Intercosmic: Xioshaa

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1.15 – Private Therapeutic Sensual Dancer

May 22, 2022 Darrell S.

“You saved my life; I have to take you out. Show you a good time, meet some ladies,” Patrizo insisted as he drove.

“It’s not really necessary, he wouldn’t have killed you.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t let him get the chance to try.

There is nothing of interest in this town and he wants to show me a good time. With what? Is there an old lady that crossbreeds plants and animals? A zoo of creatures not native to Sol? He’s threatening me with a good time and I can’t imagine, nor do I want whatever it is.

“We have arrived in paradise” Patrizo cheers as the car lowers to the ground.

A small building with a single entrance and sparsely populated parking lot awaits us. I step out into the cold and observe his paradise in all of its magnificent glory. I spot a small sign over the door that reads ‘Plutoopolis,’ with a pair of human breast substituting for the double “O.”

“You brought me to a strip club?”

“The best strip club in all of Pluto.”

“Probably the only strip club on Pluto.”

“And thus, the best strip club.”

Patrizo is greeted at the door like a regular while they search me for any weapons or contraband. The metal detector goes over my arms several times. I’m forced to remove my gloves and roll up my sleeve to show that my arm isn’t real before the bouncers repeatedly taps it and believes me. I’ve probably been in a dozen places with metal detectors and never dealt with this. Who is coming to Pluto to start a fight?

The air is thick with perfume of different scents, enough to make me want to sneeze and cough at the same time. The music is playing at levels no normal person would tolerate for long. All of this is normal, yet bizarre at the same time. Still Patrizo is at home, unbothered by any of this, he seems at home in this place. We take up a pair of seats in a booth that that has a view of the stage and Patrizo eagerly awaits the next girl to perform her routine. He waves his hand and a scantily clad woman with brown hair makes her way over.

“What can I do for you tonight,” the waitress asks.

“I’ll have the plasma-grilled sausage and he’ll have the algae pasta with oxo puffs,” Patrizo orders.

“And drinks?”

“I’ll have a beer, and he’ll have,” Patrizo starts.

“Just water for me. Thank you,” I cut him off.

I didn’t want to be here; I’m not going to get drunk with him. I’m just here because everyone insisted it was a great idea. I didn’t have a choice but I’m not going to go all out with him. I had my fair share of nights like that when I was younger. His eagerness is actually surprising. There’s not much for marines to do on leave but drink and go to strip clubs. I’ve seen strippers of at least four different races and maybe four genders, and a few species without genders. None of this is new or exciting to me. The first time I visited a strip club it was wonderful, the second time it was okay and every time after has been just a night I wish I could be doing something else. It’s been, nine, ten years since I enlisted, there’s nothing here I haven’t seen before.

I couldn’t even grow a beard when I enlisted, now I shave every day. Maybe I should just grow a beard, not like there’s any regulations preventing me now. I’m curious if mine would be patchy like my uncle’s or even like my father’s.

A human woman takes the stage and it becomes clear she’s a splicer as well, webbed feet and a reptilian tail. This is the second splicer I’ve seen in just as many days. They really shouldn’t be this common, I’ve only seen maybe four outside of the marines before this. Is Pluto some kind of safe haven or is there a doctor around here that specializes in the operations?

I suppose a lot of Pluto has been like that so far. The planet of misfit humans. Everything feels modern, but fifty years in the past as well. The fashion, the laws, the vehicles, even the television shows airing are from a decade ago and treated as brand new on local stations. Most of the people I meet are rather secretive, which is fine because they don’t ask questions about me either. It feels like the whole planet is filled with secrets and things you aren’t supposed to see.

“Plasma sausage for you, and oxo puffs for you,” the waitress sits the food down and heads off.

It isn’t what I expected, but it’s okay. I’m not really enjoying myself here but Patrizo seems to be having the time of his life. Someone to laugh while he hoots and hollers at the women. None of them seem to mind since he’s a regular, but everyone else doesn’t seem so thrilled.

“I’ll be right back,” Patrizo vanishes before I get a chance to answer.

It doesn’t take long for him to arrive with a Vaznian, obviously working at the club. I know they haven’t done anything to me but I tense up. The last time I saw a Vaznian I had just murdered a child. As long as I was dealing with my own issues, I could put that to the back of my mind. Now I’m suddenly confronted with it. They don’t know that kid, and they don’t know me, but I feel judged for it. Patrizo is excited, he’s paid for a private dance with a nightmare of my past. As they lead me to the back room, his shouts of joy fade into those of my team blended with gunfire.

The room is dark and the music is raunchier than it is sensual. I close my eyes and try to get through this without speaking, or looking, just focusing on happy thoughts. The Vaznian grinds across my laps, guides my hands across the feminine shapes of their body. I try to pull away, not enough to be offensive, just enough to show I’m not interested.

“Would you prefer my male form? There’s no shame in it. You wouldn’t be the first male to come here looking for a male. That is my main clientele here,” they speak sensually.

“I don’t really care,” is all I can muster.

I feel the body shape shift in my hands as I wonder how long the song is going to last. The motions don’t change, but they’re more forceful, and somewhat stronger, more pec than breast. There’s nothing arousing about this either. Instead I find rage filling my body. I’m not mad at the dancer, they’ve done nothing to me. I’m mad I can’t speak up. I couldn’t just say that I didn’t want this. I can’t say what needs to be said.

“I killed you,” I don’t recognize the words.

“What,” the dancer asks.

“I said I killed you.”

“Are you okay.”

“Yeah, I’m still here. I left your body on Xioshaa, and then your people took my arm in revenge. It’s my fault really, being an outsider in your holy war. I’m sorry I killed you.”

“If roleplay gets you in the mood, it’s okay you killed me. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t my fault, but I fired the gun.”

“Then un-fire it,” the Vaznian kid responds.

“How do you do that?”

“I don’t know, I’m dead,” the kid responds, fading away with the song.

“Do you want another dance,” the dancer asks.

“No, I’m good,” I make my way out of the door.

Patrizo isn’t in the booth when I make my way out. I take the opportunity to put my head on the table and contemplate what just happened. I could have sworn I was speaking with the dancer. The kid I killed shows up to ask me some philosophical questions. I’m losing my mind. I need to get off of this planet forgotten by the sun; there’s nothing good for me here. The only thing this small town is good for is being surrounded by my own thoughts. I didn’t want to come out here tonight and now I’m questioning my own sanity. I just need to get through a little longer, and I can get out of here.

“You have a good time,” Patrizo leans against the table.

He smells like beer, sweat and other bodily fluids. The huge smile on his face already tells me what he’s been doing. Somehow, I lose a bit of respect that I didn’t know I had for him as he barely manages to stand and feel proud about bringing me on his sex run.

“Yeah, great time. You ready to go?”

“Oh yeah, I’m ready to take on the world,” Patrizo stumbles as he attempts to shadow box.

Outside I take a few big breaths of air and check my surroundings. I don’t know if I’m expecting to be ambushed by enemies, captured by some soldiers or suddenly end up back on Xioshaa. I almost throw a punch at Patrizo when he slaps me on the back in his drunken state, handing me his keys.

“You have to drive.”

“Don’t you have auto-pilot?”

“That piece of junk? Nah, it barely runs. Let’s go.”

Xioshaa

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1.13 - Bathroom Break

May 20, 2022 Darrell S.

We arrive in the Solar System, revolving the star Sol. This is home for me, or close to it. I grew up in Lune 31, the thirty first colony on Earth’s moon. Right now, we’re stopping at some random space station where a few soldiers get off, and more get on. I could get off and make a run for it now. Try to find a way off the space station and run away to some system far away from humanity’s reach. Somewhere in the Revrell sector, just hope I don’t end up an experiment like all the rumors say.

I probably wouldn’t get far, I never gave much thought to just leaving. Do I need a fake name? Zachary Wilson, is that too suspicious? Will they even spot me if I use my real name? The galaxy is huge, and I doubt they would go looking for a single person. It isn’t like I committed treason or something, I just don’t want to fight anymore. I could just say that, but they did give me a promotion, they expect something from me. This arm might even have a tracking device in it.

