Toy Soldier

Mission Log ~ 3672.49

Ejection within the plasma pod supplied the ideal amount of protection from atmospheric entry. However, all instrumentation was lost within the burn.

I was able to use the cellular compression unit just before the operation panel failed, falling lightly to the ground, and landing in soft, green material that resembles grama.

During the 9.96 I have been here, two hundred and forty nine turns of this oxygen heavy planet, I was assimilated into a familial structure by a human youth, as an entertainment device, thanks in part to my resemblance to a popular range of media. Initially finding it difficult to move in my compressed state, I was unable to communicate. But within his attentions, I gathered enough of an understanding of the technology of this primitive world to modify my flight suit to compensate and to facilitate the belief that I could complete my mission.

Once that belief was established, my main goal was then to gain the trust and admiration of that child, who identifies as Blake, so that I might have assistance among this alien race.

After our first conversation, he was frightened and locked me in a tiny space where other entertainment devices are stored. But I communicated that I didn’t wish to harm him and that I only needed his help. I was then able to procure daily nourishment from him as well as the light needed to work during the dark hours.

He has since become my foot soldier, and was nearly convinced of our need to be free of adult supervision, but lacked the confidence and will to take care of his mother himself. This left me with the daunting task, but there was a semblance of understanding on my part. She affects me as well, though, in a different capacity.

Vivianne exudes a potent pheromonal cocktail and possesses both primary and secondary sexual characteristics which proved to be an additional complication. I found myself hiding through many early morning hours in the dark corner of her dressing space, without weaponry, but surveillance enabled on my helmet, in direct violation of Grand Directive, adjunct 7.452.

My observance of her was not something Blake needed to know about or understand.  He is a good soldier, but each mission presents it’s own set of obstacles and secrets for the plan chief to overcome and keep, respectively. Hiding my interest proved to be pointless though, as he retains a level of intelligence that any of my fellows would have underestimated as well.

Upon the first night that I was able to reverse the cellular compression and finally remove my flight suit, I entered her room to eliminate the distraction.  But having administered a dose of benzodiazepine into her wine glass that evening, I was able to touch her and smell her more intimately without her full awareness. And in another violation of Grand Directive, adjunct 5.316, I found myself inside her bunk. With her.

Her flesh was pliant, soft yet firm, and as I touched her, she emitted small sounds that compelled me further. Her redolence made my salivary glands active. And, as I drew down between her thighs to taste her, I no longer wanted to dispatch her.
After the primordial effects of her to my biology had subsided, it was clear that my original plot was my only option. Brainwashing a capable adult human would prove far more difficult than the child. But the distraction of her made my attempts to end her life futile.

For days, I escaped the monotony of plotting and engineering, using my tongue and fingers on her, becoming addicted to those noises she created. Then mating with her, week after week, I lost all sense of myself within the sweetness of her lips, mane, and flesh.

Before sunrise on 3671.92, she nearly regained consciousness in my arms. She mumbled and pressed her mouth against the surface of my pectoral plate, and it took a force of will to escape before her broken sleep turned to full wakefulness.

As I spoke to Blake the next day, he said he had realized I was “in love with her”. He spoke with the acumen of a child who knows things that perhaps they don’t even realize they know.

That didn’t stop me, though. I’d never wanted her more.

And I want her more still, now.

But, I am out of narcotics.

Without the means of forcing her to forget and induce her docility, I have decided tonight to show myself to her. Confess and explain my situation. Blake feels my comprehension of his language has improved enough that she might understand. If she will listen.

My mission might force me to be rid of her. Duty comes before all else. I know that I should kill her.

But, last night, for the tenth time, she looked me in the eyes. Touched my face. Told me she “loves” me, that she remembers and that she doesn’t care what I had done for the better half of a year.

But without the haze of alcohol and memory reduction, I am not sure what she will remember. It is possible she has grown tolerant of the drug’s effects. But she does not look for me inside her daily life.

Her reaction is very difficult to estimate and might be impossible to control. I’ve only ever given her pleasure. But removed the memory of it, each time. And finding her child’s toy is an alien being…

Even if she does remember, she doesn’t know me at all.

I am a soldier. Duty comes before all else.

But I’m honestly not sure what will happen if she does remember. If she does love me. The mission seems like nothing next to that. Nothing.

I am registering and posting this log, having compressed once again to wait for her in her bunk room.

If this mission fails and this log is picked up, do not look for me.

Please. Do not ever look for her.

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