Darkness. All my life, I was afraid of the dark. However, I was scared not of the darkness but of what could be hiding in it. It's easy to fight fear when darkness is all around you. It is enough to dispel it with a torch. But if the darkness is inside, you can only hope and wait for a saving flash.

And now that moment has come. After centuries, or maybe just a few minutes, the flash illuminated my consciousness, and I began to feel, breathe and live again. Bright light broke through my closed eyelids, and it took me a few seconds to get used to it.

Finally, I opened my eyes. There was nothing out of the ordinary. I was lying in my cryo-chamber in the last row of the ‘meat locker,’ as the crew on the ground force transport cruiser. "Delling" cheerfully called it. My comrade-in-arms, Shorty Moe, was lying in the cell opposite. He had woken up earlier and was now staring at me openly, not trying to hide his interest.

‘Moe, you could at least cover your manhood with your palm, or you will freeze to death,’ I tried to say, but only a strangled wheeze escaped my throat. There were benches between the rows of cryo-chambers. The ship's crew helpfully put our clothes on them. Although, perhaps, they had been lying there since we took them off.

It took a lot of effort to get out of the cell and sit on the bench. My whole body was filled with lead, and my muscles moved as if with a delay. It took even more effort to get dressed. During this time, I managed to look around. Starbuck had already left, the Big Boss was still bawling his eyes out, and Phobos and Deimos were arguing over whose pants were whose again. Everything was as usual.

I glanced at the time display above the exit.

‘Eighties?’ I wondered aloud. ‘Those devils from the command have been freezing us for almost two years! Couldn't they have sent us home?

‘Ponytail, did not you know?’ the Boss replied. ‘We are troops. The only way we could be sent home is in a coffin.'

It was a real shame. You do not get paid while you are in the cryo-chamber!

'First platoon, gather in bay three for a briefing. Second platoon, gather...’ the voice of the onboard computer came over the speakerphone. That meant there was no time to lie around, and that actual duty was about to begin.

Our unit was the last to arrive in the third compartment. There were still a few minutes before the briefing started. As usual, we sat in the back row. I sat almost on the edge between the Big Boss and my Martian brothers. That was to be away from Moe! If he starts his pranks again, I won't be able to resist breaking his nose.

A minute before the briefing started, Sergeant Sparks, the platoon leader (and our squad leader), walked into the room. He stopped next to a large screen on the wall. The lights were slowly dimmed, and the face of General Craig, who was in command of the entire landing party on this ship, appeared on the screen.

‘Soldiers,’ he spoke from the screen, ‘I can already see the war's end. We are only one step away from it, and its name is Banglaar. We are on the outskirts of the Glalgar system, on the border of the four-armed systems. Banglaar is the most strategic point in this sector. By taking it, we will deprive the enemy of any opportunity to counterattack. We will isolate our worlds from the aggressor and will be able to level the threat! But I don't think it will be easy. The planet is guarded by a fleet of thousands of ships. The MSF has been fighting in the system for several months, winning space for our final throw second by second. The landing is scheduled for the fourteenth of July. You all have seventy-two hours to recover from your sleep and be ready to fight. It will be a glorious battle! Be sure to give your lives for your duty, and then you will be given the best seats in Valhalla.

When the general finished, the room was filled with noise. The front rows were already rushing into battle, with recruits sitting there. The seasoned ones in the centre rows discussed this in a low voice. The veterans in the back only exchanged glances with each other.

Every time someone talked about duty, I had mixed feelings. Involuntarily, the question ‘Where is my money?!’ would arise in my head. I did not join the army out of duty. And not because I was born under occupation and wanted revenge. Of course, my father played a significant role in this. He was not a first-generation military officer and taught me discipline from childhood. My mother, of course, was against it. After my father died, she did not want to hear anything about the army at all and even tried to bribe the director to get me expelled from the cadet school. I went to the military just because I could not do anything else.

The army was everything to me. Sergeant Sparks practically replaced my father. However, I was desperate to go home. I hoped we would get a leave of absence after a year of chasing saboteurs in the Eagle Constellation. Instead, we were frozen for two years. Now, we are being thrown into the meat grinder again!