My debating on if I should run or not is ended when the ship begins to move out of the station. The next stop is an actual military base. From there, I’ll be sent off and given assignment. Perhaps I’ll reunite with my previous squad, see who’s still alive. Casey is the only person who came to visit, and I was pretty out of it after surgery. I don’t remember what he said, for all I know we’re the last ones alive.

A few people from the transport crew are discussing their next stops. At the base they’ll be picking up some supplies, deliver them to Pluto and take a two month leave. It doesn’t sound so bad. When was the last time I actually got to go on leave? My entire time has been spent going from mission to mission, trying to advance a military career because it was the right thing to do. Now here I am, two ranks higher, and I’m looking for an exit that I can’t seem to find. No matter how many times I search my mind for answers there is no exit, no next step that would ease my mind. What was my end goal? What did I want to do?

I wanted to explore the galaxy, see everything there was to see and in the end, I just became a mindless shooter. I was okay with it too. I was perfectly fine with it, I even killed a kid and I was okay with just moving on. It wasn’t until I woke up missing an arm did my conscience tell me I’d had enough. I watched eight of my fellow marines die, and I didn’t care enough to stop. I used it as a reason to justify why I was fighting and, in the end, none of these enemies had wronged us. When I laid in that bed, it was all I could think about. Sure, some of the people I shot deserved to die, but did all of them? How many were just dumb kids that got tricked like me and couldn’t get out? How many people have I killed? I don’t even know how many confirmed kills I have because it wasn’t my job to keep track.

I grab my bag and make my way to the ship’s bathroom. I lock the door behind me and change into my regular clothes. If I don’t show up in fatigues, they’ll understand I’m not here to fight anymore. I feel the ship shake as we enter into the orbit of base and dock. I lose my balance as I put my shoes on. I didn’t come here to change clothes. Leaning against the wall I listen as the thousands of footsteps file off the ship. Soon there’s a moment of silence, and I know everyone is off the ship. I splash water from the sink onto my face before cupping my hands and taking big sips of the lukewarm water.

The large thumping sound outside lets me know seats are being flattened for the ship to switch to cargo mode. Sliding and scraping mean cargo containers are being loaded. They’re moving fast, still I stare at the time on my wrist for over an hour before I feel the ship begin to take off again. I wasn’t planning to just stay on the ship, my legs just won’t move.

What the fuck am I doing? I’ve never been afraid. Why am I so afraid now? It’s too late to be asking these questions. Why didn’t anyone at the hospital ask me if I was suffering PTSD; is this even PTSD? I don’t know. It’s too late to ask questions now. I just need to prepare to get out of here without being seen. I switch to a hoodie and make sure as much of my face is covered as possible. I don’t have any gloves, so I put a spare sock over my right hand, I don’t want any light reflecting on the metal when the door opens.

I take cover behind one of the furthest cargo containers from the door and wait for the landing. The door opens and I count four people unloading the supplies. I make my way up to the middle of the cargo, as they come for the last few up front. I move to the left side of the ship, when they begin with the right center. As they make their way back in I release the lock on a few crates and let them slide towards the back. They give chase, and in the commotion, I rush off the ship.

I’ve never been to Pluto, and the first thing I notice is how cold it is, the second is how dark it is. I take off running towards the biggest light source I can find. The cold air stings in my lungs and my holdall smacking my back only forces the air out quicker, but I can’t stop running. If I stop running, my body won’t be able to move in these temperatures. I know it’s probably infinitely worse outside the atmospheric dome, but that doesn’t matter to me right now.

I make it off the military base without being spotted and hit a main road. My wrist comp informs me that I’m forty-eight kilometers from a city called Inonolina, the third largest city on Pluto. In training to prepare for a mission, I once did fifty kilometer loaded marches in heavy armor for several months straight. But, that was in normal temperatures with good equipment. The key is to pace yourself. A walk won’t keep me warm. I tighten the strap on my bag so it won’t shift as I move. I start with a light jog and focus on keeping my breathing steady. Breathing through my mouth will keep my heart rate lower, and let me take in more oxygen.

I just need to keep moving. Don’t look back, just keep moving, following the road ahead. There’s no longer any real destination. Do whatever you want, go where you want. Ignore the voice in your head saying follow commands. You command yourself now. All you need to do is, keep moving commander.

Xioshaa

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1.12 - Transport

May 19, 2022 Darrell S.

I’m not the only person picked up for the ship ride this morning. None of us seem to be in a speaking mood and there’s no celebratory goodbyes either. We’re all thinking the same thoughts, no doubt about that. I can’t read minds but I see it in their eyes, body language, it mirrors my own. We may be physically fit, but mentally none of us are prepared to go back. I’m the only person sporting a shiny new prosthetic, but I’m not the only one here with wounds. They wouldn’t be here if they weren’t broken in some way, I can’t tell how they’re broken, but I know we’re all broken. None of us want to go back, but we have to.

I spot Taffy from the window and give him a solemn nod. He returns it, an acknowledgment of me doing the right thing. The right thing; isn’t that just what we’re supposed to do? Just because we’re supposed to do something, does that mean it’s the right thing? Is getting on this ship and preparing to go fight against the unknown really what is right? I’ve never gone into battle against anyone that has actually harmed me, so why is it the right thing?

As much as I am conflicted, I follow the lead and place my luggage in the storage quarters above my seat like everyone else. The ship slowly lifts off the ground as I take my seat. I don’t even know what my destination is this time. I know I catch the ship, we probably make a few more stops. We'll hop on a bigger transport ship, hop through a hafengdan. From there we’ll take planetary transport to our base, or close to it. Then, and only then, will I know where they’re sending me to lose another limb.

Nobody speaks on the ship, we’re all focused out the windows, getting our first real view of the station from a distance. The place is massive, but as we move further away it becomes a memory. There’s nothing special about it other than pyramid like shape and number of glass windows, I suppose that’s where the name comes from. Space, looks like every other time I’ve seen space. There’s nothing out here that I haven’t seen before. A small yellow planet, likely made up of gas sits a few minutes from the station. No doubt it was the reason the station is here. I wonder what they harvest from it, because they have to get something from it.

The hafengdan looms over the entire area, larger than the station. I wonder if they built the station somewhere else and sent it through, or did they bring it here piece by piece. I guess that’s something I should have asked when I was on the station.

The mass transport ship extends a bridge and connects with our small ship. Five or six of the others flinch when the connection is made. It sounds the same as crashing, and gears grinding as it slowly locks in place. I know I can’t hesitate, or I’ll turn back. I snatch my holdall from the overhead and make my way through the bridge connecting the ships. I present my ID badge at the doorway, and it slides open slowly, evening the pressure between the two ships.

“Welcome aboard Command Sergeant Gray,” an AI greets me.

“I’m not a Command Sergeant, just a First Sergeant.”

“You have been promoted in your time away.”

“Thank you,” I guess.

This ship is much more crowded, no doubt we’re just one stop of many. I find a seat in the back of the third tier. Nobody has filled in this level of the ship yet, and I just want to be alone. Making my way up here, I could hear too many young soldiers eager for whatever the universe might throw at them. I remember being that way. Thinking I’d explore the universe, help fight off the Alpha Draconian threat or something like that. I didn’t expect I’d be shooting kids in jungles. I don’t know what they’ll face, but it won’t be what they expect. It doesn’t help that my arm managed to get a few stares and comments. Some positive, some negative, mostly shock.

The ship travels through the hafengdan and my right arm reflexively seizes up in what I can only compare to a muscle cramp. My entire arm flexes and moves on it’s own. I can’t get it to release, then it just drops. A few moments later, everything works like a charm. I quickly open my wrist comp and search the cyberspace for answers to what may have happened. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds. Some lower end prosthetics can temporarily malfunction when traveling through the Bangbepunkt. I’m not a first timer anymore, but there it is. I got punked out by the gate again. Maybe I stick around until I can afford a better arm, then I’ll resign.

Hopefully, I’m just going to do paperwork. I hadn’t considered any of that. There’s probably paperwork to be filled out. I’ve been promoted two ranks, and all I did was survive. I’m sure they’ll want to debrief me about the missions, since no one has come to talk to me. I’m not sure why I was so stressed. There’s a lot of options. I think I’ll be okay.

Xioshaa

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1.10 - Turquoise

May 17, 2022 Darrell S.

