Hi chaps.

This is my two part contribution to the Halloween competition.

I promise it comes in at only 8,174 words for the story, but with spaces and paragraphs, Reddit was throwing a tizzy so I had to break it up. Please be sure to read both parts, otherwise its a bit of a struggle.

Anyway, hope you enjoy, and I look forward to hearing your feedback.

The heavy leaden skies cast the land in shadow, glowering over the dells and homes of Yorkshire. The humans knew the threat of the storm and hunched their shoulders, a furtiveness to their steps as their eyes carefully avoided the purple and black forms of the occupiers as they swept towards their destinations.

Thaklia, Dortnas and K’lthaia couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably as they manned their checkpoint in the square of the small market town. The area was a green zone, but there was no mistaking the oppressive air of anticipation throughout the town, though whether this was due to the threatening storm or something else, none of them could tell. As Thaklia checked the ID of a middle-aged woman, she couldn’t help but feel distinctly uncomfortable at the woman's cold expression. “Soo, think there might be snow?” she asked, finding herself having to force a tone of joviality into her voice as the woman regarded her. “No, but thunder no doubt” came the terse response, the woman’s accent clearly not that of a local, her clipped and almost laser-cut intonation not bearing any discernible dialect other than “English”.

As a militiawoman who had been stationed in the frozen, haunted Islands known as Britain, this lack of dialect and any discernible emotion caused her to shudder in apprehension, the ancient instinct of flight in front of a predator humming in her veins as she returned the ID and waved her past as quickly as she could.

As the woman strode through the hurried bustle of the town, the eyes of the locals swept over her. They had all received the same message, their doors and windows subtly marked with a daub of blood, hidden under windowsills, painted in the door frame, anywhere the invaders wouldn’t notice. Each one carried blue, red and white ribbons tied around a stick of oak in their pockets, their questioning children silenced with sharp looks and whispered orders not to question these things. And so the locals watched the woman, for sure she was connected to whatever this was. Deep in their blood and bones they knew, knew that this woman who brought the iciness of the winter with her was only the herald, the vanguard of what was coming.

The shift in the air was almost palatable as Corporal Dortnas received a message through her helmet comm. “Alright ladies, our relief is just coming down the main road now, we’ve got orders to head up to the manor house to assist with the interior and marines guarding her ladyship!”

This last detail drew groans from the other two, “Seriously? Why do we have to help those cunts?” grumbled K’lthaia, “The only thing they’ll ask us is if any of the locals are easy! And either we tell them the truth and they leave us outside on guard duty, or we lie and they wind up raping some poor male which gets us a red zone again!” All three women shuddered at the thought, knowing full well the dangers of such a zone designation, remembering the severed heads of their fellow militia on pikes by the side of the road, the bodies never found, the patrols which simply disappeared, vehicles, women and equipment vanished as if consumed by the sea of souls. The IEDs which obliterated anyone foolish enough to travel into the countryside. Never in all their combined years had they ever thought a land of such beauty could hold such utter terror for them.

Sometimes Dortnas wondered why their pod was the only one of the original local garrison which had survived, even the local commander had been “gored by a deer” as if a deer could have hung the woman by her own intestines from an oak tree. Personally, Dortnas suspected one simple act of having saved her podmates lives. Shortly after the occupation, with resistance rampant across the region as soldiers who had escaped the glassing of Catterick Barracks had harassed and terrorised the occupation forces, their pod and several others had been brought to this tiny town if only to ensure the cooperation of the local authorities. In their first week of being there, they had been walking back to their barracks, built near the local manor house, when they had encountered another pod, two of the women holding a struggling, gagged form. As they got closer they had been horrified to see it was a young human male, dressed in a shredded camouflage uniform they recognised from briefings as being that of a cadet. Realising the male couldn’t be older than 18 the three women had immediately confronted the pod, demanding the human’s release. As they got closer, the sickly cloying stench of sex and fear emanating off the male turned their stomachs as they realised their worst fears had already been realised. As fists began to fly, Dortnas had managed to wrestle the boy from the two women holding him, screaming at him to run, to not look back but to run. In hindsight the three of them had agreed he had almost certainly been part of the resistance, they even still saw him occasionally around the town with his parents, though like every other human he steadfastly avoided looking at them. Following the furious beat down of their rapist colleagues, Dortnas had felt a strange compulsion, turning from the three broken bodies before her she had yelled into the night, crying out her outrage, naming her pod in turn and raging against those who would abuse others. Since that night, while every other pod from their original garrison had vanished or been slaughtered, their pod was unscathed, their only knowledge of any resistance being finding the bodies, or parts left behind in the few cases where remains were found.

