Rie’uo’abuie’ayu had a headache, but that seemed a trivial annoyance compared to the feeling of profound shame he felt after the events of today. Try as he might, he couldn’t think of what he might have done differently without having first known the future.
Who in their right minds would have predicted that the Dominion forces would abandon centuries of military dogma and use his own vehicles against him? Who could have foreseen that the Vulza, which had carried the Alliance so close to victory, would ignore the training they had received since birth and turn sides in a matter of hocs (minutes)? At least the battle seemed to be going according to plan above the planet. He assumed, since he and what remained of his forces were not being vaporized by an orbital strike.
It had been difficult, feeding incorrect intelligence to the Dominion, especially since it was such a novel idea, but Rie’uo’abuie’ayu supposed that it would soon become a standard tactic in warfare. How could it not, especially when it had proven so effective? Instead of finding a force consisting of a few outdated battleships, cruisers, and an aging carrier, the Dominion fleet, prepared for an easy fight, had arrived to find an opponent more than capable of matching them blow-for-blow.
Well, not at first. The Celzi Admiral, Cciic, had waited until the Dominion force had committed their ground forces. Only after the enemy fleet had dedicated themselves to the conflict did he order the reinforcement fleet to drop the cloaking fields that had been painstakingly installed on each ship, specifically for this battle. If everything had gone according to plan, this battle would have been the end of the 74th and the only effective Dominion unit. It still might be, if Admiral Cciic would finish off the fleet above and send an orbital strike of his own against the Dominion position.
Rie’uo’abuie’ayu’s musings were rudely interrupted as a commotion reached his ears from somewhere behind him. Turning he saw the turrets surrounding the sensor station frantically firing into the air, soon followed by a concussion wave as what seemed to be a small meteorite stuck the ground with a force impossible on a planet with such weak gravity. Even though he was nearly 200 borts (100 meters) from the point of impact, his vision was obscured as dust and dirt from kicked up from the landing fell about him. Coughing, he stumbled towards the panicked yells coming from the landing zone, dreading what new surprise this day had in store for him.
Recognizing Fleezle through in the debris cloud, Rie’uo’abuie’ayu caught the dazed comm officer’s attention by slapping him a couple times. Once he had regained cognizance, Rie’uo’abuie’ayu slapped him a few more times for good measure, “Lieutenant Colonel, report!”
Pointing in the direction of the commotions source, Fleezle tried to speak, but was nearly unintelligible as he was racked with a violent coughing spree. Rie’uo’abuie’ayu thought he caught the words “madness,” and “insanity,” in his hacking speech, but Rie’uo’abuie’ayu didn’t feel like waiting until the comm officer regained his breath. Running in the direction Fleezle had indicated, Rie’uo’abuie’ayu’s trepidation grew as signs of destruction increased as he approached the source of the chaos. His jaw dropped when the crater materialized through the dust and debris filled air.
It was some debris from the battle above. It had to have been. The remnants of the “meteorite” within the crater had obviously once been a part of a space craft. The fact that ship fragments from the conflict above were raining down upon the planet didn’t bother him, however. It was the fact that it had landed in the midst of his men. Any debris that fell to the planet and was large enough to make it through the atmosphere had an entire hemisphere of land to choose from, but of all places it chose the few bortos (kilometers) occupied by his soldiers.
“It hates me,” he muttered under his breath. “The universe legitimately hates me. This entire battle it has bent the very limits of probability to ensure my easy victory ended in failure. What’s next? Will the Dominion suddenly have Vulza of their own which they will use to assault my position? Or maybe the planet itself will open up and swallow the remnants of my men!” He knew he was shouting by this point, but he was having difficulty caring. “Or maybe-“
Rie’uo’abuie’ayu’s rantings were cut short as shouts of alarm and “Incoming!” sounded several hundred borts (meters) to his right, followed by another ground shattering impact. “Another one!?” Rie’uo’abuie’ayu yelled in disbelief, but he barely had time to register his newest complaint with the universe before another shuddering concussion came from his left. Eyes popping in near apoplexy, Rie’uo’abuie’ayu looked up. His heart nearly failed him, both metaphorically and medically, at what he saw.
