Free Murder of Crows (Book One of The Icarus Trilogy) by Kevin Kauffmann Page B

usual MO.  After the game, if Carver still cared, he could look up what had happened on the highlight reel; maybe see why Warner’s arm had a bullet in it.
    The only thing on Carver’s mind was survival.  He’d been through the process more times than he could remember, but he’d rather find his way off the battlefield intact.  Resurrection was never comfortable.  In order to survive the best thing he could do was keep moving.  Hopefully Jenkins would catch up and add his weapon to their arsenal.
    From time to time they would hear the distant explosions of artillery.  There were at least seven other games on the asteroid at any given time.  The people loved their war; the Commission made sure to give it to them.  It did nothing to help the soldiers’ morale.
    After twenty minutes of wandering the three Crows saw Jenkins running towards them from across a littered landscape.  The boy was winded when he got to the remaining soldiers, but he didn’t let them stop on his account.  Between breaths he tried to brief his older compatriot.
    “Feldman’s dead.”
    “He’s not the only one,” replied Warner.  Any indication that he was ever mad at the boy wasn’t present.  He was bitter, but that most likely had something to do with what had happened to him earlier in the battle.  Carver eyed the man, but then turned to face Jenkins with a grunt.
    “Figured.  Guessing he took a few of ‘em with him?” Carver asked without making eye contact. Jenkins scoffed at the question and regained his full height as he caught his breath.
    “More than a few.  He’s still dead, though,” Jenkins said, trying to put more importance on the last statement.
    “Happens to the best of us.  Any trouble on the way here?”
    “One Hawk out there.  Took him out before he even knew I was there.  Didn’t feel too proud about it.”
    “Good.  Only cretins take pride in a coward’s actions,” Carver said as he started to look around.  He was tired of aimlessly moving; something odd was going on.  If there was a time limit it should have been long past gone and that worried him.  He spotted a war-torn building off to the south and motioned to his comrades.
    “Time we hole up somewhere and talk.  Somethin’ ain’t right.”
    “Time for tea, old man?” Warner jabbed at the older man.
    “Careful.  My bones are old and brittle but I still have enough fight in me to break all of yours.  Shut your mouth.”  Carver didn’t even bother looking at the man as he made his way to the dilapidated house.  The old man walked up the exposed staircase and settled up against a broken wall.  The creaking of the stairs covered the sound of his creaking bones and joints and he was thankful for it.  Carver was past his prime, but he didn’t want his teammates to hear the evidence. 
    The soldiers settled throughout the house doing their best to cover each avenue of approach.  The atmosphere wasn’t conducive to high spirits and there was an itch in the back of their minds they just couldn’t scratch.  Jenkins gave voice to the question on their minds.
    “Hey, Carver, why’s the match still going?  It’s way past the hour limit.”  Carver looked at the boy soldier and turned to the others.  He wanted to reassure them; he wanted to ease their minds.  He couldn’t.
    “I don’t know, kid.  It’s bugging me, too.”  Carver looked outside the house towards the unknown soldier’s beacon.  The Crow’s beacon was still floating above the same patch of ground.  Carver wondered who the coward was; he’d have to slap the boy around before the next game.  The old Crow looked back at his teammates and saw Warner.  The convict had been looking out in the distance, but turned his head back to Carver and confirmed what the veteran had been dreading.
    “We’re in an annihilation match.”
    -
    “And why didn’t you fucking say so!?”  Carver didn’t much appreciate having information withheld from him.  He