The two, through outstanding achievement, had risen through the ranks comparatively faster than the rest, much to the quiet jealousy and ire of those surrounding them. Not one to share his techniques, Hilgo gate kept his secrets, very much going against the more collaborative and cooperative culture cultivated and expected across the teams. Not one to upset his friend, Vertan helped keep his methods under cover, drawing equal tension for not “intervening enough” and correcting Hilgo’s behavior.
Their saving grace was that their productive output was enough to not only keep them in the program, but succeed in it. No amount of jealousy or ire over how they did things could argue with the numbers. To uphold that standard to the rest, they simply had to let it go.
Perhaps Hilgo would have almost gotten away scot-free, intentionally keeping his productive scores lower so that others may surpass him, but others soon caught on to how much less work he did in comparison. He was one to enjoy being equally productive for less effort, while others questioned why he didn’t put in equal effort to be more productive.
These thoughts swirled through Vertan’s mind as he, Hilgo, and the rest of their squad descended in their dropship amongst many others upon a ghost-world. They had been briefed beforehand that they can expect primarily ghosts to still hold control over the planet, but to be wary of possible signs of spirits that may still linger about.
Information spread quickly through the ranks; it wasn’t long before Vertan and Hilgo drew eyes from the rest of the squad. Many of them had taken years to get to where they are, the more specialized units that got to take on ghosts and spirits firsthand, rather than to still be stuck retrieving mundane artifacts all day. They wondered what these two fishermen must have done to move up so quickly, though most chalk it up to them simply being harder and better workers.
The dropship began rumbling, then shaking harder and more violently as it entered the planet’s thick, grey-yellowed atmosphere. Breaking through below the clouds, the ride began to smooth and ease out as the dropship slowed its descent, making its way to the designated landing point. Zipping by below them, they could see moving logistics; mobile bases, armored vehicles, and lights. At last, with a metallic thud as the ship’s gear absorbed the landing, they have arrived with the others.
Everyone began unloading and offboarding their ships. From behind his thick and clunky exosuit’s helmet, Vertan looked upon the ghost-world, covered in smog. The diagnostics on his HUD immediately began to display air quality warnings, with various pollutants registering over 100 parts per million (ppm). In the distance beyond their base, he saw more ruins, vast beyond comprehension. An entire mountain split down the middle. A gigantic structure that likely fell from orbit. Petrified remains of what appears to be soldiers. He wonders what must have happened here. How long ago was this ancient battlefield?
“You twits ready to get rich?” Etrad calls through their helmet’s comms.
“You twits ready to die?” Calian quips back.
“Hey!” exclaims Reja. “Quit bein’ all scaredy. Shit happened all long ago, we jus’ the cleanup crew now.”
“Yeah, right, girl!” retorts Calian. “Like you two lackeys didn’t get your asses kicked on our last run!”
“We ladies would’ve been fine with that ghost without you stepping in to play hero!” Syani jabs back.
“Don’t make me mute you!” says Calian.
“I ain’t want to hear your ugly voice anyways!” shouts Reja.
The conversation continued with laughter through their helmets on their own frequency, unheard to those outside the squad. An unexpected interference sends the signal into a high-pitched squeal, causing everyone to curse out in all sorts of colorful profanity.
“Alright, that’s enough!” says Vertan. “That complex just ahead there is what we got today, yeah?”
“Right,” adds Hilgo. “Ghosts play defense, we play offense. Eyes sharp, everyone!”
*****
Squad Operations Order 865-816
Unit: 5th Squad, Third Platoon, Eighth Company
Location: West Wing of Complex AUN-324551, Planet FVH-814315
Date-Time Group: 254631WUIL88
Classification: Confidential
Situation
- Threat analysis
- Overall forecasted low-moderate threat surrounding the West Wing of Complex AUN-324551.
- Class C anomalies expected across all floors and sectors; presence confirmed.
- Class B anomalies estimated to be present in small numbers; presence unconfirmed.
- Known to utilize surrounding architecture as an advantage.
- Friendly Forces
- 1st Squad secures the North Wing of the complex.
- 2nd Squad secures the East Wing of the complex.
- 3rd Squad secures Southeast Substructure of the complex.
- 4th Squad secures the South Wing of the complex.
- Recon support on station. No air, artillery, or orbital scheduled unless escalated.
- Attachments and Detachments
- One Spirit specialist on standby via commweb.
Mission
5th Squad secures and clears West Wing of Complex AUN-324551 to deny Ghost parasitic and strategic use of the structure and enable follow-on forces to proceed to Complex Center.
Execution
- Commander’s Intent
- Deny ghost and spirit control of West Wing by…
…
…
…
…
End of Order
Acknowledged: [x] YES [ ] NO
*****
“Clear?”
