One-six turned over in his bed. It had been an hour since he and his team had gone to bed, yet he had failed to fall asleep. He has never had sleep troubles before, but tonight was different.

Something was on his mind, keeping him from resting soundly.

He thought back to the pilot he had captured, and they way he had screamed and fought after he woke up on their fightercraft.

Apparently whatever anesthetics they had used were not of the best quality or they simply hadn’t used enough.

When the pilot found out they had flown away without helping the girl he was trying to protect, and that he had been deceived by One-six, he punched and kicked at them like a rabid animal. The pilot knew there was no chance he would win, yet he did it anyway.

The pilot screamed at them for lying to him, something about not feeling emotions, and some other gibberish which One-six couldn’t quite make out.

One-six couldn’t understand why the pilot had acted the way he did. It wasn’t hard to recognize that his chances of success was close to zero, and that the best course of action to ensure his survival was just to ride with them to their city.

Maybe the pilot had simply lost his mind. But he is sure the look in the pilot eyes when they put a bullet through his skull was not one of a person driven mad by fear and stress.

Maybe he is just overthinking it. Things like that happens sometimes. The less trained soldiers of New Asia did tend to do some unthinkable things sometimes.

He sat up in his bed, doing so quietly as to not awaken One-five who was snoring loudly above him. He wanted to take a walk, maybe get a drink from the vending machines.

Because of the technological advances allowing for a plentiful supply of resources, every fighter team gets their own little common room for briefings, debriefings, and general use.

As he pushed open the bed room door, he was met with the singular figure of Two-six sitting behind the large table in the middle of the common room. Her hands were behind her head, and she seemed to be contemplating something while staring intently at the ceiling.

“Are you having trouble falling asleep too?” One-six asked.

“Yeah,” Two-six mumbled, looking down from the ceiling. “And I guess it’s the same for you too?”

“Yep. Something is just on my mind. I just can’t quite stop thinking about it.”

“I know, it’s keeping me up too,” Two-six sighed. “Recently I’ve started to have a lot of random and new thoughts. Some of them I can’t even understand myself.”

“You know what’s on my mind?”

“Sure. It’s the way the pilot we captured acted after he woke up right? And the stuff he said.” Two-six said, stealing a sideways glance at One-six.

One-six nodded, some what relieved that another person can feel for him. “That’s right. We’ve been trained to try and understand or explain what we witness. But this time I just can’t seem to find an answer.”

“Me neither, the way he acted was just too weird. It’s like he wasn’t using his brain at all.”

“Maybe this is what emotions do to people?” One-six guessed. They’d always been told that emotions are something that only the primitive and backward soldiers of New Asia feel. They’d been told that emotions are useless and counterproductive. Ever since he can remember, One-six cannot remember a single instance where he has felt an emotion. “What even are emotions anyway?”

“Well I mean… We wouldn’t know. It’s against the law to feel emotions. Why would you want to know what emotions feel like anyway? The only reason we are better soldiers than our enemies is because we aren’t held back by emotions.”

“But you only know that because they told you. If we don’t fee emotions how can we even compare it?” One-six asked.

Two-six thought for a moment, One-six’s words had clearly stirred up some thoughts. After she couldn’t think of a good answer, she decided to change the topic. “The war’s been slowing down, and it’s given me more time to just think about stuff.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t think we’ve ever been outside these walls have we?”

“Of course not, it’s against the law to leave our base without permission.”

“Do you want to go outside these walls?”

“No,” One-six answered. “There’s nothing out there except forest.”

“No not outside outside,” Two-six laughed. “I mean inside, into the city. Because I want to go.”

One-six looked at her with mocking eyes. “Aren’t you the one who’s been saying that following the law is important?”

“Well yeah but, if you think about it, they don’t let us outside because they fear we might leak confidential information right?” Two-six asked, gesturing with her hands. “So if we don’t say anything to anyone it should be fine right? Plus, we’re reaching retirement age soon, so it’ll be fine to break some rules right?”

“If we’re reaching our retirement age soon why can’t you just wait until then to see outside?” One-six asked.

“Well… because…”

“Do you want to be reported to Captain Steiner?”

“N-no…” Two-six stuttered. “I just want to see what I’ve been fighting all this time for. Plus, it’s quite easy to get out, they don’t actually check if you have permission.”

One-six shook his head. “We’re soldiers. We follow orders. That’s it.”