Sasha wasn’t there when I returned to pick up my arm. Just told me to it was on the left side of the room and had my name on it. The tag with my name is attached to a shiny metallic turquoise arm. He’s got to be out of his mind if he thinks this is what my personality test decided. I struggled to complete that stupid test with one hand and one wrist on a wrist comp. Nothing about me yells turquoise. I grab the arm from the shelf and remove the name tag. The reverse side of the card features a few quick bullet points.

· Paint is waterproof and fireproof. Clean regularly.

· Turquoise as you call it is latent hope, ability to protect, calm energy and love

· Good luck to you friend

Can he really call me a friend? I just met him and only gave him my arm because I didn’t like the color. I pull out the wires tucked into my nub and match them to the arm. Red to red, yellow to yellow, white to white. Now the hard part. I line the metal nub up to the opening in the arm, and lean against the wall. It takes a moment but eventually it pops into place. I was afraid the paint might get scratched, but it looks like he really did use some high-quality paint or put some protective coats on there. I don’t know anything about painting.

Looking at myself in the elevator doors, I realize I don’t really know myself anymore. My hair’s grown out into a shaggy afro that meets my beard in the middle of my face. I don’t remember ever having a beard before. I know the face is mine, but it looks foreign to me. Much of the muscle mass I had seems to be fading away and of course, the arm. It stands out, a distraction from how weak the rest of my body has become. Still, the arm is the one thing that looks well put together and not a mess.

“Hey Not Nice Nubjob, come play table tennis with us,” a young man calls out to me.

“What did you just call me,” I ask in confusion.

“Not Nice Nubjob, they said it was your nickname, or do you prefer Triple N” he responds nervously.

“Who is they?”

“The two guys over there, Charlie and Shaheed,” he points nervously to two middle aged men

“What’s your name kid?”

“Taffy.”

“My name is Effrem; now give me a paddle. We’re going to make them cry.”

Shaheed and Charlie, two ringers on an extended stay here at the hospital. Charlie had been here close to a year. He had been on some kind of exploration mission, scouting for a new colony or something like that. His team was attacked by what he only described as a carnivorous elephant like megafauna. Only three members of his team escaped. Shaheed just passed nine months. His isn’t necessarily a war story. He had a team member who decided to murder everyone, then commit suicide. He only killed four people and himself, but the damage was done.

Medicine has come a long way, but I suppose mental wounds are harder to heal then physical. I don’t think I have any mental wounds. I knew what I was getting into, I knew the risks. More than anything, I’m just pissed off. I don’t have nightmares reliving the events. I don’t have panic attacks based on common occurrences and I’ve already passed three different psych examinations.

“You know you really suck at this,” Taffy complains after we lose another round.

“No, they tricked us.”

“They tricked you, I knew they were good and you came over here with the stiff arm.”

“At least I’m not standing in one place.”

Taffy lost both of his legs when the ship he was flying exploded due to some experimental cargo; they called him snow cone to rope him into their game. Now he’s a regular at the tables with them, but he doesn’t have the experience to match their ability. The only thing Taffy and I have to worry about is using our prosthetics which again, have come a long way from hooks and wooden pegs. We have to accept that we aren’t the same as we were before our accidents. The concept is easy, we aren’t the same as we were yesterday. Even if there’s a shiny metal arm here, it’s mine. It doesn’t itch or sweat, but it does what I tell it to. I just need to learn to put trust into it, same as Taffy’s legs. He’s had them for three months now. Today is his first time he’s gone an entire day without a wheel chair.

Playing table tennis with these guys seemingly made his legs sync up more. At first I thought he sounded crazy, but there might be some logic to it. Maybe the competitive nature means I don’t think about every time I want my arm to move. The movements are less jerky and more natural, less lag when I swing a paddle. Taffy says he feels more comfortable standing on his legs now than he ever did in his rehabilitation sessions. I didn’t even get that much, just the manual and enough spite to make it work out.

I understand what the nurse was saying. I don’t have it that bad in the grand scheme of things. Some of the people here have it significantly worse. Veterans of wars long since gone who are suffering health effects from experimental weapons, paraplegics who aren’t able to receive spinal implants, mental breaks from the stress of combat. I could have been in any of their shoes. But I’ve been walking around like an asshole because I had to switch my wrist comp to a different arm because it wouldn’t respond to metal fingers. I think I owe her an apology.

Xioshaa

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1.09 - Basement

May 16, 2022 Darrell S.

I make a fist with my right hand and release it. I feel it, my fingers in my palm, my nails are sharp because they never grow back evenly. A few stray hairs on my knuckles but not enough to be considered harry. The tiny black mole on my index finger. I haven’t had moisturizer since before Xioshaa, so there’s little spots of ashen grey on my arm. My elbows are rough to the touch and I still have the scar from when I fell off my hoverbike as a teenager and broke my wrist. I can see it all, and I can feel it. My shoulder still has that nagging cramp it would get sometimes, I can massage it and ease the pain.

There’s nothing there nothing below my shoulder but I can still see it, and feel it. No matter how many times they’ve told me over the last few weeks, it’s still there. I still reach for items with my right hand and I can’t grasp them. Even if I can visualize my hand moving and clutching an item, it just doesn’t happen. Everything is working just as it should, but nothing happens.

Just this damn metal nub poking out of my shoulder where my arm should be. Looking back at me every day. I can’t even bring myself to touch it. My shiny new accessory is just a reminder of how Creed screwed me over; screwed the team over. I don’t know if his team made it out alive, but If they did, he better hope I don’t find him. I’ve never taken joy in killing before, but I will take joy in ending his life.

“Mr. Gray, I’ve brought in your prosthetic,” a nurse enters.

“Really, I didn’t think I would get one. It’s been a while since the surgery.”

“No, sometimes there’s just a lot of paperwork. We wouldn’t send you out into the world without one.”

She unwraps the arm from the foam and plastic casing it was delivered in. She wipes it down with some cleaning wipes to make sure it’s sterile. A few wires from arm connect with some that were tucked inside my metal nub. With a push the arm locks into place where my original should have been. There’s nothing to download to my wrist comp, just plug it up and go. The warm ivory color of the arm stands out against the rest of my flesh.

“No other colors? Could I at least get blue, or green,” the nurse rolls her eyes at me.

“This is the basic model that everyone gets. This is the only color we have. You can either take it, or wait six months for another one Mr. Gray.”

“You can take it back then.”

“Not until you try to move it.”

“How am I supposed to move it?”

“Same way you would move the arm you so carelessly lost,” she smirked, and I deserved that.

To my surprise the arm begins to jerk about as I try to move it. Eventually, I manage to grasp the cup of water and lift it to my mouth. The arm shakes and freezes, but it does what I demand of it. That’s fine for now, but there has to be another option. They’ve shown me the magazines with different styles of prosthetics. Arms with wrist comps built in so you could easily use your real hand, hidden weapons for those who face combat, more abstract styles, even some that provide what can only be called super strength. They played me.

“What happened to the cool one I picked out in the magazine?”

“This is what they pay for, it has all the requirements.”

“Then why show me the other models if I was just going to end up with this?”

“You know, if you walked around the hospital for a while, maybe got to meet some other patients you’d realize you are hardly in the worst condition. You lost an arm, big deal. Did you even notice both my legs are prosthetics? I’m a combat veteran too. Most of the people working here have seen combat and we have horror stories too,” she takes a look at my chart and vitals before exiting the room.

“Aren’t you going to clean up this mess?”

“Trash goes to the basement. You might as well get comfortable down there.”

“I can report you for treating a patient like this.”

“Then walk over to the other side of the building and report me,” she slams the door behind her.

She thinks she’s funny? I’m going to report her. Insubordination like that would never fly, if she had been a combat veteran like she claimed, she’d know that. I gather the trash and put on the sneakers that Casey dropped off from my apartment before he was shipped to his next mission. With the trash in my hand, I make my way towards the elevator.

“Where you going in such a hurry,” an older woman asks me.

“Basement,” I just keep moving.

Exiting the elevator, the smell of paint and smoke hangs in the air. The basement seems to hold various offices and workshops for the maintenance crew. I just follow the purple line that leads to the trash and dump the stuff as quick as I can. Making my way back, I notice a door open that had been closed on the way down the hall. The smell of paint seemed to be coming from that room, so I peek my head in. Inside are shelves full of prosthetic limbs left out to dry. Various colors, patterns and even murals cover them all.

