Storm

 

Something was approaching. I felt it in my bones. My urethra itched from the catheter. I felt like scratching my head. And yet, two days ago, I'd taken a shower. For a line infantryman who relies on ultrasonic disinfection and skin eaters for four months, two days without a shower is no big deal. I'd had my 15 minutes in the shower in bunker number 4 of Erudin base, six hours of drinking bad alcohol in the privates' tavern (at army expense), and a few hours of sleep without a protective uniform. What a luxury. Not many people have one here. In the tavern, I met a pilot. A fat little guy without the chakram that usually covers their head looked ridiculous. "Salem aleikum, pilot. " "Aleikum, veteran. " "You probably serve in light fighters. " "Yes, assassin. " "That's a select formation. " "It's a service like any other; you have to stick your asses out like everyone else. " "But at least you can defend yourself." For me, the worst thing was landing in that swamp. We were bobbing around in a glider for two quarters, at your mercy. "That's the role of an infantryman. But while you're holed up in warm garrisons, we're risking our lives every day. Besides, stop this stupid discussion. I don't have a week of drinking to listen to monologues about the superiority of the Ran Shid holidays over Iram Kel. If you don't have anything more interesting to say, get lost, buddy. " "No, I just wanted to know if there's some trouble brewing up there in space. A bunch of veterans got leave. They sent some brat to be the new section commander. Something stinks. Maybe you know something more. " "Nothing more than you. They just tell us to keep flying, destroying all the probes. Until now, they've ignored most of them, thinking that putting the pilots at special risk wasn't worth the scrap. We've been checking every echo for two weeks." The Anils must have sniffed something out too, because they've been running around like gridlocks for a week, trying to shoot down a nest. The guy was awful. Boring and a jerk. But after giving him some gas, you could get something out of him. He said he did that stupid thing, and even though he's a citizen, he joined the navy for a girl who married another man. Now he's been here three cycles, he's lucky to be alive. Since the army was paying, I gave him gas, and he, accompanied by me, started singing the old hit "My Love," then "On the Front Line." After it was over, it was time for "Awarded with the Southern Star" and a few other stupid things. Then we both blacked out. I woke up in Intensive Alcohol Rehab. The computer was chattering. "Three hours left on leave, 15 minutes left on detox. " The medics were walking slowly. "Another idiot who thought he had a few extra hours if he drank," said the younger one. "You have to understand," the older one defended him. "These boys serve on the front lines for months, even years. Now they get a few hours' leave, not even weeks or even days, and you forbid them even a drink. Once this starts happening, most of them won't come back. " "But that's service. " "Don't exaggerate, they didn't send these young brats, straight out of the Imperial academies, to serve. They need blood, shocking information for the services." They noticed he understood what they were saying in his presence. "Oh, you clever one, you've woken up. An unpleasant surprise. No squatting in jail for overstaying your leave," the younger one said sarcastically. The older one and I looked at him with pity. Stupid brat. If I had a solver, he'd be a stain seeping down to the lower levels. I spent the rest of my leave on tests. They demonstrated my full fitness, fitted me into uniform, and with a full supply of energy, weapons, and equipment, they put my noble rear end on the Sneg. The old thing was churning out 300 km/h, kicking up clouds of dust behind it. Something will happen. Something has to happen. I've been in the army for five years. If I succeed, only five more until my contract expires. But three years in this hell can't be compared to any other service . Here, every day counted like a year in the barracks. Rad Implan was once a rich agricultural planet, but for 80 years the empire, whose army I had the honor of sticking my ass in, had been battling the Anil Dominion. The history of the fighting in this backwater is a favorite topic of scholarly treatises for fat academy patrons, but I don't feel like dwelling on it. In short, they've been battling here for 80 years. For 10 years, when Lieutenant Sar Theb captured that plateau beyond the barrier, we had a slight advantage. After a series of successful offensives that claimed