In the distance, the mournful wail of the whistle of the local vintage steam railway jolted them from their momentary lapse into haunted memories.

Jerking her head up Dortnas glowered at K’lthaia “Because we've been ordered too! And I don’t fancy staying out here when it starts snowing!”

As the headlights of the transport bringing their relief turned into the square the three women sighed in relief, not noticing the ancient, black human car trundling into the square from the opposite direction, its headlights dimming as it turned down a narrow side road, the car somehow managing to effortlessly glide down an alley which two people would struggle to walk side by side. If they had been paying attention, they would have seen the outline of four human males, the glint of the streetlights off four sets of spectacles and the iconic shape of four bowler hats turning to regard the three invaders that were fated to be of such importance this night.

Even with the region being reduced to a green threat level following a year of no resistance activity, the new local commander wasn’t stupid enough to leave only one pod on duty during the night, even in such a remote town. As such, two pods got out of the transport, quickly taking command and grizzling at the weather. Dortnas grinned in welcome relief as the three of them climbed into the heated interior of the transport, gave a final word about not letting the locals’ ambivalence getting the girls’ hopes down and closed the door, letting out a contented sigh before starting the engine and slowly turning the truck around to head back the way it had come.

After about half an hour’s drive down the narrow winding roads, the three women watched the barracks breeze by their windows, the trio sighing in unison as they stared longingly at the warm and familiar buildings, their minds drifting towards the various treats languishing in their fridge and freezer units as the transport rumbled up the hill towards the manor house.

While the building was more like a palace than a house, the locals, and therefore the garrison, referred to it as the manor.

Following the invasion, the human lord who lived there with his wife, children and staff had been closely tied to the local resistance, or at least, that was the excuse given by the interior when they stormed the place, slaughtering every human on the property. This had only made the local violence worse for a time, especially as the bodies weren’t even cold before a duchess, a close relation of the planetary governess, who wasn’t even part of the planet’s administration, had claimed it as her retreat. Only the incredibly tight security of the Interior had prevented the building from being burnt down several times over the following months. Eventually, though, resistance had subsided and the security diminished, though it was clear that the manor was now regarded as a symbol of the Shil in the area and was avoided accordingly.

Dortnas hated the manor.

As she turned the steering wheel to direct the lumbering transport onto the drive leading up to the house, she glanced into the rear-view mirror and did an abrupt double-take. Sitting behind their transport, as if it had been there all along was a black human car. Judging by the shape it was at least 80 years old. It wasn’t the car that startled her, though she would have sworn up and down it hadn’t been there five seconds ago when she last checked her mirrors, it was the distinct sensation of multiple pairs of eyes fixed on her. Not on their transport, not on her silhouette, but on her. She shuddered as something cold squeezed her heart and her foot instinctively pushed the accelerator slightly. To her utter relief, the car made no move to follow them up the drive, simply floating past the end of the drive, for a moment the first flash of lightning outlining the silhouettes of four strange-looking hats and the gleam of four sets of thick spectacles fixed on their transport.

It was only later, as the interior interrogator opposite her demanded answers that she realised the car had made no sound, not even the whoosh of tires on the tarmac.

Shaking off her unease and shrugging when K’lthaia asked why she'd sped up, she directed her attention back to the drive, eventually parking the transport beside the old stables, unironically converted into living quarters for the marines and militia ordered to guard the duchess.

