NOP: The Rejects of Sillis (12)

Man, this chapter took forever to write. Sorry about that, I've been busy. If you every worry about me giving up on this story, rest assured. I intend for this to be the first story I see through to the end, now matter how slowly progress comes. Humans are persistence predators after all.

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Chapter Twelve: Kaero Dies

Memory Transcription Subject: Tiel

Date [standardized human time]: October 30th, 2136.

As someone who was raised on a farm, I was accustomed to waking up early. When we were harvesting our crops, we often needed to work an extra claw every paw to get everything done. In Burning Rivers, I would be warm at the very least when I worked my tail off. This morning in Devens, Massachusetts, was cold, dark, dreary, and miserable. 

After a few days of clear weather, the rain had started again. It wasn’t as heavy as the downpour the Lieutenant made us march through on his first day in command, but it still would have soaked us in [minutes] if it weren’t for the rain ponchos he supplied us. It was also bitterly cold, so much so that the rain occasionally turned to sleet and our breaths sent plumes of vapor into the air.

The final thing that added to our misery was the [40 kilograms] of weight we all had to carry, which included our guns, a set of gear that the Lieutenant prescribed, and a new addition to our wardrobe: plate carriers–complete with the heavy ceramic armor plates that went inside them. Needless to say, the last of those three was particularly uncomfortable for the gojid to squeeze into.

The only positive to our situation that I could find was the drill sergeants' absence. Yankovic gave them the day off so he could see how the platoon behaved without direct supervision.

The Lieutenant imposed all this suffering on us as part of what he called a ‘ruck march.’ It was supposed to make us stronger and improve our aerobic fitness, but I considered it more akin to torture than exercise, especially with how cold it was.

Vil, being a nightsider, was much more acclimated to frigid temperatures, and she was quick to remind me of that. “It’s not even that cold,” she teased. “You daysiders will start shivering at anything less than [20 degrees Celsius]!”

“That’s rich c-coming from a n-nightsider,” I said through chattering teeth. “You people will start panting if you’re grazed by a w-warm sunbeam!”

Sergeant Fyodorov laughed loudly behind us, causing Vil to startle slightly. He put a rough hand on her shoulder. “It is inaccurate to say it is not cold, Private. Of course it is cold.” He gestured at me. “As you can see, your friend is shivering his tail off,” then he poked her between the ears, “and you seem to have completely shrunk! Or is this your normal size?”

The Russians within earshot tittered at Fyodorov’s joke.

Vil crossed her arms and pulled the hood of her poncho lower. Her tail, however, was whipping back and forth in annoyance. “That’s not even clever,” she muttered. “If your teeth weren’t the brightest thing about you, you could have come up with something better.”

Everyone in the immediate vicinity turned to look at her.

She quickly realized that she spoke too loudly and covered her mouth. “S-sorry, Sergeant! I-I didn’t mean it!”

Fyodorov glared at Vil, causing her to let out a small bleat of anxiety. After a tense moment, a smile crept across the Staff Sergeant's face. “You are lucky it was funny, Private.”

Vil let out a breath, silently fell back in the marching column, and hid herself behind me.

We came to a small hill not long after that. As the road we were marching along grew steeper, the alien members of the platoon lagged behind, while the humans easily outpaced us with their superior endurance. The gap between the two groups became larger with every step of the climb. After some consideration, we understood that we weren’t going to keep up with the Russians and slowed the pace considerably, allowing us to catch our breaths.

Diep fell in next to me and Vil. His ears were upright, and his tail wagged cheerfully, seemingly unbothered by our miserable situation. “Tiel, you know a few human words, right?”

I tilted my head at his odd question. “I know a few Russian words. Humans have thousands of languages.”

“Oh,” Diep said, "I didn't know that.” He carried on nonetheless. “Do you know what debil means? And why do humans keep calling me that?”

There was an awkward silence as I considered whether or not to tell him the word’s true meaning. “I don’t know that one, sorry. It might be a nickname.”

“I hope it means something good then!” Diep chirped, none the wiser.