Drop ships were falling from the sky, but instead of landing, they continued to accelerate right up until they slammed into the ground, obliterating anything nearby and jaring anything remotely close. They fell in pairs, each only several re (seconds) apart. The turret defenses, meant to protect against ground assaults, didn’t have the complex targeting computers necessary to effectively intercept aerial attacks, and despite their operators best efforts, they made no noticeable difference as the orbital strike of insanity continued to rain from above.
“Just when I had thought this rictos (day) couldn’t get any worse.” Even as the words left his lips, the bombardment increased tenfold.
Blatvec couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. It was dulled somewhat by the fact that the 74th had just suffered more causalities than in any previous single encounter, but considering the forces against which they had been pitted, that there was anything other than casualties was a miracle in and of itself. There was also something savagely satisfying in watching a massive cylinder of reinforced armor plating fall on an enemy position in a gout of dirt and debris.
The shouts of surprise, panic, and sheer unbelief towards the beginning of the bombardment, heard even at this distance, had been also tickled Blatvec’s fancy. He had long given up the hope that he was anything other than a psychopath at this point, but he hoped he was a fair one.
Even if he was the most biased of commanders, he had to admit, the squad-leader of the new unit from the 109th was a genius, which was even more shocking considering he was a Vzk’tk. When General Ickret had personally informed him of the transfer, Blatvec had felt nothing but disgust. After all, the 109th was those who struggled even in basic training. Soldiers who were accepted only because of the current climate of desperation. Units from the 109th could hardly dream of being a part of the 74th, let alone expect to survive in it.
The results didn’t lie, however, and this Vzk’tk had not only saved the entire 74th, but now managed to conjure up an orbital strike using drop ships. An unheard of tactic, probably because such an idea was preposterous. Seeing the results, however, Blatvec couldn’t say it was ineffective.
Strangely enough, the Vzk’tk squad leader looked nearly as shocked by his own plan as Blatvec. He had none of the calm confidence Blatvec had come to associate with true masters of strategy, and if he hadn’t been the only creature of full intelligence, if such a term could be applied to a Vzk’tk, on the premises when Blatvec had arrived, he would have assumed the idea had come from anyone but him.
The other . . . thing . . . +Human, right?+ couldn’t have conceived such a ploy. Sure, it was mildly intelligent, else it wouldn’t have been put in the army, but it didn’t have a translator, and what fully sapient species didn’t have a translator? Blatvec assumed it was just the 109th squad’s personal attack dog. He thought he remembered Ickret saying something about a “Human,” being a great asset or something similar, and seeing the speed with which it ran from drop ship to drop ship Blatvec could believe it, but surely it didn’t have the capacity for strategic thought. Right?
Too many of his assumptions had proven wrong that day for Blatvec to feel like making another, so he decided to reserve final judgement until he was proven correct or otherwise. Still, he doubted he was wrong.
Dear Journal,
What makes someone Human?
Because I feel like I lost it.
Once Turkey managed to grasp what I was doing, he fell quickly into line, and we doubled our rate of bombardment, sending pairs of drop ships at a time to their doom. I guess seeing your only method of getting off of a planet fall from the sky and land in enemy territory tends to grab one’s attention, because it wasn’t long before a couple of squads from our team showed up. Had their vehicles not been floating above the ground in perhaps the greatest killjoy of the galaxy, they would have been able to angrily tear into the clearing which Turkey and myself were rapidly depleting of drop ships.
As it was, they still managed to hum like a herd of disgruntled cows, which, if you’ve ever seen such a spectacle, is no laughing matter. Cows can be mean if displeased. I knew the powers that were probably wouldn’t be too happy with us shooting off their only mode of exoatmospheric transportation, but Turkey had said they wanted an orbital strike, and if this didn’t suffice then they were just too gosh darn picky.