more than a single regiment of youngsters, we advanced about 700 meters over seven years. Only the return of Sar Theb brought about a breakthrough. His strategy of small steps and harassment meant that in three years we gained more territory than in the previous 50 years of conflict. About half the distance to the next barrier. He also limited the number of casualties. Admittedly, there were still many, but mostly overly brave youngsters. Rad Implan was a rather strange planet. Divided by vast cracks in its crust, lava flowed perpetually, never hardening. It formed dozens of detached platforms, separated by mountain barriers, between which stretched vast agricultural plains and, in some places, picturesque plateaus. Geologically stable, unaffected by meteorite swarms due to its unique gravitational and electrical structure, the planet must have once been a paradise. You can imagine fields of grain and large herds of animals grazing here. Unfortunately, today we had a desert here, poisoned by dozens of poison gases, hundreds of fungi and bacteria. Saturated with millions of deadly viruses and viroids, as well as apollastic proteins, the atmosphere, once so suitable for humans, was now lethal to all living things. Official propaganda blamed the Anils, yet even a fool looking at this desert could guess that the empire had a hand in it. Sneg stopped. Gatekeepers. We've been scanned. Biodetectors confirmed our authenticity. We're on our way; in a moment I'll be back with my unit. "Nemo, you idiot, how could you not have shot yourself in Erudin over a bottle of GTOG?" the decurion yelled. "Although, honestly, I'd rather see your old face than some youngster I'd be picking up in two days. " "Hello, Deryl. I'm back. I missed you grumps." "What's up in the big world? " "Something's brewing, General Seb Ther's on leave, and they've sent some academy-trained youngsters to take his place. The pilots are flying like mad, shooting down everything that appears around the planet. The angels are doing the same. Another riot. " "We have to hide somehow. " "Decurion, do you have any ideas? " "No, but you better find some way to survive tomorrow's patrol." We got up this morning. The entire section, scattered, was moving at a slow pace. We were already reflexively learning to modulate the jammers. Reflexively, taking safe positions and changing camouflage. Reflexively, we were also shooting at anything that moved. Indien went first. Mina! A flash. A mine tentacle was heading for Andien. Any youngster would have fled. But not a veteran. Fleeing at a time like this would have been a death sentence. Andien froze. Mina slowed a bit, waiting for his maneuver. That's what he needed. A flash from his right shoulder pad turned her to steam. "Easy, we can move on." We moved slowly. We were professionals, veterans who had saved their asses for two, even like Deryl and I, five years of being stuck here, so none of us would be foolish enough to lose it easily. Today was easy. Irl jumped into the trench we'd been digging for two weeks. There was no one and nothing. No mines, no traps. The Anils hadn't realized it yet. We emerged about 200 meters from the bunker. This was the worst part of the expedition; three of us had to go out into the open and assemble the launcher. But we managed; they didn't notice us. We must have surprised them; they hadn't adjusted their detectors to the modulation of our cloaking devices. If they had detected our frequencies, we wouldn't have stood a chance. We aimed for the wall far from our position, choosing our spots carefully. "Okay! We're firing." Three successive flamethrower volleys hit three selected sections of the bunker wall, effectively creating distinct breaches. The Anils began a blind barrage, positioned one to two kilometers deep in front of the bunker. "A complete lack of imagination," I thought. We slowly released our flies. They took careful aim, eliminating automatic firing positions and detectors. Then a moment of silence. Subtle as a lamp of gas poured down throats, bitter, yet so longed for. A brief moment of silence. Then them. As if from nowhere, assault infantrymen emerged from trenches similar to ours. You could see the youngsters emerging quickly, attacking in regular formation, as if on parade. Poorly chosen cover frequencies, too regular movement, firing at every projectile, regardless of whether it had a chance of reaching them or not. They stood no chance. Full, continuous salvos were heading towards the bunker, and the Anils were in their turn. We took advantage of the opportunity to have our flies eliminate the automated positions