Futlity

[Tralis]

This is my first draft of a post-apocalyptic short story. It was intentionally written with only the most general of characterization (which is unusual, usually the characters are the heart of my stories.) But it seems the scenario took precedence here. I'll let you decide how it turned out. I also apologize for the forum system obliterating my formating.

Futility
I grew up knowing that I, along with everyone I had ever known, would die within a 5 year window. This was the sort of fact that one knows but does not really register. I knew I would die in my mid-thirties. I knew it was inevitable. But as the time grew closer it seemed more distant and less real. Everyone around me was in denial as much as I was. We prepared for the day when the government's destroyer would enter orbit and kill us all, we knew the window in which it was likely to arrive, but since it could not be seen until just before its arrival it easy to deny it all, to say that our colony would be left alone, that we were not worth the expense and effort to destroy.
The day I could no longer ignore it came as I had fallen into a foolish security. I came home from the two hours of militia training I had to take every day after work. As I walked in I saw my wife in tears in front of the television screen. I went over to comfort her and saw the news cast. The destroyer had been spotted by telescope and was less than two months away from our planet. This news made my heart drop too. This news represented a call to arms. The colonial government was to issue orders to everyone within three hours. We knew that right now our objective should be to drive the children to the nearest shelter since both were too young to be useful in the struggle to come. All four of us got in the car. Probably I should have let Xue take them and have staid home to begin preparations, but I gave into sentiment by coming along. The hurry had left the children ignorant and confused.
“Dad, why do we have to go to the shelter?” The younger of my two sons, age six, asked.
“When your grandparents settled this planet 64 years ago they were ordered by the government to kill every one of the cephies. See, the government believes that it is our right to inhabit any planet we wish, and if there happens to be intelligent life then we, as the more accomplished and advanced species, have the right to take their planet from them. If a planet has intelligent life at all, which is rare, it usually is extremely primitive, living in caves and having only the most basic of tools. Certainly we have the right to replace them as custodians of their planet as we are able to make so much more out of it. But our planet, the one your grandparents were sent to colonize, has life of the rarest kind. The cephies here has mechanized transportation, large organized governments, industrialized production, electrical devices, and mastery of much of the planet's mineral wealth. They had mapped and understood the planet they lived on.`Your grandparents believed they didn't have a right to exterminate the cephies. They made a deal to preserve the advanced societies and only destroy the cephie nations that were still backward and primitive. They lied to the government through the quantum communicator and said they had been exterminating them on schedule. When the second wave of colonists came and found we were living in peace with the natives they sent a report to the imperial government. Cooperation with aliens of any sort is heresy so when they heard the entire colony had become heretics they sent a destroyer toward us at near the speed of light from the nearest inhabited planet 29 light years away. That was 34 years ago. That destroyer is decelerating on the outside of our solar system right now and will arrive in a few weeks. That ship has orders to kill everyone on the planet, human or cephie. In this shelter you'll be safe from its bombs.” I responded. It was sort of a comfort to remind myself of the reason I was about to face this hell.