I knew my excuses wouldn’t mean jack as far as discipline was concerned, but it still felt good to make them in my head. Since I was sure I was about to be the first soldier to die by a firing squad composed entirely of tank, which would suck to no end, my shock was palpable when the other squads hopped out of their vehicles, took one look at what we were doing, then started to emulate us.
Drop ships were soon clogging the air in their eagerness to throw themselves against the enemy. Accordingly, the ground in the direction of the enemy boiled with impacts, and I felt a detached sense of pity for the guys stuck over there. Something about that feeling didn’t feel right, although I couldn’t tell you why.
Putting the troubling thoughts from my mind in my most basic and practiced mental maneuver, I set myself to the task of finding even more drop ships to give as gifts unto the enemy. They seemed to be enjoying it, as their shouts of overwhelming joy and jubilation reached my eager ears. They were so happy!
After nearly 30 minutes of concerted effort, we had destroyed nearly all of the three troopship’s worth of drop ships. We still had the vehicle drop ships, and I had already started towards the closest one, when I heard an unintelligible shout that rang with unmistakable authority.
Turning to look at its source, I saw the most frightening figure. It wasn’t that tall for an alien, though it was still slightly taller than me. It had six arms and two legs, was covered in a brown exoskeleton, and had two prominent pincers like those of an ant jutting from its face. Really, I thought those ant-lizards (lizard-ants? One or the other, choose whichever you prefer) had looked like insects, but this guy looked like the lovechild of a giant ant and a spider spawned from the depths of hell.
Intimidating as his visage was, it wasn’t his appearance that frightened – or perhaps fascinated – me, or even the fact that he was holding two anti-tank pulse guns at the same time, which I’d never seen any other alien accomplish, as the guns were apparently heavy by xeno standards. Rather, it was the aura of unstoppable determination that this alien seemed to exude. It didn’t seem to be directed at anyone in particular, it just seemed to be there.
It took me a moment before I realized that I had felt that feeling before. It was the same feeling you felt every single day on earth. The idea that everyone had a single goal in life they would give everything to achieve. The feeling of being alive. The aura surrounding every human who hadn’t given up completely. The essence of resilience. I hadn’t even realized that essence seemed to be missing from every alien I had seen so far, but now, shown in sharp contrast, I was able to recognize for the first time what nearly every one of them I had met seemed to lack.
They were alive, certainly, but so many seemed to merely wish to survive. I hoped humans weren’t the only ones in this galaxy with the opposite mindset, because if they were space was ultimately going to rather boring. Still, even if most of his brethren have backbones of gelatin, I knew I wouldn’t want to cross Demon Dude here lightly.
Whatever it was that he had shouted, it made everyone stop firing off drop ships like kids in charge of the fireworks on the fourth of July and start heading back to the vehicles they had arrived in. I followed Turkey to our borrowed vehicle and hopped into the passenger seat, as he was occupying the driver’s side and glaring at me with a look that told me he would never willingly let me drive him anywhere again. I didn’t mind. I don’t think I could have withstood the disappointment of using that iPhone-slide-to-unlock lame-ass excuse for an accelerator again, anyways.
As we started in convoy across the battlefield once again, my only hope was that this battle was nearly over. It had been a long day.
They were doomed. Their defenses were gone, their entrenchments reduced to scrap, and more importantly, their wills broken. Rie’uo’abuie’ayu knew he should have rallied his troops. That’s what good commanders of history had done. He couldn’t summon the energy, though. It was hopeless, and nothing he could do would change the outcome, so why even bother? These thoughts were upon his mind even as his position was overrun.
As such, Rie’uo’abuie’ayu passed into history himself, only to be remembered as a note in a military report.
Apparently this entire confrontation was about a station. Were you aware of this, Journal, because I didn’t get the memo? It’s a shame, since I guess they had wanted it intact. Since I hadn’t been informed, and had been only given general area as to where the enemy was located, I had sent drop ship-bombs to nearly every area of the provided circle. How was I supposed to know that the center was occupied by a station that we wanted in one piece? Apparently everyone else had just naturally understood that fact, but I think they had the advantage of having been told about the stations existence in advance.