on our side one by one. Then we slowly began to emerge into the open. One by one, with irregular, unpredictable movements, a dispersed formation that allowed for mutual protection while simultaneously making it impossible to determine the position of each other's squad members based on their colleagues' positions. Meanwhile, the youngsters pushed forward steadily. By the time they reached the openings, half of them were dead. Then they disappeared into the bunker. A moment of flashes and silence. We knew. Two sections had been defeated. When the angel penetrator flew out, we were certain they were wiped out. Perhaps one or two were still hiding behind some protection, but the rest were dead. We slowly approached the openings. Complete silence on the coms. Only mental contact. We knew each other intimately, perfectly sensing each other's thoughts. We had been fighting in this formation for two years. The first one to pass through the Intomb opening. Without firing, he entered at an irregular pace and hid behind safe cover. The marker transmitted the anils' location to all the monitors. Then we followed suit. The last one to enter was a decurion; when it left the entry line, it began firing at its intended targets. We followed. We eliminated target after target. The anils hadn't detected our entry; they fired where they expected us—where the bodies of the young assault infantrymen lay. They hit the void. Our volleys, however, eliminated the defenders. Ahead of me, after another volley, I detected a change in shield modulation. Anil. I yanked out my sword. A movement of my hand, and the steel tore through his uniform, piercing his skin. Taste probes burst out. Black ichor sprayed onto the floor. I drew my sword. I was certain the breathing pump had been damaged. He was dying. I didn't have to finish him off. The war gases saturated the air did it. Within 10 minutes, we counted 35 dead angels; others began to flee. Then a man appeared. He emerged from a side door, walking lightly toward us. You'd think one of the youngsters had survived. Unfortunately, Indien's scanner didn't lie. A human expression. He and Andien began firing at it. Decurion didn't even need to use a mental stimulus. Before the shells tore through the mine's armor, we all flew out of the bunker as if scalded, taking cover in craters, grooves, and trenches. The mine exploded. If any of the angels were still inside, they had no chance of survival; they had vaporized, like most of the bunker's structures. After a while, when the crater cooled, we crawled into the formation, made of fragments of the bunker's walls, melted rocks, and some remaining fortifications. We set up stabilizers outside and waited. The anil artillery tried to shell the bunker. The stabilizers, controlled from inside this rather macabre structure, shot down any shells that had a chance of hitting us. Inferno raged around us while we were safe inside what had not long ago been an impregnable anil bunker. Terribly tired, but safe. "Irl, transmit to command that we've captured the bunker. We're requesting support. " We've received acknowledgment of receipt. "Hold your position. " "What lovely caresses, Deryl," I said. "It's fortunate the cannonade has ended. " "Will they attack now?" Im asked. "I don't think so," the decurion replied. "If they have an experienced commander and are on the lookout for something, they'll never decide to attack." They'll probably make it seem weak here and then break up any inadequately prepared attack. "Maybe you're right. Those idiots at headquarters think the angels are just as stupid as they are. " "Who controls the stabilizers?" "Satab and Hebr. " "Satab, what's up there. " "Deryl," he said, quiet. "Are they attacking? " "It's not just isolated mines trying to sneak in." We sat down. Feeders dispensed nutritious gruel, and catheters removed urine. It's a ritual. " "Nemo," the decurion asked, "why did you join the army? " "I come from Go-thab. There's a tradition there. A man without 10 years of military service can't marry a woman. " "But there are just as many women as men. " "You're not very insightful. On Go-thab, there's one man for every 150 women ." "Interesting . Uuuuuuuuuuuuu," a murmur passed over the comms. "That's why all men who served in the army have harems. " "And if someone doesn't want to serve in the army." "They can't have a wife." I thought for a moment. "He can marry her, but only when she turns 30 and hasn't found a husband who has served his." "I would never have gone to war," Irl began, "if he had so many available women in his sights. " "Sometimes appearances are deceiving. The