u/Green-Ad-9178

Chapter 5 - Nothing but the truth

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Lila Lee - United Nations Press Corps [standardized human time]: July 13, 2151

Between the sound of rain and the rancid smell, already something felt afoot as I entered the camp. Surrounded by an eleven foot tall barbed fence and dugouts at the base of the chainlink was a large camp. About twenty buildings with corrugated iron roofs which dripped water into shallow channels which fed into the dugouts and white plastery walls and around them a tent city sprawling around the more permanent constructions. It was where Arxur were kept, awaiting processing either offplanet or into the main basecamp. The gate to the site was flanked by two heavily armored men, who after explaining my authority, I would be allowed into the refugee camp. 

Entering I began to fumble with the translator at my belt. A metal box, a screen to adjust options and a set of buttons reminiscent of a calculator below, on the sides two stereos. It was a somewhat unwieldy piece of technology, about the size of a paperback book. Normally, that kind of technology would be relegated to centuries long past however on a planet like this, which had a rats chance in hell of getting connected to a server anywhere else. Having this thing with all the information and parts needed to translate, speak, store conversations and even decode just about any language with its localized ‘dumb’ AI. It was quite useful. We called them interpreters.

I looked around. The Arxur, scattered about the camp would look to me as well, conversations pausing whenever I passed the roaming guards eliciting a similar effect. Though, a new smell would drive me almost unconsciously to a specific point. Out of one of the tents, water falling from its sloped front was a food stand. Mystery meat skewered on metal poles jutting out of a large metal stove. A wooden sign hung from the top in the unfamiliar Arxur script, jagged with and bearing a surface level resemblance to the ancient mesopotamian scripts. One of the greys, a head taller than me, a bulky and strong build with grey scales, less rough than many of his counterparts I noted. His (I think) back was turned, he was doing something with a blade.

“Excuse me sir.” The equivalent in his own tongue would resound through the speaker of the interpreter.

The Arxur would pause. Turning his head slightly to acknowledge me.

“Can I help you?” He inquired. His voice was deep and rough like gravel.

“Yes actually. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?” I asked politely.

He let out a deep hum. “Very well then, you may.”

“Wonderful! Now, would you be comfortable stating your name?” I asked, friendly enough though not too friendly to be offputting. 

“Ajzark. Son of Wrassan.” He introduced himself simply.

“And are you native to this world?” I asked.

“No. But I used to be a part of the garrison on this planet.” He mentioned offhandedly. Turning to fully face me, as he crossed his arms over his chest I noted a prominent faded scar across his snout.

“Fascinating… Fascinating and this was under…?” I asked, trailing off.

“The collective, of course. Otherwise I’d be out there.” He said dryly. Eliciting a small, slightly forced chuckle from myself.

“Yes, of course. And a man of your skillset is running a kabab stand?” I inquired, trying to be funny.

“Well. I don't know what a ‘kabab’ is but if nothing else. It’s easier when you don’t have to fight for food.” He shrugged. I paused a second, thinking of my question.

“Fair enough.”

“I assume you're here awaiting processing, how long have you been waiting and for what?” I asked.

“Hm. A little personal, don’t you think?” He said skeptically.

“None of my other questions seemed to bother you?” I pressed slightly.

“Those didn't really matter. I don’t really trust you.” He said bluntly. Catching me off guard, a pang of indignation would cross me.

“Well, do you trust the camp then?” I said, recovering quickly

“I just don't trust them, or you. And I think that goes both ways, that's the problem here.” He said bluntly.

“Well if that's personal I understand. But, well, given your background, have you considered joining the auxiliary corp? I’ve heard it expedites the process.” I inquired. He did not respond immediately, instead making a humming noise as he mulled my words over.

“Maybe. I just don’t want to have the surgery. It… changes people.” He stated, his tone growing more careful.

“Would you care to elaborate?” I asked.

“I know someone who underwent it. A hunter named Kath, we were under the same command. When he left that clinic, it felt like a betrayal. He couldn't speak right anymore, he struck me as a stranger. I stopped seeing him after that.” He recalled, looking past me now.

–

I would continue roaming around the camp. I would pass an Arxur, lanky, leaned up against one of the white buildings. But about a second after I passed, they would speak up. 

“Hey.” His voice was rough, through in a different way then the rest of his kind. Like a lifetime smoker then a rumble.

“You're with the UN? I can tell by the colors.” I was hesitant to approach him. It was a cagey situation and his cadence didn't ease my mind either.

That being said. These kinds of situations always gave me something interesting.

“Er, yes I’m with the UN. United Nations press corps.” I nodded, turning around to face the man.

“Intresting. Why did you come here?” He asked.

“Well. I’m a war reporter.” I answered plainly. He snorted.

“Good. I’ve been looking for someone to lodge a complaint too. Powers been down all month.” He complained, a look of bemusement crossing my expression.

“Uh. I’d recommend lodging this towards one of the guards-” I began, but he would cut me off as he continued.

“I did. I even went past that to some of the officers. Said ‘we’ll look into it’ but I haven't seen any evidence of that yet.” He went on. It unnerved me a little bit. I decided to shift the topic.

“Well, I can't get the power back on. But would you be alright if I asked a few questions?” I asked politely.

He paused for a moment, shifting against the wall before answering.

“Yes. Shoot.” He nodded

“First could you state your name and-” I began, but he cut me off again.

“No, I will remain anonymous.” He said firmly. I had half the mind to argue with him on that. But I decided it wouldn't be worth the trouble

“Rude.”

“Alright then.” I began. “Since you seem so passionate about it, your thoughts on the state of the camp?” I asked.

“Awful. Crowded, you have the guards breathing down our necks. And I’ve been stuck here for a year now.” He complained. I would’ve remarked about the auxiliary thing but I decided he wasn't exactly auxiliary material.

“I.. see. And-” He would cut me off for a third time, much to my annoyance.

“And with all that. They come here, set this whole thing up around them and then haul us here because it is ‘not safe’ out there as if we started this. And besides, we don't need the greenbacks to save us. I saw a man get hauled away for voicing this ‘under suspicion’.” I supposed I understood his insistence on anonymity then. He pushed himself off the wall and I took a slight step back.

“I imagine there was a good reason for that.” I said, rather annoyed before I would disengage from the conversation. Walking away and looking around as if nothing happened. Probably a good idea, I didn't want tp get stuck with a heated Arxur.

As I passed the corner though, I saw on a bench an Arxur, small, presumably young. She(?) was alone. I hadn’t seen one of their hatchlings before and decided to approach.

–

“Excuse me?” I went up to her. She didn't seem to notice me, obviously ignoring me.

I placed down the interrupter. The dull thud of the metallic box against the wood bench finally got the hatchling to acknowledge my presence. She turned her head to the side, gazing up at me with an expression I had no chance of reading.

“Hello.” I smiled toothlessly. The girl barred her teeth in a scowl.

“What do you want?” She inquired, the box carrying across her annoyance.

“I just want to talk.” I answered, plopping down beside her on the dock.

“Where are you from?” I began.

“Why should I tell you?” She countered. Still, I wouldn't take the hint and continue. Reaching out an arm to place on her shoulder.

“I just want to help.” I offered in the most disarming tone I could muster. Though, she would reject me, swatting away my hand, and at risk of being scratched I pulled back.

“I’m from Wriss, is that enough for you?" She spat.

“I… see, I'm sorry to hear that.” I said, frowning.