The defending forces, significantly softened, by our poor-man’s orbital strike, crumbled in mere minutes after confronting out forces and were routed in another few minutes. I thought we would just blow up the station and be on our way back to the troopships in under an hour, so it was understandable that I was disappointed and a little confused when everyone started getting out of their vehicles. I got the picture well enough when everyone started entering the station, but I was still disappointed. I had been jumping around fighting space dragons for what I estimated to be nearly 2 hours. I was sore, tired, and hungry. I wanted to go home.
Several drop ships which looked somewhat familiar had closed several entrances to the station in piles of rubble, and to my utter bemusement, a queue of soldiers formed in front of the entrances, waiting their turn to enter the station. I don’t really know much about tactics in urban warfare, but I don’t think it includes forming an orderly line in front of any structure you’re planning on entering. Our squad was near the end of the line, and it wasn’t moving quickly.
I told you I was hungry and that I wanted to go home. I was impatient, and this most recent absurdity pushed me over the edge. The thing about xenos, well, there’s a lot of things about xenos, but one of many things which seems to describe most of them is that they don’t have the diaphragm support of a human. That makes us rather loud by their standards. I like to think of it as they don’t have an appreciation for the higher end of the decibel scale like we do. I’ve been trying to reveal to them the magnificence of its pulsing grandeur, manly while in the shower as the acoustics in there are great, but it’s been rather slow in its acceptance.
My natural talent as a metal lead singer came in handy at times of impatience; however, I used it to my fullest advantage. Raising my volume as high as I could go, then forcing it a little more to “full throated roar” level, I bellowed my displeasure in one of my most barbaric and mainly displays since my abduction.
“Everybody move!”
No one understood what I said, but my intent was clear as the line split like I was some alien Moses. The xenos closest to me actually fell over. Maybe they fainted. Pathetic. It didn’t matter. Jumping over the bodies in front of me, I charged down the center of the line and into the station. The holdup was due to a token guarding force which was using the twisting nature of the stations corridors to their advantage, although their positioning could have easily been circumnavigated if our forces had just waited until everyone was at an entrance, rather than charging in at the first opportunity and then waiting for those running around to other entrances to catch up.
At least I had seen other squads moving towards other entrances. From what I had seen, I don’t think I had any right to count on something as simple as flanking maneuvers. Their positioning wouldn’t make their weapons more possible, and I was irrationally angry. It was time to try to set a record for shortest time required to take over an enemy station.
5 Years, 9 Months Ago. Celzi Alliance Capitol World.
“Valur! They did it! They officially seceded! I told you they would. I told you we wouldn’t have to put up with the Dominion much longer!” Valur sighed. Of course Xiavo would be right. He always seemed to know the current political climate and its implications, although he guessed even he should have seen this one coming. Rumblings of secession had been heard throughout the Alliance for years now, and Xiavo had said he’d heard rumors of a military buildup nearing completion, although where he would have heard such a thing was beyond Valur’s knowledge.
“Fine, you win. How much was the bet?” He really should have seen war coming, but Xiavo had challenged, and he had been reading, and it was easier to accept the challenge rather than fight it. He suspected that was why Xiavo had waited until he was in the middle of his book to ask him.
“One hundred twenty five standard credits.” Xiavo replied, a look of smug triumph on his face. Valur scoffed, “Right. Even if I was reading I wouldn’t have agreed to such a price. Nice try. Here’s your twenty five.” He transferred the reasonable sum. A look of melodramatic offense plastered over his sorry visage, Xiavo, voice dripping in sarcasm, placed his hand on Valur’s shoulder, “You don’t trust me? Me?! Your friend through thick and thin, your greatest confident, and you think I would lie? To you?! I, who consider you my brother, would even consider such an atrocity? When have I ever done a villainous thing of such debauchery? When have I led you astray?”
