Hunters Ch. 05

**If this is your first brush with this series, please go back and read the first 4 chapters. Enjoy, and don't forget to vote!**

Max sat alone in the darkness. The only light coming into the tiny room was dimmed by cloth over a finely cut panel; the odd mixture casting eerie shadows on Max's face. Max heard a noise next to the small room he was in and a small panel next to his head slid open, revealing a working of cloth and wood similar to the one letting light into the booth. Someone on the other side of the panel cleared their throat, and it was a deep sound, Max guessed that the person next to him was a man.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," Max said lowly. He paused briefly before continuing. He hadn't been in a confessional since before he had been in the service, when he was still living on Io. That has been right after Max's 18th birthday, and right before he was going to propose to Cindy. He had wanted to go into that after being forgiven for his sins, but not before. "It's been 8 years since my last confession."

"Tell me of your sins, my son," the priest said. There was an air of both compassion and boredom in his voice. The combination struck Max as odd, but extremely understandable. The priest was probably used to hearing all kinds of lame sins, and he went home thinking that people aren't really all that bad; petty larceny at best in a community like this. Today, he would go home with a different feeling in his heart. Max almost smiled and thought "Let's test that faith, Father."

"I have sinned, and I have broken the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, eighth, ninth, and tenth commandments, Father. I have sinned against God in thought, word, and deed," Max said, his brow knitting as he recalled exactly what he had done in the name of the Marines.

The priest in the other booth coughed slightly. Max could hear him shift in his seat as he cleared his throat. "How have you done this, my son?" the priest asked, his voice cracking sharply.

"I have taken the Lord's name in vain on countless occasions and I felt it in my heart on many of those occasions. I have not observed the Sabbath in over 5 years, and on some I was acting in a less than pious manner. I dishonored my parents by specifically disrespecting their wishes for my future and by refusing to speak with them on the subject. I have killed countless hundreds of men, and through my action and inaction I have caused the death of still more men, women, and children. I have stolen property from individuals, many of whom were unaware of the theft; some tried to recover their property only to meet death at my hands. I have lied and cheated in order to protect my own self-interests. I have coveted property on many occasions, and often blatantly, with no intention of returning it, and I have often destroyed the items I've coveted so the owner can never get them back," Max said slowly. As he spoke, memories flooded into his mind, and most prominent of those memories was his first mission.

Max and his squad had been sent to Titan to clean up the remaining pockets of dissidents left after the war. There were still small pockets of soldiers fighting each other, regardless of the fact that their main forces had pulled off the planet. Some of these groups were separated from their armies and didn't know the war was over, others knew only fighting and the prospect of peace scared them. Others enjoyed the blood shed and the carnage and were busily trying to declare their own governments. The main reason that Max and his squad had been sent was to take care of a small group of Syndicate members that had been recruiting some of the marooned soldiers. The main objective of their strike was a particularly violent new Syndicate recruit with the name of Gillian.

Gillian and a few of her freshly found soldiers were held up in an old military compound. Max's team's orders were to go in and remove them. The mission had been planned for only a few short days, and it was known that Gillian and all of her closest circle would be at the compound. When Max and his team arrived, they launched mortars into the compound from all angles and each of them slipped inside. In the confusion, it was pretty easy to do; the Syndicate's newest soldiers were busy trying to look for the invading force while the Special Forces team slipped through the shadows. Max was supposed to get into the main compound, and he did that extremely quietly. His mind hazed and he couldn't recall all of what happened, but he knew that by the time he got to his objective he had been wounded.

The main barracks area had an office suite; the planning room, the communications center, and the administrative office were all the areas where Gillian was supposed to be. Max forced his way inside the barracks and dealt with the Syndicate members in there. Four hand grenades took care of most of the opposition, and what was left was easy to pick off. Max charged into the office, not fully knowing what to expect, but it certainly wasn't what he saw. The administrative office was virtually empty. A file drawer hung half open, its contents had been pulled in a hurry, judging from the papers scattered on the floor. The other files had been pulled similarly, and even the desk chair was missing from the room. The desk, however, was there and on it was a computer with a camera set up beside it. On the screen was a smiling, young and wicked looking woman with long red hair. Max recognized her immediately as Gillian.

"You were wrong to come, Lieutenant. But instead of killing you, I think you should have to watch the rest of your squad die," she said with a giggle. A fan of red hit the camera and it panned down to show Max the headless body of one of his troops. He thought it was Collin, but he wasn't sure until he saw the head roll into the camera, Collin's eyes looking up vacantly. One by one, the rest of Max's squad met with a similar fate, each of them silent in their death. Max watched on in anger, unable to turn away.

"You just made a big mistake, Gillian. I'll find you," Morgan spat.

Vicious just smiled widely and turned off the view screen. Morgan snapped back to reality and the sounding of the priest's voice.

"You sound like a man with a heavy heart and a heavy conscious, my son. Did you commit these acts joyously?" the priest asked.

"Some of them, yes Father. Most I did because of duty," Morgan said wearily.

"Then you are a soldier?" the priest asked.

"I was," Max said after a short pause. "I was a soldier for almost 6 years."