After I dropped off the children I got my orders. I was assigned to disable machines made before our heresy, especially those not made on world. The destroyer might be able to transmit a code to them that would make them malfunction in dangerous ways. Nobody wanted a welding unit chasing them around. The next few weeks were a sort of purgatory before damnation. I worked long hours on my assigned duty and trained with the militia all day, sleeping 7 hours before returning to work. The only positive is we ate like gluttons, finishing off all the perishable food. We all lied to ourselves that with enough vigilance and preparation we'd survive.
26 days after being detected the INS Jiang Shi entered orbit. I was in a blast shelter with my militia unit. Another colonial unit attempted to destroy it with their orbital defense equipment. The salvo of anti-ship missiles was first thinned by the ship's guidance countermeasures, then any surviving missiles were destroyed by point defense cannons. We didn't get a single hit. The Jiang Shi launched a fury of missiles down to targets on the side on the planet it had line of sight to, mostly Cephie population centers. The reports were clear, thermonuclear devices had been detonated over every major population center on that side. We would have a few hours before we would be in line of sight. Until then all we could do was wait, and wait we did as reports filed in one by one of cities destroyed entirely. I do not believe there is any situation in which time moves slower than one awaits being nuked.
Reports came in of troops storming any stronghold or shelter. According to our military experts the empire would not send human troops; the cost of supporting them in spaceflight and the cost of the return trip would be too much. Instead the destroyer brought combat drones to kill all those who survived the nuclear holocaust. The automated destroyer would send automated machines down to kill us all in an orderly, automated fashion after destroying any fortification with bombardment. No Imperial Navy officer would have to really deal with the blood on their hands.
A group of cephies came to our door from one of their towns near ours. We quickly opened the hatch and let them in. One had brought a board to write on (They were unable to speak our language and we theirs). The one with the board scratched out in hanzi with one its tentacles “Do you have enough supplies to take us in?”
Our captain grabbed the board and wrote “Did you bring weapons with you?”
It wrote “ We didn't want to look hostile. We have the anti-material rifles and anti-armor missiles you gave us outside.”
A group of around 100 cephies came into our company's shelter. They resembled six-tentacled octopi but with more developed head-parts. There was definitely not enough supplies to keep them until the radiation would pass, which meant our captain believed that most of us would die. As the Jiang Shi approached in orbit all eyes were on the TV screen that showed our camera feed of the city in the plateau our mountain base overlooked. Our radar detected an incoming atmospheric entry vehicle. We tracked its altitude as it evaded our countermeasures. In a single instant the city below was consumed in the blast. The mushroom cloud glowed an ominous dark orange. It amazed me to see the mushroom cloud just hang in the air for as long as it did. There was no trace below of the city that had once stood.
Our company received its last order from the chain of command: to evacuate the shelter. Most of the shelters had been destroyed by bunker busters and others stormed. They hoped if we spread out we would be harder to detect and more likely to survive. We packed our rations and equipment as quick as we could and left. We detected a series of atmospheric entry vehicles approaching our general area as we made the final preparations to leave. Some were large, probably carrying troops, others small, carrying bunker-buster warheads. Hiking in the mountainous terrain would have been difficult terrain, but wearing a radiation suit it was near impossible. After several hours of hiking we reached a secluded area that would serve as our camp for the night. Some tried to push for a return to the shelter. We didn't know for sure it had been destroyed or was even known. Huddled together for warmth in absence of tents we all shared a bond by our realization of the inevitable. None of us could sleep. Instead we opened ourselves completely to one another. Life was to be short, there was little to loose. While the ship did not have line of sight to us it seemed we were safe.

