Whispers in the Armor.

Duran walked into the camp. It had been a grueling day, the war wasn't letting up in the slightest, and his daily routine was exhausting.
He trudged into the barracks with a sigh. His Karraba armor began to open up with the insectoid click clack that it was known for and revealed his face. He popped the helmet off and held it at his side.
The war they were in was a battle of attrition. They were defending against a much larger force, and the only way they could keep their territory was by waging a brutal campaign of guerilla warfare. The Karraba armor was crucial to this, and without it they would have long been wiped out.
The armor gave them speed, agility, stamina, and offensive and defensive capabilities that were above and beyond anything that humans could attain. Despite this, the users of the armor were still human and would need rest and sustenance.
So they worked in shifts. A handful of Karraba soldiers could keep the enemy army on their toes and deny any scouting parties or disrupt supply lines. When they were done with their shift, the troops would return to one of the barracks for rest.
“How was it today, Duran?” Elmid called as he entered the barracks.
Duran sighed. “I killed more men than I care to count,” he said. He sat heavily at the mess table and set his helmet in front of him. He was too tired to remove the rest of the armor, he just opened it up to let his body breathe.
Marrod was already sitting at the table. As one of the new recruits, Marrod hadn't seen any active combat yet. He was still getting accustomed to the Karraba and how it worked. There was a mental link that had to be properly used with the Karraba, and sending in a soldier who didn't know how to use it was suicide.
Elmid, Marrod, Halvel, and Gerrish. That would be his companionship in the barracks tonight. Not a bad crowd. Elmid could get a bit rowdy, but he usually respected the need for quiet when a soldier returned from active work.
“Oi,” Elmid said. “Not gonna take off your clothes? A lot more comfortable without the 'raba on.”
Duran glanced at him. “I'll take it off when I feel like it,” he said.
Elmid shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said. “I can't stand the bugs myself. I get 'em off me as soon as possible.”
'Bugs' and 'raba' were slang that the soldiers would use for the Karraba armor. The armor was made from the living body of a Karrabalmis Miner, a member of the gigantic insect race that lived in the region. They didn't like the invaders any more than their human neighbors, and they offered themselves to help.
The weren't fighters, though. Despite all attempts to train them, the Karrabalmis were completely combat inept. So the insects had done what they could- the strongest of them sacrificed themselves to become living armor for the humans.
It was a relatively simple process for them, they had a parasitic nature to their bodies. The end result was a symbiotic relationship between man and insect. The life of the Karrabalmis was contained in the torso section of the armor, but it would revive all the other pieces when they were put together.
“You leave the pieces of your armor all over the floor,” Halvel elbowed Elmid. “We don't want to have to clean it up any more than you do.”
Elmid shrugged again. “When we get off duty, do any of us really care what anyone else thinks? Hmm, Duran?”
Duran didn't even glance at him. He just sighed.
Marrod looked awkwardly at Duran. He still hadn't gotten used to all the banter of the soldiers. Typical of a new recruit. He glanced at Duran's helmet.
“You know,” Marrod said, “I still can't understand why every one of us has such a different shape to our armor.”
“Huh. Guess they really don't tell you new recruits anything,” Duran grunted.
“Not much. I will say that getting the Karraba bonded to me was the most disturbing thing I've ever felt.”
“Get used to it,” Elmid smiled, “you'll go through quite a few sets in your time here.”
Marrod reached for Duran's helmet. He didn't get a negative response, so he went ahead and picked it up. He traced his fingers over the ridges and lines with interest. His helmet had what looked like antenna coming from the front, but there was nothing like that on Duran's.
He held the helmet up close, then dropped it like he had been burned. “What!” he cried. “There's something- there's sounds! It's-”
“Oh!” Elmid called out. “Duran, you're getting Whispers! You've only had this armor, what, a few months?”
Gerrish grunted. “Gotta be careful with that,” he said.
Marrod looked between the soldiers with a horrified look on his face. “What? What's going on? Whispers? What are Whispers?”
Duran swore. “They really do teach you nothing,” he growled. He pulled his helmet back in front of him.
Gerrish walked over to Marrod. “Whispers is just one thing we call it. Whispers, Ghosting, Bug-Life, it all means the same thing. You ever heard of any of those?”
Marrod shook his head slowly.
“Well, you'll hear about them now. See, the 'raba aren't dead when we wear them. They don't die until we do. But they lose their minds when they become our armor, to prevent a conflict between our will and theirs.”
“W-what are the Whispers then?” Marrod had nothing but confusion in his eyes.
“That's the mind of the bugs coming back to life,” Elmid said. “They don't have any of their own mind left, so they just pick up bits and pieces of ours. It's like having your own voice talk back to you.”
“Most of the time,” Halvel said. “Sometimes they pick up on bits and pieces of our memories, or things from our imaginations. Last Whisper I had was of a girl I was sweet on back as a kid.”
Elmid let out a short laugh. “So?” he said. “What kind of Whispers are you getting?”
Duran said nothing. Elmid turned to Marrod. “What did you hear?”
“It said... well, it said, it... 'daddy'. That's it.”
Elmid roared with laughter. Even Gerrish and Halvel got a chuckle in.
“You're a father to a bug!” Elmid shouted. “Oh man, that's got to be the worst I've ever heard of. Who's the mother?”
Halvel patted Duran on the back. “I'm sorry, Duran. Hey, we'll have a party for you tomorrow. Take some of the stress off of getting a new Karraba.”
“I'm not.” Duran's voice was quiet and short.
“Hmm?”
“I'm not getting a new Karraba.” Duran stayed staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. “Belvin and I are a good team. Better than any other.”
There was absolute silence. Marrod looked between all of the soldiers with confusion. They all had extremely grim expressions on their faces.
“Belvin doesn't exist, Duran.” Elmid's voice was low, and far more serious than before.
Halvel nodded. “We've gone over this,” he said. He glanced at Marrod. “Except for the new soldier. Apparently they don't teach about this at all anymore.”
“What's the big problem with Whispers?” Marrod was beginning to feel like he would have rather not heard about any of this.
“You go crazy.” Elmid said flatly. “Whispers are the start. Then it gets to visions, you see people and things that aren't there. It ends with you going completely insane. Most cases you end up killing everyone around you.”
Duran stood up. “I'm going to sleep,” he said. He walked into the dormitory and lay in his bed.
Elmid, Halvel, and Gerrish had a low talk. Marrod didn't know what they were saying, and he felt that he had no business knowing. He knew why they hadn't told him about Whispers before he got the Karraba- there is no way he would have agreed to it if he had known.
Halvel left the barracks. Elmid and Gerrish continued their conversation. Elmid called Marrod over and advised that he go get some sleep. Marrod agreed. He didn't much feel like talking anymore.

Duran lay in bed. He didn't care that they knew about Belvin. It didn't matter. He and Belvin were a team, a better team than any other. He killed more enemies alongside Belvin than any other soldier.
He lay with his eyes open. Sleep wasn't coming to him. Something moved and he glanced down. Belvin looked up at him with sadness in his eyes.
“Daddy,” he said, “why don't they like me? I don't want to go away, daddy.”
Duran reached out to tousle Belvin's hair. “Don't worry about them,” he said. “I'll take care of everything.”