For centuries, The
British Army has used the night as a weapon. Utilising stealth, our
fighters have struck from the darkness to cut the head off of our
enemies.
And so, I find myself
here, in an alien compound, on a distant world. Intelligence had told
us that this was where one of their generals was hunkering down.
This planet is roughly
half-way between Earth and the Diurnal home-world. We have the
advantage here. Due to the fast orbit of the next two planets between
us and this system's sun, the rock that we're on is three quarters of
the time in darkness.
The advantage we have
is that, to all intents and purposes, the Diurnals seem afraid of the
dark! Seriously. The race that, unprovoked, attacked all of our
colonies this side of Deneb, are nyctophobic. All of the battles
that they have instigated across all of the rocks that we've been
fighting them on, have been during the day. When they have been
forced to fight at night, they wear what we have come to call “Glow
Suits”, which mark them out as easy targets.
This compound, our
drones told us, was only lightly defended. Both us and The Diurnals,
our supply chains stretched so thin, lack the resources to build
bunkers or other properly fortified installations here. It is for the
same reason that we have no artillery support, so were having to go
in on foot and do the job ourselves.
So, with the darkness
as our ally, we attacked. With 37 Earth hours 'till sun up, we
entered the compound to no resistance. We found the Diurnals command
centre lit up from the inside. Every where else was dark. With hand
signals, visible due to our night-vision gear, our lieutenant
signalled us to keep moving forward, then surround the building as
planned. We were less that 40 meters away when it happened.
Floodlights blazed on, dazzling our optics. Every one of us ripped
them from our heads. Still partially blind, we saw through watering
eyes, the enemy flood from the building.
Now, I'm the only one
left. My platoon mates were all slaughtered.
Instead of being cut
down by the spinning blades that the enemy uses instead of bullets, I
was stunned with some kind of electrical weapon. Now I'm here, bound,
squinting in the bright lights inside the Diurnal's command centre.
The enemy soldiers
have put their rifles down and are taking off their “Glow Suits”.
I've read the intelligence reports on Diurnal physiology, studied
them. It has been part of my job as platoon medic, to brief my
comrades on how best to kill them. But until now I've never seen one
alive. Now they are unarmoured, I see how grotesque and alien the
enemy truly are. They are humanoid, but twice as big as any man I've
ever seen. They have bilateral symmetry, have arms and legs, a torso
and a head. They even have a skeleton, red and bloody-looking, I can
see it through their semi-transparent bodies which seem to be made up
of a kind of pink cytoplasm surrounded by a thick membrane. It's
their faces that unsettle me the most though. No mouths or noses but
tiny little eyes, merely black spheres floating at the front of their
heads.
Seemingly paying me no
attention, they spread out in the room, making space for each-other.
They stretch out their limbs creating as much surface area with their
bodies as they can. They seem to be bathing in the harsh light coming
from the illumination panels that line all the walls and the ceiling
of this place.
A noise comes from the
far end of the room, a door opening I assume. The Diurnals part,
making way for two more which come toward me. Without a word, the new
two each grab one of my armpits and easily lift me. They carry me out
of this room and into the next. As I'm moved through it, I look for
anything that might facilitate my escape. But all I see in the
brightness is a bank of some kind of electronic equipment, until that
is I'm dumped on my knees in front of a bed, the surface of which,
like nearly every surface in this place, is lit.
The Diurnal lying here
seems superficially like the others. Blinking and trying to focus, I
notice that his skeleton is darker though, more of a rusty brown that
a bloody red.
Another of the
creatures comes over to me and thrusts a metallic box near the side
of my head. Low whistles emanate from the Diurnal and an electronic
voice comes out of the device,
“Heal him and you
will be go!”
Now I know why I was
kept alive. The red cross on my uniform marks me out as my platoon's
medic. As alien as the Diurnals are, they understand this.
The Diurnal with the
box gestures at my patient's leg. I see some kind of irregular,
metallic patch on the outside of its membrane. At first I wonder if
it's some kind of bandage covering a wound. As I watch it though, it
begins to vibrate slightly. It does this every now and then and not
in a set pattern. As far as my restraints will allow, I lean forward,
hoping to get a better look at what I now assume is a pathogen, as
alien to the Diurnals, as they are to us. As my shadow falls across
the patch, it stops vibrating. Also, ever so slightly, it seems to
shrink. I blink, thinking that my eyes might be playing tricks on me,
but it is definitely shrinking.
I stay there, not
knowing what to do. My patient shifts its weight and a high-pitched
noise comes out of it. The Diurnal with the box grabs my shoulder and
pulls me back so that I'm no longer blocking it from the light
shining above it.
“I can heal him.”
I say.
The metal box is again
shoved towards me.
“I can heal him. But
not while I am bound.”
Low pitch whistles
repeat what I have just said in a way that they understand.
One of the Diurnals
that carried me in moves behind me. Trying to keep my cool, I resist
the urge to turn my head to look at it. I hear some clicks then feel
a release of pressure as my restraints are removed.
Not knowing what to
say next, I mumble. More whistles come from the box. The postures of
the three standing Diurnals in the room changes.
Very slowly, I move my
hand towards the box. I look into it's holder's eyes, attempting to
look earnest. It seems to understand the message that I'm trying to
convey and hands it to me. Without rising from my knees, I hurl the
box at the bank of electronics on the opposite wall. Sparks shower us
but the Diurnals stand motionless. Then the lights go out.
I stand but having
been restrained for, I don't know how long, I loose my balance and
stumble. I fall through the door that I entered this room by. And
then the screaming starts. The same noise that the patient on the bed
made but louder and from all around me. My hand finds something in
the darkness. I recognise it as a Diurnal blade rifle.
I regain my footing
and open fire expending the weapon's entire magazine. I hear thick
liquid sloshing on the floor and feel a viscous wetness on my legs.
Then I see it, a chink
of light. I recognise it as the dim light from this planet's only
moon, visible through a hole in this building's door that I have just
cut with my alien weapon.
I drop the heavy
rifle, sprint for the door and escape into the safety of the night.