Her shoulders untensed ever so slightly. Her nostrils flaring as she let out something between a huff and snort.

“There we go.”

“Thank you, but you still haven't answered my question.” The hatchling pressed.

“I just want to ask you some questions.” I answered softly.

“... Very well. You may.” She acquiesced, shifting to face me more.

“For starters, I’m Lila Lee, United Nations press corps. Can you tell me your name?” I asked, sweaty.

“Krazah. Daughter of Kresh.” She answered flatly.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Krazah.” I said, before pausing briefly as I formulated my next question.

“How do you like it here, at the camp?” I asked

“Crowded, don’t like sharing a bunk.” She answered flatly. I chuckled.

“Thats a sentiment many of you seem to have.” I observed dryly.

“Ah, anyways how old are you then?” I inquired.

“Thirteen.” She answered. Admittedly, I thought she was younger.

“A nice age.” I nodded along idly. Building up before I went into more touchy territory. I would fold my arms over my lap, adjusting to get a little more comfortable.

“And you said you grew up on Wriss. What was that like?” I asked. She did that huff again in what I now assumed to be some approximation of a shrug.

“It was home. What else can I say.” She answered

“And do you miss it?” I asked carefully. Krazah hesitated momentarily.

“Of course.” She nodded. Another pause as her gaze drifted off to the side.

“...I lost everything there. My home, my home, all gone. Everyone… well, except my parents.” She said, looking into the river.

“And how are they?” I asked, frowning slightly

“... I don't know, I've heard stories of people walking off into the woodlands and never coming back but… I- I don’t know. They just hopped on a boat and never came back.” She said, a hint of real emotion entering her voice.

“Do you know what happened to them?” I placed a hand on her shoulder, she didn’t brush me off this time.

“No, I've tried to ask but the camp doesn't know either.” She said gravely.

And while she said that, I nodded and listened. And all the while, a stray thought ran through my mind.

“I would make it here.”

(Hello everyone. First of all credit to Spacepaladin for NOP aswell as the documentary “Der lachende Mann” for inspiring this. I would just recommend the documentary as it is a magnificent piece of cold war journalism despite coming from the eastern bloc.)

(Normally, I don't put these preambles in but I feel the need to preface that all of this is a part of the wider Jungle Works fanfic. Which follows a slightly mentally disturbed young mercenary and a UN war reporter finding themselves in the middle of a guerrilla war conducted by an Arxur faction on the jungle world of Waska. As of writing this I'm only four parts in not counting things like this so it's new and so I am I. But if this is interesting to you I would recommend at least checking it out. I might be biased but I think it's alright. Anyways, shameless plug over.)

–

For the eyes of the General Secretariat of the United Nations only.

–

Dear Shaw.

To begin my report, I would like to go over our security status as several new developments have come out since I last reported to you. 

The situation on VP has shifted slightly. Disorganized cells of Neo-Federational terrorists remain a persistent challenge to the security forces of the Shasti government and our own peacekeepers, though this has been the state of affairs ever since the guild coup six years ago. Meanwhile, our bombing campaigns in the hinterlands have bore some fruit, allowing Shasti government forces to take control of several towns previously under the occupation of the SLF (Skalgan liberation front) along with affiliated Dialectical Herdist groups operating on the planet. Otherwise, the situation remains consistent.

Next is in regards to the quarantine zone. Publicly, or privately, almost all governments in the coalition have begun pulling resources from the intervention. Most notably the Yotul, our most significant ally in this endeavor, who have cut their support nearly in half after a dispute over the direction of the conflict. Several other reasons have been cited by other nations, but it is mostly boils down to the resurgence of anti-carnivorous sentiments along with Federation remnants proper taking bolder actions in more recent months that have prompted many states to pull their resources elsewhere. This is incredibly troubling on its own but especially given new intelligence from the quarantine zone has implied that some sort of United Front has been forming among remnants of the Collectives fleet and army which had previously fallen to warlordism after the attack on Wriss and death of Chief Hunter Isif. Lastly, Parabellum is confident they have been largely successful in containing the Raxite threat along with either the destruction or reclamation of several weapon systems previously handed over to them during Operation Cyclone that were thought to be lost to the jungle several years ago. Progress on tracking down the Kali Yuga has yet to materialize however.

The final thing of note I have for you is the recent German language expose which you have no doubt heard of by now, ‘SPOTTODROSSEL’ which did the waves on social media for an, frankly, unacceptable amount of time. We suspended it under the information sanitation act and is considered a part of the ongoing investigation into unlicensed media provider “Wir sind die Linken.” And their connections to the various ongoing student movements and even alleged connections to the SLF. As well as their frequent critique of United Nations policy. Especially in regards to the Super Language initiative, accusing the United Nations of “Neo Imperialism” and “cultural erasure”, along with critiquing our cooperation with certain ex-Federation assets as well as exposing the actions of a certain military contractor we cooperate with. All individuals identified to be involved with the project, have been imprisoned and are awaiting due process.

To conclude my report, I have attached the documentary at the bottom of this message assuming you may have been interested. For your convince, this is the dubbed English version. I will warn you, there are some disturbing images so I would hold this off till later if you just ate.

Yours truly

Chief of security, Mark Renn.

–

SPOTTODROSSEL

(The shot begins with a blue feathered Krakatol sitting down. He wore a grey shirt with several medals pinned to them along with shorts. The shot would then cut to focus on the avian face. It was Aden, in all his glory. Leaning back casually in the chair, one arm on the rest and the other holding up a lite cigarette between two talons. A narrator, deep voiced and monotone would proclaim “The following is an interview with the notorious Presil Adenyich, or more commonly known as ‘Waska Aden’ after the planet he operates on. Disguised as UN reporters, our brave journalists would conduct this interview under grave peril.”)

“You smoke?” The subtitle below read as the human man asked, the one presumably just behind the sight of the camera.

“Sometimes.” The avian shrugged, taking a puff from the tube.

“That is a very human habit, how did you pick that up?” Asked the journalist

“You get an appreciation for those sorts of things when living amongst your kind.” Aden explained. Lowering his forearm to rest on the chair. Seemingly only showing a modicum of interest in the conversation.

“Naturally naturally.” The journalist nodded offscreen before continuing with his questions.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but you were raised in Germany. How did that happen?” The man asked

“Well. I don't know if this is still a sore spot for your kin, but I came here as apart of the extermination fleet, under Kalsim.” Aden would raise his cigarette, taking another puff.

“And that would make you ah-” The journalist paused, doing the math before continuing.

“Around 13 at the time, correct?” Aden chuckled slightly, a gravely and unpleasant noise.

“12, but yes. I came as a part of the children's crusade.” He said, almost sardonically. “In hindsight thought I’m fairly certain we were going to be used as ‘bait’ for the professionals.” He waved his hand dismissively, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily.

“And what about before that? Any memories or moments you would like to touch on?” The journalist asked.

“Well. I spent alot of time around various temples, I cleaned them and that was my first work. My mother actually worked in the priesthood for quite some time.” Aden reminisced, opening his eyes again.

“Otherwise though it was a fairly average upbringing i’d say.” The bird shrugged.

“Anyways. We got dropped off on the planet and I was leading a group of about 14. It was my job to organize them into something resembling a fighting force.” He reminisced fondly.

“And how did that turn out?” Asked the reporter.

