Apraxis

By Jesse Frewerd

Water is a cutthroat business throughout the surrounding galaxies. Earth has depleted and contaminated so much of its freshwater supply due to corporate greed and misuse. Lakes, reservoirs, and rivers are all decimated primarily due to excess city sewage and industrial waste discharge. Less than 1% of the Earth’s freshwater is available. Potable ground water has all but vanished from not dealing with waste runoff from large farms properly, chiefly from pesticides and fertilizers. Securing the water as a protected source should have been a higher priority. The United States and others tried, with the EPA’s Drinking Water Act and Clean Water Act, but greed is that unquenchable thirst. 

The information wars in the early 21st century had half the world believing climate change was real, that water needed to be protected, and the other half in disbelief and denial even with the weighted evidence against denying it. Disinformation campaigns were standard on all sides of the aisle, further preying on already built-up tensions and divisions within countries, but it all reached a tipping point when water activists started bombing the water farmer’s factories. Workers walked off jobs, calling for more protection and hazard pay that the factories were unwilling to pay. These large conglomerates are the ones pushing for minimum wage increases because they know that competitors and small businesses will then have a much harder time competing with them. This leads to fewer jobs, higher unemployment, poorer communities and more crime. Escalation led to higher prices, and higher prices of water increased prices across the board for all products and before anyone knew it hyperinflation set in, worldwide, since all the markets were now interconnected and dependent on each other. The markets were so out of control that it caused immediate chaos. Governments scrambled as their sapped tax revenues led to program cuts such as the United States’ Medicare programs and European Union’s universal healthcare. When citizens and businesses asked for help that their governments could not provide, this led to further lack of trust. Catastrophic cost of living increases led the entire world to start blaming their problems anywhere they could focus their anger. Eventually suicide bombers became a thing of the past; weapons now included political angles, social media disruption, and turning a divided people against themselves. The United Nations crumbled in 2076, leading to yet another world war. 

***

The cramped escape pod touched down in the blistering heat. Shade would be the only reprieve. Most tactical operations would have allowed time to acclimatize to the new atmospheric conditions, as well as the burning fever that seemed to consume this planet. Specialist Jason Bucannon partially recalls the outdated field manual he read in his Earth Army basic training: remembering it roughly takes about two weeks to adjust one's biological and thermoregulatory systems within their body, drawing less physiological strain, specifically on the heart. Acclimating to heat can also decrease the salt content of sweat, not to mention, protect his vital organs from heat injury. Typically, the initial exposure would last one-two hours at most upon arrival, then gradually increasing his exposure after that. He would have no time; Jason just landed on the closest habitable planet, the planet Apraxis.

With the alarms blaring inside his cramped escape pod, Jason snapped into action. He landed harder than he had anticipated, and in 130-degree weather, sweat was already dripping profusely under his usually spotless uniform. Apraxis’ climate is a blistering desert-like environment, with sand like oceans covering over 75% on the planet’s vast landscape. He at once unbuckles the safety harness that secured his somewhat safe landing. Taking a quick inventory of himself, he feels no significant injuries to be concerned with. His descent from space through his mind into a tailspin; everything happened so quickly. Knowing he will be easily fatigued, he hopes his adrenaline will counter that for the time being.

Jason grabs what few supplies he has: a bandana (which he promptly ties around his face to protect his nose and mouth from the blowing sand), goggles, a filter and two liters of water, three MRE's, a mini flashlight, four small lithium batteries, a small pocket knife, a 9mm with three mags full of ammo, his blanket, and his portable digital library. He has to travel light, so all of his equipment is stuffed into his military-issued camelbak. As Jason climbs out of the hatch, the weight of the situation comes down on him. “What happened to our ship?” he murmurs to himself. “What could have possibly happened? We did multiple maintenance checks daily. Was this an attack of some sort, or possibly sabotage?” Panic started slowly creeping in like a worm working its way to the surface out of damp soil. “Jason, get a hold of yourself man, find water first, then you can worry about what the fuck happened to the ship!”

Standing in the sun now, Jason feels a crushing temperature spike like never before. Dune upon dune of sand blocks his view, both ahead of him and to his left, though his left could be any direction. First, he tried orienting himself by Apraxis’ sun, but couldn’t remember which direction it rose and fell. He has no clue what the universal time is, or how long a day lasts in this sector for that matter.

