Mutatis-Mutandis
03-12-2011, 06:13 PM
The alarm blared, the lights pulsing as everyone woke drearily from their bunks. After so many months of waiting, after so many years of training, it was finally happening. For Rael it was a relief and a worry. Finally the endless nights of restless sleep and apprehension would be over, but the prospect of what could lay ahead was little comfort.
As Rael woke and cleared his head, he saw others around him doing the same. While some were waking and trying to make sense of the siren, others were already running past to their assigned posts. Getting up to go to his place, it seemed as if he had done this all before; he had rehearsed it so many times in his mind it felt like déjà vu as he ran down the hall. He thought of his family whom he hadn’t seen for four years, his two children. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to just talk to them, to hear their voices, but he knew that was impossible, and the only way to ensure that for his future was not to die.
The rooms that held his and others’ equipment was a frenzy of activity. Everyone had a different look on their face. Some looked apprehensive, some looked excited, some looked scared, and others looked blank. Rael knew what that felt like. He felt like that himself, void of emotion. He knew he should feel something, and he grappled for a feeling; something, anything that would give him focus. As his family surfaced in his mind, he pushed them away, and settled for the blankness. For what was to come, it was better not to feel, not to think, to just be and do. Rael began to put on his infantry suit, light and barely armored. They had nothing that could repel the weapons of the enemy, so it was best to keep their suits light so they could at least stay quick on their feet. As he pulled the tunic over his head, he noticed someone next to him.
“Have they landed yet”” asked Rael. He did not know the soldier next to him, he only knew a few others in his unit, and he saw none of them around. They were either ahead of him or behind him.
“Not yet, but soon. They are almost in our atmosphere. I heard one of the commanders talking. There are a lot.” The look of dismay in the man’s eyes was chilling. He was near tears, but he fought them back. Rael wanted to comfort him, but knew no way. He only nodded and continued dressing.
Finally he grabbed the rifle that was stored in the back of his locker, the archaic weapon that was more familiar to him than anything else. The technology of weaponry had not evolved for nearly a hundred years. It had no reason to. They had lived in peace for nearly as long, until war was declared on them by those from the other end of the galaxy. He looked down the barrel, already knowing it was completely clear and impeccably clean. He grabbed a clip of bullets and loaded it into the gun. He checked the sight, making sure it was still correctly aligned, and grabbed two more clips. He slung the rifle over his back. Finally, he loaded his pistol and set it in the holster at his hip, the weight of the two guns strangely comforting and calming.
With his helmet secured, he ran off to the ship that would take him to the battlefield. When he reached the ship, he realized he was the last to arrive. His commander, who was never short of harsh words for those serving under him, only looked at him. He got into the last open seat, which were aligned against the walls, and strapped himself in. The ship began to tremble as it took off to deliver Rael to the first war in over a century.
The engine roared as the ship lifted off the ground, and Rael gripped the arm holds tightly. The ship was like a cargo container connected to engines, with fifteen people sitting at opposite sides, looking across to each other. Most of his fellow soldiers sat like him. They were quiet, their eyes looking forward, hands gripping the arms of the seats. A few were sweating, and Rael saw a tear falling from one man’s eye, but he said nothing of it. No one did. A few sat relaxed with eyes closed, muttering softly to themselves in prayer. Some were smiling and laughing, giving yells of excitement. The idea of what was to come being an exciting or joyous event seemed absurd to Rael.
They flew for about twenty minutes, though each minute passed by agonizingly slow. “Remember your training. Do not fire wildly. Aim, take a breath, and fire!” shouted the commander. How could I forget, you only drilled that into our heads every two minutes. Rael often went to sleep at night with those words echoing in his mind. Aim, take a breath, and fire. Finally the momentum shifted, and Rael could feel the ship lowering, its engines now sounding a deep rumbling as they touched down. Then the doors opened.
They entered a hell already in full progress. Their harnesses released, and they poured out of the transport into a world full of smoke, fire, and explosions. He ran out of the transport as fast as possible, as soldiers were shot down to the right and left of him. The invaders had much better weaponry than they did. Where they had bullets, they had lasers. They had underestimated them though, and the invaders were outnumbered ten to one, and they were fighting on foreign soil.
The battle was a blur for Rael, and as he later walked the battlefield, the injured strewn about, dead or dying, he could not remember the fight clearly. It was all noise and action. He remembered the electric whir of lasers as they passed by his head. The ringing in his ears reminded him of missiles that exploded by him. His leg was burned slightly where a laser singed him, but he barely felt it, and it did not hurt as much as it did irritate. The only part he remembered clearly was killing one of them. It seemed so easy. He took cover behind a boulder, quickly looked over for a target, found one, sighted him, took a breath, and fired. The splash of red that followed after told him it was a hit. He knew he killed many more, but it all mottled together in his mind.
