We landed on the resort world, which reminded me of pictures I'd seen of Hawaii, except the colors were all different. The sand was pink, the sky purple, and the ocean was orange. Oddly enough, the atmosphere and other conditions were earthlike enough that I didn't need a spacesuit, nor did my companion. 142 came from a hardier race able to survive in a wide range of conditions. It told me that the planet was somewhat similar to its home world, which was covered in a shallow sea filled with archipelagos. One of the first things I noticed is we didn't have to pay for anything. The locals freely offered us food, drink, and trinkets. I guessed it was a tributary world or protectorate of whatever empire we were fighting for. It made sense that they didn't pay us until our discharge. Giving us any kind of money would reduce the leverage they had over us as well as making it harder for us to escape from them.
The ocean was pleasant enough to swim in. It seemed to be water, but whatever it was, it was safe for humans. I suspected some sort of dissolved mineral accounted for the odd color. It reminded me a bit of a hot spring, except the gentle breeze created mild waves like on a gulf coast. Overall, it was an idyllic place that I gladly could have stayed for months if not for the memories of family and home gnawing at me. The locals, while friendly, were a most bizarre species. As far as I could tell, they were telepathic shapeshifters. Depending on which of us was interacting with them, they would morph so as to resemble me or 142. One of them morphed into a very good imitation of a woman I'd been fantasizing about and beckoned me to follow it into a hut. I admit to being a bit curious, but in the end, I confess no desire to explore whatever strange new world was between the legs it had just grown.
The creatures had trouble keeping the same shape for more than a few minutes. It was as though it required effort, like holding your breath, and whatever organs were involved had a limited capacity. Their default shape reminded me of an amoeba, and they were about the size of a large tire. Such creatures could be valuable as spies, and I began to wonder if that was the reason their planet had been conquered. Otherwise, their biology and anatomy greatly limited their military value. It seemed likely that whatever envoys had been sent them in the past merely presented them with an ultimatum that they must serve the empire or be annihilated. It was an uncomfortable realization that my employers essentially depended on various forms of slavery to keep their empire going. At least I was lucky enough to be an indentured servant rather than a chattel slave, but I wasn't going to get paid until my discharge, and I had no idea how many years away that was.
I tried to relax and enjoy the unusual luxuries. The food was much better than my usual rations, and the scenery far nicer than the interior of the cramped ship I had spent so many months in. I'd given up on keeping track of the time not long after a boarded the ship. The only thing that really mattered was how many years would go by on earth until my return. To pass the time, when I got tired of the beach, I hiked in the hills and forests around the resort and strolled through the local village. The amoeba people were industrious, and it was interesting to watch them shapeshift into various forms depending on whatever task they were doing. They were particularly adept at stretching themselves out in order to pick fruit from what looked to be trees. On the whole, a peaceful and helpful race. I felt sorry for their predicament as the unpaid servants of whatever mercenaries the empire dumped on their world to look after.
Our vacation ended without fanfare. When our ship landed and the ramp was lowered, that was our cue to board immediately and leave. I was pleased that I was able to take many photographs of the place and collected a small assortment of baubles that I hoped to bring home as gifts. I was fairly sure that if my memory was wiped or if I got killed, my camera and other personal possessions would be returned to my next of kin. It comforted me that whatever happened next, there was some record of what I had experienced and where I'd been. My companion had likewise collected a few souvenirs. It implied it had made first contact, so to say, with a shapeshifter that impersonated the other gender of its kind. 142 was certainly more adventurous than me. We had spent so much time together and yet I still didn't know whether it was male, female, or whether such terms were even applicable to its species. It was all irrelevant anyway, as the only real rule we had was to look out for each other.
Sometime later, perhaps a few days, we landed on the planet with the weapons range. It was every bit as harsh and desolate as the resort planet had been lush and pleasant. Dunes of ash gray sand stretched in every direction except for a few large rock outcroppings sporadically dotting the landscape. We were back to wearing our bulky spacesuits as the ambient temperature varied from well below freezing at night to boiling hot during the day. The planet was baked by a trio of red giants whose shapes dominated the daytime sky. As for the weapons range itself, it was located in a rocky field bordered on three sides by cliffs. There were shot up mechanical hulks of various sizes littering the field. Some were larger than any machine I'd ever seen, which made me nervous about whatever enemies we'd be fighting next. This feeling got worse when the teaching droids introduced us to the larger weapons in the arsenal.
