“A short burst, gentlemen.”  Hollered the sergeant in his sharpest parade ground voice.  “Earth-Force Command wants a clean kill…center body mass and head-shots only!”  ‘Yeah,’ I thought, ‘same as last time…same as always.’  “Stay SHARP!” the sergeant yelled, as if he knew I was daydreaming.  I marched forward in the firing line as we approached the village.

“Lock and load!” sergeant yelled.  We all knew THAT was coming next.  Sgt. Matador was a big fan of historic Viet-Nam war films and this planet’s name, Ping-Dang-Fee, inspired him.  In reality, our plasma rifles fired pure energy beams, no clumsy clips or shells, but he figured his bravado might inspire us to fight… he was wrong.  Conscripts of a corporatocracy have no patriotism.

This whole invasion had me deeply conflicted.  Our enemy, the Plast, were an intelligent people, far more civilized than us.  They had renounced technology and war and embraced peace after a long history of violence and greed – not unlike ours.  Earth Force Command told us they were horrible, violent terrorists like the American Indians, determined to stop our God-given right to progress.  We knew better…we knew the Company just wanted the minerals in the soil of Ping-Dang-Fee and had decided it would be cheaper to exterminate these intelligent ‘pests’ than negotiate and actually ‘pay’ for their resources.

“Hold your fire ’till we reach the outer piquet!” shouted the sergeant. We could see the enemy now.  They stood together, unarmed, shoulder to shoulder… men, women and children.  They were tall and elegant and looked like a cross between a tarantula and those adorable orangutans the aristocrats kept for pets…..and they were unarmed.

Sergeant ordered us to the ready.  “Steady…!” he bellowed.  We stood silent and still.  I felt sick.  I could see the shame on the faces of my fellows’ as they realized what we were about to do…again.

“AIMMMMMM…!”

Without thinking, I stepped forward – out of the ranks – and in full view of the regiment, I threw down my weapon…which rattled noisily when it hit the dirt.

The sergeant was up in my face in seconds, bellowing, screeching, ordering me back into line with veins popping and spittle flying…I wasn’t listening.

He went on furiously about duty and service, cowardice and treason….until another weapon rattled as it hit the dirt…and another, and another and he pulled his sidearm and put it to my head and threatened the entire regiment…..but it was too late.  There were thousands of plasma rifles in the dirt and more dropping by the minute…and there would be no massacre today.  And I wondered, while the sergeant yammered on, with his gun to my head, if he still believed all that bullshit he was selling… until he put his weapon to his own head and pulled the trigger…..answering my question.

There were some heavy clashes in the capital city at the outset of the mutiny; nasty house-to-house fighting…but it was mostly among the officer corps.  The common soldiers held back.  The Plast had our sixes; for a peaceful people they were pretty formidable when it counted.  Eventually, our little mutiny spread to every Earth-Force unit.  The second wave never fired a shot.  We heard later that the third wave refused to deploy entirely.

The Corporation was desperate to suppress this mutiny, they were losing battalion after battalion without a fight.  It was getting too expensive.  We expected them to pull back and nuke us from space…..but the bombs never fell.

***Our new book, “A Short Burst” is finally out…and this is the cover story.  The book is 100 pages with 73 short, flash-fiction sci-fi stories and 64 illustrations, most of the art originally published in Analog and Asimov’s Sci-Fi Magazines.  It is our 4th book and the best one yet.  It is available for sale at www.sallemander.com, Amazon, and etsy .com (search; EEWbooks).      -Marsha