‘Ok. I reckon this is a drill, but lets act like it is real, ok?’ The unit nods, there is no doubt that, for now at least, Aeythi is their self-appointed leader. ‘This is what we do. Sergeant Ptrro went to the com-tent some time ago and has not returned. My conclusion would be, if this was real, that he’s receiving orders through the secret-secret command channels and should not be disturbed. We need to form a defensive perimeter around the tent.’
Looking at his friend-brothers, he points at two of them and begins giving orders. ‘Beta Group, you go with Tden and take Westward positions, Gamma you’re with Xjarni, take Eastward. Alphas, you will take point with me and Btontu in front of the tent. I need two sneak-scouts; Llio and Fguur, go to the high-highs and request a sit-rep and report back to me. Quick quick. Like I said, we treat this as the real thing – weapons hot.’
Rough around the edges as they are, each of the cadets sets about their tasks and takes up their positions. With barely a sound, two of the smallest pick up their light weapons and set off into the distance, their heads low. In the harsh light of the sun, bolt-metal glints reflect from the barrels of guns, locked and loaded in the boys’ hands. Without instruction half of each unit takes the forward defence, kneeling with rifles cocked and alert. Meanwhile the other half steady themselves, rooted to the ground so as to avoid being knocked off their feet by recoil should they have to open fire.
Overall, the whole procedure takes a total of 4 minutes and 48 seconds – a personal record for this company of recruits.
—
Half an hour comes and goes. Around them all, silence thickens. Still no word comes from the com-tent and it becomes increasingly apparent that there is no activity inside. If someone had heard the commotion they would have come out to investigate, surely. Someone would have checked on them. Aeythi and Btontu look at each other slowly.
‘Should… do I… do we… go in?’ Despite the authority he currently commands, Aeythi can feel panic on the periphery of his senses. He looks to the others for validation.
‘Y-yes? At this point it is worth the beating if we’re wrong.’
‘Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.’
With a deep breath Aeythi turns away from the defence-line and walks to the entrance of the tent. Only now does he smell something strange in the air. Something he can’t place. It is sweet, like floral syrup, but laced with an acridity that was like nothing he’d ever smelled before. He did not know that this was the smell of ozone. If he had he would not have even considered entering the tent.
A burst of static in an earpiece informs him that a message from Llio and Fguur is incoming. ‘Alpha leader – Sitrep from high-highs. All quiet. Too quiet. Tree movement continuing.’
‘Thank you, sneak-scout, – any word from command units?’
‘Negative. Proceed with caution Aeythi.’
‘Will do. Alpha Leader Out.’
Behind him Btontu shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. ‘Are we getting any backup? Should we wait?’
Aeythi sighs. ‘No. We do our duty. Form up!’
One by one the boys line up in order of rank and importance. Btontu takes his place at the rear to ensure that none of the others step out of line. Tentatively, they move forward and Aeythi reaches out to open the tent door.
Inside he sees carnage the likes of which will haunt his memories for many many cycles.
Blood. So much blood and gore beyond his most grim imaginings. On the walls are crimson splashes from the lacerated arteries of the com-tent personnel. One had even had her head severed completely from her body. At the back, two of them seemed to have tried to put up a fight, their corpses hold guns that still smoked from recent round discharge. The air, still laced with the odour of ozone, is filled with rank excrement and urine – the smell of death.
Aeythi fights hard not to add his own vomit to the stench.
How could this have happened? He asks himself. We were right there the whole time. We would have heard something, surely. Fuck! What do I do now?
With this a chilling realisation dawns upon him. Among the dead there is one body missing – the sergeant.
Suddenly the air around him begins to crackle. If he didn’t know better he could swear he felt a gentle breeze on his face. In the middle of the room, a dark circle begins to glow – seeming to defy all known laws of physics.
‘Oh boy…’ comes a voice from the blackness, ‘if only you’d stayed outside.’
From beyond the veil of the coms-tent entrance all that could be heard was the screams of his friends.
AHF Writes 