As he drifted off, Marten dreamed that he heard a massive KAARUUMMPP followed by screaming that didn’t stop. The screaming wasn’t all from human throats…

He faded in and out of consciousness, desperate to learn the fate of the battle and of his unit.

Marten’s wounded mind imagined that he was being carried on the shoulders of strong soldiers, flung into stinking cargo carriers, and then back onto the strained arms of other panting soldiers.

Marten finally woke on a narrow, soft bed, covered with clean, bleached linens.
He fought to focus his eyes and could finally see a blurry window, open, with curtains fluttering from a gentle breeze.
As his eyesight returned, he could make out a long room full of beds, each holding a bandaged soldier, and nurses dressed in crisp, white uniforms going from bed to bed, dispensing such mercy as they were able.

He managed to take an elbow and croaked out, “Did we win? Did my squad survive? Is humanity free?”

A vision in white guided him back to his bed. He slept.