Once upon a time, there was a big war. I mean the biggest war you can imagine, between two giant countries who had spent a century preparing for it. And both those countries had millions and millions of people who were screaming to fight, and those countries fought a long and miserable war for 20 years before one got a little too close to winning, and the other pushed the button. The world ended then, much of it all in great bursts of fire but the rest waiting slowly to die as the toxic wind and the freezing rain wore them down, bit by bit. Some people were fortunate, and had escaped to other worlds by then - the asteroids, the Jovian moons, the space stations, the cities on Luna - but most of all on Mars, which had been changed before the war so that people could walk on its surface and breathe its air. Anastas Iskandorj was such a person - after living the entire war as a conscript soldier on the front lines, he was assigned to Mars in preparation for an attack that never occurred. With the governments of Earth either smashed to bits or out of contact, the people of Mars fragmented into dozens of tiny countries, divided not by race or religion or ideology but by however much land they thought they could control. Borders changed constantly, and Anastas Iskandorj went back to war.
Tsiolkovsky Bridge over the Valles Marineris, November 6 2086
Anastas flicked a cigarette off the bridge into the trench just as he saw the convoy approaching. The Valles formed a natural border between the countries of Mikoyania and New Leningrad, and so all the trade had to come through here. Not like there was much to trade, but when there was you could bet that somebody would try to jump the caravans. So Anastas, who had found a decent little one-room in Mikoyania City, was playing babysitter to three trucks worth of morphine. They were supposed to get shake-powered radios in exchange for it. As the convoy mounted the bridge, Anastas walked over to the caravan to get out his gun. Standard operating procedure, you know - MAD. Well, MAD hadn't worked when he was a little boy back in the Mongol part of Russia, and it hadn't worked when he was a grown man fighting in the Iranian trenches, and it hadn't worked now that he was old and on Mars. So he was totally prepared to shoot first if he had to.
The Mauser-Izhevsk 701 was a good little gun - not very accurate but you couldn't jam it if you tried, and it was light to boot. He took up a firing position behind one of the trucks, and when the Leningradians stopped the two leaders came forward to exchange words. The foreigner opened one of the Mikoyanian morphine bottles and sniffed it.
"This is heavy-duty right here. I like it. Come check out our stuff." The two leaders went around to the back of their truck, and there was a sound of surprise followed by gunfire. The covered truck flipped open to reveal a microwave cannon. Harmless against materiel, but against human beings the agony was unbearable. Anastas had just enough time to grab something out of the truck before he was hit, and all he could do was try to crawl away.
The microwave cannon was soon accompanied by more gunshots, and Anastas watched for the hundredth time as his comrades were killed off. He let off a burst of gunfire and downed one of the enemies, but it was no use - now they were paying attention to him. With his back to the edge of the bridge, he held out his hand.
"One step closer and our morphine is chicken chow mein. All it takes is a little bomb in each truck, and all those glass bottles are little pieces. Go on and take it, but leave me alone." He didn't think it was particularly cowardly. If he was going to die no matter what, why not live? One of the Leningradians spoke up.
"Sorry, pops. No witnesses." Someone somewhere shot him in the wrist, dampening his reflexes just enough for one of the enemies to yank the swtich from his hand without detonating it. Then he shoved him, and Anastas began to freefall the four kilometers to the ground. He was long prepared for his own death, but then he remembered that he'd already paid a full year's rent.
"Umm, Avalokiteshvara? Are you listening? I know I haven't been a very good Buddhist all my life, but I did go to the temple every day when I was a boy, and I remember all the old prayers. Umm . . . Om mane padme hum. Okay, I know I don't deserve this, but if you helped me out here, then I promise I'll turn a new leaf. I really mean that." He continued to fall.
"Well, fine. Screw you." He blacked out a few hundred feet above the ground.
When he woke up, he was on a beach in RhyDin. "Huh? Is this Heaven? Where am I?" He patted himself down to check for wounds.
"I'm alive! I'm alive! As soon as I get some money, I'm building a temple, just you wait! But first, I have to find civilization. I think that's a road . . ."
Tsiolkovsky Bridge over the Valles Marineris, November 6 2086
Anastas flicked a cigarette off the bridge into the trench just as he saw the convoy approaching. The Valles formed a natural border between the countries of Mikoyania and New Leningrad, and so all the trade had to come through here. Not like there was much to trade, but when there was you could bet that somebody would try to jump the caravans. So Anastas, who had found a decent little one-room in Mikoyania City, was playing babysitter to three trucks worth of morphine. They were supposed to get shake-powered radios in exchange for it. As the convoy mounted the bridge, Anastas walked over to the caravan to get out his gun. Standard operating procedure, you know - MAD. Well, MAD hadn't worked when he was a little boy back in the Mongol part of Russia, and it hadn't worked when he was a grown man fighting in the Iranian trenches, and it hadn't worked now that he was old and on Mars. So he was totally prepared to shoot first if he had to.
The Mauser-Izhevsk 701 was a good little gun - not very accurate but you couldn't jam it if you tried, and it was light to boot. He took up a firing position behind one of the trucks, and when the Leningradians stopped the two leaders came forward to exchange words. The foreigner opened one of the Mikoyanian morphine bottles and sniffed it.
"This is heavy-duty right here. I like it. Come check out our stuff." The two leaders went around to the back of their truck, and there was a sound of surprise followed by gunfire. The covered truck flipped open to reveal a microwave cannon. Harmless against materiel, but against human beings the agony was unbearable. Anastas had just enough time to grab something out of the truck before he was hit, and all he could do was try to crawl away.
The microwave cannon was soon accompanied by more gunshots, and Anastas watched for the hundredth time as his comrades were killed off. He let off a burst of gunfire and downed one of the enemies, but it was no use - now they were paying attention to him. With his back to the edge of the bridge, he held out his hand.
"One step closer and our morphine is chicken chow mein. All it takes is a little bomb in each truck, and all those glass bottles are little pieces. Go on and take it, but leave me alone." He didn't think it was particularly cowardly. If he was going to die no matter what, why not live? One of the Leningradians spoke up.
"Sorry, pops. No witnesses." Someone somewhere shot him in the wrist, dampening his reflexes just enough for one of the enemies to yank the swtich from his hand without detonating it. Then he shoved him, and Anastas began to freefall the four kilometers to the ground. He was long prepared for his own death, but then he remembered that he'd already paid a full year's rent.
"Umm, Avalokiteshvara? Are you listening? I know I haven't been a very good Buddhist all my life, but I did go to the temple every day when I was a boy, and I remember all the old prayers. Umm . . . Om mane padme hum. Okay, I know I don't deserve this, but if you helped me out here, then I promise I'll turn a new leaf. I really mean that." He continued to fall.
"Well, fine. Screw you." He blacked out a few hundred feet above the ground.
When he woke up, he was on a beach in RhyDin. "Huh? Is this Heaven? Where am I?" He patted himself down to check for wounds.
"I'm alive! I'm alive! As soon as I get some money, I'm building a temple, just you wait! But first, I have to find civilization. I think that's a road . . ."