I was snapped out of my thoughts by a fist banging on the pulpit and Sparks' imperious roar of ’Now, silence!’

‘So,’ he continued calmly, ‘I am supposed to give you a little introduction. More detailed instructions will be issued just before we land.

Sparks told us a little about what had happened over the past two years for those who had slept through it. Then, he briefly outlined the situation on our frontline and the general features of the upcoming operation. In general, everything looked standard — break through the orbital ring, drop the troops, destroy the air defences and hold the bridgehead for the main ground forces.

The briefing was followed, as usual, by breakfast. The Big Boss again told us that the balanda tasted better on Forsyth and the benches were softer. Phobos and Deimos competed at jokes, and Moe and Sparks discussed ‘strategies and tactics.‘ Only Starbuck ate in silence. Now, I cannot even remember what her voice sounded like. She rarely spoke to anyone. She was transferred to our platoon a short time ago when her seventh platoon was disbanded due to the loss of half of its personnel. There were rumours that her unit had been ambushed on one of their missions, and she was the only survivor. You would never know that she was capable of surviving anywhere. She is tall and thin, though wiry. Her slightly slanting, narrow eyes are typical of Martians. Her short hair was grey, and it was unclear whether it was natural or dyed.

After breakfast, the sergeant drove everyone to the gym. For almost two hours, he chased us around the exercise machines, occasionally motivating us with kicks. All the while, Starbuck was angrily punching a pear as if the general training programme was not for her, and for some reason, Sparks did not dare to reproach her.

After the gym, everyone was checked in the medical unit for any abnormalities only they could understand. Here, too, everything is stable. Sparks said that of all the units, ours survived the freeze the best. Dubious reason to be proud.

Otherwise, the day was routine: tactical training, lunch, firearms training, gym, combat training, dinner. After dinner, we had some personal time — two hours before Lights out. Half of the platoon hung out in the wardroom, and the other half, including me, in the bunkroom (which had become our ‘meat storage’). The rows of cryo-chambers had sunk to the floor. They were replaced by rows of bunk beds and lockers with personal belongings. A long queue had gathered at the communication terminals on the far wall, of which there were only five. Everyone wanted to read the letters they had sent from home during this time.

I had no such desire. It seems that all my relatives buried me in absentia as soon as I entered the gates of the military unit. During my three years in the army, I received only one letter, and that was from my half-sister. It was a banal birthday card.

I was lying on my top shelf and lazily looking down at everyone. Everyone was busy with their favourite thing — Big Boss was cleaning his huge archaic pistol that I had only seen in old photos, Phobos was playing dominoes with Deimos, Sparks was reading a book, and Moe was arm-wrestling with some big guy from the Third ward. There was no sign of Starbuck. Perhaps she was in her quarters or somewhere else. The command did not prohibit but disapproved when soldiers wandered around the ship. I didn't want to think about anything, not even about landing soon. Let Sparks worry about it. He is the commander and knew better!

I knew Sparks from the cadet school, where he was my course tutor. He was the reason I got that silly nickname, Ponytail. And it seems not because of my then long red hair, which I used to put in a ponytail. I do not even know how Sparks got here and became my commander again. At first, there were even rumours that Sparks and I were having an unstated sexual relationship. Then again, Sparks was not such a bad option, even though he was almost twice my age. He was tall and handsome, with dark hair, lightly silvered with grey, cut strictly according to the regulations, and very attentive brown eyes. I felt calmer when he was around. He always lent a hand when I needed help and could cheer me up in a difficult moment. Why he was still a sergeant at forty-five is another mystery. I did not notice how I fell asleep while thinking about him. Later, I cursed the day watchman, who woke me up with his shout of ‘Rack time’

On D-Day.

The darkness. But it's a different kind of darkness. Not such a viscous, rainbow-coloured darkness. It only occasionally slips between phantasmagoric visions. It seemed that that night, I watched all my craziest dreams, which had accumulated over two years in the cryo-chamber.