The moment they stepped out of the vehicle they were swept into the flurry of preparation. Too lowly to help with setting up the manor, they were instructed to patrol around the outer section of the property, overlooking the rolling hills of the dells and the dim lights of the town in the distance. Stalking around the low stone wall which marked the outer limit of the garden, Thaklia spoke up.

“You know there have been several battles here?” she asked excitedly, obviously trying to distract her pod mates from the sheer shittiness of their situation.

“At least four battles during the last four thousand years! Right on that field below us!” she pointed at the large, gentle slope below them, “Romans, the first civil war of this country… I think it was called… ah yes, “The war of the carnations!” she paused, “Wait… something like that, anyway! There was also a big one here during the second civil war! When they beheaded their king!” all three shuddered at the thought of such a treasonous act.

“So what was the fourth one?” asked K’lthaia

“What?”

“You said there were four, Romans, Carnations, Traitors, so what's the fourth?”

“Oh! Um… clams! I've forgot!”

“Still, makes you shudder to think of all the young males killed out there…” mused Dortnas

“Did they give them a burial at least?”

“The human book I was reading said it was more likely they were just tipped into mass graves after the battle”

“Thank goddess we stopped them fighting each other at least!”

“Nah, we’re just the mid-game entertainment”

“So what you're saying is, we are an invading and unwelcome force, sitting next to a potentially haunted field, next to a definitely haunted mansion? Great! The Empress must absolutely love us!”

“Wait, what's that?”

Bobbing across the field below them were four small lights, moving steadily across the very bottom of the field, seemingly completely oblivious to their surroundings as the low rumble of thunder growled its way over the fields.

“Probably some kids right? Insurgents wouldn’t be waving torches around like it's the new year!”

Dortnas switched her helmets view into the infrared, turning to look in the direction of the lights and pausing in confusion. “Th-There's no one there! Nothing showing up in infrared!”

“What? Hold on let me check, Goddess that’s… that’s weird”

“Should we report it in?”

“Sure, and get sent in to take a look! Alone! In a storm! We can just suggest that we stay on a slightly higher alert level”

Just as the three of them were on the brink of breaking into a quarrel their earpieces buzzed. “Omega pod, we have a human female down at the gatehouse demanding to see you!”

The three stared at each other in shock, their brains whirring to come up with an explanation or an idea of who this human might be.

“R-roger that, Omega pod is enroute”

All thoughts of the four bobbing lights forgotten, the three hurried back around the corner of the house, barely registering the sleek purple and silver car pulled up at the entrance of the house, telling them the Duchess and her retinue had arrived. Jogging down the drive they arrived at the gatehouse huffing and winded, sweating slightly under their helmets and armour as they glanced around for the gate guard, seeing her glance in their direction before waving them in the direction of the silhouette of a human woman standing beside the road, safely distanced from the guardhouse.

“C-Can I help you ma'am?” asked Dortnas, her discomfort spiking as a flash of lightning revealed the woman to be the same one they’d checked at the checkpoint in the town.

“Ah, Corporal Dortnas P’kortha?” the woman eyed her critically, Dortnas barely resisting the urge to snap to attention as the sensation of being assessed by a predator coursed through her veins. To her utter astonishment, the woman’s tight thin lips slowly curled into a grim smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you in the village, it seems you and your pod sisters are regarded in some favour due to your… attitudes to the undesirable actions of your fellows.” Despite the steadily growing wind, the rumble of thunder and the pounding of her own heart, Dortnas heard every word, feeling the weight of every syllable in her chest as the woman held out her hand. “Take these, as a sign of blessing… a quaint custom, but old beliefs are old for a reason.”

Into the militia corporal’s outstretched palm (when had she raised it?) were placed three oak sticks, bound in red, white and blue ribbons, small enough to fit into a pocket.

“Th-Thank you” croaked the corporal, a weight suddenly lifting off her chest as her fingers closed around the sticks.

