Sand Memories
Flash science fiction
We were on the smaller moon of Antigon when we found the liminal sand.
It was an accident more than anything else. We had deployed at Haydon Ridge, far to the west of the actual target, and had to hike in to get to the Grey base on the shoreline. Four hundred miles cross country to avoid their sensors, and those weird algae towers that they grew everywhere. It was supposed to be a simple trek. Eight hours in, hit them hard, then pull back and wait for the lifters to recover us.
Nothing about it was simple once we found the sand.
Sunset had been two hours ago. Planet-set had been ten minutes ago, the fat blue bulk of Antigon sliding down into the northern horizon and driving the last of the light away from the landscape.
Except - the landscape did not go dark.
Parts of it did, sure. The mesas to the north glowed blue and purple for a few minutes after planet-set, strange auroras that blended sky and land into a radiation swirl, and then went dark too. The rest of the land was a crooked maze of rock and dunes, iron-oxide red during the day, dull and flat now. Our mechs left black, ankle-deep footprints as we followed the navigation beacons east, and nothing moved except us. No plants, no native life, nothing to indicate that there was anything here except our iron beasts.
The sands lit up once the landscape was finally fully dark.
I first thought it was an issue with the screen display. The graphics overlays sometimes jittered around hard radiation sources, and the auroras to the north were the first suspect. I ran diagnostics and the Geiger counter - nothing. Sensors showed baseline levels across the full spectrum we monitored.
The sand was glowing.
Faint luminescence - greens, blues, yellow tones that swirled and faded in slow blinks - started on the crest of the dunes, and worked their way down. Slow fingers of colour reached from the sky to the gullies between each dune. I was crossing a dried riverbed when it happened. I pulled Halcyon to the side, out of the marching line, and let the rest of the squad trot past behind me as I swept the cockpit from side to side.
The sand was moving.
Was anyone else seeing this?
Comms check.
Nothing. The captain’s voice, crisp as he told the left wing to pull in. No mention of the sand.
I pulled up a camera on the chin of the mech, used it to record a snippet of the terrain, then played it back on a different monitor.
The glow was there.
There was a pulse in my neck, just under my ear. A heartbeat, slow and steady, filled with a drip of slow melancholy that wanted to make my eyes water.
What was this place?
I fell in at the rear of the column and watched the rising and falling feet in front of me send tremors through the lightscape. Each footfall brought a reaction from the light. Each lifted claw became a counterpoint, a lull, a hanging moment between the pulsing in my neck.
Where were we going?
The light was getting stronger, developing richer hues. I saw emotions in them, saw an iron foot come down on despair, and rise again into a thin hope. Rising and falling. My eyes watched my emotions become stepping stones as we walked through the night.
The captain’s voice again. The left wing had stopped.
We all stopped - I think.
I watched the sand swirl.
The colours were sad now. A longing radiated out from the feet of the mechs in front of me. Each heartbeat drove the longing deeper, further into my mind. My throat was thick, the twitching of tears contained.
What was this place doing to me?
Why was I even here?
More voices on the comms net. People sounded upset. The squad on left wing was milling around in confusion. I used the chin camera to look at the sand between my own clawed feet.
The sand told me I was sad. It was showing more than emotions now - memories, of things I had forgotten.
A face.
A lover.
A kiss.
A last goodbye.
A sleepless night when emotions and memories burned through my skull until dawn on Mantell IV finally broke.
The cockpit hatch did not want to open. My fingers were too clumsy, and I had to concentrate on the button sequence for a long time before there was finally a hiss and movement from the iron panel.
My hands and feet followed the ladder down. The rest of the column was quiet around me. The squad on left wing had stopped too.
Even the captain was quiet now.
The glowing sand was climbing over the mech’s feet when I reached the bottom. I let go, hung suspended for a heartbeat, and then tumbled into the azure clouds beneath me.
Shockwaves on impact.
Sadness
A memory of coffee in an orbital station while waiting for launch orders
Warmth under my hands as I touched the emotions
What was happening to me
Sadness again, heavier
My throat felt thick
Why are we here
This war is a
Heartbeat
No
Addendum to report 340-Charlie Lima-703
All units of the 305th Striker Brigade were lost on Antiga II (second moon of Antigon - see starmap reference Hotel Echo-665). The Greys deployed a novel psychotropic weapon which has not been seen since, or before. Final data-logs from the unit suggest mass hysteria and complete loss of all command, control and communication functions. Repeat missions to the area have been placed on hold for now. We await further analysis before continuing our campaign in this sector.
"Even the captain was quiet now." So lovely!
Very impressive and unconventional defense by the natives, Best part is, the enemy will probably never catch on because generals and officials who spend their lives thinking in terms of lifeless metal can't comprehend anything else,