In the morning, I woke up a minute before getting up. It was a habit I had developed over the years, including at home. Today's routine was no frills. Exercise, breakfast, and preparation for the landing. All this was supposed to take us an hour, given that the order could come at any moment because the fleet had already started the operation.

And then the order came. The platoons lined up in the central hangar in complete combat formation. The troops stood in neat rows, our armoured vehicles stood a little further away, and the combat dropships of the cover group stood at the end of the hangar. The elite, the Hell Divers, stood apart. A timer was already ticking for them, dressed in massive landing suits with built-in jump packs, counting down to their drop. The Hell Divers' motto was: ‘We go at the enemy with our feet first.‘ It came from the elite landing party being thrown straight out of orbit with nothing but their spacesuits. They had to travel a couple of hundred kilometres in free fall before setting foot on the surface of a new world. It sounds romantic and made every trooper dream of becoming an elite, but it did not work that way in practice. The jump pack could only work for a very short time. Therefore, if you calculate the time incorrectly, you can be smashed into pieces before you have time to slow down, or if you slow down before.

All the others landed in capsules of eight people or dropships if they were lucky. Our platoon was not fortunate. After briefly outlining the tactical situation and the task ahead, Sparks ordered us to take our seats in the capsules. Our platoon will be ejected almost immediately after the divers. Our task would be to finish anything that moved after the bombers had cleared the square, take a beachhead and guard the landing of the main force. The task would be dull if it weren't so dangerous.

One seat in our capsule was empty. No new people from the disbanded platoons were assigned to us. The second and third platoons received one new soldier each. Platoons from the second to the sixth were hit harder, with 5–7 men added. But the worst, semi-mythical situation was with the seventh platoon. It was formed with each new recruitment, but no sooner had three landings passed than the platoon lost half of its personnel and was disbanded.

I can say that I got a lucky ticket during the deployment: the first squad of the first platoon of the first company. My father always encouraged me, reminding me I would always be the first, even if I were the last in line. It happened this time, too.

The timer on the display reached zero. The door of the landing capsule closed, and at the next second, we were shot towards the planet. As we entered the atmosphere, the shaking increased. It was the first time I landed on a planet with a dense atmosphere. It seemed as if all my insides were about to be shaken out of me. Through the portholes in the ceiling, I could see that a dense flame blanketed the capsule. I knew this was normal, but I could hardly stop myself from screaming in terror.

’Open your eyes, Ponytail. When will you ever see such a sight again?’ Moe, sitting opposite me, said through the crackling and rumbling.

Soon, everything was quiet. I opened my eyes and looked up through the window. The sky above us was a deep crimson colour. Periodically, there were blinding flashes of explosions. It was our fleet closing in on the planetary defence forces.

Suddenly, my whole body felt like lead — the capsule started to slow down. The landing was hardly soft, but we didn't turn into a flat cake, which is good in itself. The capsule door opened with a soft hiss. The pungent smell of the new world hit my nose. More precisely, it was the smell of burnt earth and melted plastic. According to the old tradition, I was the first to be handed an assault rifle and kicked out of the capsule, and then the others got out, taking up a circular defence on the spot where they fell.

We were in the middle of a vast, scorched area. Twisted black pillars stood all around, and if it had once been trees, it was a park. We were almost in the centre of the city. Or rather, what was left of the city after the shelling from orbit. Now we had to clear this square if there was anyone left and wait for other people and equipment.

A few seconds later, I heard a thunderous impact behind me and then another. It was the rest of the three squads of our platoon landing. Sparks ordered the Boss to dismount, and he took Moe and went to the others. Brothers and I moved forward a bit to take up large sectors. At that time, the Boss and Starbuck started unpacking our things. And the stuff, besides what we had in our backpacks behind us, was almost ten kilograms of TNT that Moe was carrying, plus all sorts of sapper gadgets, Big Boss's massive machine gun with two cans of ammunition, and a sniper rifle as long as me, which was now sticking out behind Starbuck.

‘Guys, you know what we are going to do — we are going to go out there and shoot anything that moves... and does not swear at us!’ Sparks said into his earpiece as he turned to us. It was going to be a long day.