“Not very well. We marauded around the outskirts of Baden for some time before what was, I believe to be a combined operation between the police and local animal control herded us into a a park and before we knew it we were being pelted with darts and that sent us- well.” He gestured down with his hand, making a sort of swooshing noise.

“Anyways, that's how I met my surrogate parents.” He joked.

The journalist chuckled. “So, for clarification. Did you ever encounter anyone there?” He asked.

“No, no. We were completely harmless.” Aden Affirmed.

(The footage paused momentarily. The narrator speaking again as the screen cut to a picture of a local news site during the attack on Earth. “Once the battle of Earth died down. Local media would record the children's crusade. A young man on woman on a walk in the area were found dead in the area from las-rounds in the same timeframe they operated. However, any records of the case are unobtainable.” The footage would roll again with a click.)

“So your parents were in the police?” Asked the interviewer.

“Yes. My surrogate father was a regular that had actually took part in the operation. My surrogate mother was a criminal investigator. I was held in a sort of camp with the others, it was in the gymnasium of one of the local schools. The same one I would go to for my teenage years.” Aden explained evenly, raising his arm again to smoke.

“How were your teenage years anyhow? Did you face any backlash due to- well, you know.” The journalist's hand was visible as he gestured towards Aden.

“Of course, of course. The herd received alot of hate but I seemed to be a conduit for it. But that kind of harassment was mitigated when I stuck together with our herd. We did everything together. We took the same classes, ate in the same place, and walked together. I was still leading of course but it was a whole new world you know? Needed me more than ever.” Aden said as he waved his hand around slightly.

“Of course. Did you excel in any particular areas?” Prompted the interviewer.

“I enjoyed literature. Sports too.” Aden answered evenly.

“Which sport did you play?” Asked the journalist

“Football. The team were my only human friends, it helped aswell I was a good player, It was rough at first but once I got the hand of it people started to warm up to me. Especially after I won four games for that place.” Aden recalled fondly, looking up over the reporter slightly, his forearm dangling up with the cigarette.

(The footage paused again. The narrator cutting in. “Although we can find no evidence of him being as skilled as he claimed. A call to the school did confirm he was on the football team for most of his attendance.” The footage would then resume with a click.)

“And what about after graduation? It says here that you graduated from Stuttgart Police Academy?” The interviewer prompted.

“Yes, yes. I was the first non-human in that guild. I was even a sergeant for some time.” Aden noted with a hint of pride seeping into his tone.

“And how long did that last?” Asked the interviewer.

“A few years.” Aden nodded. “I decided to find a career elsewhere after an incident and left.” He elaborated, taking a drag from his cigarette.

(Another click and pause. “It is highly abnormal for any recruit to ascend to that rank in such a short period of time, though we have no evidence, the assumption can be made that his parents positions had something to do with his rapid ascension. As well, the incident that led to this was likely the Stuttgart metro incident of 2146. Local media from the time states that the ‘first Krakartol law officer was fired after misconduct allegations.’ discrediting his statements around leaving.” Then, a map would appear on screen of the metro. A red dot and several blue dots appear at various locations. “The incident in question occurred in a metro when a gunman took several hostages, the gunman was purportedly a member of Humanity First by local media though we cannot find the source that determined this. After the police failed to deescalate the situation, a frontal assault was conducted by the orders of an unnamed sergeant which led to three out of the four hostages dying.” The footage would then resume.)

“Then where did you go after that?” asked the journalist.

“I drifted around for a little bit. I attempted to join the peacekeepers however they denied me. However Parabellum had no such reservations.” Aden recalled fondly.

“What did that look like?” The interviewer asked.

“I first was deployed on VP as a part of the intervention.” He began, tapping a talon against the armrest.

“It was honestly a little refreshing after spending so much time on Earth. I forgot how.. How do I put this… strange the Venili are. Or I suppose they prefer to be called Skalgans now.” He waved his hand, somewhat dismissively.

“Would you care to elaborate on that?” Asked the journalist, a little skeptical.

“Of course. They have little in the way of culture you know? Back then and now they are like sponges for foreign ideas. First it was us coming in. Then your kin came in and did much the same. Now those three groups born out of that are fighting. It’s good stuff.” Aden explained casually.

The interviewer paused for a moment, a faint scribbling could be heard implying he was writing something down before he spoke up. “And do you have any particularly interesting stories?”

Aden chuckled again. “Just one. I had alot of difficulty adjusting to the rigors of combat until one night I was traveling with a convoy when three people, two humans and a venili came up on the road. They were waving at us but I don't remember if they said anything. Anyways- the man mounting the gun on the truck we were on just opened fire. And the Venili just-” Aden put his two hands together, clapping and making a clicking sound for emphasis. “Poofed, vanished into a cloud of red mist along with one of the humans legs. He shot a few more times and the other one scampered off.”

Aden paused momentarily, gesturing to himself.

“I sat there while the convoy howled with laughter and I didn't know what to do. I wanted to scream, tear my feathers and teeth out. It was horrible… but after that. I slept soundly. Life just… became easier after that.” He concluded plainly.

(The footage paused again. “We have no idea why he felt the compulsion to share that particular story”.)

(Fast forward 15 minutes.)

“So, after leaving VP. You went to the Waska?” Asked the reporter. Aden nodded.

“Yes, yes. I had a few years under my belt by then. I was put as second in command of the Ninth Air Cavalry under one Colonel Kilgore.” Aden paused momentary, his beak pursing together noticeably

“He died shortly after we got our task, hunting for the Kali Yuga. We were doing a typical run when suddenly the shuttle he was in was hit by a missile, heavens know where they got anything sophisticated enough to shoot it down. By the time we got to the scene, he was on the verge death, only surviving long enough to impart command onto me.” Aden recalled evenly. 

There was a brief pause, before the interviewer spoke before things could get properly tense.

“I see. I am sorry to hear that… but, what does the hunt look like now under your command?” Prompted the journalist.

“A typical day looks something like this. We return to camp around midnight. Refuel, rest, then pick it up in the morning. We board the shuttles and fly over, we have a few paths we take that go over a few villages and old urban areas, shoot at anything that moves.” He explained, his stance returning to something more casual as he learned back.

“It's kind of funny actually. I see something moving and I point it out to the gunner or he sees it himself and fires off a couple of rounds.” He made a clicking sound with his beak in some imitation of the gunfire.

“How would you say it, ‘It keeps them on their toes”, yes? Sends ‘em running back to their huts.” Aden said fondly.

“What if there are civilizations or they are otherwise unarmed?” Asked the journalist. Aden paused.

“Well for starters. There's no such thing as an unarmed Arxur. And second of all, civilians shouldn't be outside of the camps or maybe on the rivers.” Aden bristled.

“What about communities that refused to enter the camps?” Asked the interviewer.

Aden paused again, before answering: “Then they are not safe. But, if we did identify a civilian, we would never fire upon them.” He stated firmly.

(The footage paused. “On the way to the Ninth Air Cavalry's camp. We had identified two Arxur corpses on the road.” The screen changed to a photo.)

(In dim lighting and on the side of a red dirt road, flanked by the treeline were two Arxur carcasses. The first, darker scaled and large embracing a slightly smaller one with lighter grey scales. The larger one had their back blown open, fragments of bone and red flesh protruding from their spine, their face obscured by the second, their head was titled back and in frame of the camera. Their jaw hung open lamely and a large, golf ball sized hole in their temple clearly stated the method of which they died. Their eyes, dim and rolled back stared up into the sky. “No weapons or markings were found on them, only a few kilometers an empty boat was found by the riverbank.”)