They handed me some kind of shoulder-fired weapon and indicated that I fire at one of the larger piles of wreckage a few hundred meters away. When I shot, a projectile like a rocket zoomed out and caused a massive explosion when it hit. It looked like a mushroom cloud from a nuclear blast except much smaller. I doubt it was actually a nuclear weapon as our masters were likely vulnerable to radiation poisoning too and didn't want to turn planets into wastelands if they could avoid it. If I had to guess, it was some kind of thermobaric weapon, just much more powerful. I'd heard such devices described as rocket-propelled flamethrowers. The thought of nuclear weapons got me wondering if the empire had ever used them. If they had faster than light travel, then surely, they had atomic bombs and such. Perhaps, just as on earth, there was a kind of stalemate brought on by the threat of mutual assured destruction.
The next weapon was similar to a hand grenade, except it stuck to surfaces and so could also be used for demolition. It exuded colored smoke which slowly turned from blue to red. It was a convenient way of letting the user know how much time was left until it exploded. They could be thrown or launched from a bazooka-type device. Its blast was immensely powerful, and I was no longer concerned about going up against armored vehicles so long as I had such explosives. I remembered reading about something called an ampule gun. It was used in one of the big wars on earth hundreds of years ago. Basically, it shot a glass bulb full of flaming liquid. It was used against vehicles and area targets. That's what the alien grenades reminded me of.
So yeah, 142 and I played around some more with the new bang-bang toys for the next few hours. After that, instead of returning to the ship, they told us to bivouac in the wreckage. I guess it was psychological conditioning of some sort. Some of the hulks in the distance were still burning from what we'd shot at them. It was going to be a long night. We didn't have to, but decided to take turns sleeping in shifts, since that's probably what we'd need to do in the real thing. I remember nudging 142 awake. I tried to be gentle, but the guy was a heavy sleeper. When it was my turn, it threw a rock at my leg to wake me up. I didn't blame it for getting rough. Our lives were in each other's hands. Because we were both stuck in our suits for more than a few hours, I and I presume it, had to answer the call of nature several times. This is the sort of thing you don't learn about in war movies or comic books. Sitting in your filth and waiting for the sun to come up.
In this case, we had to wait for all three suns to come up, which took a lot longer than I expected. The ship landed, the gangplank extended, and we trudged aboard. I signaled that 142 could disrobe and shower first. A few more minutes in my soiled power armor wasn't going to kill me. Then it was my turn, and man did that shower feel good. Any fool who blabs about the glory of battle has never felt his pelvis drenched in his own human waste. At least the rations we got afterwards were better than usual. I ate with 142 on purpose as a show of solidarity. We offered each other bites of our rations. Later, for the sake of honesty and comradery, I mentioned that before I did not eat with it because it made annoying sounds while it ate. 142 replied that likewise, I had made disturbing sounds while I ate. Having reached this new and refreshing understanding, we resolved to eat alone from then on.
Like I said before, it's hard to explain exactly what we said to each other because it was all through pantomime and showing each other pictures on our wrist screens. Even so, for what mattered, our communication was clear enough. I pondered how many times in history where the language barrier had only been partially breached, and yet that was enough to enable all kinds of expeditions and other cross-cultural cooperation. In the late Roman Empire, many of its soldiers either didn't speak Latin at all or only as a second language. The French Foreign Legion all learned French as a foreign language. What I found in my interactions with various aliens was that the most important thing was the desire to understand and be understood. Mutual respect was always the key.
We had some more downtime before the next mission, but there were many more briefings. It was hard not to get rattled. It was hard to understand who exactly we were up against next, but they certainly were no pushovers. As far as I could tell, they were a mechanical race who originated on a high-gravity planet. Consequently, their war machines were as big and tough as they come. No wonder we'd gotten training on heavy weapons. I wish I could have written a letter home because I had serious doubts about my survival. The both of us spent more time at the ship's range with the lighter weapons, though this was mainly to boost our own morale. We were definitely going to die if we couldn't figure out a way to use the heavy weapons to the greatest advantage against our colossal foes.
Once more, I asked 142 to join it in prayer. I did my best to explain that I was not religious myself but felt it best to pray anyway. There are no atheists in foxholes, no matter what planet they're on, I guess.
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