We walked in a chain at a half-curve on the left side of the broad street. Moe was in the lead, followed by the brothers. Sparks was leading from the middle, and Starbuck and the Boss were behind him. I was bringing up the rear. It was quiet. And empty. Hundreds of metres ahead and behind, we could count only a few burnt-out carcass of some transport. If this is a big city, there must be a lot of transport.

Suddenly, something crunched underfoot so loudly in the surrounding silence that the entire squad crouched down, barrels cocked. It was a skeleton. But not a four-armed one. Some animal. The group moved on, keeping a close eye on their feet.

We approached the main entrance to a tall building. The commander decided that it would provide a good view of the rest of the square. The wide three-metre door was tightly closed. Moe tried to kick it open with his shoulder, but it responded with a barely noticeable tremor.

‘Fire in the hole,’ Sparks ordered softly over the radio.

The short man took a ready-made briquette from his breast pocket and stuck it in the middle of the door. Jumping a few metres and crouching behind the cover, he pressed the detonator button.

There was a loud bang, and the massive door flew inside the room, leaving behind a small cloud of dust.

We entered the building one by one, spreading out across the hall. This building had some great significance. In the middle of the hall was a massive statue of a four-armed man propping up the high ceiling with his hands. Behind the statue was a staircase with fancy handrails. In some places, there was even a semblance of a carpet. In addition to the stairs leading up and down, the hall had two symmetrical corridors on the sides, now blocked by thick wrought-iron lattice doors.

‘Phobos, Deimos — basement, Starbuck, Ponytail — roof!’ Sparks said briefly, slowly looking around the room.

Taking out my automatic pistol from my hip holster, which was still better for closed rooms than a bulky carbine, I carefully walked to the left side of the stairs leading upstairs. Once again, I envied the sniper. Her secondary weapon could fire all fifty rounds in the magazine into a penny at forty metres in a couple of seconds. I never dreamed of such firepower with my pistol. It was dangerous to use a rifle. The heavy bullets tore enemies, trees and thin shelters to pieces but ricocheted treacherously from anything tougher than steel.

We slowly moved up the stairs, looking around at all three hundred and sixty degrees.

‘Contact!’ I suddenly heard Phobos' voice in my headset. Starbuck and I simultaneously crouched down, clutching our weapons, and meanwhile, a cannonade of gunfire came from the basement below.

‘Minus five,’ Deimos reported when the shots died away as if they had never happened.

‘All clear,’ Phobos confirmed.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

We continued to move upstairs. We covered three floors and five more flights of stairs. Each floor had a small balcony with a view of the statue in the lobby, from which the same corridors, covered with bars as on the ground floor, led off. The upper floors suffered less damage than the lower ones. The top floor was not affected at all. One could see the innocently clean frescoes painted on the walls, some artefacts on low pedestals, and intricate designs on the carpet. It seemed that the natives had left this place only a few minutes ago.

Suddenly, Starbuck spotted something at the far end of the corridor. Gesturing for me to lie low, she dropped her rifle and fired from a kneeling position with little or no aim. The roar of a large-calibre sniper rifle in a narrow room hit my ears like a sledgehammer. A dense veil of dust rose where she was shooting, and a hole the size of my head appeared in the wall. The shooter was not visible, but Starbuck was satisfied with the result. I couldn't see her face under the mirrored visor of her helmet, but I'm sure there was the gloating smile that was typical of all snipers. That smile makes your blood run cold.

Finally, we got to the roof. The light breeze was pleasantly cooling and drove away the omnipresent smell of burning. While I was setting up the reconnaissance equipment, I was able to get a good look at the surroundings. Starbuck was setting up the claymore and keeping an eye on the stairs. To the west of the building was the area where our capsules landed. To the east, a wide street ran past the building. Now, it was possible to see that, about a kilometre away, it ended in a square with a spherical monument in the centre. Otherwise, to the north and south, there were crooked, narrow streets that were mostly in ruins. I looked up at the sky. The sky was still crimson, and the occasional flashes had not disappeared. Far to the north, a large streak of black smoke intersected the horizon, maybe more than one.