Now he walked the field, searching among the dead for any enemy still alive. There would be no capture, anyone found alive would be killed. They had invaded their planet, and it was decided long ago they would not waste the resources the invaders had come for on those same invaders. This was made clear to the enemy, yet they came. If they had only asked for aid, maybe they would have received it, but they wanted to take it instead.
Rael walked, inspecting bodies, poking and prodding, waiting for some kind of response. He came upon a body, gave it a light kick, and heard a moan. Placing his boot under the body’s torso, he rolled it over.
It was a boy, or what he assumed was a boy. It was sometimes difficult to determine the aliens’ age. The alien looked up at him, small blue eyes furrowed in fright, looking right into Rael. Rael stood and studied him for a moment, as this was the first alien he had seen closely. He had pale skin, wet with sweat. In the middle of his face a bulbous jutting of flesh came out, punctured with two holes for breathing. He had short hair, and his bottom jaw trembled. It was quite amazing the amount of expressions these creatures were capable of making with their face. As he looked down at his legs, he saw that they were a mangled mess, a bone sticking out of the left one.
“Please, please. . . don’t kill me,” begged the youth. Rael had studied their archaic language. It was very simple, like the rest of their culture. The only area they excelled at was the ability to kill efficiently, a skill that now needed to be learned by Rael’s people.
“I have orders. No one left alive. This was made clear to you before you invaded.” The youth looked startled when he spoke his language. He searched for words.
“I was just drafted, I have a family, I never wanted to come here, please,” pleaded the youth.
“I have a family, too. One I am fighting for. One I will protect until my dieing breath. We never wanted you here, but you came anyways, for no reason.”
“You attacked us, killed almost a million of our people,” said the young soldier, confused. Rael didn’t know what to say to that. They hadn’t even known of the planet Earth before they declared war and invaded their planet.
“That was a lie,” said Rael. He then leveled the rifle at the youth’s head, and pulled the trigger. A small click replaced the loud shot he expected. He took out the clip, and found a bullet still there. A misfire. Looking at the broken man’s legs, he said, “Well, I guess you won’t be much of a threat anymore, human.” He paused and looked at the man. He seemed harmless like this, frightened and alone. It seemed almost perverse to kill him now, after the bullet failed. “What is your name?” he asked.
“John,” said the young man.
“Then I would suggest you pray to whatever God it is you pray to that we never meet again,” Rael told John, and walked off. Where he was walking to, or what lay ahead, he did not know.
As Rael woke and cleared his head, he saw others around him doing the same. While some were waking and trying to make sense of the siren, others were already running past to their assigned posts. Getting up to go to his place, it seemed as if he had done this all before; he had rehearsed it so many times in his mind it felt like déjà vu as he ran down the hall. He thought of his family whom he hadn’t seen for four years, his two children. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to just talk to them, to hear their voices, but he knew that was impossible, and the only way to ensure that for his future was not to die.
The rooms that held his and others’ equipment was a frenzy of activity. Everyone had a different look on their face. Some looked apprehensive, some looked excited, some looked scared, and others looked blank. Rael knew what that felt like. He felt like that himself, void of emotion. He knew he should feel something, and he grappled for a feeling; something, anything that would give him focus. As his family surfaced in his mind, he pushed them away, and settled for the blankness. For what was to come, it was better not to feel, not to think, to just be and do. Rael began to put on his infantry suit, light and barely armored. They had nothing that could repel the weapons of the enemy, so it was best to keep their suits light so they could at least stay quick on their feet. As he pulled the tunic over his head, he noticed someone next to him.
“Have they landed yet”” asked Rael. He did not know the soldier next to him, he only knew a few others in his unit, and he saw none of them around. They were either ahead of him or behind him.
“Not yet, but soon. They are almost in our atmosphere. I heard one of the commanders talking. There are a lot.” The look of dismay in the man’s eyes was chilling. He was near tears, but he fought them back. Rael wanted to comfort him, but knew no way. He only nodded and continued dressing.
Finally he grabbed the rifle that was stored in the back of his locker, the archaic weapon that was more familiar to him than anything else. The technology of weaponry had not evolved for nearly a hundred years. It had no reason to. They had lived in peace for nearly as long, until war was declared on them by those from the other end of the galaxy. He looked down the barrel, already knowing it was completely clear and impeccably clean. He grabbed a clip of bullets and loaded it into the gun. He checked the sight, making sure it was still correctly aligned, and grabbed two more clips. He slung the rifle over his back. Finally, he loaded his pistol and set it in the holster at his hip, the weight of the two guns strangely comforting and calming.