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing.

“Why does the Platoon Sergeant call you Lyubov? Is that your nickname?”

I looked away from him to hide my blooming face. “No, my nickname is Golem. Let’s focus on the march. The Lieutenant won’t be happy if we don’t make time.”

I turned my gaze to the crest of the hill, where the Russians had already begun descent, while we were only halfway up it. I raised my voice so everyone could hear. “As long as we keep the same pace, we can catch up to them while going downhill!”

They acknowledged me with weak tail gestures and tired ears signals.

I was going to try and give them some more encouragement, but I was interrupted by someone shouting behind us.

“Dude, no way! It’s her! It’s the Little One!”

All of us turned our heads towards the sound and discovered a sight that would have sent a human-phobic venlil running. Another platoon–in the same company as us, judging by the patches they wore–had approached us unnoticed in the darkness. Every one of them was happily barring their teeth and gawking at us with bloodshot, sleep-deprived eyes.

“You!” One of them pointed to Vil. “We’ve been looking for you!”

Vil’s tail wrapped around her waist, and she tried to make herself even smaller. “M-me?”

“Yeah,” another soldier cut in, “you’re, like, famous around here!”

Her ears perked up ever so slightly. “I am? H-how?”

“Well, people tend to notice when an alien as short as you shows up! Especially if they’re in the same company!”

Her tail uncoiled and fell limp on the asphalt. “You only know of me because I’m short?”

The soldiers frowned at her obvious unhappiness. The closest of them was the first to respond, “Sorry, we didn’t mean to offend you.”

Another of them jumped in, desperate to salvage the situation. “You being short isn’t a bad thing! I think it’s kind of inspirational!”

Vil’s ears stood up all the way now. “Inspirational?”

“Yeah! It’s pretty badass that you volunteered in the first place, much less made it this far in spite of your size.”

Vil hid her oranging face. “It’s not that impressive. I’m just smaller than average, not disabled.”

“C’mon, don’t sell yourself short! Very few venlil would’ve been able to make it as far as you did. You should be proud of yourself!”

He patted Vil’s rucksack a little too hard, and the extra weight sent her lurching forward. Thankfully, he was quick enough to help her steady herself before she could fall. “Sorry about that.”

“Th-thank you,” Vil said shyly. “You’re very kind.”

“Who’s your Lieutenant? You might be able to ask for leave, and we can go get a few drinks off-base.”

She somehow turned even more orange. “Y-Yankovic is my Lieutenant, a-and I-I appreciate the offer, but I don’t really like alcohol–”

“Yankovic!?” he interrupted. His hands went to his head. “Oh my god, they put that psycho in charge of a bunch of aliens?!”

“So you've met him before?” I asked.

“No, but you don’t have to meet that guy to know he’s fucked up. You ever looked him in the eyes?” He asked, holding his own open for emphasis.

“The Russians keep saying he has Rasputin’s eyes!” Diep chimed in.

“Is it true that he attacked one of you?” One of the men in the other platoon’s column asked from behind us.

Daego took her chance to speak. “You mean the first or second time?”

“Wait a minute, it happened twice?”

“That’s right! The first time, he slammed his advisor’s head into a support beam–don’t worry about him; he deserved it.” She pointed with her tail to Kaero and her still-swollen eye. “The second time, my idiot sister picked a fight with him and lost.”

Kaero flicked her sister’s ear. “Don’t forget the part where I put him on his ass!”

“He’s not all bad though!” Vil blurted. “He lets me go to the psychologist!”

Everyone looked at her like she was insane.

Once again, all the attention caused her to shrink into herself. “I-I’m just trying to be fair. He helped us get our equipment back too.”

Kaero stabbed a finger into Vil's chest. “He’s helping us?! When someone stands by and watches you work, would you call that helping?”

I stepped closer to my friend and brushed my tail against her side, letting her know that I had her back.

“No,” Vil admitted, “I just think–”

Kaero cut her off. “When he gets here, he’s not going to have a [gram] of extra weight on him! He sees working alongside us as beneath him.”