“Clear.”
On the diagnostic on the arm of his suit, Vertan marks the room as cleared. Hilgo is shortly behind him. Luckily for them, this room seemed to be empty to begin with, giving them a short break between their occasional quarrels with the ghosts that still haunt the walls of the complex. Pulling out his Daero Counter, Vertan began scanning for any artifacts, dropping them into a small ring-portal they set up floating nearby, immediately counting and transporting it back for them. Far gone were the days where they had to contend with the clunky metal tub, even if it floated above the ground.
“I’m going to take a quick break for a minute,” says Hilgo.
“Know what,” replies Vertan. “Me too.”
Vertan tosses the last artifact, Log ID: D09-813542, down the portal-chute before closing it, the device folding into a neat and compact capsule that could be clipped right onto his exosuit. A quick check through the team’s diagnostics showed that all was currently well.
“Y’know,” says Hilgo.
“Hm?” answers Vertan.
“This whole thing ain’t even like how it used to be.”
“Well yeah, we moved up.”
“I mean, yeah.”
“Yeah.”
“But it feels different, you know?”
“Oh yeah, we’ve definitely done a whole lot since.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Yeah, it’s really not the same.”
“We handle a lot more now, and the risk and reward is a lot greater, too.”
“Well I guess you can say that, that’s not what I really meant, though.”
“What did you mean, then?”
“This has been feeling more and more like a combat deployment.”
“Really? What makes you say that?”
“Well, we don’t call it that, right? We look at it more like we use precaution towards what we secure.”
“It doesn’t feel like that to you?”
“Right. We get ops orders and ‘mission briefs’.”
“Don’t we want to be prepared going in, though? These things aren’t like anything anyone else back home has ever seen.”
“Well, right. But I swear the changes have been so subtle I almost didn’t notice it.”
“Elaborate for me? Because to be honest this has always been what I pictured it to be, more or less.”
“I guess you can say that. It just seems so militarized in a lot of ways. They gave us guns, now.”
“I find those pretty cool, to be honest.”
“I mean, me too, but still. I don’t know man, is this another one of their schemes?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, every now and then, I swear the Coalition comes up with some kind of crisis or problem it has to solve, and they swoop in to be heroes and all, no matter if it solves anything or not.”
“Fair, but you really gonna call everything we’ve gone through the past year a farce though?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“We fought these things with our own hands in front of our eyes, you know.”
A sudden loud crash accompanied by Calian’s scream came from behind them. Whirling around, Vertan and Hilgo found that he had fallen, making an impact on the floor.
“Calian?!” exclaims Hilgo.
“Hey guys,” Calian groans. “Had trouble containing this one.”
“How’d you get here?” asks Vertan, looking up at the high ceiling. There was nothing that he could have possibly fallen through. “Weren’t you guys downstairs?”
“Well yeah, we are,” grimaced Calian. “Wait a minute, we are! Why am I up here with you two? I thought I was still chasing it down a corridor.”
“Chasing what now?” asks Hilgo.
“Class C, Type Five, I believe,” replies Calian.
Suddenly, an ominous premonition overtakes their senses.
The environment remained unchanged.
Mostly unchanged.
Was it unchanged?
Unsure.
Where’s the exit?
Vertan, Hilgo, and Calian change the vision settings in their HUD to “physical only”. The room quickly returns to the way it was, this time in grayscale through the visor.
“Vision-only illusion for now,” says Vertan. “Room’s still the same as it was.”
“Class C, huh?” says Hilgo.
“I thought it was!” exclaims Calian. “Must’ve underestimated it.”
“Hey!” Reja calls through comms. The other part of the squad was now coming down the hall. “Use caution, we have your position! This thing’s a Spirit!”
“What Type?” asks Vertan. “Reja you there? What Type?”
No answer.
The four of them stood together in a momentary silence, confused and frustrated at the interference in communication—
The four of them?
Vertan, Hilgo, and Calian turn over to see that something had joined the room with them. It appeared humanoid in figure, and had a foreign and alien face with an unchanged expression. Whether it was a mask or not, they didn’t know. Somehow, it appeared ordinary; two eyes, one nose, one mouth, around the same height as them. And yet, the proportions of its face and its unchanging expression seemed as though subtly crafted just enough to be unsettling. The Daero Counters crackle and beep louder, giving back a reading of 19.7%.
“Oh, there it is—” Calian starts before the Spirit throws him through a wall.
“Spirit!” Vertan exclaims. “Arms!”
Vertan and Hilgo immediately drew their weapons, firing, leaving only scorched beam marks across the walls. The Spirit was too fast for their reflexes.
The two of them instinctually by experience split up across the room; though powerful, a Spirit can only at most possess one physical vessel at a time, its attention likewise draws its limits.