’Ponytail, I have got a picture, come back!’ Sparks’ command came over the radio. The sniper and I rushed down the stairs on all fours, not forgetting to be careful.

The group was waiting for us outside. Sparks waved his hand to the north.

‘The second vantage point is that way,’ he explained.

We dived into the alley in the same order. Three- or four-storey buildings almost closed over our heads. The smell of burning was mingled with another — the scent of burning flesh and slow, painful death.

Sparks ordered us to stop as we reached a small intersection where six narrow streets converged. There used to be a fountain in the middle of the intersection. Now, only a pile of tiles and a thin stream of water running out of the ground. The group spread out, each taking one exit in their sights, and Sparks crouched in the centre, clicking on his tablet.

Suddenly, something moved in the shadows in the alleyway we had come from.

‘Movement is at six o'clock,’ I said into the radio.

’Go check it out,’ Sparks said shortly. ’Boss, cover her.’

I started to move slowly, looking down the street through the scope. Big Boss walking heavily behind me, his machine gun barrel moving from side to side. I carefully peeked around the corner into the alley. There was no change. Or was it? One of the piles of rubbish seemed to be lying wrong. I took wide steps around the pile. A short, four-armed man was hiding behind the rubble. When he saw me, he squeaked softly and tried to cover himself with a sheet of iron, which he held with his upper arms. In the other pair, I noticed a tiny four-armed man wrapped in rags.

‘Why are you frozen? ‘Fire!’ the Big Boss commanded.

My finger twitched on the trigger. Five nine-millimetre bullets burst out of the barrel of the carbine at supersonic speed before I could realise anything, tearing the victim into bloody confetti. I was very close, so green blood splashed almost from head to toe. I froze. For a whole second, I could see the face of an Aboriginal person distorted with fear. Or perhaps an aboriginal woman. Yes, most likely it was. It is hard to look the enemy straight in the eye. Or is it an enemy? A civilian. It was the first time I had to shoot an unarmed person, a woman with a child. Before that, everything was somehow easy. You shoot at the slightest rustle in any suspicious shadow. But to shoot at close range.

I was brought out of my prostration by Shorty Moe's shout on the radio: ‘Three contacts on eleven!’

‘Two by four,’ Phobos called back.

‘Four to seven,’ Deimos echoed him.

A cannonade rumbled from the direction of the intersection.

‘They are trying to surround us!’ the Big Boss shouted, squeezing the trigger of his machine gun.

I ducked behind the nearest cover. Four grey figures were approaching us from around the far corner of the street. Each figure held two plasma guns in four hands. The Big Boss kept them from advancing with a continuous burst of machine gun fire. I took better cover and shouted, ‘In position! Cover!’ The sniper's rifle and the calm voice of Starbuck ‘One’ sounded clear and loud in the variety of shots. It was a chance to seize the initiative. When one four-armed man dies, the others around him stun for a few moments. Some mumbo-jumbo. I moved out of cover to make a few aimed shots. The boss moved to a better position. With the words ‘Dessert, bastards!’ Mo threw one of his firecrackers at the enemies. ‘Two,’ said the same flat voice.

A few more long seconds and the shots in our direction came to nothing. Phobos and the short man moved away from the group to check.

‘All clear now,’ Mo reported after two more single shots.

Interesting. ‘They are armed but not dressed as usual,’ Phobos said thoughtfully.

‘My brother discovered a militia. Give him a Nobel Prize,’ his twin grimaced.

‘But this is an unusual case,’ said the sergeant. ‘I have never personally seen four-armed men violate their caste.

The team moved on. After two more minutes of wandering through the alleys, we came to the second observation point. It was a small telecommunications tower about thirty metres high. Judging by the fact that there was much less destruction around it, it had been left intact during the bombing. Starbuck climbed up to secure the equipment. The rest of us spread out to keep a circular defence. I was amazed at how nimbly she climbed despite her thirty-kilogram body armour and a backpack weighing another twenty.

‘Great, now not even a mouse will slip into our camp unnoticed,’ the sergeant said when the sniper came down.

