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      Arai crouched on her tree limb waiting for the watch to change and for the body to be discovered. It had been several hours since she had taken out her second to last and she was getting impatient. She could no longer feel her feet and unforgiving cramps were slowly spreading themselves across her thighs. Her task, along with about ten others was to take out the guards on watch and their replacements. So far it had been a pretty boring and repetitive job. First you took out the guard on duty and then waited for the next half-wit to take their place, discover the body, and then you took them out before they could fully understand what was happening to them. The next guard was half and hour late and Arai was starting to get annoyed with her truant victim. An owl hooted and she yawned, brushing a stray lock of brown hair out of her face. Her hair was getting long again; she would have to cut it soon. Army regulations stated that it couldn’t be longer than your earlobes and hers was just barely short enough. Takil, her twin, had even shorter hair that was only an inch in length.  With a sigh Arai, readjusted her well muscled body and found a more comfortable position. She wasn’t short or tall, but of a medium height, which allowed her to cram herself into awkward places. Arai liked the night; it was calm, but busy. Especially in this sparsely populated region of Quant If you listened hard enough you could hear the animals going about their nocturnal business.

      “How’s it going?” a soft voice whispered in her ear. Arai jumped and hit her head on the branch above. Rubbing the sore spot she turned to glare at the woman behind her.

      “Just great until you showed up Takil,” she snapped in a hushed voice. She never could get the knack of whispering. “What are you doing here anyway?”

      “I just took out my last guard and came to pick you up,” Takil said, her green eyes sparkling with amusement.

      “My last one hasn’t shown up yet,” said Arai.

      “Hm, maybe they’ve slept late,” Takil suggested.

      “Maybe,” responded her twin. The excuse sounded hollow to both of them. Something was wrong.

      “Let’s go check it out,” and with that Takil jumped lithely out of the tree and on to the forest floor. Arai had a bit more trouble, but managed to get down without landing on her rump. With a long, lean bone structure, Takil had always been the more graceful of the twins. Arai was more muscular, and thus to her constant consternation, less graceful. Silently the pair moved in the direction of the enemy’s main camp. It took them several minutes to reach the last row of trees around the camp; the guards they were supposed to take out were several hundred yards out. When they sighted the first tent Takil motioned Arai behind a tree.

      “I’ll scout ahead, you stay behind and keep watch,” she whispered. Arai nodded in agreement.

 Takil slid down towards the encampment. Ten minutes went by and she came back with a look of shock and disbelief on her pale face.

      “Arai, you have to see this,” she said urgently.

      “What’s the matter?”

      “Just come on,” the other woman responded. The first thing that came to her was the smell; it was one that usually hung over a battlefield. Finally after the first few tents she saw them. Staked around a massive bon fire were the bodies her nine comrades sent to remove the other soldiers on watch. They were tied to giant wooden X’s by their own entrails with their ribcages ripped open and spread like the bloody wings of angels, their feet dancing one last dance on the wind.

      “Sweet gods, what happened?” she asked.

      “I don’t know,” replied Takil grimly.

      For a while they simply stared, and then Arai’s stomach did a flip. She looked desperately around, and ran off behind a tent. No sooner did she kneel down before the contents of her stomach rebelled. As she was finishing she felt a cool hand on her forehead. “Easy,” murmured Takil. “Easy.” Takil turned her sister over and gave her the water flask. Arai took the flask with gratitude.

Once her stomach had calmed down she said, “We need to go back and report this.”

      “Yes, we do.”

      “Let’s go then,” said Arai nervously looked around. “Hey, where is everyone?”

      “Don’t know, c’mon lets go,” Takil said, heading for the forest. It was obvious that the enemy had deserted the camp a while ago. The crucified soldiers were meant to serve as a warning, not a trap. Arai took one last look at her comrades and turned to follow.

     

۞

      “What happened exactly?” Colonel Taj was a tall lean man, but in no way handsome. His face was crisscrossed with scars and his nose had been broken several times. An old head wound created a white streak in an otherwise black buzz cut. Piercing blue eyes gazed at them with irritation. His hands were crossed behind his back as he paced like a caged lion before them. His tent was larger than a regular soldier’s, but his long legs took him easily across the confined space, making it hard for him to pace.

      “They were crucified sir,” replied Arai.

      “Yes I got that bit, but what I want to know,” he snapped, stopping in his pacing to direct his full gaze at the twins, “is how nine of your fellow soldiers were crucified under your very noses.”

      “We’re not quite sure sir, we stayed at our posts the whole time,” Takil replied this time. “I then went and got Private Rylt. Her last guard hadn’t shown up, so we went to check it out sir,” she continued.

      “I see. And what part of the order ‘you aren’t allowed to enter the enemy camp’ did you not understand Private Rylt?” inquired the Colonel with a raised eyebrow.

      “Sir that’s not fair,” interjected Arai. “It was a joint decision.”

      “That is no excuse for the decision,” he bellowed. His face slightly resembled a tomato at this point, a very ripe tomato. Taj was frightening sometimes and the twins shrank under his gaze.

      “Yes sir,” said the twins in dejected unison.

      “Since it was a joint decision you will both have latrine duty for the next week.”

      They saluted smartly and left the command tent. Once outside Arai let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I am so glad that’s over,” she said.

      “I know what you mean,” agreed Takil with a half-hearted grin. Together they walked towards another big tent that constituted as the offices for all the civilians that accompanied the strike force. It was a small force, comprised of only a hundred foot soldiers who were all trained in forest combat, but it still needed civilian support for menial day to day tasks. Their camp wasn’t permanent, and that meant that the tents were always being pitched or taken down. The soldiers handled their own small tents that they shared with another member of their Squadron and erected the temporary palisade around the camp. But the stables, mess tent and office tent were handled by civilians. Civilians also handled grooming, cooking and laundry, which the soldiers did not have time to do. One squad or another was always attacking the enemy, usually two squads at a time, while the others rested and guarded the camp. 