The woman simply held up a hand. “Just be sure to keep them on you, they are a symbol of protection after all.”

“Protection from what?”

“From the ill will of others Corporal. Now if you will excuse me, I really must be going, this storm will get a lot worse before it gets better. And it's always darkest before a new dawn.”

So saying, the woman strode towards the high ivy-covered wall and retrieved an old fashioned bicycle, swinging her leg astride it and pushing off, disappearing without a sound down the road towards the town.

Frowning in concern at the odd encounter, Dortnas turned to her pod mates, “What did you think of that?”

“Didn’t hear a single word! The wind and thunder are too loud” came the tinny voice of K’lthaia through her earpiece. “What did she want?”

“She…She wanted to give us these.” Dortnas held out two of the sticks for her sisters, “Claimed they would protect us from “Ill will” or something.”

“Heh, let's see if it works on those interior bitches, get us out of the weather for a bit!” came the disbelieving tone of Thaklia as the three of them reported no threat from the woman to the marine in the gatehouse and began to make their way back towards the manor.

“Do we even know the name of her ladyship?”

“One of the Marines said it was a…. Lady D’eritha Lak’sana”

“No way! That would explain her weird uniform and armour fetish?”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven't you heard? A whole heap of military artefacts were shipped off to Shil for some huge ass museum. Supposed to show the folks back home how warlike humans are, how the sex planet isn’t just one giant orgy yadda yadda”

“Wait, you're saying that she’s looted human artefacts? I thought that was banned! You know... don’t piss off the already pissy locals?”

“Yeah, but you notice I said military museum… not art or social stuff, just uniforms, weapons, vehicles that sort of shit… the stuff resistance fighters could use, or stuff that could inspire humans to try something stupid, you know what they were like when that governess tried to tear down that war memorial.”

All three women shuddered at the memory of the surge of vicious violence the destruction of the war memorial had sparked across the local area, violence which had only subsided when the memorial was replaced exactly as per the original design and the local governess had been moved on.

“So you're saying the reason the manor is choked with armour, uniforms and antique weapons is because her ladyship has a palace full of it on Shil?”

“That’s what I’ve heard, I’m sure the opening of it was broadcast on the Historical and Antiquities channel, the Empress was there for Goddess’ sake!”

“Meh, I never watch the news.”

“I’m just surprised the humans allowed it to happen.”

“True, there were a few protests but surprisingly little resistance now that you mention it.”

During the course of this discussion, the trio had managed to make their way back to the manor, deciding to try their luck and knocking on the small side door of the manor as the wind began to grow increasingly fierce.

The door was promptly yanked open to reveal the scowling face of a marine, “What the fuck do you bitches want?”

“The lightning is interring with our helmets, can we come in quickly and see if that fixes it?”

The marine looked like she was going to tell them to jump into the deep before abruptly sighing. “Yeah whatever, but only for a minute.”

The poor woman had barely managed to finish before three chilled militia women practically stampeded her into the floor of the kitchen. The only staff room that wasn’t cramped and claustrophobic, yanking their helmets off trying to warm up as the door promptly closed.

The marine turned to them with a wary gaze, “See anything interesting out there?”

“No… not really, just got back from the guardhouse”

“Oh… well stay alert, her ladyship is jumpy and that means the interior’s jumpy too, we’ve been told to be prepared for anything” the woman scoffed, “And we all know that means that fuck all is gonna happen, especially in a fucking green zone”

The three militia women exchanged glances, the memory of those four bobbing lights at the bottom of the hill playing through their minds, a much closer crash of thunder causing everyone to jump, the howling of the wind outside growing in intensity as the thick wooden door shuddered in its frame.

“Goddess I hate this country” growled the Marine, “Why couldn’t I get posted to one of those Islands where the sun always shines? Clear beaches and sexy humans are far as the eye can see!”

The three militia paused, everyone taking a moment to relish that particular mental image before another snarl of thunder brought them back to reality.