Two-six nodded slightly.

“Get some sleep.” One-six said.

“But we don’t have assignments for tomorrow.” Two-six argued back, apparently reluctant to go to bed.

“There could be scrambles,” One-six said. “Hopefully…”

After Two-six went into her room, One-six went back to his own too. The rest of the night was sleepless too, but he managed to get some sleep in before the sun rose into the sky.

Then the next morning, as if responding to One-six words, they were called in for an emergency meeting. They were given coordinates, maps, and tasks to bomb targets. Reportedly a remote pocket of survivors had been found to be trading with New Asia, and thus required exterminating.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Within ten minutes they were in their fighters, speeding off towards some place too far to be seen with the rest of their squadron.

Six heavy fighters, including his own, flew in an arrow shaped formation, with eight more single-seat light fighters taking up their sides and rear.

It was a clear and sunny day, with few clouds being visible even from such a high altitude. When One-six turned to look back he could see the contrails of their flight stretching away into infinity behind them.

Soon they had found their target, a little village deep in the mountains with a few dozen houses. One by one they swooped in and dropped their guided bombs upon the unsuspecting villagers.

With the single push of a button they could bring annihilation upon any building his eyes looked towards. One by one the houses exploded into shredded pieces of wood. The ground which they were once built upon turned into gapping holes in the black earth.

Normally they felt indifferent, detached, unaffected by the hell which they raised upon the defenseless people below. But this time One-six felt uneasy. He felt like he was doing something wrong. Killing people just seemed wrong somehow, but he couldn’t quite explain it. Even though it was said these people are traitors, it still felt wrong to so easily erase someone’s existence completely.

After their munitions were exhausted and the ground below a smoldering patch in the forest, a few of the heavy fighters were ordered to fly down and check for survivors.

“We only need a prisoner or two. Make sure they are in the best condition possible,” their flight leader told them as they descended.

One-six and his team grabbed their rifles and jumped out of the cockpit. The smell of burning wood and charred flesh hung stiffly in the chilly air.

By then it was already afternoon, and the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Storm clouds blanketed the sky above them, preventing the sun’s warm rays from getting to them.

“Proceed. Over,” the voice in their helmets said.

Together they walked forwards with their rifles raised. Forwards into what was once a lively village, but was now a burning wasteland instead.

“One-six, your safety is still on,” One-five reminded him as they walked side-by-side.

“Oh... right..." One-six said, turning his assault rifle to the side and flipping the safety off.

“Is something wrong?” One-five asked.

“No, nothing is wrong.” One-six replied. But something was wrong.

What Two-six had asked him yesterday was still clear in his mind: what were they fighting for?

He had just bombed a small fishing village simply because he was told to do so. They said the village had been trading with their enemy, making them his enemy as well. But as he walked through the devastate streets, he saw nothing but the remains of innocent houses.

A survivor climbed out of the burning wreck of a collapsed building, and reached his hand out to them for help. The man didn’t have a weapon, and was in no state to fight. He merely wanted help. Nonetheless, his squad member still raised his rifle, and fired a bullet straight into the man’s forehead.

This wasn’t the first time he had raided a village. But this time he felt things he had never felt before. He felt conflicted, powerless, and a feeling of heaviness which made him want to drop his weapon and lie down.

One house seemed to have somehow escaped the bombing, at least part of it did. One-six and his team was ordered to go inside, and so they did.

The inside of the house reminded him of his dorm room, but with debris covering the floor and parts of the floor still burning slowly.

Past the living room and the kitchen he found the body of a woman. She was down on her elbows and knees with her head drooped down, half hurried beneath the collapsed roof sections. A piece of metal, presumably a bomb fragment, jutted out of the side of her head.

“One deceased, first floor bedroom. Over," One-six called it in through his radio.

Then the ruffling of clothing came from the body of the woman. One-six jumped back and raised his rifle, ready to fire at the earliest sign of danger.

The body moved and wobbled. Then it slumped to the side and the petite figure of a child, maybe eight years old at most, emerged from underneath. She saw One-six’s raised rifle and recoiled in fear.

One-six took a quick breath of relief, and called in his findings once more. “Survivor, first floor bedroom. Young girl of around eight. Appears to be uninjured.”

“Roger. Terminate the subject. We cannot take a child in for interrogation. Over,”

“What? But…”

“Terminate the subject.”