wrong look at a woman who isn't yours can cause a moshec. " "What is a moshec? " "It's a kind of court. A bit of a game, a bit of justice. I can't explain the rules of a moshec to you. You'd have to see it. Sometimes it's a court verdict, sometimes the decision of the spectators, sometimes a drawing of lots, and sometimes a competition. Strict rules govern it. It's quite difficult to explain to strangers. " "Tell me, how does it end? " "Most often, ah ." "So what? " "A kind of punishment—a recognition of guilt—the guilty party is usually sold to the penal ward. " "A strange law. " "Perhaps strange, but effective. Betrayals are rare on Go-thab. " "So how long do you have left Nemo? " "Mi? Five years, I hope not in this hell. " "Hope is the mother of fools. " "It's better to be a fool and delude yourself than not to be one and slap yourself in the head." "Decurion," Hebr interrupted. "Satab and I can't handle the numerous mines alone. " "Okay, Nemo, Andien, and Indien have four hours of sleep. The others are shooting at mines. I turned on the stimulator and was asleep. " Hebr yanked me. "Now it's my turn." Deryl lay down for Andien. "So? " "Everything's fine for now. Some buffoon with an escort will be here soon. We'll wait. We have plenty of time." Three sections of youngsters and a sergeant quickly appeared. We woke Deryl up. "All the spirits praise the Lord," our decurion began. "Sergeant Broda. My old decurion. A long time. " "Hello, Deryl. I see you saved your ass from being shot down. You even managed to get promoted. And in my section, you were the last disgrace. " "If I were a disgrace, he would have released me long ago. Who did they give you this time?" "Primari. One of the sections doesn't even have two years of training. Well, that's a platoon. " "Are they worth anything? " "Three of them were torn apart by mines on their way in. What if this were a real fight ?" "Do you have any orders for us? " "Yes, we're to relieve you. You're to retreat to Camp A. " "And you? " "We're to defend the position at all costs. " "Any gossip? " "Go private." I didn't hear any further conversation. Deryl ordered a march. Withdrawing from a position was no different than an attack. We moved in a loose, scattered formation. Our steps were irregular, difficult to predict. We constantly changed camouflage and modulation. Along the way, we destroyed a dozen or so mines. Some didn't even detect us. That's what I call professionalism. We were slowly approaching our former defense line. Probably the most dangerous part of the return. This is where the most people in our battalion died. When you feel safe, you become too relaxed and don't notice the mine attacking you. Besides, the zone defenses might mistake you for a human mine. A human mine resembles a human; it can speak and move. Only a precise bioscan can distinguish it from us. Let's not demonize its abilities, but sometimes, despite very thorough checks, it can sneak into a bunker and detonate itself along with two or three hundred soldiers. Of course, you can also hit a mine. Usually, if you make a mistake with the scan, it will latch onto you. However, a squad of ten men is sometimes enough prey for an explosion. We were approaching the first checkpoint. Remek moved away from the squad. He started scanning the three soldiers at the checkpoint. They were scanning him too. "Okay!" he said, "everything's fine." He left. Under cover of two other checkpoints, we were being scanned, just as each of us was independently scanning all the patrols. "Where are you coming from? " "From the bunker. We captured it. " "Bujasz, I heard they slaughtered two sections of assault infantry there." "Yes, they beat them up. They were primari. Probably their first fight. They didn't have to work hard to knock them out. They went under the knife themselves, like on parade. " "You caught them. " "They caught themselves. They released a self-propelled mine on us, and we destroyed it and the entire bunker. " "Oh, heaven's will. And now what, have they driven you out? " "They've relieved you. They sent a platoon of youngsters. They've already been hit by the mines on their way in. What will happen in the fight? " "Where now? " "Camp A. " "Well, those guys are lucky. Not only will they get some sort of medal for the bunker, but they can also hide ." We passed the checkpoint. Now we could move more freely. From there, we had to maintain a loose formation. Nevertheless, we could talk outside the sentries. "Deryl, what do you know about this riot?" I'd been with Deryl for five years. We'd served together in the section from the beginning. We were