The moments the words left his lips Xiavo knew he had gone too far. The look of mischievous malice he knew so well twisted Valur’s face as he used his incredible memory to recall every example which demonstrated just how many times Xiavo had led him astray. “Well, there was that time we were 5, when you convinced me that someone had poisoned my rocollo treats, and that I should put them in a plastic bag and then throw them away so you have them for yourself. When we were six you took that toy from Old Captain Boorto’vluel’niabl’crixo’s gricka since it had the same control chip as your favorite simulator. That one put both of us in the hospital as I recall. When we were thirteen you reprogrammed Professor CuL’s display board to search “Dizi Mating Videos” every ric (30 minutes) but not actually display it so that no one knew it had even happened until thost horrid high-pitched squeals started issuing from the speakers. She couldn’t figure out what was happening for an entire ricta (1.5 weeks), but when she figured it out, she failed you and me three times since she just assumed I’d helped you. When we were fourteen-”
“I get it just shut up! While you’re quick to point out all the times I’ve led you astray you failed to point out that each of those times I was just trying to get you to have a little bit more excitement in your life. You read too much.”
“Really, eating all my desserts was so I would have more fun?”
“I was five, I wasn’t so selfless back then.”
“Uh-hu.”
“Regardless of what you think, you do know what this war means, right?”
“I assume you’ll enlighten me.”
“We’re joining the army.”
“What!?” Valur shouted. Xiavo had to be wrong. He couldn’t go to war! He had just asked Professor Yyxximal if he could study under him. He wanted to be an engineer, not a soldier. Surely an exception would be made in his case.
“Think! We’re going up against the Dominion! We’re an alliance of 17 species trying to secede from a governmental body of hundreds. The only reason we’ll even have a chance of winning is because of our advanced robotics, industrial strength, and that most of the Dominion’s strength is always focused on patrolling their massive amount of space. Even with that the alliance will need every able bodied adult they can find, and both of us just crossed that line. They’ll make exceptions for the top percentiles of academia, but while you’re smart, Professor CuL screwed you over. You’re not going to make it, and I have less chance than a crippled dizi put in a cage with a gricka. Mark my words, we’re going to war. Don’t turn that shade of grey, it’ll be fine. I’ve got your back.”
9 Months later
Alliance Basic Training Camp
Valur couldn’t sleep. As was often the case, if he couldn’t sleep, neither could Xiavo. Not because he kept him up or anything, it was just more often than not that anything that bothered one bothered the other, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the events of tomorrow. “Still awake?” He whispered into the darkness.
“Of course,” came the tentative reply.
Valur grunted. “I can’t stop wondering if I’ll be put with the 55th or the 32nd. I can’t imagine it will be any other. I’m not good enough to get into the 12th like you, but don’t think I did too badly on the physical. I think I have an honest shot at the 32nd. Don’t you?” Xiavo grunted in reply. Valur sighed, “Your articulation always astounds me.” He grunted again. Valur knew what was on his mind. Xiavo wouldn’t have needed to worry about his assignment like he did. Xiavo had performed excellently in every test they’d thrown at him. He would be assigned to the 12th for sure, perhaps even the 5th. That wasn’t what was on his mind then, although it was related. “She’ll probably be assigned to the same unit as you.” Valur tried to sound encouraging.
“You think?” Well, at least the response was coherent this time.
“Undoubtedly. Both of you are exceptional. Whatever you qualify for, she’ll make it too.”
“Maybe. Hopefully. We’ll see. Go to sleep. It’ll be alright, whatever happens.” Xiavo didn’t follow his own advice. Valur was the best friend a guy could hope for, and usually know what was on his friends mind, but he couldn’t have been further from the truth this time. Daseil was a good guess. She did occupy his thoughts more often than not, but that wasn’t keeping him up this time. He waited until he heard his friends snores, then crept from the barracks that had been his home for the past eight months. He walked to the Sergeant’s quarters. Relived to see the lights still on, he knocked on the door.
Several moments later he was in front of the Sergeants desk, a stern scowl on its owners face. “You have a re (5 seconds) to explain why you’re out of your barracks soldier.”
