Admir strained to look around. Shock Troopers were almost everywhere and he lay along a line of dead Telshin. He did his best to keep his movements unseen and checked the Telshin beside him. He almost gasped at the sight. They weren’t helmeted. The Shock Troopers must have been collecting the Death Helms as a prize. His sensors did show, however, that the Telshin beside him was still warm and had a heartbeat. He’s alive!
“Incoming craft,” Admir whispered, “I have an injured friendly beside me. You are cleared hot.”
“Copy that, standby.”
Admir shook as the ground around them exploded in a rain of plaser fire pouring down upon the Shock Troopers. Dirt flew over the Telshin beside him as indiscriminate plaser fire tore at Troopers and Telshin corpses alike. Not on my watch! Admir rolled on top of the Telshin beside him, hoping the gunship wouldn’t hit them both.
The sound of Plaser fire ceased a moment later, replaced by the thrumming whine of de-grav generators. Admir sighed at the sight of multiple gunships and dropships swooping in, and turned back to the Telshin beneath him. He gritted his teeth at the sight. Severe burns marred the face and two holes in his chest exposed his injured heart within. Rolling off, he opened up the medical kit at his waist and set to work.
Teshtid Prime, Dropship OT-718
Admir felt ready to pass out as he waited in a fold-down seat in the back of one of the dropship’s outrigger pods while it raced away. He’d spent several hects in the popup surgery suite saving the life of the Telshin within, never knowing exactly who he was. He only wished he could have saved the others, but only the Sergeant lived long enough to reach the dropship, before even he expired.
A stirring within the suite drew his attention and, with his back threatening to give out, he headed in. “Good. You’re awake, Tadeh Qudas. How are you feeling?” Admir asked.
“I shall live. How fares my unit?”
“Good to hear,” Admir replied. He was slow to approach, not knowing who he faced. While all the Tadeh Qudas had seen his face, he didn’t know any of theirs. “I’m afraid you were the only survivor. Help arrived too late to save the others, I’m sorry,” Admir explained as he stepped up to examine the dressing. “Good, you didn’t tear my stitches,” he commented peeling it back just enough to see the stitched wound before closing the bandage once again.
“Where is my helm?” the Telshin demanded. “I cannot let others see my face.”
“I’ll get it for you. Don’t worry, no one else has seen your face. No one alive, anyway.”
“What?”
“Some overzealous GF Shock Trooper started pulling helmets while the two of us were out,” he expounded, pulling a crate into the curtained off area. “By your wounds and your size, I figured one of these three was yours,” he shrugged, pulling out the damaged helmet of the War Chief and his two sons.
“Leave me, Anulian,” the survivor ordered, staring at the helmets.
Admir complied and waited outside the surgical suite. I can’t even recognize the voice. Damned helmets filter them even over a link.
Tadeh Qudas emerged several pulses later. Admir looked up at him, the helmet was different than he remembered. The midnight blue helmet belonged to the Pharad helmed son of the War Chief, the human skull facemask, stripped of its paint down to the bare metal, the older son. The eye lenses belonged to neither. The shape and color didn’t quite fit the Human helm, but they did fit the War Chief’s Shinekian helm. Is this a Telshin thing? Did he just scavenge what he could, or is there a deeper meaning here?
“I see you found your helmet, Tadeh Qudas,” was all he could think to say.
“That I did, I thank you, Admir.”
“My calling you Tadeh Qudas is going to get a bit old after a while…”
“My past is gone, and with it my name. Call me Tadeh Qudas if it pleases you.”
“If you say so,” Admir replied, thinking that it didn’t please him.
“I do. What is our final destination?”
“The crew was planning to take us back to your old base and leave us there.”
“Stop only to deliver the dead. You and I no longer have a place amongst my people. Sole survivors never do.”
UCSB Date: 1001.133:Star System: Classifeid, UCSBA-13, Officers Apartment 143
Admiral Sadrick found himself at the door to Tadeh Qudas’ apartment, at the end of his wanderings, and tapped the chime. He wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t seen Tadeh Qudas in decades, since Laresse’s father had died and he’d gone off to command school.