“And. I suppose for my last question, and I’m sure you are asked this quite a bit but as the main advocate for hunting the Kali Yuga. How close do you feel you are to finally capturing them?” inquired the reporter.

“It could be months, years, maybe even tomorrow. But, make no mistake. He will be found, and he will be brought to justice.”

Chapter 4: Waska über alles

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Jackson Miller - Parabellum contractor [standardized human time]: July 12, 2151

I watched him descend from the gunship. The avian was a blue feathered thing. He wore a grey shirt that looked a little big, medals and a radio of some kind pinned onto it and a red beret attached firmly to his head along shorts which stuck to his hips. The Krakatol was flanked by two men dressed as I was, water rippling around them as his bare talons dug into the bog, one other man flanking him and another mounting the gun on the shuttle. I shifted slightly, Jazip, who was holding me up by my side grunted slightly in annoyance.

“I could've sworn I saw this man somewhere.”

I couldn't help but immediately feel a small amount of contempt rise within me. But, I suppose he did save my life. That, and I wasn't really in the position to be an ass right now.

He didn't address us immediately. I heard a few gunshots in the distance, probably men picking off anything they saw from their gunships or on the ground as the scanned the area. The Krakatol hunched over the corpse of an Arxur, face first in the mud.

“... They’re smaller from the sky. I always forget that.”

He remarked before standing again to address us.

“We heard the firefight in the air. Decided to check it out. I am Lieutenant Adyanich .Which one of you is the CO?”

He prompted us. Harper would step forward, gesturing to himself.

“Sargent Harper Leroy. Part of the reinforcements for the 2nd Air Mobile.”

Adyanich had glanced back to the Arxur corpse as Harper spoke, before back to the Sargent.
“So you were called in by Caster… interesting… I see you have one wounded with you. I’d recommend coming with us, unless you want to trudge through the jungle at this hour.”

“That would be great.”

Harper said evenly. 

“Very good.”

Adyanich would grab the radio on his chest, it pulling out attached to a wire going into his belt as he reached it up to his beak, turning away from us.

“Mach schnell! Mach Schnell! Get back to your shuttles we go back to camp!”

He let go of it and it pulled back into his chest, the wire tugging it back naturally as he turned around to climb on the shuttle. I looked away to Harper, eerily stone faced as he led us to climb onto the shuttle. It was us plus the gunner, the man who had flanked our avian savior and the pilot of course.

“So you're lifting us back to Roanoke then?”
Harper assumed, looking to Aden.

He didn't respond for a moment, before chuckling, it was rough and unpleasant sound.

“No. It would be easier to go back to camp. That, and I haven't been receiving the support I need. I’ve been denied it at that. And, if I may be so blunt, you owe me.”

He said presumptuously.

Harper paused, seemingly stunned for a moment before speaking again.

“I- sir I don't know if that's how it works.”

He protested slowly as the shuttle began to ascend off the ground again.

“Mm. Well, as the highest level officer in this immediate vicinity, I have decided you would be more useful here then with my… colleague over in Roanoke.”
He said, a noticeable degree of contempt slipping into his voice.

At this point, already in the air, I suppose Jackson gave up arguing that and Adyanich would turn his gaze to Jazip instead.

“Anyways, what happened down there?”

The lieutenant asked. 

“We got ambushed after we found an arms cache, sir.”

He answered simply.

“No- no. Why were you out there?”

The bird pressed.

“Well, we were inoculating a local village and one of the hatchlings ran off and-”

Jazip began. But the birds feathers bristled a little at that, letting out a dismissive scoff. Harper shifted uncomfortably.

“Really? That seems like a.. Waste.”

Adyanich commented.

“You could've lost someone if we didn't come along.”

He then looked at me.

“So what happened to you?”

He asked.

I paused. My throat was still exhausted, my body was cold and in general I was having a rather shit time. But, I managed and with a horse voice I would respond to him.

“I got… ambushed and nearly drowned in-”

I coughed, Jazips hand on my shoulder before I continued.

“-In the bog the guy was holding me down and-”

The lieutenant raised a hand. Cutting me off.
“Thats quite enough. Just get some rest.”

He said curtly.

“It won't be too long, but get comfortable.”

The lieutenant said calmly.

I looked to my side, my eyes fluttering and struggling to stay open. I saw Jazip there, he wasn't looking at me but his own equipment and I felt some close to guilt when I gazed at him. I couldn't quite articulate why, but I almost felt bad.

Almost, anyways.

Kath Speaker- Parabellum auxiliary [standardized human time]: July 12, 2151

“The bullshit piled up here so fast you’d need wings to stand above it.” 

I leaned against the bulkhead of the transport. My crossed as I looked over the crew composition. My eyes landed first on Jazip… fine enough I suppose, then again fine enough is astounding here. Next was Harper.

“Almost got us killed.”

I hadn't known him for long either but I already had a bad feeling about him. He was sitting quietly on the far end of the other bench. His eyes drifting between the sky and the young man he had almost gotten killed.

Jackson

He struck me as odd. After several years of living among his kind, I could say he would strike his own kin as odd. Right now he was barely awake, staring blankly in my general direction as his eyes struggled to stay floating. Weirdly hostile towards his own kind but oddly curiously about me. Why? I had only the faintest idea.

“You speak their tongue?”

It is Krakatol. My head adjusted slightly to half look at him. He was staring me down, his gaze intense which confused and unnerved me slightly. But I brushed that aside and turned to fully face him.

“Correct, and don’t you?”

The avian chuckled.

“I do. Two of them. AND I don’t butcher it either.”

He responded almost teasingly as he leaned back, his gaze shifting to something more natural and self assured. I hummed.

“Your point?”

I asked, a guttural and annoyed undertone passing through.

“Well, look around you.”

He gestured broadly.

“All of this is my domain.”

He would tap the man next to him on the thigh, the soldier looking out to the canopy, seemingly unbothered but shifting his leg slightly.

“All these men, these war machines, even these languages I have mastered. I had no need for an implant or any sort of special training anyone here would need. No need for… sacrifices. I am a natural part of this operation.”

He said blatantly.

“My point is, why are you here?”

Aden asked, his self assured tone becoming blunted as he spoke.

I hesitated. I had experienced this treatment before, from the men at the camp and from my own kin for these exact reasons but I had never been talked to like this from someone this far up the chain of command. I bit my tongue and spoke.

“To make something of myself.”

I answered.

“And what did you leave behind?”

He prompted.

It felt like a punch to a snout. I hesitated again, uncrossing my arms and leaning forward a little. I deepened my voice a touch attempting to get him to end this conversation quicker but he seemed annoyingly unreceptive to my natural aura. Most prey-creatures like him and even many humans were naturally intimidated by us.

“This prey has teeth.”

“Nothing. I only had to gain.”

It was true. In a place like and after… well-

“You can only go up. And that's all that matters.”

“And what about your people? Family? Friends?”

He asked plainly, gesturing to me lazily.

…

“I wouldn't have needed to do this if-”

I cut myself off. If things like him, or the mercenaries had never come. I would've had things, people to lose. 

He was silent a moment, seeing if I would continue and when I did not he let out a roll of clicks that I assumed was satisfaction.

“I could tell. Though, that kind of desperation, it's dangerous.”

The bird said simply. It was a sentiment I had heard before, but it carried infinitely more weight when a man like him said it. 

