Nason struggled in the dust. They all did, he was sure. The whole unit, every one of the cursed forty that departed Hatra a week ago. He was also sure that he wasn’t the only soldier in this straggling formation that dreamt of killing the officer that ordered this tortured march through the dry seabed, marching off to battle. Everyone, from the miners of Downpods to the cleanshirts from the Topsides of Hatra avoided the south in the weeks when winter turned to spring. This was when the southern winds blew and filled the sky with dust. Each year, back home in his Whipside neighborhood, they hung the shutters as the end of winter neared and the cold northerlies faded. They spent many weeks on streets plunged into darkness, or holed up in their pods, waiting for the winds to end. And with them, the end of the cursed dust.
He had never known anything like this before. Mostly, he marched with his head down, full into the brunt of the storm, his hand wrapped around the rope that bound the unit together. On the rare moments he raised his head, the world didn’t look real. Figures faded into nothingness, the ground and sky the same brownish gray as the sand and powder that filled the air. There was no horizon, no way to gather their bearings. Head down, march into the wind. The only positive he had been able to rationalize was that, with their faces into the wind, the air filters on the back of their helmets stayed clear longer. Mostly clear, anyway. After nearly a week of this tiresome slog, he knew their day was nearly over by the smell of the dust, of decay and death and chalk, that filled his helmet. His filters were nearly shot, and he could feel the grit on his teeth and the paste on his tongue, formed when the infernal dust mixed with his saliva to make a foul concrete.
He marched in the middle of the line, behind Alivine and ahead of Odean, two of his three tent mates. Gibbes had been selected as an outrider, and would be scouting somewhere on their flanks until tomorrow. That meant more space in the tent, maybe a better sleep tonight.
Nason had a lot of time to ponder the world as he walked, much of that time spent thinking of Alivine, who he had grown quite fond of over the last few weeks.
“I’d like to kill the voncer that made us come out here,” a tinny voice sounded in his ear, barely audible over the keening of the wind. Odean, he thought. Nason laughed to himself, amused at how her thoughts mimicked his own. He cast a glance to the corner of his eyepiece, where a tiny light glowed amber at the edge of his vision. The team channel. If the light had been green, it would have meant a broadcast over the unit frequency. A statement like that was enough to earn a soldier a cane across the shoulders, or the withholding of rations. More than one soldier had been whipped out of the service for less.
“Stuff it, Odean,” another voice chimed in. Ahead of him, Alivine had turned and was facing backwards. Nason couldn’t see her expression through the haze, but it was surely one that he knew well. One that he hoped to never see aimed at himself. “There’ll be time for that later.”
The light went out, Odean choosing not to comment. A short while later, as the unit passed around the leeward side of a small mesa, the order came to stop for the night. Together, they dropped their packs and pitched their tent, collected their rations from the wagon that followed behind the army, and crawled inside. Only then could Nason remove his helmet.
“Songs and purg,” he said, taking a breath of clear air. The dust had fully clogged his filters in the last half hour, and despite the moldy, musty smell of the tent, the air tasted delicious to him. “That was a rough day.”
“They’re all rough days,” Odean’s distorted voice answered over the steady thrum of canvas as the wind battered the sides of their tent. It would hold, provided someone remained inside. At least one crew lost their tent on this march when they all stepped outside and a gust of wind turned their shelter into a sail.
Next to Nason, Alivine removed her own helmet. Sweat matted her auburn hair to her face. “I’d give a months’ worth of doses for a tub of dirty water right now,” she said.
He dug a canteen from his pack and took a swig of warm water, just enough to loosen the clay on his tongue, then passed the bottle. They shared everything in this tent. Food, water, pulk when they had it. He stole a glance at Alivine. Well, almost everything. He took a rag from his pocket and blew his nose loudly, filling the grungy cloth with a bolus of dirt.
“Even through the filters,” he said, dropping the offending rag back on the ground. He carefully loosened the toggles on the back of his helmet that released the filter seals, and pulled the pair of dust-fouled filters from within. “Damn,” he said, holding one up to the light. It would be dark soon, but the yellow color of the tent was designed to take advantage of every thin ray of sunshine.
“Mine, too,” Alivine said, holding up a similar pair of fouled filters. “You could build a house out of these, they’re so cracking hard.”
Odean flopped onto the ground, helmet and all. She lay there without moving for a minute, then popped the seals and pulled her helmet free. “As I was saying before,” she said, gasping for clean air. “I’d like to kill the voncer that made us come all the way out here.”
“Twice,” Nason agreed. “Kill him twice.”
* * *
#AtoZChallenge
Z is for Stayven Zinn. He is an original ambassador from the time of the near-destruction of Gioveda over 800 years in the past.
Y is for Yeoman Stone. This monolith standing atop the end of the ancient sea wall the once protected the harbor from storms has a surprise or two left in it.
X is for Xerophyte. The rugged, hardy "Father Pea" that nearly all of Gioveda relies on as a food supply is killing them slowly.
W is for Wulff. This retired warrior has lived outside of Hatra for decades, and now lives in the oasis miles from the city.
V is for Vonce. The tall grass grows quickly in the sewer outflows and is used heavily in nearly all facets of life in Hatra.
U is for Uci. The very young migrant with special skills eventually makes her place in our story. Here we see some of her very humble beginnings.