Tuesday, March 25th 1966

Sarge woke us all early this morning, the sky was still pitch black and I was shivering as we set off along the beach. The sand crunched underfoot as we moved out, it had been impossible to move silently.

If an enemy had been lurking they could have easily heard our approach to the bunkers ruin. With every step I watched for the flash of a gun that indicated disaster for us.

None came, once again we had rolled the dice and appeared to have avoided snake eyes.

The bunker was a wreck and it had taken several hours picking amongst it, removing rubble before we discovered the stairway leading up and out of the beach.

The others appear to have cleared the way now, I’ll finish this entry later tonight.

If we’re still alive.

--

We all paused at the top of the stairwell. The countryside laid out in front of us was like nothing I’d ever seen before.

I hadn’t expected the rolling Maine countryside Hodges had described enthusiastically so long ago, but I’d expected something normal and natural.

The view over the clifftop was miserable.

Underneath a dark and gloomy sky ruined, derelict structures pockmarked a desolate landscape. I needn’t have been concerned about Sarge asking me to identify plants. The relentless battle for domination of the area had left the planet scoured of life.

While little healthy seemed to be growing amongst the craters. Here and there, I noticed a sprig of green where some stubborn grass or shrub was clinging to life against all odds. Nature was resilient and if it was given a chance then perhaps one day this world would blossom once more.

Mud sucked at my boots as we left the cliff-top and moved into the land beyond. The remains of fence posts and charred hedgerows told me this area had once been farmland. Now it was just another graveyard where unknown soldiers had met their demise.

Since joining the Imperial Numeri I’d seen corpses before, and I’d created my fair share of them. Those had been fresh kills during the adrenaline of battle. The horror of death had been mitigated by the joy that I was still alive.

These were different.

Next to a crumbling wall all that remained of a once brave soldier were some shattered windswept bones lying contained within the moldy fragments of a uniform.

In the middle of the empty fields rows of soldiers had fallen as they marched, wiped out to a man. The poor saps probably hadn’t even seen whatever it was that killed them.

We looted the corpses indiscriminately, relying upon my identification skills to determine what was useful. The dead were generous. They provided several useful weapons, a couple of gas masks and one particular item which gave me some clues about what happened here.

Chemical Weapon Detector

This instrument is used for detecting and warning about dangerous levels of radiation and/or chemical weapon exposure.

This chilled my blood. I’d heard of the effect of napalm in Vietnam but had thankfully not seen it first hand. What we were seeing here was apparently the aftermath of some horrible amoral weapon.

Fortunately using the device was as simple as clicking an ‘On’ button. Its display lit up and the word analysing appeared. Everyone huddled around as we waited, only Buzz Kill seemed unconcerned, but that might just be because insectoids have limited facial expressions.

A few seconds later a bright green bar appeared at the top of the screen and the word changed.

Trace tryptamine gas levels detected.

Alright that wasn’t so bad. I had no idea what tryptamine was, but it didn’t matter as there didn’t seem to be much danger from it at present.

My thoughts must have tempted fate the device chimed and another bar appeared, accompanied by a further change in text.

Background tryptamine gas levels detected.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“What does that mean?” Robinson asked, his voice heavy with concern.

“Background is normal, I think. Nothing to worry...” I reassured him as I closed my eyes and willed my nanobots to give me data on the gas. I hoped the system was flexible enough to consider it a weapon.

Tryptamine Gas (Chemical Weapon)

Tryptamine Gas is a powerful psychedelic gas which has been used in warfare to soften up enemy soldiers. Races which are affected by it will suffer powerful hallucinations and may be a danger to themselves and others due to psychotic episodes.

WARNING: This weapon is outlawed on many planets, with a penalty of death being the most common punishment.

This concerned me, I was about to try and explain the gas to the others when a chime interrupted me.

Three bars now showed. The bars were no longer bright green, instead they’d turned into a more murky camouflage green.

Low levels of tryptamine gas levels detected. Proceed with caution. Prolonged exposure may cause serious mental instability. At the current exposure levels serious mental issues are likely to occur in approximately forty-eight hours.

I was nervous now if we were going to start hallucinating then I had to warn the others. The last thing we needed was Robinson going gung ho and shooting at creatures which only existed in his mind.