I took a moment to glare at him, before I turned my head to the sky.

“I’ll have my eye on you, monster, nothing escapes my gaze, not from up here.”

The rest of the ride was silent until we would, hours later touch down in a small camp.

The hunt for the Kali Yuga

Published 8/13/51

Lila Lee Jr 

War correspondent

Called Idenish by the local population. He has gained a new nickname from peacekeepers stationed on the planet, Kali Yuga.

The hunt began long before coalition intervention in the ongoing Arxur civil war. The warlord was identified as the main figurehead of the Raxite terror group and was credited with the infamous attack on Wriss. Originally, he is believed to have died after a counter-terrorist operation conducted by the Collective several years ago. But the declaration of their death appeared to have no visible effect on the Raxites and after coalition forces entered the quarantine zone, it was believed that they had taken shelter in the dense jungles of the Waska.

Following the collations touch-down on the planet. Among their most critical objectives was the capture, or killing of Kali Yuga. Although progress has been sluggish, one man has been non-stop pursuing the terrorist since making landfall on the planet. A Kraktol Lieutenant Presel Adyanich Commander of the Ninth Air-Calvary Division, or more affectionately known to his men as “Waska Aden” which rolled better off the tongue for his majority human force.

Speaking over a video call with the lieutenant, I had managed to take time out of his very busy schedule and ask him several questions about his operation.

“Someones got to do it. Many are more willing to stand by and fortify and those many have forgotten why we came here. To put down this menace.”

He told me, speaking through a translator.

When prompted on why they had yet to find the Kali Yuga, he would bristle slightly and tell me:

“Despite our best efforts. Not too many people care about my work. And that's the problem, however, I know many good people in the coalition making this struggle more well known and I am hopeful we will receive more support soon. More people need to know about this.”

His calls were not without controversy however. Although Earth and Talsk were the only two member states to send troops. Many other states would support the expedition either financially or with material aid, but as the intervention drags on many backers are beginning to reconsider their involvement. The operation had never been without controversy, from slow progress to certain parties alleged* sapient rights absues along with the increasing involvement of private military contractors such as Adyanich’s employer, Parabellium. But such a withdrawal would be extremely dangerous for both the Arxur people and the rest of the civilized galaxy and as such we cannot condone such extreme sentiments.

Another point of controversy is Adyanich himself. A questionable documentary was filmed where, under false pretenses, Adyanich would be interviewed and the footage and his statements manipulated to make him look poor. It brought to light his previous service in the Federations military, alleged he had committed sentient rights abuses on Waska, and even served in an extermination fleet. After the documentary gained traction the company would face immense backlash. However, my worries would be put to rest after meeting the man. 

“It’s ridiculous. I did hold rank, but these accusations are completely baseless. I did hold rank in the Alliance military but any accusations of war crimes are dumb. Besides, people change and we didn't know any better, just following orders, and now we do know better. Certain people need to put that aside and recognize the evil we are all facing here.”

He told me. And seemingly the United Nations would agree, after a three week investigation concluded that neither Parabellium nor Adyanich were guilty of any crime moral or legal. Clearing his name.

Ultimately we here at the Press Corps wish the best of luck to Waska Aden and hope he will receive the support he needs to continue the hunt of the Kali Yuga.

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First - Previous - Next

Chapter three: From the barrel of a gun

Lila Lee - United Nations Press Corps [standardized human time]: July 12, 2151

“-And that should be a wrap, then.”

I announced. The room around me was apart of the wider command center of the camp. AKA: A prefabbed metal box lit by a white sterile light with a round table, six chairs but only two in them. Me, on the right side, with a clipboard and pen. The other end Caster, leaning back casually.

“I suppose it is then. Any more questions you have miss?”
He asked, offering a small smile

“No, not on the record anyways…”

I answered inquiringly.

“Shoot.”

He prompted.

“Well, for starters, how did you end up here?”

I asked. He sighed slightly, leaning back.

“I served in the expeditionary force for quite some time. Since the cradle as a field officer actually.”

Caster explained casually.

I blinked.

“You were on the cradle?”

“Oh yes. Horrible, but it taught me a lot of things that came in useful here.”

He elaborated, before waving his hand and continuing.

“Anyways, It was about six years back. It wasn't anything big or dramatic, no limbs lost, no tragic accident. I guess my career after so many years of hard and loyal service wasn't progressing fast enough for my tastes. I saw men around me though, for half the work and time rise above me. Do you know how it feels to end up being outranked by someone who didn't know Earth existed until a few years ago? So, I guess I looked elsewhere and got approached by Parabellum. It was a good deal. Better pay, proper recognition and less red tape then the UN wrapped you in.”

He reminisced fondly.

“Okay, sounds… fair enough. But another question I had was about the Raxites. You are familiar, correct?”

I asked evenly.

He nodded.
“Somewhat.”

“Do you know who leads them?”

I asked, he paused at that.

“They- the men that is, many call him ‘Kali Yuga’.”
He recalled. I blinked.

“Whats that?

I asked.

“Some… mysticism stuff, I don’t know, I didn't come up with it.”

He said evenly.

“What about their ideology? -”

He raised a hand, cutting me off.

“I can't say. I only know what you know. Have you tried asking the greys?”

He said with a slight frown.

“Well, I asked around the camp, but they can't give me a straight answer either. But when I asked about them, they were described as a fringe group before all this and that's about it.”

I paused.

“Do we know how they deal with their occupied territories? People under their rule?”

I asked.

“Well, they don’t really occupy per say, they… mm, decimate wherever they go, entire villages and cities gone. We think they have vast tunnel systems… somewhere on this planet, some subterranean fortress but we have yet to identify any significant stronghold. We have found smaller tunnel systems though.”

He answered.

“How do you deal with them?”

I asked.

“Expolsives.”

He answered with a shrug..

“Like, a bunker buster?”

I asked

“No- well sometimes we have those but busting open random ratholes is a waste of the companies dollar. The standard procedure is if you find one of the rat holes, you make sure the area is clear or if their are any more entrances, then cave in the front.”

He explained.

“So… we just trap them down there?”

I asked. For a moment, the thought of being caved in, buried alive flashed through my mind before I pushed it out.

“Ideally. But rarely is there just one entrance, it's preferable to go in directly, you can cause a more guaranteed collapse that way. We used to send in men with flamethrowers to try and clear out the tunnels but- well, you know.”

He said, hesitating a little near the end.

“No I don't really.”

I pressed.

“About a 60% mortality rate.”

Huh? 

“I’m no soldier, but that seems like their ideal environment?”

I asked, puzzled.

“Well, after several centuries of dealing with flamethrowers they’ve gotten quite good at it. Despite what you might think from the feds' religious use of them, the Greys are surprisingly retardant. They leave traps. Again, multiple entrances so you’d need guys on each one if you can even find all of them. And it doesn't stop the greys from shooting back, exiting and then hitting form behind, or just moving back in after the fact. Look- it works, it is the textbook environment for it. But the point is flamethrowers are better used in clearing the jungle in my experience.”

He explained patiently.

“Though, many of my colleagues don't see it this way. Theirs one who operates not too far from here who lives for incendiaries… But that's not much of a surprise given his background.

I made a metal note to ask him about that later. 

“And what do they use as weapons?”

I asked

“Old dominion surplus, stolen or scavenged stuff they got from us, stuff they made themselves. We have some pieces I could show you later.”

He offered lazily.