The marine turned back to the militiawomen, “Alright, your comms should be sorted by now, get outta here!”

“What? Into the storm?”

“You volunteered for the militia, that means you get your tits outside!”

Grumbling under their breath, the pod sisters sullenly shuffled out the door, almost being bowled over by the force of the wind howling outside, still without a single drop of rain.

“You can't expect us to function out here in this?!” yelled Dortnas, shrieking to have herself heard over the wind as she struggled to stay upright.

“There's a shed out the back! Overlooking the fields!” bellowed the Marine before straining to slam the door in their face.

Shuffling into the shadow of the house and out of the worst of the wind the women hurried towards the far end of the manor, the wind almost deafening and blocking out the thunder as lightning flashes lit up the sky.

Sure enough, as they reached the corner of the house they could see the tiny stone-built shed only a short sprint away across the flowerbeds.

Not finding it in their heart to risk being sent down as roach fodder, especially for stomping some flowers, the three of them struggled around the edge of the gardens and yanked open the door of the shed, tumbling inside before slamming it shut in relief.

“Empress have mercy it's like the end of the universe out there!” exclaimed a breathless Thaklia, her fingers scrabbling to switch on her helmet light, casting the purple-tinged beam around the confines of their shelter, if only to see if there was anything they could use.

As everyone picked themselves up they joined Thaklia in searching the depressing interior of the shed, finding only a few large flower pots to sit on, or in Dortnas’ case, a wheelbarrow.

“Great! And the comms are out again!” spat a clearly pissed K’lthaia, wrenching off her helmet and tossing it to the ground in disgust. The action jostled the brightly wrapped twig from where she’d shoved it in her harness causing her to pluck it up. “I thought the old bitch said these would protect us from “ill will”? She's probably laughing in a warm house right now that she got some veteran militia squad to accept a bunch of twigs as a gift!”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Dortnas found herself retorting, “She didn’t have to give us anything, and she had no reason to screw around! If she meant us harm she could’ve just given us something deadly! Or a goddess’ sight more embarrassing than a gift-wrapped stick!”

“Well the deep can fucking take it either way!” snapped K’lthaia, hurling her stick on the earthen floor and crushing the wood as best she could beneath her boot.

Thaklia glanced nervously between her two pod sisters, clearly miserable but not yet irate enough to destroy the first sign of acceptance they’d received from any of the natives of this planet.

“What time is it anyway? We’re supposed to be being relieved by midnight” sighed Dortnas, hoping to distract the others, even though her helmets HUD told her the local time was only around 22:30 hours.

“Got another hour and a half, and that’s if the cunts don’t find an excuse not to come out!”

“Don’t tempt fucking fate K’lthaia” snapped Thaklia, sliding her own helmet off and leaning her carbine against the pot she was sitting on, pensively keeping her eyes on the windows as they shook in the wind.

The next hour and a half were spent idly staring into space, lost in their thoughts, even a couple of rounds of “The Huntress Sees” until they ran out of things to spot. As the numbers on their HUDs slowly counted down to midnight, a slight tone of tentative relief could occasionally be heard in the few words exchanged.

Finally, as the number clicked over to 00:00 and K’lthaia rose to her feet, two things happened in quick succession. A blinding blue flash seared through the windows, more brilliant than any of the lighting flashes they’d seen so far, accompanied by an ear-splitting roar, a surge of what sounded distinctly like a sea of outraged human voices raised in utter fury. The sound and light, as suddenly as they had swamped the senses of the three militiawomen, they subsided again, leaving the three in silence. The second thing they noticed, was the silence. The howl of the wind, so constant as to have faded into the background, was gone, not so much as the rustle of trees outside as the three stared at each other through their helmets.

Tentatively pushing open the door of the shed, the door swung open with only the slightest of squeaks from the old hinges. The three of them slowly stepping out into the garden, glancing up at the darkened windows of the manor as they slowly began to make their way towards the edge of the garden.

It was only as they reached the low stone wall and as a group glanced over the fields that they stopped cold in their tracks.