“You here to get painted,” a deep voice says from behind me.

“What,” I hadn’t realized how far into the room I was.

“Painted,” A tall Smilodonian lifts my prosthetic into the air.

The Smilodonians, huge creatures, I’ve never seen one less than seven feet tall, despite that, they walk almost silently. They almost look like bipedal predator cats. Their bodies seem to be naturally muscular even beneath the fur, which would be terrifying alone. The large canine teeth extending over the jaw like fangs, the exoskeletons add an extra level of horror. They don’t start with exoskeletons, but the bones extend past the flesh to cover injuries. Sometimes it falls off, sometimes it doesn’t. They’re fearsome in battles and I’m glad I’ve never had to face off with one before.

“What is all of this?”

“I am Sasha Duboff,” he says releasing my arm. “I paint the prosthetics of people for a small fee. I assumed you wanted to get painted. The arm does not match your fur," he laughs.

“Okay, do you just pick a color and go for it?”

“No, you leave it here, and answer some questions. From there, the computer decides what you get. I paint it. You pick it up when you are ready.”

“This is a very detailed operation you have.”

“We Smilodonians have a reputation for war but our strategy comes from studying the histories of others throughout the galaxy. You cannot study history without the arts. Music, literature, sculpture, painting and so on, it is as important as any story of war and glory. The stories of said glory cannot be told without it. ”

“I like that. Now, could you help me get this thing off.”

“Not even used to it yet and ready to get it painted. You humans are strange creatures. Never taking time to enjoy life beyond conquest.”

Xioshaa

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1.08 - Don't Die

May 15, 2022 Darrell S.

It doesn’t take long for the gunfire to return, more intense than ever. I can’t instruct my squad to shoot back, only run faster. How could I instruct them to do anything else when I know the truth now? They’re sending children and teenagers to fight us. They’re no older than when my older brother died. The same cause of death, different situations. Suicide was how he chose to die, guns are pretty effective at killing people, even yourself. The difference being my brother got to choose, and that kid didn’t, I chose for them. Even if they chose to become a soldier, and attack, I chose death for them.

“We have to return fire,” Habeeb calls out.

“Do whatever, just keep running,” the only answer I can give.

My brother had his heart broken by a girl. He just couldn’t see how his life could move forward without her. He moped around for days before taking his own life. The marines could have been better help for him, helped him sort out the mess he felt he was in. Perhaps he could have been provided with an outlet for those emotions, found a purpose in life. Those are the things I contemplate occasionally, nowhere near as often as I did when he first died. Sometimes I forget that I ever had a big brother, I’ve known him as a memory longer than I ever knew him as a person at this point in my life. Now that kid is just a memory to someone who cared about them.

The taste of dirt rips me from thoughts. Did I fall? No, the pain tells me I was hit in the back. Not by a bullet, likely a stone tossed using psionics. I roll over and realize we’ve been pinned down again. I can’t see the sun through the trees, and for the first time I’m realizing this jungle has been lit by some kind of growth on the upper tree branches. With no real visible sun, I have to wonder just how long we’ve really been out here. Casey tries to check on me, make sure I’m not hurt too bad to continue. I wave him off and crawl into a covered position, ready to return fire.

I aim my gun into the wall of brush, aiming where I know the enemy is. I know there could be more kids behind there, but I don’t want to die either. There’re over one million recognized religions in the Milky Way, each with their own view of the afterlife. I never chose one, didn’t want to, wasn’t sure I believed, wasn’t sure I could die so soon.

On the inside, I often laughed at others who were so devout to religions that science couldn’t prove. Didn’t matter if they were worshipping some man in the sky, unproven cells in our bodies, a concept such as karma or whatever. Now I’m wondering who was right? Did it bring them peace in their final moments? Were the hours of devotion spent worth it? I’d rather not find out what happens after death right now.

I don’t want to die. I want to start a family of my own. A wife, husband, alien or whatever, doesn’t matter, and a kid, maybe a few kids. Kids, they start as a smaller version of you, and then they grow into this completely different and new person. Sometimes they keep some of your traits and habits, just natural. My parents were never proud of my accomplishments, but if I had a kid, I’d be proud of everything they did, their biggest supporter. I wonder if the kid I killed was anything like their parents, were they proud of them?

I squeeze the trigger, but the gun doesn’t fire. It takes several attempts and rifle checks for me to realize my finger just won’t squeeze the trigger. I’m telling my body to fire, I’m giving the signal, I can feel the gun fire, but it just won’t fire. I’m trying to force myself, but my body knows I don’t want to fire this gun anymore. I just can’t. I pretend I’m aiming and firing as my squad shoots back, unaware they’re snuffing out the potential future of the Vaznian race.

“Everyone get ready to run,” Faramund tosses two grenades at once toward our attackers.

Before I can turn, I watch as the grenades stop and redirect in midair. Divine intervention, these rebel Vaznians really might have god on their side for sure. No matter what, they always seem to be one step ahead of us or they get one lucky break when we can’t seem to get one. I don’t have time to run, I just scatter with everyone else.

There’s no pain when the grenade makes impact. Dirt blurs my vision a little and I can’t hear a damn thing but the constant ringing in my ears. I pat myself down with both hands and seem to be in okay condition. My right arm is no good helping me get up from the ground. I look for my squad, they seem to be in a centralized location staring at something. I make my way towards them and realize Casey is the one missing, likely they’re surrounding him. He probably took the biggest part of the blast. I stumble, towards them, only stopping when I spot an arm on the ground. Casey should be left in full, I grab the arm from the ground and keep moving.

Horror fills the eyes of my squad when they spot me approaching. Casey isn’t dead, being treated by Maura, but still alive. His wounds don’t even look too gruesome. We’re less than half a mile from the exit of this hell, but he should make it just fine.

“Sergeant,” Casey’s eyes become the size of small plates when he catches a glimpse of me.

“Sorry about that, but I told you, I wasn’t going to let you die,” I force a smile that makes me lightheaded.

“Sergeant,” Casey just repeats.

“Hey, how about you take your arm as a souvenir. They might be able to put it back if we’re fast enough,” I place the arm on his chest.

I lose my balance and fall hard to the ground unable to catch myself. The blast must have thrown off my equilibrium. My armor should help me adjust in a few moments. Casey starts to scream, not in pain but horror. It happens, people come back changed from missions like this. PTSD, I feel sorry for him. Hopefully, therapy can provide him with some coping methods.

“That’s not my arm,” Casey pushes it away.

“Sure, it is, it looks a lot like mine, but it’s yours. Humans are funny like that,” I’m great at telling jokes.

I realize Casey has both arms as he continues to panic, so I take mental inventory of my squad. It’s getting harder to focus, but everyone seems to have two arms. I wonder who’s arm that was. Maybe it was another hallucination, it wouldn’t be the first one out here. Actually, that does look a lot like my arm.

“Captain, sit down,” Maura starts to yell but fades out.

“Oh shit, that is my arm.”

Xioshaa

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1.07 - Little Weapon

May 14, 2022 Darrell S.

“Eile, Eile, Eile,” Faramund calls out as he lays down suppressing fire.

I don’t know what that word means, I don’t even know what language that is but the context tells me he means we need to move faster. But, we’re pushing the limits as it is. I’m not the only one trying to keep quiet about an injury. Habeeb sprained his ankle when we slid down a hill after leaving the cave and Maura has a slash wound across her upper thigh. The adrenaline and suit are keeping me going but I can feel the bullet wound in my abdomen starting to open up. The suit just wasn’t made to hold for endurance missions.

We didn’t plan for one, and now we’ve been out here in the wild for close to two full days. Our unseen attackers haven’t slowed down at all. Are they working in shifts, do they have a camp that they can easily move when not toying with us? What if this is all part of Creed’s plan? Is he using us for bait, I don’t know.

“Everyone get down,” Keegan calls out.

I dive for the ground, some kind of tree bark impaling my right arm along the way. Nothing too bad, I should still be able to fire a rife if I need it. I yank the piece of bark free but don’t give Casey or Maura chance to bandage it. Another spear shaped stone flies through the air at us, again we dodge it. We’re trying to leave but it seems the Vaznians play for keeps even after they’ve already won. I can only hope Creed’s group is faring better because it seems as if all the attention is focused on us.