“W-well, no matter what you say, h-he helped me!” Vil snapped. “Maybe he doesn’t help you because you’re an abrasive spehhead!”

The yotul stepped closer, using her superior height to loom over the venlil. “Excuse me?”

An uneasy quiet followed. The other platoons awkwardly cast their gazes away from the two.

Vil stared her down. “I said you’re an abrasive spehhead.”

The yotul stomped on the asphalt, startling Vil. “He gave you the slightest amount of support, and now you’re his pet. Have a little self-respect!”

“B-but he really did help me! Every time I talk to the psychologist, I come away feeling better.”

“Whether that’s true or not, Yankovic isn’t helping you out of benevolence. He’s taken an interest in you. I can see it in the way he looks at you.”

Vil’s face turned orange again. “Y-you really think so?”

A squawky, avian voice sounded from overhead. “Don’t flatter yourself, Private.”

Everyone turned to a nearby tree, where it had come from. Raksim had stealthily perched himself among its naked branches. The rain drenched his feathers and uniform, giving him a ragged, almost skeletal appearance.

The krakotl surveyed the other platoon, returning any dirty looks he got from them with one of his own. “I believe you have something to be doing at the moment.”

The men from outside our unit began trudging onward. Quite a few of them flashed their middle digits or mumbled insults under their breath as they left.

Raksim fluttered to the ground between Kaero and Vil. “The Lieutenant’s orders are for you to halt here so he can catch up. Your times will not be affected.” He turned to the yotul on his left. “And as for you, that venlil is already insecure enough as she is. Don’t fill her head with delusions.”

Kaero stepped forward to challenge him. “Why else would the Lieutenant care so much for her?”

“Humans like small, cute things.” He hovered his claws menacingly over Vil’s head. “I’d say this one meets those requirements, wouldn’t you?”

“What the fuck?!” Yankovic appeared out of the mass of people who were streaming past us. He didn’t have his usual green and tan uniform on. Under his rain poncho, I could see the same camo pattern the Russians wore–primarily green with a tinge of black. He was carrying an overstuffed backpack and had a Kalashnikov with a grenade launcher attached to it slung over his shoulder.

Alek was not far behind him, carrying his own rifle and rucksack. We briefly exchanged glances, and he winked at me.

Vil stood a little taller and made probing eye contact with Kaero, earning a rude tail gesture from the yotul.

The Lieutenant spoke through barred teeth and flared his nostrils. “Where the hell is the rest of the platoon?”

I answered so no one else had to suffer his wrath. “They left us behind, sir.”

“Raksim, go get them,” he ordered.

The krakotl replied by hissing at him.

“Go get them, please. Before I rip your heart out through your cloaca.”

Raksim rolled his eyes and took to the air.

Yank looked over us with unnervingly small pupils. “You all are a fucking mess.”

He marched up to Vil, turned her around, and unzipped her pack. The venlil stiffened as he did this, not daring to move. “Private, your rucksack is shit. Take everything out of it so we can pack it correctly. Then, we’re going to adjust it and cut all this shit off.” He pulled at one of the straps that was hanging off her backpack. “The rest of you do the same thing!”

After a chorus of sighs and groans, everyone followed his instructions.

He turned away from Vil and walked among us, lecturing as he went, “The heavy shit should be as close to your back as possible, and the stuff you might need immediately, like trauma and weapon cleaning kits, goes on top of all the other crap. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” a few people replied wearily.

I knelt on the wet asphalt and began rearranging my backpack. Partway through the process, a pair of black boots halted in front of me. I didn’t have to look up to know it was my Platoon Sergeant. I had to fight to keep my tail from wagging.

“Sir, I’m finished!” I called out, expecting to get some attention from Alek.

Instead, Yankovic turned on his heel and headed straight for me as I stood up. “Let me see.” He grabbed the bag from my paws and meticulously inspected every pocket. “Good. Put it on.”

I quickly did as he said.