Though this made the fight at least bearable, it didn’t make it feel any easier. Vertan and Hilgo were still pushed into defense, the single individual Spirit moving with such unnatural finesse that it appeared to fight the both of them simultaneously, swiftly dodging every shot and blow Vertan and Hilgo attempted to fire upon it.
“Watch it!” Hilgo shouts, barely dodging Vertan’s shot. “Killing me here!”
“I’m trying!” Vertan shouts back. “It’s curving my shots!”
The two had somehow ended up back together, and with a swift charge, the Spirit barrels into them, the three of them tumbling through—?
For a moment, reality unfolds around itself in a disorienting manner before it very suddenly crashes back. They stood on the ceiling of a different room now, and looking up, they could see the rest of their squad on the floor below.
“There it is!”
“Fucking beam it!”
“I got it, I got it!”
Through a coordinated struggle, the team below manages to freeze and subdue the Spirit for a moment, aiming up their rifles set to stun. The Spirit crashes to the ground, bringing Vertan and Hilgo with it. It only laid there for a brief moment before immediately rising back up to continue the fight, but this pause was enough for the rest of the squad to claim victory.
With several well-placed shots, the humanoid figure crashes back down, and lays there motionless. Before the Spirit could flee from its vessel to inhabit another, Reja rushes in to blast it with a destructive pulsing frequency. The dust settles, and the fight has concluded. The crackling Daero Counters still read at 18.4%; luckily for them, the goods are only lightly damaged, and the dead humanoid figure is quickly logged as Log ID: B05-255348.
One of the squad members begins to cough and retch violently as his lungs accidentally take in the surrounding air, as though breathing mustard.
“Someone get an emergency mask on Fero,” says Etrad. “Take him back immediately!”
Swiftly, Calian helps Fero set up his emergency mask. A visible crack and leak could be seen on his exosuit helmet, likely to have appeared during the scuffle. Calian leads Fero out of the complex, the coughing and retching continuing.
After an intense scan, the West Wing is marked as “Cleared”.
*****
Back at the mobile station, the squad sits about to get any wounds treated. No injury if any were life threatening.
“How’s your ass beating today Calian?” teases Etrad.
“Oh, shut up!” says Calian. “You guys didn’t say that about Fero today.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I took that hit for you!” rasps Fero through snot and tears.
“We knew it was you the moment we saw you come through that wall!” cackles Reja.
“It got a lucky shot in!” says Calian, as another blood vessel pops in his nose. He wipes it away frustratingly.
The rest of the squad continued to laugh and bicker. Returning with his canteen refilled, Vertan finds Hilgo once more sitting alone, pondering to himself about yet another question.
“Come over, Vertan! Come sit with us!”
“In a minute, fellas!”
Vertan makes his way past the squad as they continue talking about their day. A most phenomenal and exciting fight that day! The Spirit was tough and cunning, but they were better. It does indeed look a little creepy…
“What’s up now?” asks Vertan as he sits down next to Hilgo. He takes a swig from his canteen.
“Oh, you know,” says Hilgo. “I just prefer some nice and quiet after a long day.”
“I get you. I need a break from them now and then, too.”
A moment of silence passes. Hilgo takes a sip from his canteen as well.
“These things are odd, aren’t they, Vertan?”
“Come on, this one is far from the worst one we’ve run into.”
“Well, yeah. I don’t mean that though—”
“Oh, there you go again, you always mean something else—”
“I do mean it though! Everything about this seems odd.”
“We fight ghosts and spirits on ancient ruined planets, Hilgo. What part about that isn’t odd?”
“Do you think these things are alive?”
“Well. Yeah? What? We just fought one?”
“Not like that, Vertan.”
“Like what?”
“Like, alive, alive.”
“Huh?”
“Or at least partially.”
“Like they’re still living in some way?”
“Like forget that we call them Ghosts and Spirits for a second.”
“Alright, I’m listening.”
“Class C, Class whatever threat. I swear there’s something behind the way they act and behave that I don’t get yet.”
“What do you get then?”
“I don’t know. Most of it is what I don’t get. Spirit attacks just feel too smart for me sometimes.”
“We just beat one? I don’t know man, just get some rest. It’s been a long day already to be overthinking this kind of stuff. Have some fun and celebrate, won’t you?”
Vertan hesitates for a quiet moment before getting up to join the rest of the squad, and is soon roped into the conversation. Hilgo continues to sit by himself, quietly growing more frustrated and resentful. He knows his kind of questioning drew tension and ire from others, and his only true friend has been so dismissive of him as of late.
He looks back over at everyone laughing and cheering once more. One of them seems to look over in Hilgo’s direction as he says something, and they laugh more. Was that directed?
Maybe I am overthinking it, Hilgo thought to himself.