At the camp.

The return journey took less time than I expected, although we tried not to hurry and not to lose our vigilance, following the path we had already taken. Still, we were in the centre of enemy territory and could only stand back to back with our comrades. While we were away, another platoon deployed mobile shelters around the landing point and started laying minefields.

‘The engineering company will arrive any minute now,’ the sergeant informed us, ‘so we have to hold the perimeter while they are busy with the fortifications.

We spread out to our prepared positions and waited tensely. These were the moments I disliked the most in the army. You lie there in an uncomfortable position and stare at the still picture before you until your eyes hurt. From a certain point of view, it is better than the incessant whistling of bullets overhead. But it is like looking into the abyss. At a certain point, you freeze and stop seeing anything at all. And at that very moment, ironically, you can miss the fun. 

Fortunately for me, it was completely calm. The yellow helmets landed and got to work. Behind me, tall, strong walls grew in just a few hours. Now, one look at our fort from afar was enough to understand that we were taking this planet seriously.

‘First unit, withdraw from your positions and return,’ came the long-awaited phrase from the sergeant on the radio.

Inside the perimeter, the camp was taking shape. The yellow helmets set up several tents marked different zones with posts and raised lighting poles. The sergeant met us at the gate and showed us where to go next.

‘You have been on your feet for eight hours. It is time to rest,’ the sergeant gestured towards one of the tents, ‘Everything is already set up for you, so eat, pee and sleep.

It was time to take a breath, but no one relaxed. Everyone understood that the enemy could attack at any moment. We ate in silence, in a hurry, to have more time for the most basic thing - sleep. After the toilet procedures, I entered the tent and fell on the nearest free bedding. It was warm and cosy in my armoured suit. I curled up and immediately fell asleep.

The next ‘morning.’

 The squeak of my helmet snapped me out of my sleep, seemingly just a moment after I closed my eyes. But the clock said that only four hours had passed. The camp had changed a little more. Yellow helmets were bustling about, most around a tall structure in the centre of the camp.

‘Wow. Why did they bring a drilling turbolaser here?’ one of the soldiers next to me wondered.

‘Who knows, maybe they are laying some underground utilities,’ another replied.

‘Through the centre of the earth?’ the first one sneered.

I was not impressed by the design. If the yellow helmets brought it here, it means it is necessary, and my job is to keep the defence.

‘Okay, soldiers,’ the sergeant suddenly said, appearing as if from the ground in our midst. ‘Have a quick snack and get to the south wall — you are replacing the second platoon of the fifth company.

The order was received, and the order was accepted for execution. Fifteen minutes later, we took our places on the wall. On the other side of the wall, everything was the same. The burnt ruins were black with empty windows. However, thick dark green stains on the concrete made it clear that someone had already tried our fort tooth and nail. The engineers had installed several machine gun turrets on the towers on the wall, so half a kilogram of lead flew at every suspicious movement, leaving behind dust and rain of concrete crumbs.

Several hours passed in contemplation of the silent ruins until the sergeant announced: ‘We have received information that large enemy forces are moving towards us from the south. They will be met by the ninth armoured company with the support of the Arcturus Ghost Wing. Be on the lookout for someone to break through them.’

Less than an hour later, the first flashes lit up the previously calm horizon, and the first thunder of a distant battle reached us. At first, it sounded like someone was beating out huge carpets in the distance, then it became like a lot of fireworks, and after a while, it turned into a continuous heavy hum. And this hum was getting closer.

‘Attention, soldiers, the ninth company cannot withstand the onslaught,’ the sergeant's voice sounded calm, ‘They are retreating towards us and have requested an orbital strike from the command. Get ready. It is going to be a long day.

The next two hours passed in the most intense anticipation. And then I see movement at the end of the street.

’Calm down, it is ours,’ said the sergeant.

About half a dozen tanks and light armoured fighting vehicles in varying degrees of disrepair approached the fort. The better looking ones took up the previously prepared caponiers in front of the wall, while the worse hid behind the camp gates.

Again, the movement is on the verge of visibility. One of the tanks opened fire in that direction. Machine guns roared over my ear. ‘This is it,’ I thought in my head.