Xiavo gulped, but he knew the Seargeant liked him, and he had to try. “Sir, I wanted to ask you about postings.”
“You couldn’t wait until tomorrow, eh?” The Sergeant smiled, and some of the tension in Xiavo’s body left. “You don’t need to worry about a thing Xiavo, you were exemplary as usual. You’re to be assigned to the 5th, just like you wanted.”
“My apologies sir, but I didn’t want to know my results, I wanted-”
“Soldier Daseil was also cleared for the 5th. Don’t worry, your favorite bunkmate won’t let you leave her just yet.”
Gosh darn it; he wasn’t making this any easier. Still, when he thought about it, Xiavo knew there would never be any competition in his mind.
“Sorry, sir, but I was wondering what Valur’s results were?” At the mention of Valur’s name the Sergeant’s scowl returned.
“I’ll never understand why you protect him so, but everyone has their quirks. He sucked. He can’t shoot worth shit, his endurance is crap, and he couldn’t find food for himself in the wild without a restaurant to put it in front of him. He’s to be assigned to the 87th.” Xiavo inwardly groaned. That was where the dropouts the army couldn’t afford to let go were sent, and almost certainly, died. Not because they were put in difficult situations, but because the skill level was so low. The 87th only ever won battles through overwhelming numbers.
“One last question sir. What was my class ranking?”
“You were first.”
“So I can choose my posting?”
“Of course, but I just told you, you got into the 5th. What else would you-”
“I want to be assigned to the 87th.” The words left his mouth in a rush, and only after several moments did he add a belated “sir.” The Sergeant stared at him in utter shock. He seemed to be trying to speak, at least his mouth was moving, but words failed to leave his lips. After what appeared to be a rather difficult reboot, the Sergeant got his voice under control once again.
“Have you lost your mind?! You?! The 87th?! You’d be wasted there! Worse, you’d be ruined! I refuse! I won’t let you make such a mistake! You aren’t thinking straight, don’t you understand? You’re cleared for the 5th! The best fighting force the alliance has to offer. The elite! You could be one of the best among them, but you want to join the ranks of the military dropouts?!”
“I want nothing more than to be a part of the 5th,” Xiavo replied, and it was nothing but the truth, “But I’d rather ruin myself and be able to protect my friend rather than go on to the fifth and not be there when he needs me.”
The Sergeant continued to stare for several hocs (minutes). Finally he spoke. “You’re serious?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I’m putting Valur in the 32nd. With a shitload of luck he may be able to cut it there, and with you by his side he may only need a crapton. Does that mean you’ll be willing to be assigned to the 32nd?”
Xiavo smiled. The 32nd was far better equipped and manned. There Valur would be able to hide in the ranks of better soldiers, and with him as his protector, Valur would be about as safe as it was possible to be on a battlefield. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” The Sergeant grunted in reply.
“It’s a shame, but at least you won’t be put with the 87th.” He seemed to shudder at the though. “You do realize this means you won’t be assigned with Soldier Daseil, right?”
Xiavo gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir. I do.”
3 Years Later
32nd Division, Battle of Tizccxi-2
Xiavo was nearing panic. The attack had gone badly, and the 32nd was still regrouping from their retreat, the 41st covering their rear. Today would be a victory, once reinforcements arrived, but it would be costly. That didn’t matter to him right now, though. Grabbing the nearest unit commander’s arm, he nearly shouted in his face. “Have you seen Valur anywher? Last I saw he was with Himel squad. Do you have any idea where they are?”
The commander seemed petrified by the Lieutenant Colonel shouting in his face, but still managed to sputter out a reply. “Last I saw Himel squad had been flanked by 3 full squads around here,” he pointed to a map of the battlefield. “They had already lost most of their guys. There’s no way anyone could survive that attack. I’m sorry, sir, Valur’s dead. I know how much he meant to you.”
“Did you see him die?” Xiavo spit in the pretentious underlings face.