“Son of a bitch,” Casey screams out.

I turn to see fragments of one of the spears covering his thigh. Perhaps they weren’t made of stone because there appears to be shrapnel in Casey’s wound. Maura stops to treat his wound leaving us pinned down and in a real firefight. Shots seemingly come from every direction and I wonder just how much of this is real, and how much is fake. Their mind games have finally broken me and I’m not sure how to respond other than telling the team to open fire in whatever direction they think the bullets are coming from. Not the best command, but for the second time, my only command.

This time there seem to be intentions behind the shots fired at us. I’m no longer wondering how they rigged all the guns to fire at once. This time I’m wondering how long until they hit one of us. The forest burns a little as the incendiary rounds pierce through and our attackers back off for a moment. With Casey back in action we take the brief moment of silence as an opportunity to flee. We’ve lost all signs of our original formation. Now we scatter through with no organization structure, tree to tree, bush to bush, no longer worried about the effects of unknown fauna.

For a moment I catch a glimpse of something streak through the brush ahead of us, but I consider it another trick. If it was a person, and we gave chase, it could be an ambush and I don’t need any more of those. Quickly we’re pinned down again with gunfire, this time taking cover near a section of oddly colored fallen logs. Each time we attempt to leave, we're fire on. This is it; this is direct combat with an enemy. Perhaps if we can get through this moment here, we can get out of here and arrange pickup from the city.

All we know is where they’re at. Pop out and shoot, move around. We’re moving in circles, an intricate game. Either we’ll spot them, or we’ll run out of ammunition first and be captured if not murdered. Slowly the gun shots begin to taper off, instead they throw things at us from a distance. We’ve got more ammunition than they do, unless they’re sending for more. We’re out of thermal and incendiary ammo, but we still have bullets and a few other tools.

Habeeb tosses a grenade in their direction, there are some panicked screams and a halt in the fire exchange. We take the opportunity to run. We’re less than a mile from our starting location at this point. I feared that they would chase us to the city, instead they give up as we reach the outer edges of the jungle where things aren’t as thick.

Shots ring out directly to my left, I swing and fire without hesitation. The death rattle of a dying finger on a trigger goes off into the air. For the first time, I’ve hit one of our unseen enemies. The end is near, but this is a chance to gain information. I won’t know why they’re attacking, but I’ll know who provided them with the weapons and that’ll give me some good insight.

“Efrem, come on, the coast is clear,” Casey calls out to me.

“Nah, I need to check on this.”

I make my way to where the shots came from. There’s no body, but I can tell they drug themselves away from cover by the tail in the mud. Trying to find somewhere to die peacefully or return fire. Despite what my intuition and squad tell me, I follow anyway. I need to see this with my own two eyes, proof that this isn’t all one cruel trick.

Just behind a bush the legs of a Vaznian stick out, a slight twitch, the only motion. I pull them free, forgetting they could have a gun. Their skin seems to shimmer in the light but is somewhat slimy and cool to the touch, likely some kind of sweat. The weapon is of a make I’m not familiar with, small and seems to fire based on an electric system. I snap a picture on my wrist comp for later and examine the body. Tall, but rail thin, body proportions don’t exactly line up correctly. It takes a moment for me to realize this isn’t an adutlt. This is a teenager, someone just starting puberty or whatever the Vaznian equivalent is. I killed a kid, someone who hadn’t really started life yet. I killed a fucking kid.

“You find something,” Faramund asks.

“Not a damn thing,” I respond, and for a moment, I understood Commander Creed.

Xioshaa

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1.06 - Madness of The Cave

May 13, 2022 Darrell S.

“You’re a marine aren’t you?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then move your ass Gray!”

“Eww you’re gross. I’d never go out with you.”

“You could have just said no.”

“But the you wouldn’t get the message.”

“Sir he’s not breathing.”

“Gray it’s a dead body. Just leave it behind.”

“But he’s somebody.”

“Move your ass or die with him.”

“Don’t let me die tomorrow Sergeant.”

“I won’t.”

“I wish you were more like your brother.”

“The dead one or the one in jail?”

“Either one honestly.”

These are memories, they’re not real. I’m not dying or trapped in the past. I just need to keep my head and get through. We were probably dosed at some point on our trip. I’m not going to be killed by visions here in this hell hole. I’ll grit my teeth, and I’ll get through it. I have to. Just close your damn eyes Efrem and sleep, force yourself to sleep. Don’t give in.

It seems like the rest of my squad has gotten lost in their memories as well and not everyone is taking it too well. Habeeb is using the same method as I am. Closing his eyes and trying to think of anything else before hopefully falling asleep. Casey was in the fetal position, eyes wide, viewing his past as if it was happening right before him. But Faramund is taking it the worst. Rocking himself back forth, mumbling apologies to nobody that can hear them. I’d love to break the silence with a joke, but there’s no silence in any of our heads. I can’t help any of them now, I can’t help myself.

“You gutless fucking coward.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it here.”

“You can’t even take an order.”

“I did what you asked.”

“Then do it better next time.”

“Just relax. Only a little more.”

“This hurts. It’s too much.”

“First time always does.”

“Stop, please. We can do something else.”

“You’re such a weakling Efrem.”

“I can’t do it.”

“I always knew you couldn’t.”

Faramund fires off his gun in the cave and yanks me out of the nightmares that now plague my waking hours. I just give him a look and he remove the ammunition from his rifle. I don’t even chastise him. I know what he’s going through in the moment. The cold sweat makes me want to turn off the temperature regulator on my suit, but I know the heat will kill me if I do. I’d been upset with the heat my entire time here, but the cold sweats do anything but cool me off. I damn near bite through my tongue to stop another memory. Forcing myself to try sleeping again.

“Did you have a nice sleep,” this time Creed wakes me up with a boot to the side.

“Like a baby.”

“Vaznian Sleep Powder did a number on you boys,” he jokes at a time like this.

I glance around the cave and the feeling of dread overcomes me. We started this with fifteen people, three squads with five people each. Now there’s nine of us in this cave. Even if there are a few outside playing lookout that means we still lost more than Eva. We’re screwed, nobody ever expected us to make it home. That’s why Creed sent us out to have a good time before the mission.

“Where is everyone else,” I demand of Creed more than ask.

“Who?”

“The missing people.”

“Jernigan and Falconer are on lookout, Readdie caught a bullet to the head, Nakano got crushed under a boulder and Rowbottom just up and shot himself in the head. Before you get all pissy as you’re prone to do, I’m sure you can tell me what Eva is doing.”

This is all one big game to him. He’s gambling with our lives and I can’t help but wonder if a knife in his back will be the best way to end this and get us home. I’m tired, mentally, pained physically and probably traumatized for the rest of my life. But to him, it’s all a chance to score points, and for what? There’s nothing left to gain here. We need to escape with our lives, that’s it.

“Listen up soldiers. We’ve been backed into a corner. They think they’ve done us in for. That’s not the case. We’re going to make this our new home base. A small team with accompany me to complete our initial mission. Do I have any volunteers?”

“No,” I mumble under my breath.

“Sergeant Gray, thank you for volunteering. Your enthusiasm is a beacon to humanity.”

“I said no. I’m not going with you. None of us should.”

“You looking for an insubordination charge,” Creed asks me, slightly confused.

“I’m looking for a way out of this damned jungle.”

“Then sit your ass down until the mission is done,” a vague threat.

“No. You need to know when to back off. We’ve already lost four people. You’re going to make us lose more,” I just need to tank his pride.

“You don’t have near enough rank or experience to question me.”

“Who the fuck cares? We’re all going to die here because of you. Rank means nothing.”

“It means everything, so fall in line and obey your leader.”

“I’m my own leader now. You lead us to nothing. This promised land of gunfire, traps and mourning. Thanks for that Creed,” I take my seat against the wall. I’ve said what I needed to say.

“Who is coming with me to save humanity,” Creed asks, completely shifting the mission initial intentions.

“Anybody who doesn’t want to die, join me on my side of the cave, we can plan to get home,” my counter offer.

“But I love you.”

“Sometimes people fall out of love.”

“Why are you leaving?”

“I lost the baby.”

“We can try again.”

“A baby can’t salvage this.”

