick circle took a half dozen grenades down, but double that number were still on their way.

He pushed to his feet and sprinted for the corner of the foxhole. The grenades hit the ground and stopped. Rex knew that they were built to sense metal and go to it. There were enough armored corpses to make it near impossible for them to decide on which one was living.

He stood completely still and waited. It would be soon.

One of the grenades finally made a decision. Wilks’ body was the catalyst that set the rest off in a set of explosions that caved in most of the hole and sent hot metal flying up in all directions.

That wasn’t the end of it though. If the remaining fighters up top were following the standard military MO. They would call in the artillery once more to do the rounds before ensuring that Rex really was dead.

He sat down on the ground and flicked on some music. He wasn’t particularly worried about the enemy’s artillery skills. They would need to be careful not to hit their own troops and they would take their time. There was no rush.

The sound of a footstep trudging between beats of the old world rock song he had on made him pause. That wasn’t military MO. Someone was playing hero.

He crouched at the corner of the foxhole and looked up towards the lip of the dugout. There were dozens of soldiers up there. He realized that the group he had seen was only one of many. They had him on all sides. Whoever their commander was he deserved a medal for being clever enough to outflank Rex. He was looking forward to putting a round into the man.

He came around from the corner and fired a beam at the unsuspecting soldiers. Three men split in half, while six others sustained injuries bad enough to send them to the ground. The others let loose at full pace sending round after round into the corner he was crouching against.

He sprinted forward and leapt upwards. Ripping his grenade belt from his waist, he threw the entire thing downwards into the troops below. The sensors in his suit told him that there were over 80 soldiers 20 meters below him spread in a ring that went around the entire dug out.

He fired his weapon on full automatic. He wasn’t out of range of the explosion that was soon to hit him, but he was far enough away to not be human toast and that was enough for him.

The rounds hit the grenades and vaporized the entire thing. There was a near instantaneous explosion that ripped through the space below him.

He watched as dust was thrown up and the men closest to the foxhole were ripped to pieces as a range of heavy