"No longer?"

"No, Father. No longer," Max said with a touch of remorse in his voice.

"Why is that?" the priest asked. "Did you no longer feel your purpose in life was soldiering?"

Max laughed a little. "No, Father, I think I will be a soldier for the rest of my days in some means or another. I was tired of being used as an instrument of unguided destruction. I felt as if my actions only incurred other further wrongs and injustices to be committed."

"Mmmm," the priest said in consideration. "I believe that all soldiers think this at some point; many that I've spoken with have discussed a similar dilemma of their religious beliefs conflicting with their orders. On the one hand, they have to deal with the thought of living in shame and facing punishment from their superiors. On the other, they have to worry about how they are seen by the Eyes of God."

Max's thoughts drifted to his family. He had brothers, a sister, and two loving parents back on Io. His girlfriend was there, and as soon as Max was done with the military, as soon as his 8-year tour in the Special Forces was up, he was going to go home and get married to that girl. Max still remembered Cynthia's scent, the feel of her silken hair, the warmth of her breath, and the little flecks of silver in her eyes. The military helped in taking all that from Max as well.

After the missing Gillian on Titan, it was discovered that there had been a Syndicate spy in the Marines. It made sense, and it was a constant risk, which is why only officers were given information, and usually only hours before a strike force was assembled and shipped out. This particular informant had told the Syndicate of the mission to Titian to try to eliminate Gillian. Among the information given was the name and rank of all the members of Max's team. It had all been a set up to try to turn Max against the Marines, and while he would never actively join the Syndicate, having an easily accessible family made him easy to control.

First there were the threats; things like "we know who you are and further missions against us will become actionable." Max told his superiors and they said that they would not give in to terrorist threats from any organization. However, they did offer to move his family to the base on Mars. Max talked about it with his parents; they still were angry that he left, but understood the urgency of the situation at hand. Cynthia agreed at once and said she would help his parents out. Max's brothers and sister took the news about the same. The move was set up and they got loaded on to the transport.

Unfortunately, the whole process involved Captain Tao who proved to be the Syndicate spy. Max received a letter, hand delivered by a Marine courier, that was from Vicious. He said that it would have been better if things had worked out differently, and that Max should have stayed locked in his cage. It wasn't two minutes later that Max's commanding officer, then Major Upton, came into Max's office. He said there was something of a mutiny on the military transport and it was apparent that they Syndicate was behind it. Max's entire family was killed in the incident and there was to be a full investigation. It wasn't long after the investigation began that they had traced the leak back to Captain Tao. He committed suicide over the matter, and in a way, a very large part of Max did too.

After that, Max was the soulless killing machine that the military had trained him to be. His reputation in the Corp soared, even for a person that was, after a few years, not even officially recognized by the Martian government. His almost legendary exploits were carried out with an efficient lethality that most war heroes dare not dream of. As the Syndicate closed in on the Martian government, the Martian Special Forces closed in on the Syndicate. Their outposts on Earth were destroyed. Their power on Venus was disrupted and natural entropy of power took place there. It wasn't only that, but it was other missions, too. Defusing difficult situations was Max's specialty, and it wasn't because of his subtlety with his tongue; it was because he had nothing else to live for except for the Corps as far as he was concerned.

"You left out when the soldier has to justify his actions to himself?" Max asked quietly. He wasn't aware of how much time he had been sitting in silence, the thoughts flashing through his head. His internal clock wanted to say it had only been a few seconds. His mind wanted to tell him an eternity had been spent.

"Ethical dilemmas stem from both obligation to duty and reverence for God. All ethics ultimately come from religion for either their justification or their enforcement. Even heeding the authority of a single person or a group of people can be traced in its roots back to the very fundamentals of religion, so in truth, all things concerning a hierarchy are religious in nature," the priest said.

Max understood this extremely well. Power was only gained through control, fear, and the person being controlled allowing for that power to be lorded over them. Religion was fundamentally no different; it was a simple choice of following and believing, or not following at all and having no purpose in anything. Without God, all things are random chance and causality, but with God a plan can be seen, because an innate hierarchy is formed.

"That would mean that God plans for us to fill certain rolls in life," Max said cautiously. "If all society is patterned through fear and acceptance of control and power, and all societies are based from psychology and philosophy, and all philosophy is grounded in religion and all psychology is grounded in man, then there is no escape from the hierarchy, because God is fundamental to it all," Max said and sighed deeply. "Which would mean," Max thought to himself, "that God wanted me to do those things, that God wanted for my family to die, because in the end, there is only God." Max couldn't remember a time when he felt more angry and lonely all at the same time than that one, empty moment.

"God allows for opportunity to happen, and in that opportunity, we are given choice. Do we turn left, or do we turn right? God ultimately has a place for us, my son; and I'm not speaking of the end where he accepts us to him in Heaven. Each of us has a place that we must get to, and sometimes the road is trying. Sometimes the road is wracked with dilemma and conflict. Some give themselves to God and deny all temptation. Some try to live life as best they can and help others become better people. Others simply live life, only to rectify the wrongs they have done later, but all three types of people have one thing in common. That thing is reverence and respect for God and acceptance that they are not perfect, that they have made mistakes, and through God they can have those mistakes forgiven, but still have learned the lessons that those mistakes taught them," the priest said. Max noted that the boredom was gone from his voice, and it was being rapidly replaced by an excitement that a person feels when doing what is right for them.