The door opened, and he stepped through. Tadeh Qudas sat in a chair across a room adorned with war trophies. “It’s been a long time, Tadeh Qudas,” Admir said.
“It certainly has,” Tadeh Qudas replied as he stood.
“The annura have obviously been more kind to you than I,” Admir replied, crossing the room to take a seat opposite his old comrade.
“Mine is a long-lived people if we survive enough battles. It is good to see you again. How is Cadet Sciminder faring?” Tadeh Qudas asked as he retook his seat.
“As it is to see you. She’s doing much better now. She’s exhausted, but she’ll be up and around in another cycle or two. Blazer and her squad are seeing to her. I see you’re still holding onto those,” he commented, pointing to the remaining parts of three damaged Death Helms on the desk as Tadeh Qudas stood there in the one he’d reassembled back then.
“That I am,” Tadeh Qudas remarked, still leaving the identity of the wearers unspoken. “They are special to me. Perhaps one cycle I will find one of them placed upon my head. Perhaps one cycle I will earn that right.”
“I came here for a reason,” Admiral Sadrick announced, and let the statement hang in the air a long moment. “You still owe me a drink for saving your life all those annura ago,” he laughed.
“I do at that,” Tadeh Qudas replied. “I have a fine bottle of Telshin Whiskey, if you think your old hearts can take it.”
“They can, but don’t tell my wife.”
They both laughed as Tadeh Qudas stood, opened the bottle, and poured the potent liquor into a pair of glasses. He handed the Admiral his cup and retook his seat opposite him. Taking a sip of the whiskey, the Admiral looked up at Tadeh Qudas as he removed his helmet and set it aside.
“I thank you for the honor of your visage,” the Admiral said, as Tadeh Qudas laid the helmet on the table between them. “Even if you are so damn ugly,” he smirked.
Tadeh Qudas replied with a toothy feral grin, scars he never let the Admiral fix still marring his face.
“So, what have you been up to the last thirty annura?” the Admiral asked as his host took his first drink.
Setting the drink aside, Tadeh Qudas began to tell the Admiral the convoluted path that had led him here. They spoke for several hects, but not once did Tadeh Qudas even allude to the question that still plagued the Admiral. Who are you, really?
UCSB DATE: 1001.141
Star System: Classified, UCSBA-13, Library Meeting Room 3
The sound of the lift chime made Blazer cringe when the doors opened onto the library. He peeked out and scanned the area; the chief librarian was nowhere to be seen. He breathed a sigh of relief, crept out of the lift and made his way towards the meeting rooms. The whole floor was as quiet as a tomb, and for good reason. The Chief Librarian was a stickler for silence in the library. If a conversation could be heard more than five metra away, it was too loud for the Breshig Chief, whose screeching voice could etch glass.
Blazer hurried across the library to the meeting rooms where the rest of the Blade Force awaited him. The announcement was too important to wait, and he had run all the way from the Admiral’s office, where all the Special Operations team leaders had just met. There, the Admiral had announced their specialty assignments, indirectly, by telling them whether they’d gotten their first, second, third, or even fifteenth choice from each team’s prioritized list.
Ever since establishing their current formation the semester befo
re, the Blade Force had anticipated this cycle. They’d readied themselves to become a rescue team, focusing most of their free-form combat drills around rescue scenarios. Now the team waited with bated breath for Blazer to return and announce whether or not they’d received their desired specialty.
Blazer rushed into the room and everyone turned to face him, their expressions those of hopeful children waiting to receive a gift. “All right, well, the Explosions got their number one,” Blazer announced, almost out of breath. “They will be a Ship Capture team.”
“As if there was any doubt after we helped them capture the Nosferat,” Arion quipped.
Blazer smiled and continued. “The Vorckines got their…”
“Who cares?” Gavit called out. “I can’t stand the fragging suspense, what did we get?”
Blazer hung his head for a moment and took a somber breath, hoping to defer the announcement. “We received our third choice,” he sighed.