The Lieutenant pulled the straps around the waist and shoulders, tightening them significantly but not so much that it was uncomfortable. “Better?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, cut the slack off.”

I took the bayonet off my hip and sliced off the extra material that was hanging off me.

“Sergeant!”

Alek straightened from a more relaxed posture. “Yes, sir?”

“Burn the ends so they don’t fray.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alek drew close to me. His lighter sparked to life, casting warm orange light over his face. Its flame reflected in his eyes. By some strange cosmic coincidence, they were the same shade of blue as mine. “Ask to use the restroom, love. I will follow,” he whispered.

I absentmindedly tried to flick an ear in response, but my helmet blocked it. I opted for a human gesture instead: a nod.

Alek ran his lighter’s flame over the ends of the straps I cut off, melting the plastic fibers within and fusing them together. With that, he went to help our Lieutenant with the next person.

“Sir, may I use the restroom?” I called out.

Yank didn’t even look up from scrutinizing Vil’s backpack. “Make it quick, Private.”

I set my backpack and rifle down and started making my way towards the woods adjacent to the road.

The Platoon Sergeant dropped his lighter into Yankovic’s breast pocket. “I have to use restroom as well.”

“Hurry the fuck up,” the Lieutenant snapped.

Me and Alek went separate ways to keep up appearances. Once I was out of view, I did actually take a moment to relieve myself since there may not be an opportunity to do so later. Once I was finished, I started looking for my Platoon Sergeant.

“Alek!” I whispered, trying to be loud enough to be noticeable but not so loud the soldiers on the road could hear me. “I’m over here!”

I listened carefully for anything that could give away his position, but my helmet dampened my ability to hear, and the pitter-patter of sleet on my poncho’s hood drowned out much of what I would’ve been able to hear otherwise. I quickly took both off and tried again. “Alek!”

I did hear something this time: the faintest crunch of leaves behind me.

An arm suddenly encircled my torso and pulled me close. A sinister whisper accompanied it, raising the wool on the back of my neck. “Give me your heart!”

My terror gripped my body, but only for a moment. The voice had turned into a familiar, hearty laugh.

“Did I scare you, love?” Alek whispered.

“Yes,” I sighed.

“Yankovic was right. It is fun to scare venlil!”

“Why are you listening to him?” I asked exasperatedly. “He’s a bad influence!”

“That is probably true,” he admitted.

“Did you bring me out here just to frighten me?

Alek turned me around and peered into my eyes. “No, I just wanted to spend a little time with you.”

Even in the dim morning light, I found myself admiring his features. His stubbled chin, short black hair, and the intense eyes that were boring into me…

My heart beat faster.

“How was anger management?” I asked to keep my eyes from wandering any further.

“As you can imagine, it only made Yankovic and Raksim angrier. For me, it was useless. You have made me a very happy man, love.”

Heat radiated from my face and ears. “They don’t seem like the kind of people to talk about their feelings.”

“Not at all. It was like pulling teeth!”

We shared a moment of laughter. Our lips drew closer together–

“Hurry the fuck up you two!” The Lieutenant's voice shattered our moment.

Alek smirked and rolled his eyes. “We should go, love, before he has an aneurysm.”

I flicked my ears forward in agreement.

I was just about to break out of our embrace when he pressed his lips to mine, sending ecstasy racing down my spine and into my tail, causing it to wag furiously.

He broke the kiss and left me standing there, orange-faced and flustered. I could still taste the cool, slightly sweet taste of his mint cigarettes, but an aftertaste of acidic ash quickly replaced it. I sighed, put my helmet on, and made my way out of the woods. When I made it to the road, Alek was already there, along with the rest of the platoon’s Russians.

“What the fuck took you two so long, Private?” Yankovic asked

“Nothing, sir. I was just holding it in for a long time,” I lied.

Raksim leaned out from behind the Lieutenant and eyed me. The krakotl whispered something to his human acquaintance, only to be met with a dismissive hand wave. Yank seemed much more concerned with fixing the last alien’s gear than whatever he had to say.