“You really love her?”

“Yeah.”

“You still got me.”

“Different kind of love little bro.”

“Shut up! Just stop talking! Damn,” I realize I was yelling at the people in the cave, no my head. “We have our sides. Let’s just split up, and go our separate ways.”

When all the shouting is done Casey and Habeeb join me as I expected. Casey doesn’t want to be here and this is just a job for Habeeb. Faramund surprisingly decides to stick with the team. Whatever visions he saw really messed with his mind enough to break rank with Creed. Keegan Falconer and Maura Daniels are the new pickups in my group, both rookies so I only know what was in their reports prior to the mission. Maura is another medic, but not as experienced as Casey although she may be calmer under pressure. Keegan is a sixth-generation soldier, already earmarked for promotion but is probably here due to familial pressure.

Once Creed and his team leave we begin planning our exit. We’re not far from where we entered the jungle, but there could be new traps. The six of us will move in a modified “V,” formation until we’re free. The thermal adapters worked earlier, but Keegan has actual incendiary rounds so he’ll lead at the point. Maura has some slight psionic abilities herself, rare amongst humans but useful. She should be able to give us some slight protections from any hallucinations or mind tricks, but her abilities are useless in combat. Faramund and Habeeb are still our primary gunners. Casey will be watching our six for any followers and I’m on trap duty. It’s a straight shot and if I was a praying man, I’d send up a request. But nobody would hear my prayers at this point.

Xioshaa

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1.05 - Quiet Pills

May 11, 2022 Darrell S.

They’re playing games with us, finding Eva again was far too easy in all this brush. They led us here, and I should have picked up on it, but I was too eager. As soon as we neared Eva gunfire erupted around us from different directions. The Vaznians don’t use guns. They’re all psionics, all the time. As we huddle together on the ground I realize I’ve been hit. Nothing serious and the suit molds around the wound taking care of it. The gunfire goes uninterrupted, nobody is firing those guns. We’re taking hits and haven’t actually faced anyone yet.

During the gunfire Casey had been checking on Eva. She didn’t make it. She had new injuries before we returned and had died leaned against a log. For some reason, she was smiling. I’ll never know what she saw in those final moments, but I know I’ll see her face the next few moments I try to sleep. She was probably feeling some kind of hallucinogenic, at least they’re kind when they kill us, except when they have guns like us. I should have considered it earlier.

Vaznians don’t use guns, that means there’s either someone else working with them, or they took them from other people who tried to stop them. If I could see the guns, I could tell where they came from. I knew there was something more to this mission, we’re just pawns to them out here and now Eva is dead because they had to keep secrets.

“Keep low, and watch for trip wires or any other triggers,” the only advice I can give to the squad.

We move quickly towards the cave Creed had marked for me. My armor is actively fighting with me at this point. A small wound will ruin lightweight armor, but the medium gear I usually equip would have taken the shot like it was nothing. I’m just glad it wasn’t enough to slow me down more.

A group of trees bend and block our path right in front of ours. This is the Vaznians work, forcing us to regroup and find a new way around in unfamiliar territory. Gun shots start to ring out again and we rush for cover. Casey and I are pinned down behind a fallen log, Habeeb has his back to a tree and Faramund is ducking behind a boulder.

“Who has thermal adapters for their guns,” I ask the group.

“We can’t do that. We’ll burn the whole jungle down,” Casey objects.

“I’d rather burn this place down than die,” I equip my thermal adapter.

“Finally,” Faramund follows suit.

Habeeb doesn’t hesitate but Casey gives it thought before equipping his as well. Thermal adapters allow the bullets fired to carry heat forward from the barrel of the gun reaching temperatures as high as four-hundred degrees. I don’t know much about science, but that should be enough to start a few small fires. They’ll focus on the fires, allowing us to escape.

“Most of the gun shots seem to be coming from that way,” Casey points to a dense section of forest.

“Next time there’s a break in gun fire, light it up,” I scream as their guns growl at us.

As soon as there’s a pause I pop out and open fire, unsure if there’s anyone out there still. The rest of the squad fires alongside me. The brush doesn’t burn right away but slowly embers start to fill the direction. One thing is sure, there’s nobody shooting back anymore. I don’t wait until I need to reload, I take off running and shout for the others to follow me.

Earlier we had been cutting down vines and anything else in our way. Now we just run through without pause. Casey falls but doesn’t complain, he stands back up, grabs his gun and keeps moving. He doesn’t want to die here anymore than anyone else. He knows we view him as the weakest link, but he won’t be that right now. Faramund provides some backing fire. I still think he’s gun crazed but, in this moment, I appreciate his love of violence.

To me the gunshots are a fleeting reminder of the fact that death can be waiting for us at any moment. Any of us could end up like Eva if we’re not careful, or if we’re just caught off guard. Every gunshot is a reminder of the chaotic nature of this situation. We’re running for our lives through a foreign land on a mission that was a death sentence from the start. But to Faramund, the shots are ASMR, calming his nerves, likely erotic to him, better than sex. If it gets me to safety, then I’ll take it, I’ll play along in his fetish for violence. Still, they’re cutting us off at every turn. They don’t where we’re running, but they’re trying to lead us somewhere and I refuse to be led to my death. I am not cattle, I will not die without fighting.

“Fire in every direction,” I demand.

We’re running through the forest firing at no target in particular, starting fires in each direction. Our footsteps quickly filled with destruction. From the outside we look like a bunch of mad men firing at the thought of enemies, but in my mind we’re on our way to being survivors.

“Keep moving, the cave is near,” I yell over the firing.

They stop firing and keep moving, I’m sure they misheard me. My ears are buzzing with the world around me muffled from the sounds of the constant gun shots, and the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. I haven’t run like this since I was training and I can feel myself ready to vomit like my first time through the Hafengdan. These will not be the last moments of my life, I will not die reliving memories of the past. I will leave to make new ones.

“Go deep and watch for pursuers,” we reach the mouth of the cave and dive into the darkness.

We all take up firing positions. I’m laying on my stomach staring down the scope of my rifle ready to fire on anyone pursuing us. We stay there, peering into the darkness of the forest waiting for any monster to step through to be murdered by our will to live. Nothing comes, but we don’t relax, we don’t speak. There’s nothing to say, any injuries can wait, and there’s no snacks, so there’s no need to ask. If you wish to bring me death, I wish you the same. I have no illusions of immortality, they were stripped away long ago. I will leave this planet. Any act I make is an act of desperation. I’ll do anything to survive no matter if its impossible, or forbidden.

Xioshaa

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1.04 - It's a Trap

May 11, 2022 Darrell S.

When we briefed on this mission we were told it would be a short walk through the jungle before we reached our location. We’ve been walking through uncharted and unmapped jungle for several hours, according to my wrist comp, we’ve gone about nine miles, which wouldn’t be an issue normally. Unfortunately, the temperature is 143 at the moment and we’re fighting nature just to reach our target. The conditions are horrid and I think the heat is starting wear on our mind.

Hallucinogenics, this whole planet is full of them. I’m wondering if we’re really this tired or if one of these strange plants is the cause of our fatigue. My bet is on the yellow ones that spit out the light blue mist if you walk too close.

“Should I try to reach Eva,” Faramund asks.

“Sure, see what’s up ahead of us,” I wave him off.

I don’t care for Faramund, he wouldn’t be in my top ten for squad member picks. The man is combat crazed. He swears he just wants to protect people, but all he ever talks about is potential fire fights. We see combat, but generally it’s light and doesn’t have any casualties. The man is a serial killer who joined the marines for a murderous output. He isn’t the first, he isn’t the last. On top of that, he’s extremely loyal to Creed. Any change of plan will be reported to Creed before we can complete it. I’m willing to bet that’s why he’s on my team.

Habeeb, I don’t know much about him, but I’m not sorry to have him around. He’s a family man. Nothing flashy, does his job and goes home. This is just a nine to five for him. He’s gone out for drinks with the boys and girls less than I have. This is work, and I can deal with that mindset. I’m not going to be giving performance reviews, but if he wants a mid-level manager, then I’ll give him that and he’ll give me employee of the month.

Eva, I don’t know anything about her other than she’s a go getter. She hasn’t been with us long, just got her certifications. I know she’s eager to prove herself, a little to eager, but all of us were as rookies. I’m sure she’ll make a great soldier as long as she calms down and takes things slow.