the only ones left from the original squad. We fought as primari, supplemented by a succession of youngsters who died within weeks, sometimes even hours. Then we achieved secundari status, making up for our losses with the remnants of the primari section. As triari, we received better reinforcements. For two years, we'd been in a permanent squad. None of us had been killed. Wounds were out of the question in those conditions, except during tavern brawls. Our long service together had one advantage. Deryl never hid what was to come. There were no so-called "confidential orders." Despite our close ties, we rarely spoke of private matters. "The offensive is supposed to begin in the morning. The new commander is trying to prove himself. He's been given some cannon fodder, fresh supplies. I knew something was wrong. I rarely have false premonitions. " "Nice boys." We laughed until we cried. "You know, I wanted to beat you up for that stunt in Erudin. They threw us out on patrol because of it. But it didn't work out so badly by accident. " "I don't understand. " "It wasn't our turn to patrol. But because of your drunkenness in Erudin, they kicked us out. Still, it wasn't so bad. Apparently, the new commander wants to launch an assault. Thanks to this patrol, we'll be in the back. The key is to hide somewhere and get out at the right time. " "Maybe you're right. And in Erudin, I was trying to find out what was going on. I got drunk off the killer." I thought for a moment. "That patrol was for drinking too much. And I thought it was for our performance of 'On the Front Line.'" The communicator started crackling with laughter from the entire section. It wasn't so bad. They pulled us back to the shelter by the gate. We shot Idrysyl and fell asleep like babies. Idryl was standard equipment for an infantryman back then; it put you to sleep soundly, and if necessary, a quick bolus of cofactor would cause a sudden return of the sensorium and... a terrible headache. I woke up normally. Indien and Andien were already picking up snippets of information. "Nemo, you're up. The attack has begun. " "How are they doing? " "They're getting a terrible beating from the comlinks. " I turned off my comlink; I don't like listening to screams. I was focused solely on them and the orders for my section and myself. The battle raged on in full swing. We were lucky; hidden in the rear, we listened to what was happening. Within two hours, the angels had slaughtered almost half the attackers and launched a counterattack. As our outposts began to fall, command ordered a retreat and the abandonment of the barrier they had captured ten years earlier. They stationed several primari platoons at the forward outposts, leaving Amen's section to secure the gate itself. Our section, together with Gindra's section, was to constitute the rear guard. We walked slowly, monitoring the terrain. A few steps back, crouching, monitoring the position, a few steps back, crouching, and monitoring the position again. Ginder and his men were several hundred meters to the right. We had contact with him at times, but we knew that once the fighting began, both we and they would be left to our own devices. Amen was supposed to hold out for four hours. None of us doubted they wouldn't last 15 minutes. We were surprised when they halted their advance for two hours. That's when Amen was killed. They reported on their comms that individual infantry units had passed through the gate. However, they held on bravely, not letting the heavy vehicles through. We heard them die one by one. Nothing happened in our position for the first three hours of retreat. Then the first spiders flew by. We ignored them. And they probably hadn't detected us. We saw them destroyed by successive delaying lines. We had to remain undetected. That was the only chance we had to surprise the attackers. We retreated about 2 kilometers from the barrier. Then the first anil units appeared. A small group was walking slowly. Satab detected them first. Locating the rest took us over 20 minutes. Comparing the detector records from ten uniforms is long and arduous. "Six. We have an advantage." - telepathic pulse - "There can be at most one more. Don't activate communicators. We attack together. Now." They were about three hundred meters away. I fired all four hundred charges on my uniform at them. For the first three salvos, I didn't bother with active defense. I could automatically change the modulation of my passive shields without thinking. I saw the penetrator tracers flying towards them, I saw them dodging with solver tracers. Too late, with such an advantage