I fell back in line next to Vil as the Lieutenant finished with his task. After which, he promptly switched to reprimanding Fyodorov and the other sergeants.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Yankovic shouted, earning more than a few concerned glances from the soldiers that were still marching past. “I don’t know how the Russian Army functioned, but we don’t leave people behind in this unit! And we don’t send them into the field with fucked up gear!”

“They are adults, sir. They can walk on their own, and they can take care of their own equipment,” Fyodorov said dismissively.

Yankovic’s eye twitched. He pointed to him with all the fingers on his hand. “Don’t forget that you’re only a Staff Sergeant because of my recommendation! If you don’t give a fuck, I can easily replace you with someone who does their fucking job!”

Fyodorov’s fists clenched, turning his knuckles white and displaying the tightly wound muscle in his forearms.

Alek fixed him with a harsh stare from behind Lieutenants and shook his head. 

The Staff Sergeant took a deep breath. “Okay, Lieutenant. Okay. I will give a fuck next time.”

Yank smiled in response to his submission. “Good.”

Kaero butted in. “Why, exactly, can’t we be trusted to look after ourselves?” 

Isaac turned to her with a fire in his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. You need to learn to rely on your team, and they need to be able to rely on you. If you go at it alone, you’ll end up dead. If you fail your team, they die. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Kaero said begrudgingly.

“Good.” A carnivorous smile spread across his face. “In fact, I think this could be a teachable moment for everyone. You’re dead now, Medic.”

Kaero blinked. “I’m sorry, sir, what?”

“You’re dead now; lay down and die, please.”

Her confusion only deepened. “What?”

“Die, Medic!”

The yotul rolled her eyes and flopped over on the wet asphalt with her green tongue hanging out of her mouth.

“Good.” He looked to the other non-humans in the platoon. “The rest of you are dead as well.”

We looked between each other for a moment before following Kaero’s lead and laying down, earning a few raised eyebrows from the soldiers who were passing by.

The Lieutenant then turned to the Russian section of the unit. “Congratulations! You left part of your platoon behind. Now they've been ambushed and killed. I don’t feel like going back to the starting point, so you’re going to carry their bodies and three kilometers– equivalent to the distance you’ve already covered. Understood?”

Kaero sat up. “This is ridiculous! You’re just punishing us!”

Raksim craned his neck down to her level. “Corpses don’t talk. You shouldn’t either.”

She disregarded him and pointed a finger at the Lieutenant. “Are you going to carry one of us? Or are you just going to watch like you usually do?”

Yank crouched in front of the yotul. “I might not have before yesterday. But you changed my mind. I’m going to be much more involved in your training from now on.” He said that the last part is a toothy, unnerving snarl. “Now, lay down and play dead.”

Kaero groaned and flopped back onto the asphalt.

Yankovic stood up and shifted his gaze to the Russians. “What the hell are you still standing around for?”

The men took that as their queue to begin relieving some of us of our gear and weapons. 

One of them bent over to take my Kalashnikov, but I stubbornly held onto it. It was a gift from Alek, after all, and a very thoughtful gift at that. I didn’t want it in the hands of this Russian, who may act carelessly and scratch it or throw off my scope’s point of aim. After a few tries and me waving him off several times, he eventually gave up, swearing at me and taking my pack instead.

With our equipment gathered, the men who weren’t carrying anything of ours began choosing a gojid, venlil, or yotul to carry on their shoulders.

The only exception to that process was Vil. The Lieutenant had evidently chosen to carry her and made his intentions known by looming over and refusing to let anyone touch her. The venlil made desperate, pleading eye contact with me, but there was nothing I could do.

“You can’t pick her!” Kaero complained from one of the Russians’ shoulders. “She’s the lightest out of all of us!”

Yankovic made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “Another word from you, and you’ll be doing 880 pushups,” he said with a dangerous edge to his voice.

The yotul quickly closed her mouth and fell silent.

With that, Yank turned his attention back to Vil. He kneeled next to her, put her rifle over his shoulder, and secured her pack to his chest. Then he flipped the venlil onto her back, grabbed her by the wrists, and threw her on his shoulders, causing her to bleat in surprise.