Breaking out his digital library, he scans for the nearest water source, praying it is still there. According to the last update, it should be just over a mile away. “That pod couldn’t have landed me any closer?” He exasperates as he pivots slightly right and starts walking toward the water. The planet’s volatility didn’t ease Jason’s growing tension, but he had to keep it at bay for now. 

Now that Jason has a little time to process the situation, his roughly 35-minute walk through waves of sand brings his mind once again to his crew and ship. “What the hell happened up there?” he again mutters to himself. He wonders if most of his crew opted for the planet Malavax as a possible landing site in the panic. A militarized slave colony; home to the worst prisoners Earth didn’t want to deal with anymore. “Maybe it was the UIS who attacked us?” thought Jason, but it doesn’t make any sense. “Why would the United Islamic State risk upsetting the Coalition with a major incident?” The obvious answer was they wouldn’t unless there was more money to make or an angle to exploit. The UIS is the direct successor of shell companies with ties to OPEC, Al-Qaeda, ISIS, and the Mujahideen Shura Council; including several other outfits that consolidated their power, money, and militancy before the start of the last world war on Earth. With OPEC over drilling its resources, and with the development of fusion power, they soon turned their sights to water and people throughout the galaxy. Russia and communist China also formed military alliances around this time, leaving the Western world to scramble. Two considerable threats, both openly hostile. The Western powers had no choice but to form the Coalition of Global Authority with the United States taking up the brunt of the fight. 

Still trudging through the thick sand, Jason circles back to the thought of Malavax. “Would they really have taken their chances on such a long-shot of ousting the UIS cartels? It would be a suicide mission.” Malavax’s criminal slaves would never turn against anyone, not anymore. They’ve been brainwashed and conditioned; now, they just kill for their masters through jihad. The UIS runs the planet for the mercenaries they provide. They also control any newly founded water reservoirs they can get their hands on; water is the gold of the future. Christian/Muslim relations are as brutal and vicious as ever. Earth hasn’t seen this kind of ruthlessness and carnage since the Crusades, except now we have betters weapons, and the fight has been taken to the sky. Nevertheless, his real mission started when they were supposed to hit the ground on Syndronamus (or New Earth as it’s often referred to).

Apraxis would prove to be difficult, sure, but to live as a jihadist zombie wasn’t an option for Jason. “Was there anything I missed? Maybe a possible pods malfunction?” Jason couldn’t see anything from where he and his ship got hit or even if it did for that matter. He only heard the voice of his platoon leader over the radio in a near panic. “Get to the escape pods now. I repeat: Get to escape pods now. This is not a drill. I repeat: This is not…” Then nothing. Radio silence. All comms were cut, the main power was killed and converted immediately to auxiliary power. Not even the issued phones worked for walk talkies. That was the first cause for alarm, some sort of jamming frequency. The next thing he knew, he was running from the maintenance bay where he was playing spades with the other lower enlisted under his command, yelling at them to get to their own pods. In the panic, he didn’t think to set a rally point. He could just feel that they needed to get off that ship, and quickly. LT would have never joked about anything like this, and you could hear the sheer panic in his voice.

For the most part, the Coalition took the United States commands as marching orders. His troop of scouts regular job duties is to gather information on any potential enemy movement and activities and engage the enemy if necessary. The Coalition had no idea who or what was on New Earth. Humans have yet to find any source of intelligent life in the galaxy. The satellites and solar probes sent ahead showed nothing that would ultimately prove otherwise.

Since the development of the fusion reactor, power collection couplers that helped recycle used energy back into modern ships, and the work of AI to increase the speed and access to space travel. Earth has been developing outposts in nearby galaxies. The problem with space travel has always been the lethality of rapid acceleration or deceleration on the human body, which can only take so much. However, speed in and of itself is no problem, as long as it is constant and relatively in one direction. Human engineers finally found a work-around and now can travel close to half the speed of light. Nevertheless, outposts are still in the very infant stages of development, with Coalition forces controlling what it can. Still, the UIS has also been picking up where the Global Authority can’t.

Jason stops and checks his portable library, making sure he was still on track to where the water would be. According to the map, there’s supposed to be a tiny outpost held by Coalition forces, protecting the water from contamination and/or thievery. 

