Sun Night
December 16, 2031 – First Sergeant’s Log
I’m not much of a tech-geek, but there aren’t a whole lot of people left functioning, so I guess it falls to me to make sure some record of this survives. As of 2pm yesterday, we’ve gone dark, and I don’t mean “dark”. DARK.
From what we got over the radio before all hell broke loose, it looks like the Sun’s gone out. I’d always heard it was going to nova if it was going to go, but apparently it just fizzled up. That doesn’t sit well with me, but I’ve got bigger problems to worry about. My men are good, but I don’t think even they’ll be able to keep order in a world where sunlight’s no longer a possibility. Two or three of the new guys are already getting a little wide around the eyes, and I’m going to have to impose some strict behavior controls if I want a hope of maintaining order.
This isn’t going to end well.
March 01, 2032 – Western Field Commander’s Journal
This has been the worst three months of my career.
That should be obvious, given that the sun’s gone out, but I’d honestly hoped we’d come far enough as a species to survive a catastrophic event like this. I’ve got my suspicions about the event itself, but since most of our tech doesn’t work worth a damn anymore, it’s not like I can check.
I had to execute five men this morning. Treason. Three of them were men I knew, men who had fought the good fight over the course of years – decades, even. This “new world order” was getting to them, making them think outside the box we’d all agreed to live in.
The trouble is that I agree with them too, at least in principle. Centralized government just doesn’t cut it anymore, at least not when there’s no reliable communication. Radio messages are few and far between, and the men constantly question my authority, wonder why I’m asking them to march, exercise, and maintain order, and that’s bad for business. We need a new model, but I’m not going to be the one to provide it. Men make their choices, and I’ve made mine.
I just hope it’s right one.
June 12, 2032 – First Sergeant’s Log
This is just for posterity, now.
My men have all deserted, deciding that their life would be better served living by their own rules, and I didn’t have enough bullets to stop them all. Judicious killing can produce an effective response, but there were ten of them, one of me, and only six bullets in my clip. They’d become scared shells of former selves, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t rise up against me. The dark had affected them, twisted their minds. Even by the wan light of the glo-sticks we rationed I had seen their faces change, harden and then crack under the strain of upholding ideals they felt no longer had value.
They’d left two weeks ago, and I’d struggled on alone. From what little I remember of the maps of this area, Western Command should have an outpost nearby.
I hope they’ve fared better.
June 17, 2032
The two survivors I’ve found at Western Command tell me they were the cook and the Field Commander, respectively. The cook looks more like a commander than the other man, and at least seems to have some fight in him, so I’m inclined to believe them both.
I’ve lost just about every shred of passion I had, so I can relate to the supposed Commander I’ve found. He has the same look of desperation, of heavy choice, and more importantly won’t take command no matter how many times I ask.
As it stands, the cook is in charge. At least we eat well.
July 01, 2032 – Sous Chef’s Notebook
All I wanted to do was get through my stint in the army and get back to my girl. It wasn’t that I was too dumb to get through Basic, I just didn’t want to deal with all the yelling. The cooking route was easier on my psyche, and still paid just about as well, though I had to endure a constant ribbing from the other men.
I’d focused on my work – another three months and I would have been done, back on my way to L.A. and graduate work at the University.
Instead, I’m leading around the Field Commander and some Sergeant who showed up, just trying to keep our bellies full and make sure we stay out of trouble. I’m no leader, but the other two don’t want any part of decision making. They’ve been through hard times – I saw the riots in the camp –but isn’t this what they’re trained to do?
We saw a strange light on the horizon today. For a moment, we’d hoped it was sunlight returning, but the coloring was wrong and though it spanned our field of vision, it was moving too quickly. Maybe the government had finally gotten itself together. Maybe help was coming.
345 Jezzlik, 6240 – Kreqqil’s Caldor
The plan worked exactly as I intended. The Council will be pleased, so long as I return intact. Already, others of the Ships are planning my demise, but they will find me to be far more difficult to dispose of than they imagine.
Many said I was a fool not to attack immediately after the destruction of the pathetic yellow sun of this world, but why waste our lives fighting a war the insects on the surface will wage for us?
Now that they have destroyed themselves, now that they have revealed their true nature, we will descend. The need for order will make our acceptance as Overlords almost automatic – they crave any direction.
Again, my leadership will be crucial. I must be protected. This planet could be altered, twisted well to our use, but it must be at my hands.
The Council must know I was responsible for this victory.
- D
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