“I can’t get Eva on the radio,” Casey whispers to me.

I thank him for the information and keep moving, now I’m more alert and watching for traps. This civil war has been fought primarily through guerilla warfare by the rebel group. It makes sense, they’re basically cultists who know these jungles and deserts better than anyone else. I wouldn’t be surprised if Eva fell into some trap and couldn’t reach her radio. My wrist comp says she’s not far ahead of us, but she’s not moving either and her heart rate is lower than normal but still steady.

“Be on the lookout, Eva is supposed to be around her somewhere,” I warn the team.

It doesn’t take much work to spot Eva Hanging by her legs upside down from a tree about six feet above us. She’s bleeding from a wound in her side, but she responds when she sees us. Warning us of possible traps. Habeeb gets her down from the tree and Casey provides some first aid. She can still walk, but she’s lightheaded and her armor is malfunctioning. The mechanical joints meant to help movement are locking up on her. Any walking would render her much slower than the rest of us. We need to abort and regroup for a later attack. I radio creed with an update.

“We need to turn back, Van der Beek was shot and caught in a trap. We’ve stopped the bleeding, but she’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Leave her, and push on,” Creed responds.

“We can’t just leave her die,” Creed is out of his mind.

“I didn’t say leave her to die. Leave her, and return when the job is done. Her suit has a tracker.”

“What?”

“Did you not understand your order?”

“I understand the order, what I don’t understand is the reasoning.”

“Then you are relieved of duty Sergeant Gray. Private Faramund will lead your squad now.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Faramund will lead now.”

“You heard the commander, push forward team. Anyone who doesn’t will be charged with disturbance of military procedure and court-martialed. Van der Beek knew the risks,” Faramund steps in without hesitation or confirmation from Creed.

“It’s okay, he’s right. I’ll be safe. I can still shoot,” Eva assures us.

“Move out,” Faramund leads the march.

I expect Habeeb to follow, he’s by the book, but I don’t expect Casey to follow. I reassure Eva we’ll be back for her and she promises she’s fine. She’s fallen for the ideology of sacrifice for our solar system. She repeated claims she knew the risks, but she didn’t know the risk. None of us knew the risks, we were misled. This was supposed to be a quick hit and run mission. Clearly things aren’t shaping up to be that way. This is an ambush, we walked into a trap, but why? Why were they willing to sacrifice us so easily? What’s really the goal of this mission?

We move through following Faramund, who has truly become Creed’s dog at this point. He’s quickened our pace, no regard for any dangers we might face. Casey and I exchange glances occasionally. Silently disagreeing with the way Faramund is pushing us forward at such speeds. With no scout, we have no clue what awaits us.

“Get down,” Habeeb raises his voice.

I duck to the ground immediately. Casey is frozen, I snatch him down with me. A few seconds later a sharpened stone silently speeds through the location he was standing and impales itself hallway through a tree. A psionic attack, we wouldn’t have known what hit us if Habeeb hadn’t saved the day. At first, I don’t recognize how he saw that coming but then I notice a thin piece of line wrapped around Faramund’s ankle. That bastard stepped in a trap and almost got us killed.

“Team, we’re making a retreat,” I command as I stand.

“I’m in charge now. You heard, Com,” he doesn’t finish his sentence before my rifle butt is in his mouth.

“Keep him quiet,” I say the words and Habeeb acts. I knew I liked him. “This is Sergeant Gray. Private Faramund has been injured after falling victim to another trap. We’ll be making a retreat as the enemy seems to have us surrounded.”

“There’s a cave about one and a half klicks to the west of your location. We’ll meet you there,” Commander Creed responds without argument this time.

“You heard the man, let’s grab Eva and get out of here.”

“I’ll have you arrested for this. Creed will hear all about it,” Faramund starts to yell once free.

“Not if I break your jaw next time. Fall in line private,” I make sure he breaks eye contact first. “Let’s go.”

Xioshaa

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1.03 - Welcome to The Jungle

May 11, 2022 Darrell S.

Our Vaznian guide led us deep into the jungle through hidden trails. They weren’t marked or heavily used, but there were signs the area had been crossed through semi-frequently. Small chips of blueish-grey plants along the ground showed they had been cut before. I’m not sure what these vines are called but they grow incredibly thick. Our guide would cut through them, only to have them grow back behind us almost immediately after we had passed through the gap. Small animals roam the forest and stay clear of us, but I haven’t seen any large predators. Perhaps the strange plants keep them away.

The plant I find most interesting is a green plan that looks like an Earth dandelion. They cover entire stretches of land, but as we get near, they retreat below the surface leaving nothing but soft and mailable soil where they once were. It’s interesting that these flowers can not only break through soul, but sense when people or animals are coming near so they can hide. I’ve never been a huge fan of biology, but outside of our solar system, things can get interesting. Most of the planets colonized by humans have brought plants from Earth that grow in the terraformed areas now. Other species are much more willing to just live with nature, we seek to dominate it, same as everything else. I wish this was the type of travel I got to do when I first joined up.

“Equipment test,” Creed calls out as we reach a small clearing.

Our guide slowly vanishes into the slowly closing opening we arrived through. I’m sure a lot of people think about following him, but none of them do. Creed’s wrath, no the fear of Creed’s wrath, is a more frightening idea to them than anything we may face here.

I run through a few tests on my armor. I don’t care for the light models; they cling to your skin too tightly and don’t provide a ton of protection in a fire fight. Essentially, it forces you to move instead of sticking to a vantage point. Casey is the only person wearing the heavy armor besides Creed. Casey is probably terrified, but Creed might know something. He’s never given me a reason to distrust him before now, but I can’t shake the feeling every time I glance over at him. When we’re out here, everyone needs to trust each other or accept we might all die. I check the sights on my pistol and ensure I’ve got a full charge. My assault rifle of choice the PX-293 uses caseless ammunition and fires in bursts using electricity. I’d like one of the Ghuklll rifles that fires shards of shrapnel created by the gun, but we’re only allowed to choose from human created weapons. I suppose the benefit is that this one allows for different kind of ammunition; explosive, heat, electric and so on. It’s a gun nuts gun, that allows for endless customization, but I’m not a gun nut. I just prefer burst firing because I’m not the best shot under pressure. I know my weaknesses.

“We’re splitting into three squads. I’ll lead the first, Gray the second and the third goes with Fujino,” Creed starts to lay out the plan, projecting a map for us all to see. “We’ll split up from here, maintaining radio contact. Each group will move in triangle formation until we find our target. Radio in, wait for further instructions. Real simple. Any questions.”

“Should we expect enemy combatants,” Creed shoots me a dirty look for asking the obvious.

“No, this is a stealth mission. If you find a lookout, terminate without hesitation,” I guess that’s my answer.

I take Casey as my medic, Eva as my scout, then Haseeb and Faramund as my designated gunners. I didn’t necessarily choose Casey, more Creed thought he was a liability so he stuck him with me. The kid seems to be focused, but his eyes are vacant. I’ve seen those eyes before, someone who wants to abandon the mission and go AWOL; a one-way trip to desertion.

“Sergeant Gray, should I move out ahead,” Eva asks.

“First name basis in my squad. Stay out of sight, first sign of trouble let us know.”

“Yes sir.”

I use first names with my squads. It subconsciously makes them trust me, a dirty technique but one that isn’t employed often. Sometimes I have more trouble with discipline or respect than others, but it balances out at the end of the day. They’ll never betray me, and they’ll always be loyal. That’s why Casey wants to run, but won’t.

“Rest of you, remove your safety and let’s move out. Be careful of the local fauna and animals, for all we know they could be more dangerous than our mission.”

I remember my first mission, it was way different than this. My team was sent out to stop some so-called space pirates from raiding one of the human colonies. The location wasn’t as stunning as this, but the atmosphere was the same. An overbearing sense of dread and anxiety, despite everything going to plan. As we were wrapping things up and preparing to head out, a bomb went off, and then another, six in all. We had been so focused on shutting down the thieves that we didn’t notice a group of Ponarians had been planning a terrorist attack the entire time. They felt that humanity was expanding beyond what we had any right to do so. Despite our best efforts, the colony failed. After the attacks, nobody wanted to stay there. It was then that the Council for the Advancement of Humanity realized why the Ponarians were so feared. They would do anything, even die for their race, any of them. We know they live in hives, but scientist aren’t sure if they have a hive mind or not. If so, they’d be cutting off a toe to save the body.

