Alien Landscapes 2 by Kevin J. Anderson

helmets off the Enemy corpses, taking them for souvenirs.
    Barto removed the helmet from the soldier he had just killed, then looked down to see the visage of the Enemy.
    In his dream, the face belonged to Juliette.
    #
    As days of contained rage and frustration built within him, Arviq found that he didn’t even need the supplemental adrenaline pump from his dismantled armor. This was all wrong! His blood boiled, his anger rose into a thunderstorm of fury—and he unleashed it upon the walls, the bed, anything in his room. His cell.
    Arviq didn’t want to be a prisoner of war. He wanted to fight, to kill the Enemy. He had been bred and trained for nothing else.
    The quiet stillness of this underground civilian world, the soft fabrics, the perfumes, and the too-tasteful food . . . all pushed him into a frenzy. He tore the coverings off his bed and thrashed about, ripping the sheets to shreds. He howled and screamed without words, a bestial cry of damnation. He pounded on the door, but it only rattled in its grooves. Then he threw himself upon the bedframe itself, yanking and pulling, until finally he uprooted it from the walls.
    He didn’t know if anyone was watching him, nor did he care.
    Arviq hurled himself against the metal wall, battering his shoulders, bruising his muscles, but feeling no pain. His body was accustomed to running on the ragged edge of energy, and he had been resting here for days, storing up power in his muscles. Now he released it all in his frenzy.
    His attack made marks on the wall, left some smears of his own blood. His fists caused dents. The sealed door rattled again in its tracks; it seemed looser now. He pounded and pounded, receiving no answer.
    Finally, Arviq returned to the ruined bedframe, wrenching free a strip of metal that he could use as a crowbar. He had to escape. He had to get back. He didn’t belong here.
    He wedged the ragged end of torn metal into the door track and pushed, prying . . . bending. The door began to buckle, and Arviq worked even harder.
    #
    After his nightmares had left him like exorcised demons, Barto fell into a deep slumber and awoke incredibly refreshed. Sometime in the middle of the night he had crawled back into his bed and rested peacefully.
    A soldier had to be flexible, had to adapt to new circumstances. At last, he had begun to do just that.
    When Gunnar and Juliette came to fetch him, he sensed their straing. The other civilians continued to stare at him, as they had done for days, but now they held a greater glint of fear in their eyes, a more uncertain look on their faces. Barto couldn’t understand it, because for the first time since he’d come to this place of sanctuary, he felt more relaxed, more at ease, as if his life had indeed changed.
    Seeing how the underground people had changed, how their attitude toward him had shifted, Barto knew something must have occurred. He could sense it. “What has happened?” he said.
    Gunnar looked at him and answered crisply, “Your friend Arviq has gone on a rampage. He broke out of his room, and he’s escaped.”
    Barto bolted to his feet. He understood Arviq’s impulses. He had felt them himself, and now alarm bells rang out in his head. “What has he done?”
    Juliette took a deep breath and blinked her deep brown eyes, as if the subject itself made her uncomfortable. “He broke his way out of the room. He smashed some windows in the corridors, destroyed one of our greenhouses. That was an hour or so ago. No one has seen him since.”
    Barto pushed his half-finished breakfast away and stood tall and strong. Called back to active duty. He didn’t need any more sustenance, no more food to distract him. His mind became focused again, delving into the old hunter/survival mentality.
    “I know how he thinks, and I know what he’s doing,” Barto said. “You cannot let him get away.”
    “We can’t stop him,” Gunnar said. “He’d kill all of us if we tried.”
    Barto shook his head. “You don’t