I try to calm the beating of my non-existent heart. C-, calm yourself, Mort! This is the reality of war. This is what happens, this is how it goes. You should have expected this. Your rules don’t apply, and neither do your morals. So just calm-,

“Mort? Are you alright?” Typhin’s looking down at me, genuine compassion shining through his eyes. I restrain myself from asking how he can show compassion for a space octopus but not a band of pirates.

“Y-, yeah. I’m… I’m fine.”

“Is that so?” A genuine smile of relief. “Well, then I’m glad. We’ll be advancing on the planet now. By all means, it should present no issue to our forces. However, if it comes down to it, I trust that you will make your best attempt to keep us alive?”

I nod stiffly. “Yeah, of course.”

“Good. Then, I’ll leave that in your capable hands.”

I stare down at the floor. Grit my teeth.

...He sent them to their deaths. As cooly and callously as anybody ever could.

I don’t know what to think. I really don’t. Not about the Empire, not about the Rebellion… Not even about Typhin. I just don’t know.

The planet approaches rapidly. Typhin orders two of our seven ships to remain in orbit in case any rebels attempt to escape. I want to ask him if that isn’t a war crime, but I already know that this world - this galaxy - follows different rules. Rules I don’t know and that I might never fully grasp. Rules I might never want to grasp.

For the first time since I arrived, I miss Earth.

A warm hand falls on my shoulder. “We’ll be touching down soon. Are you ready, Mort?”

No, I’m not. “Yeah.”

The planet looms before us, large and white and swirling with hidden secrets. The planet seems to be trapped in an eternal storm, it’s every nook and cranny covered in a whipping wind, the gorgeous green below only peeking out in the rare moments that the storm coalesces into an eye, staring out into the void of space; unblinking.

Across the whole of the planet, numerous such eyes peek out at us, the largest of which seems to span a full fifth of the surface of the planet. In the beauty of this marvel, I almost forget the horrors I witnessed mere minutes ago. The voice that was silenced.

We enter the sea of clouds.

It’s like being in a pool of mist, white on every side. I’d be scared that something might be hiding in it if the technicians weren’t so certain about everything being clear.

For several minutes, we’re just descending. Deeper and deeper. And still, it isn’t getting any darker. It just remains a neutral kind of light grey.

Then, finally, the clouds part, and we’re presented with a beautiful sight. Rolling green hills as far as the eye can see, punctuated only by upshoots of what seems to be forests, as well as large pools of crystal clear water. It almost looks like an emerald pearl, accentuated by sapphire splotches. The only thing putting a hamper on the gorgeous sight is the fact that the skies are just grey. No sun to be seen.

As I’m staring at this scenery, a few of the technicians make an estimate on the exact location of the rebel base. Hearing their opinions, Typhin agrees and off we go.

The scenery zooms past us.

On closer inspection, the forests are actually not made up by trees at all, but rather by immense wandering creatures, each taller than any giraffe, their sloping necks covered with bushy manes of what might be either fur or feathers. I’m leaning towards the second option. Scattering among these massive behemoth’s thin legs are what can only be described as smaller creatures, very much like spiders in form, though it’s hard to tell from this distance. Either way, this is some weird shit.

And then we see it. A small dome-shaped building on the horizon.

Beside it, the silhouettes of ships can only barely be sighted. One such ship quickly rises before flying off into the skies. We make no pursuit since they’ll surely be shot down later. Somehow, knowing that all those people in that ship will die within a minute makes my chest feel cold and tight.

Here on a planet with an atmosphere, the sounds of lasers and explosions are actually present. Green lasers flash from our ships, reducing the remaining rebel crafts (alongside any poor fellow trying to board them) to cinders. I don’t have time to digest it before we touch down to the ground.

Drawn along in a hubbub of activity, I exit the ship alongside all other officers and troopers. My feet touch the ground. Huh. Curious.

I bend down and touch the ground. As it turns out, rather than being covered in grass, it seems that the entire surface is painted with a luscious assortment of moss, or maybe extremely large mould. I can’t tell.

People are shouting orders now, and without really thinking about it, I follow along.

Blasters go off to the left and right. In front of me, people I can only assume to be rebels fall over for the last time, gaping holes in their chests where hearts used to beat. White armour clicks and clacks on both of my sides. The bodies of dead rebels get trampled. I think Typhin or maybe Fern is shouting something. I can’t tell. I follow along.

We enter the rebel base.

Cold walls and metal floors and technology I can’t understand greets us at about the same time as the rebel’s blaster bolts do. White-armoured troopers fall to the left and right of me and I hope to God that it’s not anybody I know.

But more rebels fall than stormtroopers. Someone shouts that we have to advance, we have to capture the leader, we have to learn everything there is to know.

Pushed by the flow of battle, I find myself at the end of a corridor facing an empty door. On the other side of the door are those we aim to capture alive. Blasters are set to stun. I can’t help but wonder why I’m at the front, why I decided to follow along, why I had to plead for the life of the pirates. If Typhin had only shot them down back there then there wouldn’t be any bodies at my feet. If only I had kept my mouth shut we could have avoided this whole thing.

In the back of my mind, I can hear the last conversation between me and Typhin play out:

“You don’t have to go,”

“I need to,”

“It’s not your place to fight,”

“I need to be there,”

“It’ll only convince others of your skill in battle.”

And then people began rushing and now I’m standing here and now the Lieutenant or Fern or someone else is telling us to charge, and the door is opening and as I glance around the bend I see a man with his blaster raised, trained on me, and once again my head explodes in a burst of fire of flesh, and again I fall to my knees, only barely hearing how people are shouting about surrendering and whatnot, and then another blast hits my arm and another my neck and another my chest and then it all goes away.

I open my eyes in Typhin’s bedroom.

Everything is quiet. Still. Dark and calm. But that’s wrong.

I want to breathe heavily. I want my pulse to beat like war drums in my ears. I want my bones to creak and my flesh to ache. I want to feel like how I should feel when I almost died. When I did die.

But instead, I’m watching idly as my human form reforms from my small body. Slowly, like a child being born. Quickly, like a giraffe learning how to walk. With an internal sigh, I close my eyes and open them in my humanoid form. Outside, I can still hear the remnants of battle booming in the distance.

I could join them.

...But, instead, I’m just going to sit over here. On Typhin’s bed. Staring wistfully out of the window as though I could change anything. Outside, I can see how the troopers are starting to relax. The bodies of troopers and rebels alike lie here and there. I can’t tell how many are dead. Probably no more than a dozen, but when I’m looking out there, and I can see even one body lying still and motionless as though asleep, I can’t help but feel like a whole planet died.

Soon, the officers and the troopers will return and we’ll tally up the dead and captured.

And until then, I guess I’ll just stay here.

Right here.