Just to be safe, I've been taking half doses of counter radiation medications and doing decontamination stuff.

Every single day, the dosimeter is ticking. I've kept track of the numbers. It's about four milisieverts so far, two days.

Yearly, the safe amount is fifty for workers. In a nuclear war for soldiers, three hundred.

'Two hundred ninety six to go...'

I've seen more planes now. Some refugees too. We pass each other and don't think twice.

Though now...

'Destroyed Emayan armor. Some Renkap too.'

I've found the remains of a warzone, and it... Looks like we're winning?

Fighting positions, classic Commonwealth fare. Three tanks in their dugouts, all knocked out, plus blasted open infantry positions. A few vehicles started pulling back and were killed as they did, apparently.

'But wait... Okay, so if these treads end here...' I start looking for our own casualties.

Armored recovery and casualty collection has already pulled the bodies of metal and meat alike, but I can find scraps and ruined equipment.

Casings, in some spots piling up.

Blood, too. "Tir guide our hands and eyes..."

Here, some scraps of metal at the end of a line of treadmarks. Something hit with a missile, maybe.

A bunch of knocked over trees means artillery hit there, maybe trying to wipe out some infantry...?

There, a helmet and a bloody ear left inside, cut by the bullet that pierced it.

Nothing usable is left on our side, it's either salvaged already or ruined.

...and I don't, uh, like the idea of walking into the other side's graveyard and picking through the dead for whatever the fuck.

===

I've reached the Gamri River. Dosimeter is picking up more now, maybe ten mSv if I stay here the day, I think. If it's not off the mark.

And... Nobody's here. Some signs of skirmishes around here but...

'Nearest settlement is another ten kilometers, east maybe. Getting fucking sick of this forest...'

At least it's cold enough that I'm not getting eaten alive by mosquitoes.

'Running out of food, though. And water. I should've fucking taken more from...'

"...them. They aren't them. They were my brothers and sisters for TWO YEARS and they're fucking DEAD-!"

WHACK! "Hh..."

My knuckles hurt now. I feel... Better? Calmer, at least.

"...circle below, I ask that you see me and see me well..." Nothing I can do but pray, and... Keep walking.

===

Normally I wouldn't do this, but right now I am very worried about forest fires. If people are slinging atomics then the chances aren't too low of there being a wildfire...

"Hahh..." So I'm climbing my way up this tall hill...

And trying to stay as low profile about it as I... Can...

'Okay. Smoke on the horizon. It's not too close by, but it's worse than I expected. Better get to marching then.'

Climb down... "Whoa SHIT-!"

Shuff-SPLAT! I get up with a groan.

"Oh you're kidding me..." Of all the places to trip, it's a marshy area. Great. Now I'll just be soggy for a while. And muddy.

'Didn't lose anything in the fall at least... Gah...'

Maybe the next bomb'll have the decency to be close enough to flash dry my new coat.

===

I've come to the edge of the forest.

This would be significantly partially because now it's nothing but somewhat hilly countryside, but also because I've encountered soldiers.

A small convoy, distant. Falntyri?

'Come on... Please...'

The flag, it's... "YES!"

Friendly! Fuck! Okay, now... I guess I just walk out...?

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"...oh Tir the debrief is going to be awful."

Nothing for it, though. At least I might get a merit for trying to find friendly forces.

I walk out, rifle slung and mask doffed, hoping that nobody's feeling jumpy... The convoy stops shortly after I get out of the forest.

A squad meets me halfway, lead by someone...

'Huh. Southerner? Wow. Don't see those everyday...'

Nobody's got their rifles up, though everyone has them in hand. Good start, at least?

"Alright, who the fuck are you?" He pulls off a pair of sunglasses to look me in the eyes.

"Uhm- R-ranker Myali Nyloki, N-national Army Reserve. Our IFVs were knocked out at some point... I-I don't remember before that, but I woke up inside and... I kept going until I got here." My ears flick, repeatedly. Fucking traitors.

His eyes look up. 'Great, now I've just embarrassed myself in front of an officer.'

"...well, ma'am, if you are who you say you are-" Aaaaand there it is.

"I-I'm male. Nervous habit... Uh, my ID is in my left pocket, pants. I think." I see him raise an eyebrow, and jerk his head at one of the squadmembers. A few of them chuckle.

'Please, have an atomic bomb fall on my head right now.'

She hands off her rifle and approaches, fishes in my pockets, and produces my... Wait what I had my driver's license in there?

"H-hang on a moment, that-nevermind. It'll work... R-right?" She doesn't say a word, and passes it to the man.

"Yeah that looks like you. Just for record's sake, I'm gonna need some military ID, though." I nod and start checking my other pockets.

'Come on, where is it... oh.'

"...what the fuck? Uh, here you go, sir." I fumble it out of a pocket and step forward, holding it out.

He takes it. I finally manage to get a clear look at his name. V. Gandro.

He looks through both, and pauses. "Holy fuckin shit. Eighth Battalion?"

"Y-yessir." Flick. Aaaaaagh-

"You are a lucky fucker. Welcome home, we'll find you a place once all your paperwork checks out." He turns around, gesturing for me to follow.

'Lucky?'

===

It's a fairly small affair. Only a few IFVs, some supply trucks.