“Okay, so they don’t work with much?”
He nodded

 

“Not really, no. A pretty crude people all things considered.”

He confirmed.

“So how did they get the bomb then?”

He momentarily paused at that.

“Well, they didn't make it if that's what you're asking. They probably stole one if I had to guess.”

He said carefully.

"Well, when I was asking around the camp. Most of the Arxur didn't even know about them prior to the attacks and those who did made them about to be even too radical for the loyalists to work with comfortably, some sort of death cult… I just wonder how they could acquire the weapons in the first place, much less carry out the attacks.”

I thought out loud.

“One wonders.”

Caster responded cooly. He opened his mouth but nothing came out for a few moments before, with great care, speaking slowly.

“You're neither the first nor last to ask that question. But, most fail to understand just how much damage even a small, but coordinated group can do in this era of ours we have a million and one ways to utterly annihilate an entire world of people. Excluding antimatter or nuclear weapons, a single hijacked ship, modified to slam into a planet at relativistic speeds, or an asteroid just slightly nudged out of its orbit could cause an extinction level event. And back to antimatter, the way we travel practically, Warp Drives, basically shits out a trail of the stuff by the pounds scattered across space. Pounds, Lee… pounds of the stuff. Just waiting to be collected by anyone with the means.”

He paused. Pinching two fingers together.

“A single gram is enough to rival the first atom bombs we ever dropped. It’s insane, and it just sits there waiting to be collected. The only thing holding back bad actors from taking advantage of any of this is the walls we have put up. That's why we are here, to put up these walls, man them, and if need be, die for them.”
Caster explained calmly. Folding his hands in his lap.

“I wasn't questioning why we were here. I just suppose then why not use the bomb all the time? Go around these walls all together, why don't they use the bomb all the time?”

I asked tentatively. A slightly bemused smirk crossed his lips.

“We do, in space atleast, but again, they don’t have the capacity to produce them… but, if you mean on the ground… Tell me. Have you ever read Starship Troopers Lee?”

He asked suddenly

“Uh… no?”

I felt like I should’ve, even if I had no clue what he was talking about.

“I can’t blame you, it's a very old book. But at some point in it, the main character asked more or less the same question in regards to neutron bombs. Why not just fire and forget? And I have more or less the same answer as he got. Because war is a tool. You use it when other tools, like diplomacy or the markets don't fit the job. And it is used for the same purposes as those things, to get someone to do something, give something, or stop doing something. It’s a proportional response, you wouldn’t nuke a, say, a cockroach would you? We have bugspray for that, you wouldn't impose tariffs on a hornets nest either. And in that same way you wouldn’t nuke some cultists hiding in the woods nor would you just let them be. It would be easier to just glass this planet and be done with it, but with that, we create a million more problems then we started with. What kind of precedent does that set?”

“But the Raxites, they obviously don’t see it this way… I guess, if they dont see it this way, do those rules really exist? Or could we have used other tools?”

I asked. I think the suggestion surprised him as well as me.

“You're correct.”

He began matter of factly..

“They don't. The truth is many in this galaxy aren't willing to accept those terms, or reason in general. You CAN just put your fingers in your ears when you get called to the Hague, you CAN ignore the markets, you can glass a whole planet of people for any reason you want, it doesn't matter why the end is the same. It doesn't matter if it's ‘logical’ or not, hell it doesn't even matter if it even works. Really you can do anything, believe anything you want no matter how deluded it is because life doesn't have guardrails to prevent you from making dumb decisions. Only consequences for when it falls through.”

He said, his voice a little quick and a little above his usual tone of cordiality before he calmed himself, taking a breath as he continued.

“But anyone, down to the dumbest animal can understand a rock being thrown at them and will be FORCED to act. And sometimes, that’s all they can do. So then, when someone only understands strength then the last tool you would have left is violence, the only universal language. The only real difference between us and them is our sense of proportionality and the tools we are capable of using, without emotion and with all considerations in mind.”

He then leaned forward, jabbing a finger in my direction. Speaking slowly and firmly.

“And THAT, that is our mandate, it is the reason we get to decide who lives and dies, here, and anywhere else we are.”

He concluded flatly. Before again, leaning back, offering a small disarming smile. Almost like flicking a switch, the tension in my shoulders dissipating a little.

“You don't have to take notes on that though. I didn’t come up with this, wiser men did and if nothing else, it's the men in Geneva who make this happen.”

He chuckled.

“I would imagine so.”

I nodded dumbly.

“Anyways, didn't mean to go off on you like that, just… well, you know. It's a tight ship here. Consider it as a welcome to Ronake. Though, as a friendly piece of advice, I would recommend being careful when researching them. Its a dangerous thing.”

He stood up, dusting off his waist with one hand.

“A sleeping arrangement has been set up for you by the barracks, there's someone who will take you there. I never asked how long you were planning on staying?"

He inquired.

“Mm, maybe a few days?”

I suggested.

“That would be fine. I’ll be seeing you around, Ms Lee.”

He left the room, the door sliding shut automatically behind. I was left sitting there, my chest feeling a little heavier than normal.

Jackson Miller - Parabellum contractor [standardized human time]: July 12, 2151

“So… how do you even find the vein?"

I asked, holding the thin, rough arm in my hands

Next to me was Kath, and in front of me an Arxur hatchling sitting by the fire, couldn't be any older than ten if I had to guess. My hand was a little shaky as I held the needle. I had no experience injecting humans with anything, much less an Arxur.

“Here just-let go a second.”

Kath sounded almost exasperated. He brushed aside my hand, grabbing the arm of the child and applying a liberal amount of alcohol to a spot on the back of arm, near where the joint was connecting it to the hatchlings chest.

“They don't exactly pop out. But I'll point it out for you, where I applied the alcohol, that's the best vein for this.”

The needle was large, the metallic tip glinting in the light of the fire. It was starting to get late out, the sun setting over the horizon. It had been a long day.

“Don't be shy now, he’s waiting.”

Kath remarked. More accurately, the hatchling appeared to be glaring at Kath. I wasn’t too familiar with the intricacies of Arxur body language but if I had to guess what those narrowed slits meant, I couldn't imagine the boy was friendly to him.

Grimicing, I plunged the needle into a softer part of the scales, between two large ridges. The hatchling grunted, his opposite hand shooting out to his forearm. Holding his wrist as I injected the fluid, I couldn't remember what Harper said it was.

“Thats good, stop.”

Kath said firmly, I pulled it out carefully, the child stumbled back slightly, but did not break eye contact with Kath who appeared to be locked in some sort of intense staring contest with the boy. I looked at him puzzled as the boy scampered off. Remarking something I couldn't catch.

“What was that?

I asked

“What was what?

He raised the ridge above his eye.

“I mean, what did he say?”

I elaborated

Kath huffed slightly.

“Something obscene. They don't like me so much.”

I blinked

“Why not?”

He hesitated a moment, his arms shifting over his chest.

“It’s the language thing. I gain the facilities to speak your tongue, but it… well, butchers my own voice. They don’t like that.”

He explained evenly. I frowned, some part of me disappointed at that.

“Why-“

I began.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

He remarked curtly. Just then, Harper approached us, Jazip behind him busy administering the shots.

“Alright folks, that should be everyone accounted for.”

Harper said, wiping his temple off with the back of his hand.

“Not quite.”

Kath remarked. Just as, an Arxur, whom had been identified by Kath as the local leader of the village approached us. He began speaking to Kath in his tongue, gesturing out to the woodlands before Kath nodded and turned to us.