Blazer reveled as the team erupted in applause, congratulating each other. Blazer moved in to hug Marda, but she held up a hand, staying him. She still hasn’t forgiven me for concealing his relation to Kamden from her.
“You are such a Pedlick,” Marda commented. “Trying to fool us with that somber act of yours.”
“Looks like Admiral Sadrick’s advice paid off,” Arion added with a great smile.
At least she’s talking to me, that’s something, Blazer considered. “Oh, it was beautiful, too,” Blazer commented. “Chertsin thinks we got something else. He thinks we put Rescue down as our first choice.”
“I still say it was an unnecessary gamble,” Zithe called from the other end of the table after pulling out of a hug with Chris. He had voiced disapproval with the plan early on.
“Sometimes you have to be a sneaky, big buddy,” Rudjick replied in turn. “Like me,” he continued with a cheesy grin.
“So what did Chertsin’s Commandoes get?” Gokhead asked his macomm in hand, accessing the list he pulled from their files right before the semester restarted.
“Number 15,” Blazer replied as he and everyone else began shuffling around the table to get a look. “He actually had to think about what it was.”
Gokhead chuckled in reply. “Facilities demolition and sabotage,” Gokhead announced highlighting the selection.
“Now that is an unenviable position,” Zithe commented.
“You’re talking behind enemy lines missions or missions on embattled planets exclusively,” Mikle remarked, staring at the screen.
“You’d have to be able to sneak in and out of a place like a shadow, to do a job like that,” Chris added. “It almost makes me respect, or maybe pity, Chertsin and his boys.”
“Almost?” Gavit asked with a raised eyebrow.
Chris raised her hand her thumb and forefinger spaced apart about half a centimetra apart before she replied. “Well, maybe this much closer to respecting him,” she replied with a smirk.
“They must be fuming. What was their top choice again?” Blazer asked.
“Rescue, probably just to show us up if they got it and not us,” Gokhead answered.
“So what are we doing here? Why aren’t we at Mendrick’s with the rest of the teams celebrating?” Rudjick asked and started for the door, the rest of the team not far behind him.
As Blazer started to follow after them, Marda came up beside him and took his hand. He tried not to react but intertwined his fingers with hers, feeling the Vaughnt ring still on her finger. He breathed a sigh of relief at that. Take it slow, she still needs time. He turned to her and smiled. She returned barely a hint of a smile in return. Good enough for now.
UCSB DATE: 1001.180
Vespus System, Planet Vespar, Elrian City
Red. Everything was red and Blazer had no idea why. His mind raced to find the answer, taking stock. He was in his ACHES, rifle in hand, and things were moving around him almost too fast to see. Did I set my visor to red? He reached up to change the settings and found a breach in his helmet. Reaching in, he found a massive head wound along the side of his face spurting blood into his helmet. Everything came back to him in a flash.
The mission. The mission was still on, and they had casualties. The insertion had gone bad, but the objective was in sight, so they’d gone for it. The prisoner transport raced away from him as he stood there, trying to figure out how to proceed. He brought his rifle up when he saw a guard hanging off the side of transport but before he could fire, another shot rang out. He recognized the sound. It was a sniper rifle. Matt’s still alive, maybe even Bichard. But the shot went wide and bounced off the armored skin of the transport before the guard disappeared back inside.
An explosion rocked the building next to Blazer, raining debris down upon him. “All units report status,” Blazer ordered. He threw himself behind a crashed hover car, head spinning.
“We’ve got casualties all over the place,” Zithe roared over the link. “Chris is down. I’ve lost track of Arion, and I’m bleeding something fierce. I need a medic.”
“Marda,” Blazer yelled and remembered what had happened.
His stomach twisted itself into a pit. Marda was gone. The barrage that had injured him had killed her. Looking back, he saw her. Her crumpled form lay on the ground, not moving. The simple cloak she wore over her ACHES, shredded by the blast which had killed her, allowed Blazer a view of her multiple suit breaches.
He turned away, shame gripping his heart. She’s gone, and I, I never had a chance to… He shook his head. No, no time for that now, focus on the mission. But with each passing moment, his judgment clouded. “Big Eyes? Tell me you have something,” Blazer ordered, calling out to Matt and Bichard.