Jason could now see the outpost. He is burning up from the direct exposure to sunlight, and his adrenaline is now wearing off. Exceedingly fatigued, Jason still has another rough five to ten minutes to travel. He barely sees an outline of a fence, razor wire on top. There would likely be an air-conditioned building housing the filtration system inside. At least some fans. He needed to get out of the sun as soon as possible. He is starting to feel dizzy and has a start to a headache building, extreme fatigue already set in. He knew he was experiencing heat exhaustion.  

A very startling thought comes to Jason’s mind as he inches closer to the outpost. Maybe there was something on New Earth that someone didn’t want to be found? Jason weighs the scenario in his mind. “What do you know for sure?” He thinks to himself. Their orders weren’t classified by any means, but they weren’t exactly public knowledge either. They were a scouting party.  Stealth is protocol for any scout. Only top brass should have had knowledge of their mission unless someone tipped off a third party that they were coming— or carelessness came into play. “What doesn’t make sense was the sense of urgency in LT’s voice. Were we boarded? Were we fucking surrounded? What?!  All I know is that the comms were blocked, and the power cut, then nothing, nada.” 

Jason is getting pretty close to the gate now, and he cannot see any perimeter guard from where he is currently. He would have to get closer and circle the fence to find the entrance. The wind is getting nasty now, severely limiting his vision due to the dense blowing sand. Luckily his goggles and bandana protected him somewhat from the ruthless environment. Jason is now sweating even more profusely than before, and he feels frail as he trudges through the sand. He continues circling the fence but suddenly feels a sharp twinge shoots through his right thigh. Jason almost falls due to the massive cramping, so he stops and straightens out his leg to alleviate the spasming. Immensely vulnerable, Jason knows he has to hurry. Quickly, he takes out one of the water bottles and drains about a third of it. Hastily caps and returns it to his bag, Jason now sees the fence make a sharp left and continue on for about 50 yards before his vision fails him due to the growing sandstorm. He hugs the edge continuing straight on, thinking how lucky he was that this wind didn’t start when he first landed. “This outpost better have some damn air conditioning," Jason frustratingly spits into the wind. As he continues on, he sees a guard on the ground looking at him. Then there was another standing up in a tower. “Thank God, fucking about time.” He says. They see him, no guns pointed at him, nothing. It’s like they were expecting him...  

“Specialist Bucannon?” The soldier on the ground calls out to him. It was more of a statement than a question. Barely being able to hear through the bandanas and the roaring wind, each party starts screaming to communicate. 
“What is this? How do you know my fucking name!?”
“You mean other than that it’s on your uniform?” Says the one in the tower sarcastically.

“Fuck you!” comes Jason quick reply, though now that he can somewhat see the one on the ground’s rank— Colonel— he instantly regrets his words. Colonel Welsh stands roughly 6’2. He is stocky but not fat. Jason cannot really see his face due to the face coverings, but he does notice the Special Forces tab on his uniform's upper left shoulder.

"First, let’s get you inside, then we can inform you of the situation.” says the Colonel as he promptly turns around and starts walking. There's a small door to the left of the main sliding gate. He scans his badge and holds the door for Jason. Jason’s mind is now going a million miles a minute. “Inform me of the situation? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He thinks to himself as he steps through the door. They walk a little further before reaching the building that would house the water and living quarters in this outpost. Again the Colonel scans his badge to open the door to the facility. Jason is now on the verge of heat exhaustion, but as soon as the door opened he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Cold air brushes him like an artist, slowing painting his headache and fatigue into the background. Sliding his goggles up to his forehead and taking off the bandana, Jason quickly scans his environment. The Colonel goes directly to a small fridge, opens it, and as he turns around to face Jason, he simultaneously throws him a bottle of cold water and says, “Catch.”

****

Milwaukee native, Jesse Tyler Frewerd was recently published in 0-Dark-Thirty for a short story written about his time in Iraq (served from 2002-2005), and in Medium, where they published his essay “Listen to the Music.” His poetry can be found online under Woodland Pattern’s online blog, and in Blue Nostalgia, a military journal for Post-Traumatic Growth. Jesse is a US Army Veteran, singer/songwriter, poet and writer.