Nedelin repeated the same process with me, except he handled my weapon with remarkable care and was much more gentle when he picked me up.

Yankovic surveyed the men around him to make sure they were ready. He found all of them to be satisfactory, except one: Sergeant Fyodorov. Unlike everyone else, he had only an extra machinegun weighing him down, rather than an additional rucksack, several weapons, or a person.

Fyodorov shrugged and smugly displayed his silver teeth. “There was no more left for me to take, sir.”

The Lieutenant glowered at him for a moment before smiling and turning to his advisor. “Raksim, you’ve done a lot of flying today. Why don’t you take a load off on your new perch?”

The krakotl cocked his head in confusion before understanding turned his expression into one of sadistic glee. He fluttered into the air, planted his feet on Fyodorov’s shoulders, and settled his rump onto his backpack. “Be careful, Sergeant. I sharpened my talons recently,” he whispered in the ear of his new mount.

Fyodorov refused to dignify Raksim with a verbal response. He just sighed heavily and set his eyes forward.

Yankovic took one last look around before giving orders. “I bring up the rear to make sure no one gets left behind. Now march!”

The Russians made their final adjustments to their backpacks, weapons, or the alien they were carrying and set off down the road once again. The soldiers from outside our platoon sent sympathetic looks their way as they traveled together.

Alek plodded alongside with the Lieutenant, allowing me and Vil to face each other. Her facial features were distorted by pain, but she was also wide-eyed and petrified with fear to even move–doing so might provoke the temper of the human she was hitching a ride on. I examined further and spotted the issue: Yankovic’s shoulder was painfully jutting into her abdomen. 

I flicked my tail toward her in an encouraging manner. I doubted Kaero’s claim that Yank had an eye for Vil, but he did seem to like her, and he didn’t strike me as the kind of person who would become irate over a simple request.

“S-sir, your shoulder is digging into m-my stomach,” Vil timidly whispered, as if she were trying not to be heard in the first place.

Yankovic shifted her position slightly. “Better?”

“Y-yes, sir. Thank you.”

The conversations among the men petered out as we continued on. The Russians quickly became too winded to talk, and none of the aliens were especially outgoing with the Lieutenant around.

Speaking of him, Yankovic was clearly struggling under the combined weight of two rucksacks, two Kalashnikovs, and a venlil. His face was glistening with sweat, and he was panting heavily through gritted teeth, yet he kept pace nonetheless.

I craned my neck to look at my Platoon Sergeant and found him in a similar state, but he didn’t look nearly as bad.

Alek smiled warmly. “I will be fine, love,” he whispered.

I replicated his facial expression to the best of my ability, earning a small chuckle from him. A smiling venlil probably looked pretty silly to a human.

Alek’s steps gently rocked me back and forth. My eyelids became heavier, and no matter how much I willed them to, they wouldn’t stay open. I struggled as long as I could against sleep’s alluring embrace, but–

“Wake up, speep! Your commander wouldn’t appreciate you sleeping on the job!”

I snapped my eyes open. Two humans walked alongside Alek. One of them had black hair and a slightly darker skin pigment than Yankovic. The other had hair the color of venlil blood and was much paler. Their patches indicated that both of them were the same rank as him.

“Second Platoon?” the first asked. Her accent sounded somewhat whiny to my ears and seemed to make her fundamentally incapable of making an “[O]” sound properly. 

“Yes, ma’am,” I responded.

“Yeah, I thought so. Where’s your Lieutenant?”

I quickly pointed at the man in question. His entire body was trembling as he breathlessly willed himself onward, but his eyes held a determination and will that made it clear that he wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

Vil was terrified before, but now she looked genuinely concerned for her mount’s wellbeing.

“The infamous Lieutenant Yankovic!” the new officer said as she fell in step with him. 

Yankovic spoke through gritted teeth. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Lieutenant Huang of First Platoon, and that’s Lieutenant Jackson of Third Platoon.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Jackson said in a monotone, almost bored voice.