      Their mission was to use guerrilla tactics and shrink the enemy army before it reached the border. Quick raids picking off the rear guard were conducted by the Red Squadron. The Blue Squadron used gliders to drop large heavy objects on the masses, and the Green picked off the scouts and reinforcements.

      They were actually more like companies, with about thirty in each, but “Squadron” sounded more impressive. The remaining eleven comprised the Black Squadron. They struck at night and were by far the most feared, having spent years of training and preparation before they were allowed anywhere near a battle field. They were the elite of the army, it was unheard of to loose that many of the Black on one mission. So far guerilla warfare was working, probably not for much longer after today. The enemy had caught on to their tactic and it would no longer work as the whole foundation had been built upon surprise.

      As they entered the tent a secretary looked up from his desk. “Can I help you?” he asked, peering over his glasses.

      “We’re here for penal duty,” replied Takil.

      “A specific duty?” Arai thought he looked like a mole.

      “Latrine,” said Takil. A really skinny mole.

      “Names?” he asked, taking out a scroll and pen.

      “Privates Rylt,” Arai volunteered. The mole dipped his pen in the ink well and fluidly put their names down on a list. Arai didn’t like scribes; they were always so stuck up. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that their handwriting was better than hers, or so she tried to tell herself.

      “You can start tomorrow after your normal duties for your penal shift,” the secretary said rolling up the parchment. Takil and Arai left with out another word. Arai took off in the direction of the mess tent for dinner. After a few minutes Takil ran to catch up; she had been watching as the Red Squad brought in the bodies from the tragedy the night before. Wordlessly they entered and sat at their table. One of the soldiers on kitchen duty came up with a loaf of bread and bowls of lentil soup and set them on the table without a word. She wouldn’t look at them and avoided any contact at all.  It was uncannily quiet.

      Arai looked around the room, everyone was staring at them. She knew what was running through their heads ‘Where’s the rest of them?’ The empty seats were like a huge carnival sign advertising what had happened to their comrades. She lowered her head and began to eat her soup. Eventually conversation started up again.

      A soldier got up and headed in their direction. A hush fell over the room again.

      “So what happened to the rest of your ‘special unit’? The famous Black Squadron,” she asked with a mocking tone in her voice.

      “Go away Silvia,” Takil replied wearily. Silvia was a member of the Green Company. For some reason the Green hated the Black, they probably felt cheated. Egotistical jerks the bunch of them.

      “No, I think I’ll stay right here,” Silvia chortled. Her breath reeked of alcohol and she was swaying from side to side. “You guys aren’t as big as you’re made up to be. You’re frauds.” The stench was horrible.

      “Let’s leave,” Arai said to Takil.

      “Let’s,” she agreed. They got up and started to leave, but Silvia grabbed Arai’s shoulder and spun her around. Silvia was much bigger than Arai, and her eyes were small and beady like a pig’s. All in all, Silvia was a pig.

      “Hey, I’m talkin’ to you, c**t,” she snarled. That really didn’t improve her features.

      “Leave them be,” someone said.

      “Yes, leave us be,” repeated Takil.

      “Not so big are you, now? No wonder you guys do all your work at night, can’t stand a real fight,” shouted Silvia drunkenly. Arai wrenched her shoulder from the other woman’s grasp. Silvia gave her a shove.

      “Leave me be,” she said.

      “No way c**t,” said Silvia taking a swing at Arai’s head. Arai merely twisted to the side and brought two fingers up between the other woman’s jugular and her jaw, pressing slightly. Silvia immediately went up on her tip-toes trying to avoid the pain.

      “Leave us be,” Arai said quietly. Shouting never helped any situation and broadcasting Silvia's defeat would only make the woman angrier. Which would make her rave, which meant that Arai would most likely be the recipient of another dose of the other woman's foul breath.

      “I’ll get you for this,” Silvia hissed.

      Arai snorted and abruptly removed her fingers. She would have to wash her hands later; it felt like Silvia hadn’t washed in ages. The woman collapsed to the floor. The two remaining members of the Black Squadron left in hushed silence.

۞

      The funeral service for the Black Squadron was two days later. Silvia and her squadron were noticeably absent. Good riddance. No one cried, and the service was over after half an hour. Arai felt cheated, as if her squad hadn’t been given proper respect. But they had, all the rites had been said and performed.

      Then she looked around, no one cared. She could see it on their faces. Oh they cared in the sense that more people had been lost, but no one really cared. No one would miss Mijel’s jokes or Qi’s cooking like the twins would. Arai felt like crying, she hadn’t felt like crying since she was four. She began to hate all the people around her, with their false sympathy and silent mirth. They were all like Silvia. No, that wasn’t fair, none of them knew. They didn’t know these people, so why were they here, why would they care?

      “We just want to say we’re all sorry,” said one of the soldiers, he looked like he actually cared. He had tried flirting with her once, when she had first been assigned. A group of soldiers was clumped behind him. Blues, by their arm bands, every one of them.

      “Thank you,” Arai whispered. He nodded and left. They didn’t know, but they did care. Or maybe it was just false sympathy, she couldn’t tell anymore. All emotion went out of her, numbness spread throughout her limbs. She didn’t know what to feel, or what to think. She smirked; at least latrine duty would take her mind off of things for a while. Numb the rest of her senses and make the world go away.

 

Reviews

[AaronPhobia]

good good good =D

keep writing