Fear spreading over his features, the commander stated spluttering, but he gave his species equivalent of a shake of his head, which was all Xiavo needed. Dropping the commander, he started sprinting back towards the wavering line of the retreating line of the 41st.
“Sir! What are you doing?! He’s dead. Don’t throw yourself away like this, you still have a responsibility to the rest of your squad!” Xiavo missed that last part. The allied line had already fallen past the point the commander had pointed to on the map. He would have to sneak back to it. Stealth wasn’t something that was emphasized in training, but Xiavo thought that was a mistake. Stealth was vital in a battle, most just didn’t seem to realize it. He found the nearest patch of mud and caked it over every inch of himself. Most wouldn’t have wanted to get themselves so dirty. Screw that. It was getting dark, which was even better.
Sneaking past the main front wasn’t difficult. Everyone’s attention was fully diverted. Sneaking behind enemy lines was harder. Their mobile medical units slowly lumbered up behind the main front, and the guards would be making sure no rouge squad was attempting to pick off the wounded. Sliding through the mud, Xiavo looked like nothing more than a part of the terrain. Using the uneven land to aid in his movements, he crawled his way to where the commander had indicated. It took the better part of 5 rics (2.5 hours).
When he found the remnants of Himel squad, despair began to gnaw at the edges of his calm. It was a mess. Entrails and gore splattered a small clearing, seeming to confirm the commanders assessment of the chances of survivability. Fighting down every instinct, Xiavo started sifting through the bodies. He found several arms that could have been Valur’s, but still no body. It couldn’t have been completely destroyed, there had to be some trace of it.
There was. It was mostly intact as well. It was still breathing too. Stifling his cries of relief, Xiavo tore his field medical kit from his bag, using it to close up the wound left by Valur’s missing arm and leg. He didn’t know if he had gotten there soon enough, until Valur opened his eyes for just a moment.
“I knew you’d come.” He whispered, then lapsed back into unconsciousness.
1 Year, 6 Months later (6 Months Before the 74th’s Attack)
Alliance Barracks
“Why are they reassigning us again?” Valur asked.
“I get to choose where we’re posted for our second term since I’m a Brigadier.”
“And you chose Utgul-3 Sensor Outpost guard duty because . . .”
“It’s an incredibly valuable station. The Alliance will do anything to hang on to it.”
“Right, and the Dominion will do anything to get it.”
He had a point, but Xiavo was sure he’d made the right choice. “True, but guard duty on the station is more or less a token job. The real guard is the 16th, 18th, and 20th armored divisions, along with the Skal and Vico Vulza packs. The Dominion doesn’t have enough troops to devote to one battle to take it. It’s probably the safest place for us to be. Just watch, you’ll still be an engineer.”
“I trust you, I just wanted to make sure you had a sound line of reasoning. If there’s one thing about you I don’t trust it’s your sense of logic.”
“You wound me. Don’t worry about a thing. It’ll be the easiest 9 cycles (4 years 6 months) of your life.”
Current Day
Utgul-3 Sensor Outpost
I had this record in the bag. Seriously, this twisting labyrinth of a station just meant that the enemy didn’t see me coming around the corner, and then my reflexes took care of the rest. I was having a bit of a problem remembering which parts of the station I’d already cleared, but I figured if I just kept running and turned on an impulse I was bound to clear the whole thing eventually.
Whipping around a corner I ran face first into a heavy ray pulse. My shield had given out a few hallways back, so I took what felt like a hard punch to the face. My face had suffered worse punishment before, and I kept running, skewering the alien responsible for the offense. His group of friends didn’t have their friend’s reflexes, or aim, and their shot, if they hit me at all, struck my torso and arms, which, although it hurt, was a very familiar hurt that by now barely registered. I continued down the hall, and entered a room I hadn’t been in yet. It looked pretty important though, as there were more monitors and blinking lights than had been in any room I’d been in so far.