The following hours passed in a foggy veil. I fired, reloaded and fired again, then went to replenish ammunition and returned to my position. The enemy was attacking desperately, circling, trying to squeeze the ring. The whole air was filled with the smell of gunpowder. The fighters were flying overhead at such a speed that it was impossible to tell whose they were. And from behind the clouds, leaving clear streaks in the sky, bombs were falling on the city. But we stood firm. I did not even try to count how many attacks we withstood. But in the end, the enemy retreated. The cannonade subsided, the fog cleared, and new fires were burning out. Piles of bodies and damaged equipment filled the previously empty streets on the other side of the wall.

‘You have all done well,’ the sergeant said, climbing up on the wall with us.

After the next wake-up call.

I stepped out of the tent and looked up at the sky. It was still the same crimson colour as when we set foot on this earth. Neither the local sun nor any other stars were visible through the clouds. The eternal twilight merged all the hours we had spent here. The camp continued to work in full swing. A stack of cylindrical containers the size of a minibus, fenced with yellow tape, attracted attention. The grey sides of the containers seemed to have all the possible warning signs.

‘These are antimatter bombs!’ someone shouted, ‘We are going to have a party!

After eating, back to the wall. The Sparks reported that although the four-armed men had temporarily stopped attacking the fort, the city was now swarming with them, and it was best to keep our heads down. Again, hours of tense silence stretched on, occasionally punctuated by short bursts of machine gun fire or single shots. I paid no attention to what was happening behind me, but when I turned around again, I noticed with surprise that there were fewer yellow helmets in the camp. The tall structure of the turbo laser in the centre had disappeared, as had the stacks of anti-material bombs.

‘So, the news, soldiers,’ the sergeant's voice came over the radio, ‘the order to evacuate has been received. The engineering company is almost packed. Then the fifth and seventh companies are leaving. We are the last to leave.

‘What the hell? What about the landing of the main forces?‘

‘It's not going to happen. I was never privy to the full plan of the operation, so I'm as surprised as you are. Regardless, it doesn't change the situation — we continue to hold the line.

Over the next few hours, the dropships were moving back and forth almost continuously, picking up people and valuable equipment. That did not go unnoticed by the enemy. The shadows among the ruins moved more and more often. The machine gun was roaring more and more often. And the number of soldiers on the wall was decreasing. At last, the last dropship with the fighters of the fifth company took off. Our first company was left alone in the camp. The sergeant evenly distributed everyone along the walls for maximum combat effectiveness.

‘When will our dropship arrive?’ someone asked.

‘I don't know,’ the sergeant replied, ‘I was told “as soon as the time comes.”

The four-armed men became more active. They carefully examined our defences, not moving forward too much but becoming more and more bold.

‘Launcher for two hours!‘

I glanced in that direction and managed to see a flash, and then threw myself on the floor. The explosion shook the wall and echoed through the empty camp. It hit the lower part of the wall, but fortunately, no one from our side was hurt.

‘They are moving down the street!‘

I looked through the loophole, saw several figures, and fired a short burst. The figures fell to the ground. It was a hundred metres from the wall to the nearest building. Only three floors remained, but it was still higher than the wall. To our regret, it seemed to have been insufficiently destroyed. The four-armed men would appear in the windows, make a few shots and hide again. There seemed to be more of them than us. The machine-gun turret was continuously bombarding the facade but with no visible results. Suddenly, the turret fell silent.

‘That was the end of the music.‘

‘Do we have any more cassettes?‘

‘That was the last one.‘

Without the machine gun, the situation was sharply not in our favour. Now, we were no longer the ones who were pressed to the shelters. We were being pressed. A few more Launcher shots hit the wall and punched a hole in it.

‘First company, leave the wall and take up defensive positions around the landing site!‘

We gathered in the centre. Two men from the third squad were missing. I lay down behind the sandbags. Starbuck was to my left, behind the boxes, and Big Boss was to my right.

