Document No.: 001

  Subject: Death finds us breathing

  Date: 12/11/2382

  Location: somewhere on The Traveller

  Her breath seemed to thunder in her ears, condensed and enclosed by the face mask that protected her from the intensely humid atmosphere of The Traveller. Like the rest of the squad, she suffered the weight and smothering nature of her heavy camo pants and ammo harness, but only wore a singlet on top. Protecting the legs was a must in the nightmarish habitats of The Traveller, but it simply wasn’t worth the effort to do the same for the arms and torso. It was stiflingly humid, and there was little enough budget for equipment bound for the Orphan Legion, so their uniforms weren’t made from the same absorbent or reflective material that the regular military was equipped with. The Orphan Legion got the scraps and just had to make do.

  Broad leaves that felt almost like plastic slapped against her thighs and slid past her elbows, while the occasional insect the size of her hand would hum inquisitively in front of her face mask before meandering off on its way. She didn’t react anymore. There was far worse on The Traveller.

   rasped the Corporal’s voice over the com. Ordinarily, any speaking would be out of the question, but their masks and earpieces ensured their ability to have a conversation without being overhead.

   wheezed the private. It was odd having her own voice relayed to her wirelessly. The mask prevented her from hearing even her own voice without the aid of the com. She warded off a head-height branch with the stock of her laser rifle, which was just more failed and discarded technology. It worked to a degree, but it was nowhere near powerful enough to do more than enrage the larger monsters that terrified the jungles.

   the Corporal asked, directing his next question to the survivors of the squad. His scathing reference to their rifles was a direct jibe at their power output.

   came the immediate and professional reply from Senior Private Jang, out to Wright’s left.

   announced the confident, baritone voice of Private Arthur. He was the only one who stood taller than Corporal King. he chuckled, white teeth flashing against black skin.

   Corporal King sighed angrily.

   Private DuPont said primly. She was a tall, lean girl – the only other girl on the squad – with serene, handsome features.

   said Private McKillop, a little too fast, as if he desperately didn’t want to be last. Only Private Wright was younger than him, and he often tried to prove his worth to the squad in reckless – sometimes outright foolish – ways.

   Private Wright finally said, her heart hammering away at the prospect of addressing five people at once. Even back in school – before her life dove headlong into hell – she had been anxious just at the idea of being noticed, let alone having to address everyone.

   King said without turning. He paused next to a monster of a tree, its trunk easily ten times the width of a man. Checking it carefully, he nodded once.

   Jang followed up. His well-built arms, while not quite at King’s level, were still not at all unpleasant to look at.

  Wright quickly shook her head and went about more productive uses of her five-minute break. At only 16, she was the baby of the squad by a good two years. McKillop was the next youngest at 18, and even though he both looked and behaved like a gangly teen, he still did his best to make sure Wright understood how much younger she was.

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  The break passed too quickly, as always. There was a degree of camaraderie among the squad, but it was measured carefully. Death was never far away on The Traveller, and even in pairs, they didn’t dare go far from the rest of the squad, even to relieve themselves.

  Their squad had started the recon patrol at nine strong. Maxwell died when an armoured beetle the size of a man’s head had been sucked into the intake of their shuttle and caused them to crash. She was thrown from the open side doors and died on impact with the ground. They had only found her mangled body later.

  Ricardo lost his balance climbing up a slope with bad footing and grabbed hold of a branch for support … a rail viper was resting there, and the notoriously lazy creature had roused itself for the only thing it was known to stir for: direct interference. Ricardo was dead in fifteen-minutes, and Wright still shivered at the thought of it. He tried to put on a brave face at first, calling it ‘just a nip’, but within a minute his complexion had gone pallid and corpse-like, with sweat beading on his brow and forearms. Jang had sat with Ricardo while King – in an uncharacteristically gentle moment – had put an arm around Wright and held her so she couldn’t see what was happening. It was a quiet death, at the very least.

  Last of all – so far – Thatcher drifted too far from the rest of the squad, and then abruptly disappeared. His screams echoed over their coms as he was dragged through the underbrush by something the rest of them never saw. He was presumed dead, because his screams were abruptly cut off, but they also couldn’t afford the time it would take out of their route to confirm that.

  King drew a hard, extremely pragmatic, line when it came to rescuing members of the squad. If they were there and treatable, every effort would be made. There was no known treatment for a rail viper’s venom, however, and nothing could convince King to even begin looking for Thatcher when their own survival depended so critically on getting to the outpost, not only before their limited battery packs were depleted, but absolutely before nightfall. If The Traveller was an uncomfortable and lethal hell during the day, it descended into the stuff of outright fever dreams when the sun slipped behind the mountains.

   came the demure question from Wright’s left. DuPont was checking the tree’s exposed roots for any unwelcome creatures before resting herself for a moment there. She shot Wright a small, but kind, side smile.

   Wright nodded, eager to show she was in control of herself and ready to be an asset to the squad.

   DuPont laughed gently.

  

   DuPont smiled.

   whispered Wright, in awe of the young woman who seemed like a warrior princess with her long, ashen hair that was only allowed because this was far from the regular military. DuPont cared for and maintained her hair fastidiously and kept it contained in a firmly pinned bun, and Wright could only assume that it was some form of small rebellion. Against what, she had no idea.

   smiled the older girl serenely. She looked down sadly at the small cross she carried, wrapped tightly about the pocket prayer book that accompanied her everywhere.

  Private DuPont comforts Private Wright during their brief rest.

  AI render of original hand-drawn sketch.

  said Jang in his callously neutral tone to everyone. As expected, he and King were already standing and shouldering their packs and weapons. They were discussing something on a private channel.

   King finally ordered.

   Jang said, taking over.

   Arthur smiled kindly.

   squeaked Wright.

   Jang cut in.

   Wright acknowledged, flushing brightly at the correction.

   King said then, as everyone indicated that they understood their positions and roles.

  Taking a deep breath, Wright steeled herself and followed hard on the heels of Arthur. She had well and truly been thrown in the deep end, and despite having very little experience with the horrors of The Traveller, she knew from her family’s experience what happened when you poked your nose into unlisted organisations.

  But what else are we supposed to do? We won’t make it through the night regardless. This is all the hope we have of survival. Oh, God … save us please.