Huang continued, “And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were avoiding us.”

“I’ve been busy,” Yankovic said curtly.

“That’s funny! Cuz I’ve been busy too, and I’ve had no problem finding time to meet with Jackson.”

“I had betting things to do.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You think you’re better than us? That we’re not worth your time?” Huang asked while leaning into my commander’s personal space.

Yankovic’s head slowly turned to look at the other lieutenant. 

Vil, sensing his anger, froze with terror. Her eyes darted around rapidly, as if she were trying to find an escape route.

Huang chuckled and playfully swatted him on the shoulder. “Relax, dude. I’m just fucking with you.”

Yankovic grumbled, and he set his gaze forward.

“So, what unit were you in before the big reorganization?” Huang asked, seeming not to notice, or not care, that Yankovic was on the verge of strangling her. “Me and Jackson were in the 38th Infantry Division.”

“42nd Infantry Division,” Yankovic answered breathlessly.

Huang and Jackson snapped their heads in his direction.

“Holy shit,” the former exclaimed. “You were in New York!” She extended a hand. “I’d like to thank you, sir.”

Yankovic shook his head slightly and blinked several times. “Why?”

“I had relatives in Manhattan. Most of them made it out because of you guys.”

After a moment of hesitation, Yankovic tensely put his hand in hers.

Jackson held his hand out next. “I didn’t have any family in New York, but your division performed admirably. You have my respect.”

My Lieutenant shook hands once again.

“What about you? Did you have any family in New York?” Huang inquired.

“No,” Yankovic said after a strangely long pause.

“Is anybody else from the 42nd here?”

“I’m the only one.”

“They didn’t even give you a platoon sergeant from your old unit?”

Yank pointed to the man who was currently carrying me. “The UN gave me him.”

She looked him up and down. “That’s your sergeant? He’s a little young, isn’t he?”

Alek chuckled. “My uncle was colonel in Russian Army. I was able to skip a few ranks. Some people call that nepotism. I call it having connections!”

She clucked her tongue. “Riiight. Well, you have my sympathy, Yank. It's pretty difficult building a platoon from nothing, and I bet working with these Ruskies isn’t easy either.”

“You have no idea…”

“Can’t be all bad. You get to work with these adorable aliens!” Huang said while pointing to me and Vil. “That Toucan Sam that follows you around seems like kind of a prick, though. Where is he anyway?”

Raksim, who had been sitting quietly and not calling attention to himself, stood tall and proud on Fyodorov’s shoulders. He leaned backwards, forcing the human he perched upon to slow down and come to the back of the column where the lieutenants were conversing. “You requested me?”

“I was wondering what your deal was. Are you a Quisling, or did you agree to work with us just to keep your neck out of a noose?”

A low hiss sounded from the back of Raksim’s beak. “I was not in that fleet of murders. I opposed it from its inception!”

Huang tilted her head. “Why work with humans then?”

“I ask myself the same question every day. You people are quite vexing to work with.” He leaned sideways and downward into her personal space. “Especially when you ask probing questions.”

She took a step away from the krakotl. “My bad, I didn’t think it was so personal.” 

Raksim dismissed her with a wave of his wing and settled back onto Fyodorov’s shoulders.

“Fucking dick,” Huang whispered under her breath before turning to back Yankovic. “One more question before I get out of your hair. Can I pet your aliens?” She asked with childish excitement.

My Lieutenant did his best to answer in spite of his breathlessness. “Only with their consent… nothing below the neck.”

Huang pondered for a moment. “Your terms are acceptable.” She immediately turned to me with an expectant look on her face.

I didn’t know exactly how intimate humans considered petting, and my significant other was currently carrying me, so I politely declined. “No, thank you, ma’am.”

Huang clicked her tongue with disappointment and went to Vil next. “What about you, Shortie?”

The venlil huffed and crossed her arms, but, after a moment, I could see her curiosity overcome her annoyance. “S-sure.”

Huang reached up and gently scratched Vil’s chin.

