Veteran

Blasterfire shrieked in the distance. Corporal Higgs lowered his scope, scratched his palm, spat into the dirt. Nothing to see but mountain.

Reports indicated the barrage had been ongoing for five days. Five days, the opposition hammered at the mountain stronghold. Five days of that damned noise.

“Report, Corporal.” A gruff voice from behind. Sergeant Bose. Higgs turned, snapped to attention. She hadn’t brought a lamp, but under two moons there was just enough light to see the twitch in her eyebrow.

“Sir, all quiet here, Sir.” His leg protested the stiffness of his posture where shrapnel was removed. He ignored it.

“Drop the sir. We’ve served together long enough.” She sprinkled some kind of hash into a trough of rolling paper. “Two days until we reach the valley. Then we relieve the forces in the bastion.”

“If there’s anything left of it.” He didn’t mean for her to hear, and for a moment he thought she hadn’t. She twisted the cigarette closed. He scratched at his hand again.

“Let me see that.” She pulled hard at the cigarette and grabbed his hand. Blisters were starting to raise on his fingers. “I’ll make sure you get an extra radiation pill in your rations.”

“I’ll be fine.” He pulled his hand away and reached for the cigarette. The smoke tasted bitter.

“I’ve seen Blasterpalm eat right through bone. Ain’t pretty.” She took another drag and sat down on a rock. “Command expects us to defend whatever’s left. Even if it’s just ash.”

She took his scope and dismissed him.

The encampment was quiet. The only sounds were the clatter of dice, the huffing of an impromptu wrestling match, the quiet tinkering of a regular re-checking his kit. No one spoke. No one had to. The roar of plasma said everything that needed saying.