I can’t banish the thought that we’re doing the same thing right now, cutting off a toe to save the body. Problem is, it isn’t our body. It’s the Vaznian people, and we don’t really know anything other than someone wants them to join the Galactic Federation. I didn’t see any sex crazed people in the city, but I didn’t see any religious nuts either. I wonder if there’s another reason for this civil war, that we’re not noticing because we’re outsiders. I don’t have time to ponder and philosophize on it. The foliage is getting thicker, and taking your mind off the mission is the fastest way to end up dead. I just don’t feel like getting dead yet.

Xioshaa

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1.02 - Puke

May 11, 2022 Darrell S.

Travel between star systems isn’t for the weak. Most people go their entire lives without ever having done it. I don’t know if I envy them for not having the experience or pity them for never seeing the beauty of other galaxies. I remember the first time I touched solid ground after landing in another system, I puked until I cried. Maybe I cried until I puked, could have been both at the same time. Now, it isn’t a big deal for me; some momentary lightheadedness and I’m good to go. Everyone else isn’t so lucky, most people adjust after a few times, others never do. Some of the younger guys are vomiting, and others are evacuating from the other end. All of them seem to find a way to hug the ground despite the embarrassment they’re experiencing. There’s really nothing to be ashamed of, Creed tells always tells the story about turning his fatigues brown his first time.

The Hafengdan are massive devices, some folks cause them gates. Ships pass through, and have the ability to move to other star systems. I don’t know how it works, science was never really my thing. A lot of other soldiers started calling them Bangbepunkt when I was first starting out. The words have the same meaning in the Revrell language but, Bangbepunkt is funnier. You hear the “bang,” as you arrive in another star system then you, “be punked,” as you try not to shoot all the fluid out of your body. After maybe the third time around, you’ll be just fine, at least I was. Supposedly the Revrell built them to expand their studies of the universe which is why they’re named in the Revrellian language. Other folks, think they found them, and God put them here for us to use. Then there’s people who think they were created by some ancient race that used to rule the universe. I had to repeat my science final twice in my last year of high school, so it isn’t for me to decide.

I’ve heard rumors of a human supremacist group developing their own alternative in hopes of spreading out to the far reaches of the galaxy and colonizing them, reaching places nobody has gone. So far just rumors, and way above my pay grade and way out of the mission scope. Tonight, we’re here to get a good night’s sleep and then we’re off to the jungle.

I’ve never been to Xioshaa before, but the first thing I notice is the heat. I read that the planet was hot across the surface, but this is ridiculous. I’m not sure how there’s anything here but deserts. Still, there’s oceans and most of the planet is covered with dense jungles of varying types. The average temperature at any given time here is 137 degrees, hotter in the deserts. Supposedly there’s an ocean that always boils and one that doesn’t despite the temperature. I guess that’s what happens when the sun never sets on a planet and it only takes nine hours to do a loop of the sun here.

My second thought, armor is going to be a pain in the ass; even with the temperature regulators. I usually go with heavy armor for the protection, but I’ll have to go with something light. Prioritize movement over armor for this one.

“Listen up,” Commander Creed calls us all over. “Synchronize your time, be at the hotel by 8pm. Enjoy the city, but remember that your lives are not your own.”

I always wanted to travel and see different planets, but most of what I see is just military outposts and combat zones. I have even seen most of the Solar System, and I was born there. I suppose retirement will offer a chance to do all of that stuff, but it is nice to have a day to explore things as they are now. The map on my wrist comp lets me know there’s an antique shop not too far from me. Most people have already moved to implants to replace phones, portable computers, translators and everything else. For some reason strapping the thin almost weightless piece of metal to my arm is preferable to a chip in my brain; no matter how safe and easy it is now. I’m just old fashioned and the watch and an earpiece has the ability to do anything the implant can do, but also the ability to project without some bonus feature requiring another implant in your wrist. If things aren’t broken, there’s no reason to fix them and don’t get any extra holes put in your body; good advice from my father that has served me well for 28 years.

“Hey soldier, looking for a good time,” a hand reaches out and grabs my forearm.

“No ma’am,” I respond to the Vaznian woman that reached out to me.

I’ve met a few Vaznians before, but looking at their skin always trips me out. From a distance it may not be noticeable but up close the slow but constant changing of various blues is hard to miss. Supposedly some can even camouflage like Earth Chameleons, but I haven’t seen that before. They’re almost human, biggest difference that’s spotted right away are skin color and the fingers. Their fingers are long, more mushroom shaped. All of them are psionics, although low on the power scale, they’re masters of controlling other people’s pleasure centers. It’s one of the reason sex tourism is so focused on their planets at the moment. The other reason, they can change gender at will. From what I’ve learned it started as an evolutionary trait to increase population growth. Not enough males, someone changes, too many males, same deal. It’s interesting how their society doesn’t have the gender roles and sexual hang-ups we as humans have. I should have finished that sociology degree.

“Would you like something, different,” the Vaznian asks.

“No, I’m just not interested,” I slowly remove their hand.

“I’ll be here, if you change your mind,” they wink at me.

Within a block I find myself inside the small antique shop. I’m always curious what kind of antiques each civilization has. Specifically, their older music. Vaznian music genres, don’t seem to be genres as I know them. Genres seem to be the same songs, played with different instruments. Not much percussion, but rhythmic woodwind sounds. It has a sensual, but primal vibe to it for sure. Cross referencing it with current trends shows that their music has remained much the same. The difference, being new genres, or instruments. It doesn’t sound bad with human electric guitars, but not what I’m looking for. It was a reach, but I was hoping for some old human equipment. I haven’t had much luck on travels, but I haven’t had the chance to get out much either.

I settle on a small lava globe as a souvenir. Most of the lava has hardened with time, but the small glasslike ball still remains warm to the touch and lava still flows through some of the trees inside. I wonder if that’s based on one of the forests around the planet. 389 credits isn’t a bad price for it, and it’ll look fine in my apartment.

Making my way back towards the hotel I stop for some street food; no matter where I go, street food is the best food. They’ll serve us food at the hotel, but generally it’s a mix of human cuisine based on whoever the cook is that day. Trying food from different places is, an experience. Sometimes the food is great. Today, Ustrato Tacos are on the menu.

This might be the best meat I’ve ever had, spiced just right, a lot of kick with a sweet taste to follow it up. It just melts in your mouth. It takes forever to lick my fingers clean, and I don’t care who sees me. It’s truly incredible. The perfect meat.

“First time huh,” the vendor asks me.

“Yes, how can you tell?”

“You’ve been standing by my cart licking your fingers for two hours.”

“What?”

“You humans don’t take well to our food,” they chuckle. “But you’re great for business.”

I didn’t intend to go on a drug trip, but I still have time to make it to the hotel. Even if my legs aren’t as strong as they were two hours ago. Along the way I pass what appears to be a bar with several of my comrades laid outside in a drunken stupor. As their superior, I would usually stop to reprimand them for drinking in their colors, but I don’t have time to stop them.

“Sergeant Gray, I got something to say to you,” Casey blocks my way, obviously drunk.

“Walk with me back to the hotel,” I walk past him.

“I’m afraid Sergeant,” he tells me.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to die.”

“We protect each other, there’s nothing to fear.”

“Bullets, psionics, poison leaves. I heard they got a tree here that’ll make it feel like your flesh is on fire for six years,” he shakes his head at the ground.

“So, what do you think you should do about it?”

“Run away,” he says bluntly.

“That’s the coward's way out. You haven’t even finished your first mission,” I use my strict voice with him.

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know. We show no mercy, because the world will show us none. If you run now, you’ll run your entire life because you’ll be ruled by fear. That’s no way to live.”

“Don’t let me die tomorrow Sergeant,” seemingly sober he walks into the hotel ahead of me.

“I won’t,” I call back as he enters the oval shaped building.

I can’t promise he won’t die with real certainty. Any mission can be your last one, nobody has to say it. I know this mission is probably more dangerous than Creed is making it out to be and that worries me.

Xioshaa

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