Tis But a Light Drizzle

“Ugh, this place is miserable,” complained Mik.
“Come now, Mik,” I responded. “Tis but a light drizzle.”
“It’s raining like a waterfall, this so-called road is little more than a track of mud, and there’s more hills on this planet than one can count in a lifetime.”
“Oh, don’t be so down, sir!” said Basab enthusiastically. The stout Unggoy skipped along the rain puddles that formed in the muck. “I kinda like the rain: like nature’s version of a shower!”
“Please don’t substitute rain for a proper bath,” commented Tes, the Kig-Yar markswoman hauling her beam rifle over her shoulder, which shielded some of her head from the rain.
We all sloshed through the mud, the rain pattering down on our armor. Apparently, based on my own hearing, one of the minors behind us slipped on the mud and fell into the ditch aside the road. “Gods! Shit!” he cursed. From the voice, I knew it was Dras, the old veteran. Then I turned my head briefly to see behind my shoulder. Dras was indeed fallen into the ditch, but he was being helped up by the other minor, Retek.
“Those stubborn Humans and their anti-aircraft sites,” complained Retek. “I must confess though, one cannot fault them for lack of gall. Indeed they are a stubborn foe, unafraid to stand and fight.”
“Humans, good sport they are,” commented Dras. “They put up a good fight indeed, brother. A good fight indeed, I never bore when a Human is nearby.”
“Too bad no Humans are nearby,” uttered Mik off-handedly.
“It could be worse,” I said. “It could be like what happened the previous week. With the Parasite.”
“Gods, don’t even bring them up,” Mik said. “I’ve always pictured what it would be like to fight some, but now that I have… Well, let me put it this way: if I lived the rest of my life never fighting the Flood again, I would be very happy.”
Some chuckling and low voices murmuring in agreement rang out in the crowd. But the rain continued, pouring forth from a clouded sky, a dreary overcast turning midday into something closer to dusk. The hills were a drenched dark green, largely devoid of vegetation larger than shrubs. The road we traversed was one Humans used to connect disparate rural communities in this part of the planet, but they seemed to be of generally poor construction. A burden for us as much as them.
As we ascended the somewhat steep incline of a hill, I latched my carbine onto my back, for it began to weigh heavier and heavier in my arms. I glanced behind me, and saw Mik had holstered one of his plasma rifles, but held the other, for he had no place to keep it on his person. Tes still carried her beam rifle, which perhaps caused great strain on her, although she did not display this outwardly.
At about halfway through our ascent, I felt a most curious feeling. I felt tired. Fatigued. I had a nagging desire to sit down. I was astonished. I had considered myself in excellent physical condition, and indeed it was expected of me to be so, for I am a warrior. I was so struck by this development, I did not even feel annoyance or anger that I had failed my own body by not conditioning it properly. And with my astonishment paralyzing my outrage, I could thus realize something else.
It was not of my own fault that I felt tired. It was simply… an occurrence. It happened. It was a logical conclusion, rather, that even a well-trained and physically fit warrior might feel fatigued after monotonous activity. And in this triumph of inner thought and reason, I straightened myself, breathed in deeply, and marched up the hill with renewed vigor. Then, Basab, in his infinite wisdom, discharged some words.
“Basab hopes we all stop soon, he needs to use the little Unggoy’s room!”
“Go right now,” said Mik in an encouraging voice. “It’s raining, no one will notice.”
There was a pause. Then, a realization from the recesses of my mind came forth.
“Disregard that order, Basab!” I yelled out.
Category:The Weekly