After an hour of radio calls, I've been assigned to one of the IFVs with a missing squad member.

After a few cursory greetings, we're just... Quiet. Nothing but the background whine of the engines and the rumble of treads on earth.

"..." Feels almost familiar...

...

"Yo, can you get off my shoulder bro?" Someone nudges me awake-

"GYAH!" Thump.

I jerk upright and then overbalance into the floor.

'Aaaaand just like that you're on number two of self embarrassment. Way to go Myali, you're doing great. Maybe if you embarrass yourself enough times you'll get drummed outta the Army entirely!' There are some chuckles, as someone helps me up.

"Heh, you alright?" Salkyr. I'm probably blushing horribly right now...

"...yeah."

Another hand brings me up and to the left to look at a worn face with a small mustache. Another Northerner, though most of us are.

"Hey. Look at me a second."

"...?" What's he doing?

A hand falls on my shoulder and I flinch. Plus, of course, ear flicks, as are apparently now my fucking normal-

"...anxiety. You were out in the field?" Hesitantly, I nod. There are some murmurs...?

"That would explain it. We had two Army careerists go medical from stress, just last week. Something about them... Snapped. I don't suppose you're going the same way?"

"I-I'm ready." He looks skeptical. J. Garcia, leans back in his seat, as I get back in mine.

I spot the patch of a medic on his shoulder, as well as another patch, of some chemical's molecule.

It's quiet a little longer.

"So, Nyloki. You nervous or just lookin for some?" I snap around to look at one of the soldiers at the end of the little transport compartment, near the door.

He's grinning, with fair skin and a youthful face. Light brown hair, and... Green eyes, I think? Smaller, sharper ears.

'K. Andaro.'

"..." Gonna just... Take the right of silence on that one.

Andaro makes a knowing look. "Well, c'mon, out with it, it's just the nine of us and the crew. Ain't nothin getting outta here less ol Raka here gossips-"

Tonk. A thrown can bounces off his helmet from another soldier, wearing their mask and carrying a machine gun. "Fuckoff, Andaro."

Someone else cuts into the beginning of a banter match. "Alright alright, put your little forever rivalry on hold a sec. New guy, Nyloki."

"Y-yes?" A finger points across to someone. Oh, great...

"Your green ass is going into Andaro's fireteam. Andaro, don't play too many fuck-fuck games with the Reservist over here, got it?" I don't like the grin on my new TL's face.

"Rog, Serv. Alright kid, don't worry. I'll take real good care of you." He winks.

"..." I sigh, and lean back in my seat, closing my eyes. Whoever's next to me pats my shoulder.

"Where are we going?" It'd probably be good to stay in the loop.

"St. Tyra." The name sounds... Familiar? Memory memory...

'St. Tyra, city population of two million. It's pretty close to the Emaya-Falntyri border. But... it's beyond the Gamri, by maybe thirty to forty kilometers.'

"So we're winning, then?" Andaro mutters something, and looks up at me, face strained.

"If you count victory by way of land, sure. We've captured plenty of ground, but the commies are kicking our collective asses. And command..." He sighs, and pulls out a box of cigarettes.

"Want one, Nyloki? Y'know, after we grease the next Renkap tank company. Don't worry your pretty head, Grantya, I'm not gonna light up in here." He directs the latter to his left with a quick glance.

"If you'd been stupid enough to, I'd have jammed it down your throat." The apparent Serveir again. His accent is... Weird. Can't place it.

===

It's tiring inside this thing. You can't see any of the outside world, so... Well maybe it's just me, actually.

I feel on edge forever, and that...

I don't know. Maybe this is how everyone feels, and I'm just... Out of order.

Everyone else is quietly talking to each other, making nervous checks of their gear, so..

'I'll do that, then.'

Ammo. Standard webbing holds seven clips of thirty, in pouches of two and then pair of open ready pouches.

I take each of them out, inspect the body for damage, the feed lips for bending... Surprisingly, only one is out of order. Shrapnel caught one and bent it.

"Extra rifle clip? This one's gonna need work later." Someone catches my eye.

"Yeah toss it here, we've got some spares." She catches it, tosses one back. I... Almost fumble it. Still caught it though.

Rifle. Nothing wrong here. Optic is still good. I don't want to disassemble it out here in the field, but...

Armor... This is the one I'm a little worried about. Hopefully the plate is still good. Jacket feels like it's held up well, though... 'Helmet ear covers are starting to get a little loose.'

On it goes. Webbing, pack, a paranoid check of my boots...

''Missing a frag grenade. Huh.'

And then, nothing else.

I don't have anything to talk with the others about, and I know my equipment is fine now, so...

"..." I force my hands back open.

"Yo bro." A quiet voice pokes at me.

"...?" I look over, checking his nametape. R. Calisi, a man with a dark complexion and weirdly bright yellow eyes. Crooked nose, maybe broken.

"You need a rest?"

"...yeah."

He pats me on the shoulder and gently pulls me down to rest on his lap-!

"No homo or anything but I don't want you fallin asleep into a bullet out there little bro."

"..." Well now I can't relax for entirely different reasons. I can FEEL the eyes of the squad on me.

That said... Nobody says anything...

...and the vehicle's rocking is...

...

===