“Well, what did he say?”

Harper asked.

“There's a hatchling who ran off when we got here. He wants us to go find her. Personally-”

He tried to offer his own input, but Harper raised a hand and spoke.

“Make sure your contacts are working for this, we might be out for awhile.”

Harper said, hoisting up his rifle. Kath paused.

“Are you sure-”

He asked.

“Absoutly, I don't know how, but tell him we’ll come back with that little girl by sunrise.”

—

The light dimmed around us as we went on the trail. The moment I did so a sensation, at once new and nearly overwhelming gripped against my chest. A mix of primordial fear and grounded caution. They taught you how to deal with that, hesitation, fear, terror in all of its forms. But this-

Single file, we stepped along the dirt path flanked by the thick vegetation of the treeline. The jungle was noisy, the noises of tens if not hundreds of animals merging into one ambiance not too dissimilar to one you would find in the jungles of Earth, not to similar the ones I occasionally went through as a child.

“This is highly unadvisable, you know.”

Kath remarked. Looking side to side as he led us down the path.

“The hatchling could’ve crawled through any of the breaks in the treeline. Those people know the terrain better than us. This path could very easily be trapped or they could’ve set us up.”

He continued

“Its a good chance to ingratiate ourselves with the locals. They probably just don’t want to encounter any Raxites.”
Harper remarked.

I was uneasy as I peered into the jungle around us, everything not immediately adjacent to the trail was obscured by the shadow of the foliage and monolithic canopy. I was right at the back of the group, behind Jazip who was in turn behind Kath.

“And that you couldn't yet the hatchling go?”

Kath accused.

“Maybe that as well.”

Harper verbally shrugged.

“So you would risk our lives for the life of one then? It seems like an… imbalanced decision.” 

Kath questioned.

“The kid didn't know any better-”

Harper said

“They absolutely should've, given where they are now.”

Kath snapped. Harper paused a moment.

“Well, still, this is what we signed up for.”

Harper said evenly.

“Aye. Even if it isn't what we normally do, I can't really oppose it.”

Jazip remarked in moderate agreement.

The team was silent for a few moments, I was only accompanied by the sounds and rustle of the jungle for a moment until Kath drew in a breath and spoke.

“You know you don't seem like the usual type I deal with from your company. Why are you here?”

He asked towards Harper.

“Well, I served in the expeditionaries for some time until I took a piece of shrapnel to the knee… and the spine. The knee was fine, but I almost got paralyzed. It didnt get that bad but It scrambled my nerve system, I got discharged and I drifted around awhile. I couldn't get a ‘good’ job, I didn't have the qualifications and I couldn't do most kinds of labour. Until I found work with Parabellum. They would pay for treatment and I would take up a contract and onboard for the next ten years.”

Harper recounted casually.

“I’m eight in now. And I ain't stopping now.”

He resolved.

“What about you then Kath?”

Harper asked calmly.

“Well. In a place like that, it is the best work you can get if you get the surgery. You get benefits and things not everyone else can count on.”

Kath explained plainly

“So it’s that bad in there?”

Jazip asked curiously.

“No. No one's starving at least. But you still gotta find work there, and there's only more people coming in so it gets… competitive. You can haul stuff around, do service, try and get some work with Parabellium or turn to… more desperate things to make ends meet.”

Kath elaborated.

“Why not join up as a soldier?”

I asked dumbly.

“Against company policy. It would be a bridge too far for our benefactors.”

Kath said.

“Seems about right.”

I remarked.

“You have a problem with the UN?”

Jazip asked.

The feeling was very much mutual between me and the authorities. Hence why I was here.

“Yeah, I do.”
I responded flatly.

“So a punk and a bigot. Got it.”
Jazip noted with some amusement. Even getting a chuckle from Harper.

“You like them or something?”

I asked quickly, frustration building in my temple from the remark.

“Don’t really see the problem, they’re alright.”

He shrugged.

“Of course you didn't, they changed so you wouldn't.”

I was about to say something to that effect when Harper raised his hand, the column halting. The air was still, silent.

“We got a clearing here, come up on me.”

He ordered us to follow him into wetlands clearing, pools of shallow water, covered by a blanket of green scum and the body broken up by withered looking trees and muddy banks. It was almost completely dark out now.

“Turn on your lights, fan and out and see if we can find anything here.”
Harper commanded. We did, I pressed my finger against the commlink under my ear and at once a green haze engulfed my vision. It took me a few moments to adjust before my vision cleared and then I could see as if it was day and then some. Looking around, I saw Jazips contacts flashing like an animal caught in headlights. 

“It was about the only thing cool to come out of this war.”

We fanned out, raising our rifles and sweeping through the bog, boots splashing against water was the only noise I registered now. It was… strange, that feeling of primitive fear never quite left me. But it had begun to intensify, I felt watched.

“Then again, I had since I got off the boat.”

“Here! Everyone, come take a look, think I found something.”

Jazip called us. We all converged on something. Instead of a little girl however, he had found, carved into the trunk of a rotten tree a hole. In it was a tarp, he pulled aside and came face to face with several rifles, a box filled with bullets and cartridges and what looked like plastic explosives.

“What is this doing-”

I asked, before cutting myself off.

“It's an arms cache. Looks like they were prepping something.”

Kath remarked, before looking to Harper.

“Looks like this wasn't a complete waste of time.”

He acknowledged with a curt nod.

“Well, high praise from you I suppose.”

Harper chuckled, before turning to Jazip.

‘

“Call this in. We need some guys to come down here and confiscate this. And backup, they appear to be operating in this area.”

Harper commanded

“No shit.”

 “What about the girl?”

I asked.

“We’ll keep looking, but-”

Harper paused,

“We can’t stay out here forever, and if we can’t find her.”

He paused again, before brushing the thought aside.

“I’m sure her village can find her if we can’t.”

He said. Before turning away to gaze into the woodlands. The turn of his head leaving a momentary trail of light to my view.

Jazip retrieved a walkie talkie from his belt, grabbing it and hoisting it up to his mouth as he called in the cache. Kath and Harper had begun to talk about our next course of action, but I gazed off again into the jungle.

I don't know why. I suppose it was natural, I don't know what was in there, so I didn't take my eyes off it. The way the leaves shifted in the wind, the way the rising moon shifted shadows in the dark and the slight rustling of animals under the brush did nothing to calm my imagination. I could've sworn I saw a faint red glint.

…

It would probably be an animal, anyways. But still I wasn't in the mood to take chances. I approached the bank, rifle ready as I reached out a tentative hand into a bush to brush aside the leaves. There was nothing but more brush, whatever was there probably scurried off. Still, I continued to enter the brush. I noticed a sort of humming sound, distant, like a humm of a grav engine or something.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Harper called out.

“Just checking something sarge!”

I called back, he paused.

“Carry on.”

He dismissed before going back to his conversation with Harper. I would go a little deeper, my hand moving to clear aside more foliage when I hit something hard, rough like dry skin-

As I did that, my chin was struck with the blunt end of something as I was knocked back on my ass, my rifle knocked mere feet from the bank. My shout had alerted the group, but calls of “ambush!” cried out as the crack and faint flash of gunfire tore through the air. I would jump back up to my feat, my hand going to my belt as an Arxur left the trees.