With his helmet secured, he ran off to the ship that would take him to the battlefield. When he reached the ship, he realized he was the last to arrive. His commander, who was never short of harsh words for those serving under him, only looked at him. He got into the last open seat, which were aligned against the walls, and strapped himself in. The ship began to tremble as it took off to deliver Rael to the first war in over a century.
The engine roared as the ship lifted off the ground, and Rael gripped the arm holds tightly. The ship was like a cargo container connected to engines, with fifteen people sitting at opposite sides, looking across to each other. Most of his fellow soldiers sat like him. They were quiet, their eyes looking forward, hands gripping the arms of the seats. A few were sweating, and Rael saw a tear falling from one man’s eye, but he said nothing of it. No one did. A few sat relaxed with eyes closed, muttering softly to themselves in prayer. Some were smiling and laughing, giving yells of excitement. The idea of what was to come being an exciting or joyous event seemed absurd to Rael.
They flew for about twenty minutes, though each minute passed by agonizingly slow. “Remember your training. Do not fire wildly. Aim, take a breath, and fire!” shouted the commander. How could I forget, you only drilled that into our heads every two minutes. Rael often went to sleep at night with those words echoing in his mind. Aim, take a breath, and fire. Finally the momentum shifted, and Rael could feel the ship lowering, its engines now sounding a deep rumbling as they touched down. Then the doors opened.
They entered a hell already in full progress. Their harnesses released, and they poured out of the transport into a world full of smoke, fire, and explosions. He ran out of the transport as fast as possible, as soldiers were shot down to the right and left of him. The invaders had much better weaponry than they did. Where they had bullets, they had lasers. They had underestimated them though, and the invaders were outnumbered ten to one, and they were fighting on foreign soil.
The battle was a blur for Rael, and as he later walked the battlefield, the injured strewn about, dead or dying, he could not remember the fight clearly. It was all noise and action. He remembered the electric whir of lasers as they passed by his head. The ringing in his ears reminded him of missiles that exploded by him. His leg was burned slightly where a laser singed him, but he barely felt it, and it did not hurt as much as it did irritate. The only part he remembered clearly was killing one of them. It seemed so easy. He took cover behind a boulder, quickly looked over for a target, found one, sighted him, took a breath, and fired. The splash of red that followed after told him it was a hit. He knew he killed many more, but it all mottled together in his mind.
Now he walked the field, searching among the dead for any enemy still alive. There would be no capture, anyone found alive would be killed. They had invaded their planet, and it was decided long ago they would not waste the resources the invaders had come for on those same invaders. This was made clear to the enemy, yet they came. If they had only asked for aid, maybe they would have received it, but they wanted to take it instead.
Rael walked, inspecting bodies, poking and prodding, waiting for some kind of response. He came upon a body, gave it a light kick, and heard a moan. Placing his boot under the body’s torso, he rolled it over.
It was a boy, or what he assumed was a boy. It was sometimes difficult to determine the aliens’ age. The alien looked up at him, small blue eyes furrowed in fright, looking right into Rael. Rael stood and studied him for a moment, as this was the first alien he had seen closely. He had pale skin, wet with sweat. In the middle of his face a bulbous jutting of flesh came out, punctured with two holes for breathing. He had short hair, and his bottom jaw trembled. It was quite amazing the amount of expressions these creatures were capable of making with their face. As he looked down at his legs, he saw that they were a mangled mess, a bone sticking out of the left one.
“Please, please. . . don’t kill me,” begged the youth. Rael had studied their archaic language. It was very simple, like the rest of their culture. The only area they excelled at was the ability to kill efficiently, a skill that now needed to be learned by Rael’s people.
“I have orders. No one left alive. This was made clear to you before you invaded.” The youth looked startled when he spoke his language. He searched for words.
“I was just drafted, I have a family, I never wanted to come here, please,” pleaded the youth.
“I have a family, too. One I am fighting for. One I will protect until my dieing breath. We never wanted you here, but you came anyways, for no reason.”
“You attacked us, killed almost a million of our people,” said the young soldier, confused. Rael didn’t know what to say to that. They hadn’t even known of the planet Earth before they declared war and invaded their planet.
“That was a lie,” said Rael. He then leveled the rifle at the youth’s head, and pulled the trigger. A small click replaced the loud shot he expected. He took out the clip, and found a bullet still there. A misfire. Looking at the broken man’s legs, he said, “Well, I guess you won’t be much of a threat anymore, human.” He paused and looked at the man. He seemed harmless like this, frightened and alone. It seemed almost perverse to kill him now, after the bullet failed. “What is your name?” he asked.
“John,” said the young man.
“Then I would suggest you pray to whatever God it is you pray to that we never meet again,” Rael told John, and walked off. Where he was walking to, or what lay ahead, he did not know.