ME

Krut Stel

My mentor, EkSeet has forced me to keep this stel in my own words as they occur to me.  It is an Oval Law enforced by the Kril Brotherhood. It is to supplement the official stel, which is edited and kept from prying eyes.  Except, naturally, for the StelaVal Courts governing Kril behavior.  Naturally is his word.  He advised me it must be the truth and must be in my own words and only my own beliefs and thoughts.  He advises me the penalty for not being truthful is death.  How's that for a choice?  He ain't shitting, either.  I saw too many examples to disbelieve him.  It will, of course, be checked against the official records?

How did I get here?  He says that answer will eventually come to me.  He will help me to understand.  My first memories are of the soggy night air at Tikumyax.  My mind scrambled from the Seech field, body tunneling or sucked into a parallel dimension.  No, that's not right, he said universe.  Can you believe there's a difference?  EkSeet says there is.  Who am I to argue?  I remember only the blast furnace heat behind me and being thrown forward into a black oblivion, ears ringing, lungs collapsed by the explosion, suffocating, mind numbed into an acceptance of death.  Passing on.  Sleeping with the angels. The end.  Only it wasn't.  Because I remember that night of service.  Of the reality of life or death.  Of chance.  Randomness.  Luck.  I'm so happy to be not dead and here.  Oh, cry for joy and merry Christmas, ace.  And many happy returns.  Ah, shit.

I'm profane, EkSeet, my man.  Therefore, it’s hard to dictate and keep from cussing.  My man, EkSeet, like the Negroes say, is righteous.  An American out of World War I with the manners of a scientist, which he is, and hi-born, which he ain't, but educated, which he is.  EkSeet, as he says, abhors vulgarity.  Since he wants the truth, fuck him.  I write to read it without feeling stupid.  EkSeet says as I grow younger I'll appreciate these thoughts much more.  Sure, ace.  Right on, man.

The Ovals are the instigators of the process.  The older, or should I say younger, Kril Chiefs of Staff, are the perpetrators of the pain and death selection; it is their training plan, not the Ovals.  They are the ones orchestrating the misery of kril recruits turned into Seeched Meat.  It is their methods and criteria that we are subjected to.  It pisses me off.  Not overtly, of course.  Suicide is not my career choice.  Yet it also makes me stronger and us protecting each other.