[Tralis]

The next day the captain made sure we were ready to leave before the ship orbited around to have line of sight to us once more. As we left the area it erupted in a series of small impacts, artificial meteors dropped from the destroyer. Four of ours died, a small loss. We quickly found cover, and since we were not a valuable enough target for heavier bombardment we survived. After it had passed in orbit we continued to march. The captain was silent as to our actual destination, but we all didn't argue. Likely it was only in the opposite direction from the irradiated ruins of our city, a direction we happy to march. After several hours of marching we came under bombardment once again. This time it could not be from the destroyer. Several died as the officers scrambled to get us into cover.
“Sergeant!” The commander of my platoon screamed at me over the roar of high explosives. “Get your squad to the top of that hill! Radio what you see!” I'm sure I would have been covered in his spit had we both not been wearing gas masks.
“C'mon guys, let's go.” I said casually. We jogged as fast as we could manage, ignoring the explosions all around us.
“Lieutenant! I see the source... machines. 5 self-propelled guns are bombarding. About 20 hexapods are coming at us.” The hexapods, machines about the size of a horse designed to navigate in rough terrain and eliminate soft targets, were approaching quickly. While we could take cover from bombardment, We would have to deal with these. If we ran they'd outrun us with their machine endurance.
“Alright, Sergeant, wait for my orders and then go flank those buckets of rust. We're taking them down.” The lieutenant ordered me over radio. I quickly formed a plan in my mind. We were separated from our platoon and the company at whole. The chance of our verdant company destroying twenty armored killing machines with man-portable weaponry was slim. Even in the event losses would be extreme. We knew we would have no support. Imperial support was plentiful. The only logical option, shameful as it was, seemed to be desertion. There was nothing to defend anyway, we would be giving our lives for nothing.
“Men, I can't in good conscience send you down there to die. There's nothing left to defend except our own lives. Let's lie down as still as possible. Hopefully neither party will see us. Then when our allies are dead and the machines gone we can move and try to find some source of fresh water and food. Does anyone object?” Nobody did.
The hexapods quickly assaulted the company's position. They tried to keep them back with their armor-penetrating rifles and missiles, but the machines routed the company within minutes. While the troops struggled with the recoil from their AP rifles only to find the shots bounced the machines sprayed small caliber bullets everywhere, plenty to rip the soldiers to shreds. The poor panicked souls who ran were shot down with the terrible accuracy of the computer-controlled targeting system. Nobody survived long enough to try to call us down from our position. The machines marched on. The automated SPGs followed half an hour later, having to take a circuitous route due to the terrain. None of them noticed us.
Right as we began to march out I heard a distressed shriek. I turned around to see one of the cephies. We waited for it as it scrambled to us. I scratched out “Hello! You are welcome to come along with us.” in the dirt. When it caught up it scratched “I would call you a coward but the results don't seem to favor the brave.” I scratched “I recognized a futile situation.” It asked if we had a plan. I admitted we did not. It lead us to a spring where we filtered water.
We all agreed to head out to the country. Perhaps the machines had killed farmers while sparing the farms. As we started to leave the mountain one of my men fell into a spell of vomiting. We noticed a tear in his suit. He had been breathing in fallout particles the entire day, most likely. It was clear he would be too weak to continue on. The rest of us voted to not leave him behind. We were not under hostile threat, so it seemed we had the luxury of time. We patched his suit and let him rest. After two days he seemed to get better so we continued on as fast as we could manage. Everything was empty, for days we did not see any sign of the machines except seeing the light in the sky of the destroyer as it orbited overhead. We marched past forests where the tries had shed all their leaves, empty towns where cephies had once lived, farms where the crops lay dying of radiation, and ruins where one-sided battles had taken place. We saw no signs of survivors, but then again we did not dig deep. Anyone left alive would certainly not leave themselves in plain sight.
The man who had been exposed to the fallout took a turn for the worse 10 days after his exposure. He lost his hair, coughed up blood, and broke out in lesions. We all agreed that he was going to die. I approached him lugubriously, tried to look him in the eye but found myself unable, and asked him plainly “Would you prefer to be left here with rations or for us to end it now?” He wanted to die now. I aimed my rifle at him and shot. The round was not designed to be used on people, it was overkill. The gore seemed exaggerated, like a parody. I couldn't hold back the laughter; it all seemed so unreal. I felt guilty for the macabre laughter and quickly contained it, fortunately I don't believe any of my companions blamed me. We left his corpse as is and continued on.

[Tralis]