The venlil was skeptical at first, but after a while she began pushing her head into the lieutenant’s hand. Her tail rapidly picked up speed with every scritch. The tuft at the end of it occasionally came around and buffeted Yankovic’s face. However, instead of his usual annoyed scowl, he wore a genuine, non-sadistic smile.

Once Huang finished, Jackson was up next. “May I?” he asked politely.

Vil nodded enthusiastically and was rewarded with another session of petting.

Meanwhile, Huang was searching for the next alien she could get her hands on. “I know you want some of this, Toucan Sam,” she said while wiggling her fingers.

Raksim didn’t even deign to look at her. “If you value your fingers, you will keep your hands to yourself.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” She reached toward him. “Just relax–”

The krakotl let out a sharp hiss and snapped his beak dangerously close to her digits.

Haung quickly recalled her hand. “Alright, you were being for real. I can respect that.”

Raksim flexed his freshly sharpened claws. “Try again, predator,” he growled. "I’ll pluck your eyes out.”

Huang eyed him and moved several steps away. “Your bird’s fucking nuts, Yankovic.” 

“I know,” my Lieutenant remarked with a smile, seemingly taking pride in his advisor’s poor behavior.

She shook her head and muttered a few disapproving words. “I guess I’ll see you in the simulations tomorrow–can’t wait to see how well you trained these aliens.”

“See you there,” Yankovic replied between breaths.

As Huang moved ahead, Jackson stayed behind. Once she was out of earshot, he leaned close to Yankovic and whispered, “I know what you are,” with a smug smile on his face.

My Lieutenant raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You put your aliens in thigh-highs. You're a xenophile. The only way you could make it more obvious was if they were rainbow colored.”

Yankovic turned to him with a wholly unamused look on his face. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Jackson let out an evil little chuckle before jogging to catch up with Huang. The two lieutenants followed their platoons as they left us behind. As they went, they pampered every willing alien they could find with headpats and scratches. Diep, Brol, Halvah, and Daego were among the people who accepted. They tried with Kaero, but she threatened to dropkick them if they laid their hands on her.

Shortly thereafter, when the other platoons had disappeared around a bend in the road, Yankovic called for the Second Platoon to halt. In response, the Russians began unloading whatever extra weight they were carrying.

Alek gently set me down on my feet and handed me my rifle before sitting down to rest. Meanwhile, the Lieutenant dropped to his knees on the side of the roadway and let Vil fall off his shoulders like she was a bag of ipsom grain. Then he collapsed onto his back, nearly crushing her.

“That hurt, you spehhead!” Vil shouted at him.

A deep growl emanated from Yankovic’s throat, causing her wool to stand on end and sending her scrambling away from him. However, instead of attacking, he just turned his head and spat a disgustingly large blob of phlegm into the dirt.

“Sorry, Vil,” he said in between deep, labored breaths. “Fuck, I’m out of shape…”

Several Russians fell to the ground alongside their Lieutenant. Others had just enough strength remaining to return the additional gear they were ferrying back to its original owner. Lucky for me, the man who took my rucksack was in the latter category. Vil had to tug on her gear until it came off the Lieutenant’s limp body to get it back.

The humans took a few minutes to regain their stamina. Me and the other aliens felt it rude to casually converse after the ordeal they just went through, so we just waited quietly and patiently.

One by one, my fellow platoon members donned their gear and got ready to march again. However, we couldn’t actually start again until Yankovic gave the order, and he was still wheezing on the pavement, letting the rain fall on his face.

Alek looked down on him with a mixture of concern and amusement. “Should I call medics, sir?”

“Keep those two away from me–especially Kaero!” the Lieutenant hissed. He spat into the dirt again before struggling to his feet with the Platoon Sergeant's assistance. He took several deep breaths before speaking again. “From this point, we’ll be marching nineteen klicks at a quick but manageable pace. We will cross the finish line together, and no one will be left behind. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” we answered languidly.

“Good. Start Marching. I’ll bring up the rear.”

(Continued in Comments.)