“Guys, tryptamine is a hallucinogen.” I saw the blank look on Robinsons face and resisted the urge to roll my eyes, reminding myself to tailor my words to my audience. These soldiers weren’t academics. “It’ll give you a bad LSD trip. I’d suggest that we all put our guns away until we know we’re in the clear.” I looked at Robinson intently.

Sarge looked dubious, we were between a rock and a hard place. The enemy surely knew the best time to attack would be when the enemy didn’t know if they were real or not. After a few seconds though, he nodded. “Alright, you heard brains. No one fires unless I give the word.”

I inclined my head respectfully, thankful that Sarge had taken my advice.

We stood watching the screen. Waiting for it to update.

My hands were getting increasingly clammy as the seconds ticked by slowly.

I continued to hold my breath.

“Is that it, are we going to be alright?” Robinson again. It took everything I had not to tell the man to fuck off. He was tempting fate by asking that question.

“Shh,” I muttered.

More seconds passed.

The device remained silent.

I finally let out a slow and cautious breath.

“I think that’s as bad as it gets. We’ve forty-eight hours at this rate of exposure before we start showing symptoms.”

Robinson looked around at the others, “Sarge?”

“Time to move out. We’ve got a mission to do son. That’s all we need to know. Lets get it done and get the hell out of here.”

“It’s a four day trip to the target area Sarge.” I protested.

Sarge nodded, “We have our mission and our duty.”

I blinked rapidly. “I didn’t sign up for a suicide mission, lets go back and see if we can get the equipment we need.”

Sarge drew himself up to his full height, like a predator readying itself to attack. Behind him Westcott also straightened. “Son, we have a mission. This isn’t like school, you don’t pick and choose whether you do a mission.”

I looked him in the eye, Sarge didn’t blink. My Extra Sensory Perception kicked in and my mind drifted into his. Sarges thoughts felt like iron cold, there wasn’t an ounce of doubt or concern in his soul.

“And if I head back anyway?” I enquired ignoring the frantic warning signals Kuwta was giving behind them.

“During peace-time desertion carries a punishment of court martial. During a time of war, however, the death penalty may be applied.” Sarge’s voice carried no emotion in it. He was simply stating the facts as they were. If I ran out on the mission then he would kill me.

My eyes flicked to the others, Westcott’s arm was tense and his hand was resting on his assault rifle. He was prepared to follow Sarge’s lead.

Robinson was watching with bemused interest. I didn’t think he’d shoot me, but he didn’t show any inclination to take sides.

This looked like a lose-lose situation. Follow Sarge and likely go insane or make a stand and have Sarge do the deed instead.

Time stood frozen as my mind raced.

What should I do?

How could I save everyone, could I even save myself?

It was then that Kuwta spoke up. “Sarge, Peters has a point you're supposed to be the leader of this outfit and lately you haven't been any better than the Scrael. And Peters, if you honestly think you could lead this squad any better, I'd like to see you try. With your insubordinate ass in charge, the Scrael would probably scramble our brains using their nanobots and dump us all in a mass grave, so don't get too big for your shoes.”

Both Sarge and I turned to glare at her. She stood passively enough, no weapons drawn and her posture was submissive. Her voice however had been confident and defiant.

I didn’t want to admit it, but she had a point.

Sarge slowly came to the same conclusion, “What options do we really have Peters? Do you remember what happened when we refused to retrieve the pilot from the crash site?”

I remembered. The Scrael had threatened to kill us. There was no guarantee they’d be as patient after a second offense. Reluctantly I made my call. I’d wait and see how this played out. Perhaps we’d get lucky and the pollution wasn’t so bad elsewhere.

“Sir. Yes Sir. Just expressing concerns. Sir,” I saluted in what I hoped was a convincing manner and readied myself to move out with the others. “If we take turns using the masks, hopefully that will help.”

Sarge nodded and commanded us to move out, but I noted he fell into step behind me. Subtly ensuring I wasn’t able to lag behind the squad and disappear.

As the hours drifted slowly by, the march was strangely quiet. There was little talk amongst us, none of the usual sniping and banter I’d come to expect.