As we traveled further into the heartland we eventually found fields of human and cephie crops that hadn't been killed by the radiation. By this point our rations had run out and all of our stomachs grumbled. Water we could filter, but safe food had been extremely scarce. These plants seemed alive, a sign that suggested they were safe to eat. Still, we had no way of knowing if eating them would bring radiation emitters into our bodies. None of us had a Geiger counter or dosimeter. While we could drink with our gas masks on we had to remove them to eat. We had been careful to eat our rations in secluded areas that were unlikely to have had much fallout, but now we would expose ourself for longer. For a week we took in the bounty of the fields, enjoying the fertility of a dying planet. This spot we had found was an island of beauty among a sea of death and corrosion. One the seventh day we had to take cover in a ditch to hide from a tank platoon as it drove by unaware of our presence. The next time the destroyer orbited overhead it dropped a large canister of poison gas that made the crops wither and die. While we not evicted per se due to our gas masks it seemed useless to remain. Whether the tank had seen us and radioed to the destroyer or that the gas was simply for the crops I will never know.
We continued to wander aimlessly in search of some sort of refuge. Precipitation spread radiation to places that were great distances from any bombardment and it seemed progressively less likely we would find another place where food could be grown. Thus our supplies were restricted to what we could loot. We found the remain of a battle at the foot of a mountain that held a shelter. The wrecks of tanks and other machines of war from both sides were strewn everywhere. We looted rations from the corpses of the soldiers that had fought to defend the shelter where their children lay, but to no use. It was clear the shelter had been breached and stormed. We didn't dare go in for the pain seeing dead children would cause.
As we descended from that mountain we were confronted by a lone hexapod. It shot its .30 cal machine gun at us from a distance, killing 5 of us. The remaining 8, including our cephie companion, scattered behind cover. Its .60 cal machine gun destroyed just about any cover we could find. I ran like a scared child as I saw my six men die. It charged at me but did not fire. As it closed in it let out a burst of perhaps 7 shots from its .30 cal. None hit. Finally it stood right next next to me and I awaited it to fire again and kill me but it did not, instead trying to trample me. While I managed a few shots with my AP rifle while dodging its attacks they did not hit in the vulnerable spots. While the machine appeared out of ammo it still had me at a disadvantage. Finally I lay down and waited for it to crush me. Death would be the only rest from this nightmare. I saw nothing to be gained from continued struggle. I was too tired to continue running from my inevitable fate. Where would I go should I survive? As its foot closed down on me I heard an explosion and it fell over to its side. I saw a tentacle prepared to throw another explosive charge come from over a rock. I got up and ran away from where the charge came down. Then I ran over to the cephie. One of its tentacles had been shot off, but it was still alive. It looked at me and used the leaking fluids to write “Kill me.” on a boulder. I wrote “No, I'll try to help you. You still have other tentacles.” “They'll send more. Get out of here while you still can. Please, just put me out of my pain.”
I shot it in the head and ran as fast as I could to another peak. The mountain behind me was blanketed by explosions, as the cephie had predicted. If I had stayed to nurse it we would both be dead. Instead I survived, alone. I came upon the ruins of a cephie city that belonged to one of the more primitive nations, one of the ones us colonists had irradiated. This ghost city was not the work of the empire's machines but of us colonists. I walked through the empty streets of wooden shacks and thatched huts before coming on the center of the city where giant monuments of marble stood with their paint peeling off. It reminded me of a roman colony, though this was a little more than a flight of fancy in truth. The style was entirely different, more more suited to the cephie form. Still, the level of technology seemed about right. The city harbored no refugees save me as far as I could tell. Finding someone, anyone else alive was my priority. I didn't care if they were human or cephie. Using my radio would be more likely to bring machines than survivors. Finding someone on foot would be unlikely. There seemed no likely way of finding more survivors, if any existed to begin with.
The next day a flurry of re-entry vehicles descended from the sky as the destroyer passed overhead. Cleanup units, as it turned out. They worked to clean up the radiation and remove the traces of settlement so the next wave of colonists could believe it was a freshly terraformed world. The cleanup bots seemed to ignore me as they took my city apart, stripping of all valuable materials. Perhaps they sent word to some military unit, I'll never know. I realized that it was all futile. Sources of food would dry up, but even if I were able to scavenge and stockpile enough to survive, what would it matter? Eventually I would be found and killed and in the meantime I would live an empty, meaningless existence, living as a stubborn relic of an earlier time. The images of corpses burned by radiation filled my mind. My health was an anomaly amongst the death of the world. I took my weapon into my mouth and awkwardly pulled the trigger. The large weapon was too much for me to aim well facing myself so as it discharged it merely tore a large hole in my face. As I passed into hydrostatic shock I considered the fate our world. The Jiang Shi would continue in orbit until given other orders, probably after a century or two by which time the cleanup would be sufficient to allow another batch of colonists who would be completely unaware that planet was anything other than a barren rock recently terraformed. Sure, there would be rumors and evidence would be found buried, but the imperial government would work hard to suppress them so talk of the planet's past would be mumors beneath the cacophony of daily life. The new colonists would plant crops taken from worlds all across the empire, and the planet would be turned into another cookie-cutter imperial world, its biological individuality erased. The memory of majesty of the advanced cephalopods would be gone completely, all who witnessed it dead. And gently I passed along with it all.