and surprise, they had no chance. Five died in the first salvo. They didn't even have time to fire their combat charges at us. The one still alive began to retreat. He fired a charge at us. There was no one left but the sixth. A sole survivor against 10 veterans. We had to split the fourth salvo. We had to use some of our small arms to shoot down the anil's shells. Our second and third salvos tore through the bodies of the dead anils. The only surviving one didn't get hit. Only a shot from Grid's solver in the fourth salvo tore it apart. It stood no chance. Despite the easy victory, we knew we'd encountered veterans. That anil was a real threat. Wow, what did they throw at us? We used the next salvos shooting down the shells it fired. It all took a few seconds. But to our perception, accelerated almost to the point of absurdity, it felt like an hour. Our brains analyzed, like slow motion, images invisible to the naked eye. We saw the solver beams in our brains, reaching almost the speed of light, slowly traversing the several hundred meters separating us from the angels, like a wisp of smoke from a slowly burning fuse. Now it was over. We were lucky, anyway. The entire force of the skirmishers focused on Gindr's section. His men destroyed several units, but lost six soldiers. In the pause, we received a message from the barrier. "Ibn Mahab, Decurion Amen's section, all non-commissioned officers have died. I have taken command, gathered about 80 soldiers from the remnants of the assault units. The gate is secured, and about 20 soldiers are launching a counterattack. Brief information." Deryl nodded. A mental impulse passed through our minds. We are suspending our retreat. If there are any other orders from command, we pretend the comms are down. We reformed into a defensive formation. Deryl sent me a message: "Ginder knows." He also formed a defensive formation. He's relaying the information to the line behind him. We waited. We destroyed about three more incomplete units of anils before we received another message from the barrier. "Ibn Mahab, I'm in bunker C2, captured yesterday. The defenses are strong; about 1,000 remnants have gathered here. I'm continuing the counterattack with 200 soldiers. Request support. " Deryl waved his hand. "We're attacking." We slowly reformed into an attack formation and slowly moved towards the barrier. Short, unpredictable movements, always moving slowly forward. Ginder signaled that he was waiting for support. The next lines are also counterattacking. I could have agreed. He and three soldiers were of no combat value. We made a mistake. We didn't detect the anils. We ran into them. More precisely, Irl ran into some bugler. I quickly adjusted the detection range of my detectors. An enemy soldier stood in front of me. He had drawn his sword, and the point flew into my chest. I parried, and the counterattack pierced the anil's uniform. It worked. "I won't waste time finishing them off," I thought. "The gases will do their job anyway. " Slowly, I realized there was a battle going on all around me. I quickly focused on the detectors. Three other anils lay dead nearby. Two, like mine, pierced by swords. The third, torn apart by a solver beam. "It's a miracle. We're all still alive. Damn the buglers," I guessed . "Shut up. Observe the area. We might not be so lucky next time. " Amen's unit must have done a good job. Just a few incomplete squads, and without heavy equipment. "I wonder," I thought, "how many of them survived. " "Nemo, don't think about nonsense, they'll shoot your ass." - I forgot that we know each other's thoughts. A few more spiders flew out from behind the barrier. We didn't wait this time. They were looking for us. The solvers were finding targets. We watched as they fell one by one. "Nemo, don't get carried away, or they'll shoot your ass off." Nothing happened until the barrier. We reached it slowly. Now we were on the ramparts. The remnants of the assault units held their positions bravely. They recognized us as humans. Deryl announced, "Let's continue the attack." We slowly made our way to the bunker, following the familiar route. Every now and then, a mine would fly in our direction. Fortunately, our shots were accurate. Then, ten of us, we entered the bunker. More precisely, to what we had done yesterday. In and around it lay about a thousand infantrymen, including even a few officers. All terrified. The only person we could talk to was Sergeant Broda. "They've wiped out almost my entire platoon. Most of these guys here can't do anything, they're terrified." We divided those who were able to fight with