“I didn’t expect there to be.”
Rok felt sick, not just because of the illness and the smell of death. “Sir…other units have failed to respond to our hails. You don’t think we’re the only ones left alive on this planet, do you?”
“I don’t believe that. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation—other units have moved out of communication range or their devices failed. But, given that you and I are alone, perhaps you should drop the sir and call me Xenyth.”
Call his commanding officer by hisname? Military discipline had been drilled into his bones to the extent it had become part of his marrow. “Is that an order?”
Xenyth coughed. “No, it’s not an order.”
“Then, I’m sorry, sir. But I can’t do that.”
The captain sighed. “Suit yourself.”
“Since there are only two of us, what is our role now? What do we do?”
“We default to the last set of orders received—continue with the cleansing.” The captain lurched toward his cot. “For now, I’m going back to bed.”
Rok retreated to his own bunk, opened a military ration bar, and bit into it, chewing mechanically. Thanks to the illness, it was flavorless, a huge improvement over the normal nasty taste. He’d lost his appetite but needed to eat, recognizing a lack of food could have caused some of his fatigue. His last meal had been…days ago? He couldn’t recall.
This was not how he’d envisioned his deployment to an alien planet. Nothing had gone the way he’d hoped. He had yet to contribute in a meaningful, promotable way.
Doing well in a planetary cleansing campaign almost always led to a rapid rise. As a cadet, he’d graduated with highest honors, but after twelve years of active service, he had failed to make rank. Everyone was required to serve ten years in the military, but like his brother, his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents, he’d chosen to make the military his career. He was proud to serve his planet, and the regimented life suited him. He thrived on discipline, rules, regulations, protocols, and clear expectationswith no ambiguity.Do it once. Do it right.The guiding principle couldn’t be simpler.
But he hadn’t achieved a single kill.
Now, it might be too late. What good did it do to distinguish oneself if no one saw? Vaporizing your dead comrades didn’t count.
As a cadet in the Ministry Education Center, he’d received numerous commendations for exceptional performance. He’d expected the same when he segued into the military. Instead, he was no longer a standout. Exceptionalism was average, and he’d become one of many vying for promotion.
So, he applied for the Earth campaign.
Instead of getting assigned to the elite air command, he’d been sent to ground patrol, and not the first wave when one could log numerous kills, but the second wave, the cleanup crew. He had yet to engage a single human.
Earth had been ripe for a takeover. If Progg-Res hadn’t claimed it, another nation-planet would have. Perfectly positioned within its solar system to be superbly habitable, Earth offered a breathable atmosphere, an abundance of drinkable water, a temperate climate, and a rich diversity of plant life. Its overseers, while intelligent, had not technologicallyadvanced far enough to repel an invasion. Nor did Earth belong to the Federation of Alien Beings, which would have been obligated to render military aid. Earth was defenseless.
Except for an unforeseen, invisible foe. The plague.
Across the gym, Capt. Xenyth coughed uncontrollably.
Right now, Rok wished some other nation-planet had gotten to Earth first. After this debacle, everyone associated with the campaign might be tainted by the failure. The disgrace could haunt them for the rest of their careers and lives.
Progg did not lose. Period. Yet they did not appear to be winning.
A more horrible idea had taken root.What if we’re stuck here? What if we can’t get off Earth?
He tried to stay positive by reminding himself Progg-Res had an undefeated record of conquest. But after five months without a single communication and watching the men of his unit sicken and die, the insidious fear had burrowed into his brain, and he couldn’t shake it loose.
The campaign had launched like all the others—perfectly. First, military installations and major citieswere vaporized from space then medium ones. When the defenses and most of the population had been dealt with, the first wave of ground troops landed and cleared out the smaller cities and towns.
The entire planet could have been cleansed from space, but that would have killed all animal life. Progg had no use for animals, per se, except that insects, birds, and mammals propagated vegetation, which they did require. On Earth, plants and animals were mutually dependent. Animals ate plants; plants used animals for pollination and to spread seeds and spores. Without animals, much of the vegetation could wither and die.
After the first wave of ground troops stormed the smaller towns, the second wave followed to root out the survivors in bunkers, caves, and other remote hideaways. For this, they recruited humans to help find the stragglers, granting them a survival pass in exchange for assistance.
Rok had gone on patrol with no success. Others in his unit had eliminated six humans, recruiting a seventh as their guide. The guide had led them to another dozen, who’d been summarily dispatched. Xenyth had awarded the men distinguished stars. Rok had earned none. He was a failure.
Admiral Drek died, other units had reported deaths, and then the men of Rok’s unit had succumbed to the plague as well.
He wondered if his brother was still alive. The last he’d heard, Grav had been an aide to Admiral Drek, a plum position of considerable distinction. Although they weren’t close, he hated to think his only sibling might have perished.