That was the end of the respite. The most daring four-armed man climbed through the hole in the wall, for which he received a ‘congratulations’ from the sniper. The rest of us tried to climb over the wall. Those who were more lucky, we shot off their arms with accurate shots, and those who were less fortunate — their heads. However, at some point, it seemed there were more enemies than we had ammunition. They were advancing slowly but steadily, using the piles of bodies as cover.

Suddenly, the Starbuck readout on my head up display flashed red.

‘That's it,’ her voice came softly over the radio, ‘Finally.’

She was lying face up in the sky. I crawled over and saw a deep, scorched furrow on the left side of her neck, with red blood pouring out in jolts. Reflexively, I grabbed the first aid kit, even though I knew there was no way to help her. I took off her helmet and took her army badge. Then I closed her eyes and, pushing her body aside, took up her firing position. The four-armed men already completely controlled the wall, forcing us into the ground.

‘Damn it! That's a problem! Ponytail!' Shorty Moe called into the radio.

I turned around and looked at him with my eyes. He was sitting with his back to a large crate, holding the forearm of his right hand with his left. The part of his arm below the forearm was on the floor. In two jumps, I was beside him.

‘You know, you look so beautiful today,’ he said.

‘Do not shake the air for nothing,’ I said through my teeth.

I unfastened the damaged segments of his armour and stretched a specific bag over the stump.

‘It is a shame. I am not used to doing this with my left,’ he raved. ‘When we get out, will you go out with me?

The suit must have injected him with a double dose of painkillers.

‘Not unless I strangle you with my own hands,’ I said, having completed the necessary procedures.

 My attention was drawn to the Big Boss's vitals.

‘Boss, are you okay?’ I asked into the radio.

‘I'm fine, do not worry about it,’ he replied with a grunt, trying unsuccessfully to hide the pain.

I crawled over to him and jerked him onto his back. A melted hole was visible on his chest just below the collarbone.

‘It's nothing,’ the boss said, getting cocky.

I put my ear to the wound and pressed a little on the sternum. The boss was screaming in pain.

‘I am the one who decides on the little things,’ I said sternly. ‘Your lung is not punctured. So you can continue.’

I squeezed the medical gel out of the tube right into the hole and covered it with tape. Then, I patted the soldier's shoulder encouragingly and crawled back to my shelter. A light breeze was blowing. It smelled of gunpowder, ozone and burnt plastic. I put the last magazine in my carbine and looked around to see if there were more. Suddenly, I saw my shadow clearly against the green flash, and a moment later, an explosion hit my ears. Two biomonitors went out at once. Phobos and Deimos.

’Soldiers, we are going to stand together! We have to hold out a little longer!’ the sergeant's voice on the radio sounded hoarse. Was he also wounded?’

I looked around. The sergeant was dragging the two wounded men to a pile of large boxes on either side of the landing platform. The others who were still alive were retreating to the same place.

‘Boss, retreat, I will cover you!’ I shouted.

‘No, I will cover you,’ he replied, ‘and do not argue with your superiors!’

After a short run, I was surrounded by other soldiers. Six of the twenty-three men are still standing, and five more are too wounded to continue fighting. The rest will stay here, and we will not even be able to take their bodies.

I looked up at the sky, cursing the command, this planet, and all the universe's Gods. At that moment, like a long-awaited messiah in streams of light, a dropship appeared in the sky. Its onboard cannons began to fire. A hail of fire fell to the ground around us, tearing the approaching enemies to pieces.

‘I think I made it,’ an unfamiliar voice spoke into the radio, ‘Let's move quickly before one of them pulls out SAM.‘

The dropship landed on the site, lowering the ramp while still in flight. Two crew members jumped out and helped us carry the wounded and take our seats. Finally, the ramp rose, and the pilot picked up speed. I looked out the window at the inhospitable land that was moving away. Suddenly, the camp, and in a moment, the whole town, was drowned in a blinding light from the ground. The dropship was shaken violently, someone screamed in pain, and I had goosebumps all over my body. So that's what the drill was for, and where the bombs had gone. The dropship made a sharp manoeuvre, and the planet disappeared from view. All that was left in front of me was the endless, crimson sky.