“More troops inbound, lead, and our post is compromised. We must fall back,” Bichard’s hum-click voice replied, urgency dripping off every syllable.
“Recon, report,” Blazer called out as he looked back over the fallen grav car. The prison transport full of Confed POWs raced away in the distance, heading for the enemy reinforcements in the distance.
“We’re falling back. I have a man injured and I’m dragging him,” Rudjick called back over the sound of heavy fire in the background. “Spotted team two’s lost lamb, he’s gone,” he continued.
Blazer recognized the weapons fire echoing through the buildings. It was not Rudjick’s MD-42, gauss rifle, but Arion’s HRP-63, heavy repeating plaser. He leaned back against the car. The woman he loved and his best friend were gone, and it was his fault. No more, I have to get the rest out alive.
“Drop, this is Lead, we need an extraction, ASAP. All units, fall back to rally point, rally point, um, rally point five,” Blazer decided, taking his first uneasy steps, the entire left side of his visor coated with blood.
“En-route, Lead,” Acknit replied over the roar of the dropship’s engines. “We see heavy ground assets inbound. Extraction will be hot.”
“Copy. All units fall back,” Blazer ordered and bounded back towards the rally point, a hitch in his step as he ran past Marda’s body. “Big Eye, maintain position and cover as long as you can, then we’ll cover your retreat,” Blazer ordered, those two his only fire team on the ground who hadn’t been compromised.
“Will hold as long as we can, Lead,” Bichard replied, the sound of Matt’s shots echoing around the city walls.
Blazer couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. The insertion into the city, while not perfect, was covert enough. He had reorganized his fire teams to make better use of them in the city environment. Boxing in the prisoner transport and capturing it should have been easy. But something had gone wrong and, mind clouded by pain, he couldn’t figure out why. All he knew was that he had to get his people out of there. He had to escape with as many of them as he could, but when the sound of the dropship’s engines met him, he skidded to a halt.
Marda, with his HUD down, he needed a close inspection to see if she was alive. She might just be wounded, like me. His mind raced and reeled. Is she alive? She looked like she wasn�
��t moving, but the ACHES tended to hide subtle movements. He had to be sure. He wheeled about and regretted it an instant later. Nausea welled up and dizziness overcame him, blood loss from his head wound dropping him to the ground.
“Lead is down,” a voice called out.
Was it Zithe? Blazer couldn’t tell. Everything was getting hazy. Am I at the LZ? His vision dimmed.
“I copy, am moving to retrieve,” that was Gavit.
Blazer turned to look at the dropship. He couldn’t see anything but a red haze. Gavit was on him a moment later, sliding in next to him as his PMD-52 battle rifle chattered away, laying slugs and plaser rounds down the street.
“Blazer’s injured bad,” Gavit called out. “His helmet is breached and he has a major head wound from what I can see. He needs a medic something fierce.”
“He’s not the only one,” Zithe growled as he hefted Chris into the dropship. “I am taking command. Drag him back here, and where is Marda?” Zithe continued, communications discipline out the door.
“Belay that order,” Blazer replied as he fought back against Gavit to remove his helmet. “She’s down, need to get her.”
Gavit looked back towards Marda’s limp form. “Drop can you get a read on her vitals? Blazer, knock it off. Don’t pull your helmet off; we need to get out of here.”
“No, she’s alive!” Blazer roared and pushed Gavit away before tearing his helmet off. His vision cleared for only a moment, flooding his eyes with light as he tore open the scabs that had all but sealed his wound. The action was more than he could take, and he collapsed back to the dirty street again.
“This is Drop, jamming is too heavy, can’t get a read on her bio signs,” Acknit replied.
“This is Big Eye,” Bichard linked in. “Have eyes on, she’s down. No movement and she’s going cold. I’m sorry, she’s gone.”
“Big Eye, fall back, I repeat, fall back,” Zithe ordered. “Drop, as soon as we’re aboard, make for orbit.”
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