They were tall, almost gaunt. Covered in mud and a sort of green paste like grass stains against denim. They carried what I thought was a stick for a second but was a long rifle. Their eyes flashed as they moved, quickly attempting to drive the butt of the gun into me but I dashed to the side, drawing my combat knife.

“FUCK”

I was decent with a knife, but that was in school fights not with… well, even with the training I felt outmatched. But adrenaline would take over. They swung their free arm at me in a sweeping motion and I raised my forearms to block the blow.

My bones rattled as they clashed against my arms, I was knocked onto my backfoot, my arms to the side as I narrowly avoided another blow. It had dropped its rifle, opting to swing at me with their claws, I raised an arm and a searing sensation overtook it as claws cut through flesh and thin fatigues. I grunted, reaching my handgun and drawing with one hand. Managing to fire off a few shots which tore through floria before they lunged forward tackling me to the ground and past the banks, landing with a splash in the bog. Gunfire, shouting, and that distant hum growing ever closer.

I gasped as the cold water hit my back. My hands scrambling, kicking, shouting and hitting against its hide as I felt it, with a punishing grip hold onto one of my wrists, the other one grabbed me, their palm splaying across my face before I was plunged into the shallow waters.

–

My mouth opened as I gasped again. A very bad idea as I felt water rush into my mouth and down my throat in a painful sensation. It was thick, foul and mixed with the green scum which tickled against my throat like a leaf in broth as it filled up with liquid. Trying not to swallow but the pressure of the rushing water forcing it down. 

I was screaming, the hardest I had ever screamed in my life, though no one could hear it, only as bubbles that rose to the surface of the water, popping and releasing my agony as my hands grabbed the arm holding me down. The faint heat coming through their rough scales felt searing against my temple. I tried to wrench it off with all of my might but they would simply not yield. My body around thrashing in the water, but, I was beginning to falter as I felt copper mix in with the foul taste.

“Drowning in less then a foot of water, glory glory, what a hell of a way to die.”

It was strange. A sort of juxtaposition between my head, which wanted to just end it no matter what, or that I had already lost. And my body, which struggled and raged against this. Through the misty haze of the water I could faintly see its eyes, flashing in the dark. That same sensation I had felt on the boat overtook me despite everything. My contacts were flashing, my vision growing dark around the edges as my screams turned to a gurgling, but before I slipped from consciousness. I could faintly hear through the water a hammering noise and suddenly the grip went slack, their weight tumbling onto me.

–

I would lunge up, doing a hard inhale before throwing up a little bit of the water. Almost choking between trying to breath in and throw up the water, my hands going to my throat as if it would soothe the sore coppery feel as my vision cleared. 

My opponent laid dead in the water, blood pooling from deep holes in their back. Staining the water with a growing red cloud. All around me was thumping and it came from above, when I looked, the search lights and loud humming of a shuttle- no, several hoovered above us. I saw the group stop their fire, turning their gaze upwards as the familiar sound of 50. Cals, golden bullet streams piercing the canopy all around us drowning out any other fire.

I think it was Harper who was cheering and hazily I saw a figure approach me. 

“Come on man I’ve had worse hangovers that this, you'll walk it off.”

Jazip pulled me to my feet, and at that I began properly puking my guts out. A waterfall of bogfluid returned to sender as I gripped my stomach. Pushing against it, a hand on my back. It took me about a minute or two to finish, I could still hear the suppressing fire. Finally, as my fit of regurgitation finished I heard the humming get closer and then evident. As, with Jazip's help I rejoined the main body of the group. A shuttle was landing, hoovering just above the ground creating ripples in the water.

It was a green painted shuttle, more or less a box with two wings which curled near the tip, underneath auxiliary engines and wires. The door was closed, there was an insignia painted on, a skull engulfed in flames, underneath it written “Ninth Air Cavalry Division. And over the skull. “Death From Above!” The door parted and flanked by four pairs of boots, I heard the click-clack of talons against metal. 

The children of Wriss.                                  

Published 8/5/51

Lila Lee Jr                                                    

War correspondent

“I lost everything, my family, my home, my world. All gone.” Said Krazah, a young Arxur girl speaking through an interpreter. Today is her 13th birthday and 2nd year in the camp. Her story was by no means unique to the inhabitants of the Roanoke tent city, and neither is her dream. Moving to Earth. 

Prior to the terror attack on Wriss, when members of the enigmatic group known as “The Raxite Circle” would take advantage over the confusion born from the widespread breakdown of civil order in the Dominion, acquiring antimatter weapons through unknown means and detonating them in major urban and industrial areas of Wriss. Homeworld of the Arxur.

“I was so confused, a slight tremor but then I found out it came from the other side of the planet. I realized then the scale of it all, that made me feel terrified.”

Although technically within the quarantine zone, the Waska as the locals knew it was a prime location for over the border smuggling where it was gain the nickname ‘Xibalba’ from human smugglers, the Mayan underworld named so due to its vague resemblance to the Yucatan region of Mexico and dangerous wildlife. Due to its dense terrain and overlooked position, it would see a small population boom prior and during the civil war. However it would gain real notoriety when it became home to a cell of the Raxite terror group, or RC. A radical group often described as a ‘death cult’ by those who have encountered them, although the specifics of their group is mostly unknown to outsiders, they appear to be an radical offshoot of Dominion loyalists. According to local and expert speculation, it was probably used for training and storing arms. Because of this, most of the population is under intense suspicion. And because of this, girls and boys like Krazah have been stuck on the planet while waiting for a verdict to come from millions of light-years away.

After the breakout of widespread civil disorder in the former dominion and facing imminent humanitarian crisis. It was hotly debated within the coalition on the best course of action. After several incidents along the border of refugee convoys being intercepted. It was decided that a coalition of the willing would establish a buffer zone within the quarantine while a more permanent arrangement could be settled along with the secondary objective of dismantling the Raxite group.

“You know it's insane what some people are willing to do to their own people, I just can't fathom why they would do that.” Said Colonel Caster, overall commander of the camp and 2nd air mobile regiment. “It's despicable, we had to do something.” 

And notably, he was not of the United Nations. He was instead a member of the Parabellium corporation, which among the expeditionary forces of the United Nations and Yotul Technocracy were contracted to aid in a mainly auxiliary role. However on the world of Xibalba, they make up the main bulk of the coalition forces in what some policymakers have called a “testrun”. This has drawn heavy criticism from both Earth and some member states within the Sapient Coalition. 

“Many people ask me if it is moral or not for us to be here at all. And I say to that, that modern war is about using all the resources and options at your disposal if you want to win. Mark my words, we're saving lives out here.”

But spectators of the conflict are not the only critics. One Arxur, who asked to remain anonymous, gave this accountant: “They come here, set this whole thing up around them and then haul us here because it is ‘not safe’. We don't need the greenbacks to save us. I saw a man get hauled away for voicing this ‘under suspicion’.” 

Although it is unclear how many in the camp do or do not support the operation, some estimates can be gathered from the number of residents awaiting a verdict or transport to earth, which makes up 30% of the camp while the other 70% Remain semi permanent residents.

“I just don't trust them, or you. And I think that goes both ways, that's the problem.” One resident of the camp, Ajzark, a former soldier for the collective.

Though, it is notable that after consulting the camp authorities. They have firmly denied any wrongdoing on their part. Blaming it on “Raxite propaganda” and we here at the Press Corps are inclined to believe them.

Even after two years the fate of Roanoke residents remains clouded in uncertainty, with hundreds awaiting news from Earth. The children of Wriss remain, waiting.