Mahab. He took 200 soldiers and moved towards the main enemy bunker. I held 30 and will continue to defend. I will not give you orders. You must decide for yourselves whether to remain here. Will you follow Mahab? "I always believed in hiding and emerging at the right moment. With Mahab, we have a better chance of survival than with those losers. Besides, we'll be more useful there." We went. A slow offensive formation. Slowly, step by step. Every now and then, a mine would be released, which had to be shot down. Despite our fatigue, we aimed well. We were still alive. On the way, a human mine joined us. I thought we shouldn't destroy it. It might be useful. In this formation, it wouldn't detonate; it might kill two or three at most. With this number of men, he won't try to kill us with a saw." Deryl agreed with me. Mina followed us in an assault infantry uniform. As we approached the battlefield, the mine moved ahead of us. Meanwhile, Mahab's boys had punched a hole in the bunker wall and launched an attack. Wading through the remains of uniforms, mostly Imperial infantry, with only a few Angels, we couldn't see much. However, after the first brave ones, a mine entered the bunker. A moment later, there was an explosion. This bunker was more solid. When we entered, we found that the explosion had only destroyed the inner walls without damaging the bunker's structure. Deryl ran up to Mahab. "Good job, lad. I'm taking over. We've prepared a defensive line. Of course, we've taken the best positions inside the bunker. The key is to take cover properly and not risk our lives unnecessarily." For the next two days, we repelled the angel attacks. We destroyed the mines. We managed to hold out. All ten of us. Then we were relieved. We carefully retreated to the famous bunker C2. From there, the ANG took us to the Erudin base. It must have been a terrible slaughter. No one even tried to shoot us down in the area that had until recently been the angel command center. We were given two days off. A warm bath, two days out of uniform. And a drinking spree in the privates' canteen. Gtog at the army's expense. We screamed like the damned, singing the latest hits. And the loudest when we heard the melody of "Jak to jest w Wojsku" (How It Is in the Army). The officially banned song, set to the rhythm of the propaganda hit "Na Frontlinie" (On the Front Line), was known to absolutely everyone. "And splash, thump in that stupid beak, what's the point of service without a thug? That familiar move, like a ghost. I 'm a brave guy , I swallow my glass, it's already empty , fuck the pole, I'll be dead tomorrow, but that glass in my mouth ... The gendarmerie was called. Deryl showed the triari emblem of the line infantry at the sight of the approaching lieutenant. "It's nice to see veterans of the battle. You did a good job. But please, turn that song down a bit. Some idiot is bothering me. " "Of course, boss ." And splash and thump in that stupid beak. Deryl started again, a tone lower. The lieutenant approached the bartender and spoke, tapping his forehead. The bartender, all red, seemed to apologize. No one disturbed us until late at night. Then I blacked out. When I woke up, I was lying in Intensive Alcohol Rehab. The lieutenant, my company commander, was standing next to me. Nemo, Deryl, you have to get ready. In three hours, you'll be taking part in the second round of ceremonial decorations. Just a few more minutes and you'll be back on your feet. I turned to the other side. On the bed next to me lay the same doctor who had criticized me so much during my drinking session with the pilot. "Oh, Doctor, he's extending his leave too." The old doctor and the lieutenant burst out laughing. As did the rest of the ward, who had managed to recover their sensorium. We dressed slowly. That uniform again. We pulled it on slowly, with disgust. We inserted a bladder catheter. All the protective gear and bandages. Without it, we were a blur moments after leaving the bunker. "You have the honor of visiting the officers' bunker," whispered Deryl. "Screw such an honor, I'd rather get out of this hell. " "Me too. But now hurry up, because some idiot from command is ready to send you to the penal battalion for being late." A Sneg pulled up to our bunker. However, this contraption was hardly comparable to the Snegs used for transport at the front. This luxurious limousine, used for transporting officers, had a fully airtight cabin, and only the ability to go outside gave it its name. We pulled up to the officers' bunker. We removed our combat uniforms and, in our dress rags, went into the auditorium. Over