Then the radio went silent.

One-six cursed to himself. He did not know why he refused the order. He did not even decide to talk back, his mouth just did it by itself.

He looked at the small girl in front of him, then down at the bulky outline of his assault rifle. Slowly he raised it up, with the muzzle pointed straight at the helpless child in from of him.

One bullet would surely be enough for such a frail body. She would not feel a moment of pain. It would be all over in an instant if he aimed well enough.

But somehow his finger refused to pull the trigger. His hands were shaking so much he could not keep his gun pointed forwards properly. With all he could he closed his eyes, bit his lip and forced his fingers to contract.

A click. Then a deafening bang and a sharp kick from his rifle.

He opened his eyes again. And through the dusty air he saw the girl, still cowering there on the floor, unhurt. Light whiffs of smoke rose up from a hole on the floor, just a finger’s length above the child’s head.

He had missed.

In all his years of training he had never scored anything besides perfect marks for his marksmanship.

In any mission he had never need to use more than a single bullet on any enemy.

But this time he missed. He missed an unmoving target just a couple of meters in front of him.

He tried to raise his rifle again, but his arms did not permit him. It felt as if he was lifting a box of lead.

Something warm flowed down his cheeks. Blood, probably. But when he put his hand to it there was no red stain left on the fabric of his glove.

He knelt down and reached his hand forward to the girl. He did not know why he did it, he just felt that it was something he should do.

The girl opened her mouth, as if crying for help. But no sound came out. The smoke and fire had probably taken their toll on the child’s weak throat, making her mute temporarily, if not for life.

“Code one-six, status report. Over,” his radio crackled back to life.

He lifted his hand up to his earpiece instinctively, but decided not to depress the “transmit” button.

“Code one-six, terminate the subject and EXFIL the building. The fire is spreading and the structure’s stability could be compromised. Do you copy? Over,” His radio spoke again.

There was nothing he could do against the commands of his seniors. To do so would mean reprimands. A court martial, even.

And so he wiped his eyes dry, stood up slowly, and raised his rifle once more. He took aim again, and this time he made sure he did not miss.

There was a bang. But it did not come from his rifle.

The ground shook and splinters of food fell as a section of the building collapsed. Tendrils of fire burst through the hole created by the collapsed roof, igniting the weakened wall of the room which One-six stood in.

With another crunch more of the building collapsed, the intensity of which knocking One-six down to his knees once again. Black smoke began to fill the room, flowing into his headgear and causing him to choke.

The fire must have gotten a lot worse while he wasn’t paying attention. And as he turned to look, the path out of the building now looked like a sea of fire. He tried to push himself back up, but his arms gave out. There wasn’t enough oxygen left, and he was going to die there in that room.

Then through the sea of flames a person charged towards him. Their rifle held by the hand guard in one hand, and their mouth and nose covered by the other.

“One-six!” That person shouted. “Get out!”

The person grabbed him by his scruff and began dragging him to his feet. One-six didn’t try to resist.

“Are you crazy?” The person shouted, their voice muffled by the crackling of the inferno.

Then they started to pull him out of the room. One-six turned to look back at the girl. But she had already collapsed from shock and smoke inhalation. He knew that if he went back and grabbed the girl, he would still be able to save her.

“What are you doing?” The person shouted. “We have to go!”

Another crunch sounded, and the rest of the walls caved in. Suddenly the girl was gone, replaced by charred wood and twisted metal.

“Come on!” The person shouted once more.

One-six forced himself to turn away, and forced his legs to begin moving. They charged head first into the wall of flames, the heat burning his exposed skin. Just as they emerged out of the front door the house collapsed fully.

The person tore off their helmet, and Two-six’s dark amber hair, messy from the rescue, flowed down to her shoulders.

“What were you thinking?” She asked.

“I… I don’t know…”

He looked Two-six in the eyes, and suddenly he felt he understood what she meant when they talked last night.

“Put some medicine on your burns,” One-five said as he walked over. “The burns don’t look too bad, they should be healed within a dew days. Collect your wits, we have to continue.”

Two-six took out her first-aid kit and began to apply bandages onto the burns on One-six’s neck and arms. Her hands were shaking a little, which One-six figured was from the adrenaline. He noticed she had burns on her skin too, his inside twisting a little as he realized it was a result of his actions.

“You owe me big time,” Two-six whispered.