"What of those who don't forgive themselves?" Max asked, his voice sounding very small to his ears. "What about those who can't?" he asked even quieter.

"God will forgive you is you ask, my son. His love for you is unconditional, but you must want it in your heart for it to exist in your heart. As for you forgiving yourself, only time will allow for that to happen. As you said, God is the fundamental for all things. You sound as if you suffer from a broken heart of sorts, as if you have fallen out of favor with yourself. God allows the healing of your heart to take place, but you must chose to let it be healed; not even God can force that on you. What we do in life is all we have of ourselves, and we have to live with our actions. It takes a strong person to make it through all that you have said that you have done. It takes a stronger person still to accept the wrongness of their actions and to want God back into our lives."

"How can I even consider that after everything I've done in service of my government? I knew the things I was doing were wrong, but I did them anyway; and I even enjoyed them. How does that wound heal, Father?"

"A man with a conscious as far-reaching and as memorable as yours can take a life time to answer that question alone. The only thing I can suggest is a passage from Timothy, chapter 1: 'Be not ashamed therefore of the testimony of our Lord, nor of me his prisoner: but suffer hardship with the gospel according to the power of God; who saved us, and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace, which was given us in Christ Jesus before times eternal, but hath now been manifested by the appearing of our Savior Christ Jesus, who abolished death, and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel, whereunto I was appointed a preacher, and an apostle, and a teacher.' A soldier with a heart as wounded as yours must have done a great many things that he considered wrong. However, if you were true in your duties, as I am presuming you were, you fulfilled the role that God appointed you to. How can an appointment be a sin if it is God who appointed you?"

Max sighed deeply and he thought of his life after blasting his way out of the military base in Alva City with the Mako. He vividly remembered the tracers cutting through the air like stars rising up into the heavens. The explosions of the missiles around his rapidly degrading ship started falling off as Max out maneuvered and eventually out ran his pursuers. He knew then, or at least he thought he knew, that they would be there directly, and he thought long and hard about turning himself in. For the first time in 6 years he had been truly free. There was no morning drill, there was no paperwork, no desk, and no covert operations. There was only Max.

It hadn't stayed like that for long. It wasn't too long after that had happened that Max had been picked up by Robinson. Robinson was going to turn Max in for the little bounty that the Martian government had placed on him; standard procedure for soldiers who go AWOL and steal government equipment in the process, especially a 5 million dollar ship. Max convinced Robinson to hire him, though; Max could be a bounty hunter for Robinson and Robinson could turn in the bounties. It kept Max in money, repaired, and out of jail, and it kept Robinson armed and gave him extra money when he needed it; which was pretty much all the time.

"Maybe the sin isn't the appointment, but the path we take in getting there," Max said silently. He knew what the priest was going to say before he said it.

"Then once again, offer your sin and yourself to God and he shall cast your sin away and take you into Him."

Max nodded. He had been taking steps. Up until a week ago, he had been very careful to avoid killing anyone. There had been enough lives taken by his hands to satiate an entire brigade's blood lust. It had all been working so well, too. Up until Captain Gillian Vallemara of the Consortium. When the Syndicate collapsed, she was in the Consortium's corner and rapidly climbed to the top of the organization. She was known for her ruthlessness and had caught Max three times now, and he had escaped all three times. She had a habit of turning his non-lethal beatings into blood baths, killing her wounded men or forcing Max into a situation that put it down to three or four of her officers dying, or Max letting himself get killed.

Then there was the business he took care of trying to get the military to clear his name he tried in the beginning to not kill the guards, he really did. The first two, they should have made it, if the explosions and the fire didn't kill him. The next guard probably died, and from there on, every single guard he saw in the place lost his life at the hands of Max. There was no mercy, no quarter, not even any concern for their safety. It was all too easy for Max to do it, too; to just slip back into the mode where there are not people, to where everything is simply a target, an objective, or a non-combatant. How many men died in that building? 10? 50? Did it even matter after the first?

The simple matter is no. One wrongful, intentional death is just as bad as 1000, the only difference is how history sees you. The difference between hero and murderer lies in the body count. If a man fights bravely for his home and kills an intruder, he goes to prison. If a man fights bravely and kills 100 men because they wear different colors than he does, he's given a medal and a seat of honor in a parade.

Then there was the stealing, the cheating, and the lying. These were all bad of course, but they could be made up for. Stolen objects can be returned, cheats can be uncheated, lies can be retracted and apologized for. Extermination of another life is permanent. That person is dead. All those that the person knew are diminished in some way and that person will never get to know many of lives great joys and triumphs. The rest of it seemed almost petty to Max. So what, so he coveted theMako. The Martian Marine Corp got her back, and in markedly better condition than what she left in.

"Why would God put appoint someone to a position that they question for the rest of their lives?" Max asked, some strength returning to his voice.