a hundred officials sat before us, including the new planetary commander, General Oin ar Theren, and a large portion of the staff. We were coming out when called. "Nemo Than!" the announcer shouted. I moved my rear and quickly walked toward the audience. Colonel Arma, the front commander, approached. "Private Nemo Than, for your courage, we award you the Grand Order of the Emperor, Second Class. " "Glory to the Emperor." They pinned this badge on me. As applause erupted, I calmly hid behind the stage. Next to emerge was Deryl. "Deryl Indusar." Deryl proudly walked into the hall with a steady, stiff stride. "Decurion, for your outstanding bravery during the battle, you are being promoted to sergeant and given command of a platoon. You also receive the Southern Star." But he managed it. For such a sly, receiving the highest decoration available to an ordinary soldier was quite something. A sash was placed on him, and he calmly began to leave the stage amidst thunderous applause, when the commotion began. Someone unauthorised had entered the hall. He pushed aside a guard and was quickly walking towards the stage. Two security guards rushed in, trying to escort him out. There was a flash. A human expression. I covered my face, feeling the heat. I was lucky. The shockwave lost its momentum against the wall I'd taken refuge behind. Deryl, or rather what was left of him, crawled toward me. A stump on his arms, legless, with burns all over his body, looked at me with pleading eyes. "Why?" Then he forced himself once more: "Remember, Nemo, the key is to hide properly..." Then he died in my arms. I don't remember what happened next. When I woke up, I was lying in the green room, and a charming nurse was changing my bandage. "Corporal Nemo, today is a beautiful sunny day. I survived. I was home, far from the din of battle." We watched him. Only now did we realize that the vampire we had solemnly promised ourselves to kill during training exercises was a human like themselves. They remembered how, during every training exercise, he would suddenly emerge from the middle of the group and yell, "Camouflage set incorrectly, detectors are working incorrectly!" and then he would cut us all down with a training laser. They remembered how, during shooting practice, he single-handedly destroyed four sections without being hit once. They dreamed of him in their nightmares, emerging as if from a fog: "Again in a group, no six of us allowed." And then, when they got their assignments, this heartless vampire gave them good grades and invited them to a tavern. "Now remember, no matter where they throw you. The important thing is to hide properly and emerge at the right moment. Simply survive. Don't believe the official propaganda. As you can see, the greatest success of the empire and its legendary general Oir ar Theren looks a bit different in the eyes of the participant than in the paeans of historians. And now, gtog at the army's expense. You have to learn to drink it. They won't give you anything better there. " "What about a harem? " "Well, I married that nurse. You're not allowed to have one here. We have five children and we're happy. I stayed in the army permanently. I've been training rookies like you for over 20 years, hoping some of you will outlive me. " "And the others? " "Well, Deryl died in my arms. The twins, Indien and Andien, survived. I don't know what's going on with Indien. Andien, encouraged by my stories, moved to Go-thab." He has a harem of over 200 women and, as a veteran, is a respected citizen. I don't know of any other fates. General Oin ar Theren, the mastermind behind all this chaos, perished in the explosion, just like Deryl. His fate was shared by most of the ceremony's participants. Command of the planet was, out of necessity, entrusted to General Seb Ther. After two years of fighting, he captured the entire planet. In time, he became a marshal and the emperor's right-hand man. And I told you this, you brats, so you'll always remember: The important thing is to hide properly and not risk your ass for no reason. He began to sing. "And splash and slap in that stupid beak. What good is service without a gun..." We froze. It was forbidden. But after a moment, we roared with him. Who would dare arrest Ensign Nemo? Explanations: solver - a type of beam weapon; sneg - an open vehicle for transporting people ; protective uniform - a hard armor containing life support equipment and a complete set of passive and offensive weapons ; gtog - a type of cheap alcohol, available without restrictions in the Imperial army. trumpet player - in colloquial dialect, anil.