My eyes, however, fell upon on a small metal chute built into the wall of a small side room. Inside the little scoop at the bottom were a few of those lovely grey spheres. They wouldn’t have the calcium supplements they’d been making me take for a while now, but they were still food, and as I said, I was starving.
“Dough spheres! Oh boy! And water too! You spoil me too much!” I was pretty excited. Rushing to the dispenser I ate a sphere without chewing the correct number of times, but it was okay, because no one was watching. At least, that’s what I thought. I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed them, but two enemies were still inside the control room and watching me. I looked up just as one pointed an anti-tank ray gun at me. Those things hurt. I hadn’t noticed in time, and I took half an anti-tank pulse to the side. I think it broke some ribs.
I was genuinely scared now, and adrenaline dulled the pain and fueled my retaliation. Jumping at the one with the anti-tank gun I lined my scimitar with his chest. He dodged. He was a fast little bugger. His companion didn’t seem to have his partner’s skill, or weapon, or aim. The other guy was, just the worst. He only had a heavy, so he wouldn’t have been very affective even if he’d managed to hit me, but his shots were so far off he almost hit the other guy. I ignored him and focused on the real threat. This other guy knew how to move, and he kept positioning things in between him and myself, always moving positions and shooting at me with that infernal weapon. I silenced that as soon as possible.
He really was fast, and his positioning hindered my attacks to an annoying degree, but he was only just fast enough to dodge my wild flails which I called attacks. He, however, wasn’t fast enough to keep his gun out of my reach. I quickly managed to slice that in half, leaving him only with a pistol. He was getting tired, and my ribs were making it hard to move now. In the end I just threw my scimitar at him. It hit him hilt-first in the head, but by now I knew it wouldn’t have mattered even if it had hit him with the flat of the blade and in the shin; it was lethal either way.
What I didn’t expect upon the impact was the roar of raw fury to come from my left, followed by what felt like an actual punch. It turned out it was a punch. The other alien, an arm an and leg of which were mechanical, I now realized, used the strength given to him by his artificial limbs to attack with far greater efficacy than he had with his gun. The speed of his attacks stunned me, and I found myself defending against his onslaught for some time after his initial attack. Eventually he tired, though, and I threw him away from me so I could catch my breath. He hit the wall and slid beside his friend.
He wasn’t dead yet, but he didn’t renew his attack. Instead, he approached the body of his fallen comrade. He emitted a keening wail unlike anything I’d heard before, but I instantly recognized. Emotion is spoken by everyone, sorrow most of all. What was I doing? Why did I feel no remorse? The justifications I had long fixed in my mind: it’s war, you’re just trying to get home, they signed up for it, all seemed hollow in my ears as I said them over and over again. Was this all I was? A killing machine, blasé of the carnage he inflicted around him as he strode implacably towards his goal? Was getting home worth it if I had to wade through a river of bodies to get there?
But weren’t these soldiers? Hadn’t they signed up for it?
Do you even know what you’re fighting for? Do you even care anymore? Do you care about your morals, or lack thereof?
I didn’t ask to be abducted! It’s their fault, and I’ll be damned if I let them stop me from getting back home!
I paused. Was that my motivation, my driving thought behind my actions? I didn’t know. Seeing the alien’s pain, feeling my own confusion, I felt shame as never before. I ran from the room, running from my problems as I always had in the days before my abduction. I hadn’t changed a bit. _________________________________________________________________________________________________
The alien; no, the monster, didn’t kill Valur as he lay beside Xiavo’s corpse. Valur didn’t know why. He found he didn’t care. Xiavo was dead. Killed on a post he’d said would be easy. Murdered by a creature of supernatural abilities, and Valur had failed to kill it. He wouldn’t fail again. He would find it, and he would kill it. Not today though. Today, he just had to survive. The station would soon be under Dominion hands. A drop ship had collapsed an outer wall on a corridor near the control center. He could escape through there, and with luck, avoid the Dominion in the area. He was happy Xiavo had shown him how to move quietly, though he was afraid he wasn’t very good. It would have to suffice, however. He would escape, he would find the monster, and he would end it.