Still working on the story sampler!
Or, in the case of some of the shrines, other people. “How long?” Tobias asked, without looking.
There was enough air that he didn’t need the radio to hear Buckley’s response. “A week, sir. At most. In this heat the flesh is going to — well, you can see what’ll happen.” He sounded clinical about it, which made sense, right? “It’d be really unsafe to take off your helmets in this muck, sir. Trust me on this.”
“Understood, Buckley. You see something interesting, Lieutenant?”
Reithner jumped, slightly. She had been peering at a painted frieze of — well, the inscription said ‘Maguglpur,’ but the picture was clearly of the god the Red Imperials called ‘Bonefarmer.’ The half-flesh, half-skull was diagnostic; so were the little pictures of humans, impaled on femurs. Worse, it was fresh. The horrible scenes Tobias had studied at the Academy had felt distant, safely consigned to history. This was something from current events.