-December 21st, 3246-
Moore moved like a shadow through the tunnels. They seemed devoid of life. The soldiers who they had passed by earlier were gone. The condensed space shook with constant, violent impacts from the artillery that now roared above ground. At least it wasn't naval guns. As long as the dug in rail-guns could defend against orbital assault, they'd be relatively safe from such incursions. He looked at the map in his hand, he was almost there. Almost in the correct section of the tunnel network. He'd have to get the wounded out somehow. Somehow, it was always somehow. He had no idea what to do. There would also be infantry at the front, and those would have to retreat, somehow. He couldn't hear gunfire or any of the usual indicators of combat, but a dead paratrooper and a pair of shvir lay on the ground. Moore hoped he wasn't too late. The sergeant rounded the corner and heard a crack.
Instantly, he dove for cover, the bullet meeting empty air and striking the tunnel wall. Wait a second. No shvir would be using a solid slug rifle, or any small arm of that sort.
"Goddamit! Stop! Don't shoot! I'm coming to help!"
There was no response, slowly, the commando sergeant peered around the corner, only exposing his black helmet and visor.
"Blyad! One of you!"
Moore smiled to himself, the words spoken reminded him of Boris, one of his former colleagues, years back when he'd begun his commando training. Except for one thing, the voice was female. Crouched down and staring at him, smoldering pistol still in hand, was a lone medic. She wore the same standard exo-suit and camouflage common to the airborne, with the small addition of a dulled red cross on her upper arm-sleeve. Behind her, he could make out movement, there must have been at least a score of wounded soldiers lining the tunnel, some propped up on empty crates of supplies, others dropped wherever their comrades coming from the front had left them. A pair of stretcher bearers carried one of the wounded past Moore, the mans face was deathly white, a bloody bandage covering a terrible stomach wound. The sergeant shuddered, a motion thankfully hidden under his armor, and darted forward to the woman.
"You need to get out of here there's a shviri breaching team that's already breaking through the tunnels, they won't be able to hold them. Ya'll are gonna be cut off in minutes. They're shortening the front, everybody's moving to the second line."
She drew herself up, standing level with Moore, approximately. Even with the bulky exo-suit, her slight build meant she stood a good few inches shorter than Moore. Certainly not someone who could intimidate a room by their mere presence. Completely unlike Boris.
"And the wounded, what I do about them? They can't move, we don't move."
"You and your friend over there, start moving them, I'll make sure nothin' shows up from the tunnels."
"Yes, nothing ever goes wrong, no? We will move them, but it going to take time." She said sarcastically. It sounded exactly like something Boris would say. To a letter, cynical insight included.
"What's your name again?"
Moore inquired, a tone of curiosity in his voice. She looked at him incredulously for a second, as if surprised by the question. The expression on her face was exactly like one Boris would make.
"Medical Officer Sokolov, Natasha Sokolov."
"You know a Boris Sokolov, shock commando?" Moore suddenly pressed, a grin spreading across his face, hidden beneath his skeletal face-plate.
"Misha, start moving the wounded!" Natasha hollered at her comrade, grabbing a hold of an extra stretcher, the two began loading up another wounded man. Moore turned away to make room, wondering if he'd get an answer as he began to move down the hall, looking for any sign of trouble.
"Boris, Boris is my brother, mister-"
"Sergeant Thomas Moore."
"Ah yes, he complain about you, I remember! Say you never shut up. But you were not sergeant then, just training."
Moore scowled a little under his mask.
"Well, good to know he said such nice things about me. At any rate, you sound exactly like him. Lot easier on the eyes though," Moore quickly joked as he made his way down the tunnel he had originally followed to reach the wounded. Natasha's eyes hardened and she muttered something under her breath as the two medics began removing another casualty. Moore chuckled in response. The previous pair of stretcher bearers was there now, moving another man. Moore vanished into the tunnel. It was all calm, almost as if the alarm had been entirely false, not that Moore could complain if it was. Moore behaved in a nonchalant manner, but he kept his wits about him, moving slowly through the tunnels. There was shouting behind him, it was the infantry from the outer line, retreating. Moore could make out a few men pass behind him, dragging their wounded, shouting. One of them, an officer, ordered two of his men to stay behind. Moore could hear gunfire somewhere far away. It was already in the halls. He tensed instinctively, the flicker of calm was gone.
"Where's the rest of you?!" he shouted at the officer.
"Gone! A few are retreating through secondary tunnels!"
The man responded, his voice filled with anguish as he raised his head to face the commando. Moore felt bile rush into his mouth as he saw the mans face. A cracked visor covered the mans eyes, but the flesh was burned raw, no doubt from one of the heat based weapons the shviri had a penchant for using, possibly a plasma flamer. He asked no more questions and merely turned to face forward. Looking for his first target and wondering how he could cover both flanks.
Instantly, he dove for cover, the bullet meeting empty air and striking the tunnel wall. Wait a second. No shvir would be using a solid slug rifle, or any small arm of that sort.
"Goddamit! Stop! Don't shoot! I'm coming to help!"
There was no response, slowly, the commando sergeant peered around the corner, only exposing his black helmet and visor.
"Blyad! One of you!"
Moore smiled to himself, the words spoken reminded him of Boris, one of his former colleagues, years back when he'd begun his commando training. Except for one thing, the voice was female. Crouched down and staring at him, smoldering pistol still in hand, was a lone medic. She wore the same standard exo-suit and camouflage common to the airborne, with the small addition of a dulled red cross on her upper arm-sleeve. Behind her, he could make out movement, there must have been at least a score of wounded soldiers lining the tunnel, some propped up on empty crates of supplies, others dropped wherever their comrades coming from the front had left them. A pair of stretcher bearers carried one of the wounded past Moore, the mans face was deathly white, a bloody bandage covering a terrible stomach wound. The sergeant shuddered, a motion thankfully hidden under his armor, and darted forward to the woman.
"You need to get out of here there's a shviri breaching team that's already breaking through the tunnels, they won't be able to hold them. Ya'll are gonna be cut off in minutes. They're shortening the front, everybody's moving to the second line."
She drew herself up, standing level with Moore, approximately. Even with the bulky exo-suit, her slight build meant she stood a good few inches shorter than Moore. Certainly not someone who could intimidate a room by their mere presence. Completely unlike Boris.
"And the wounded, what I do about them? They can't move, we don't move."
"You and your friend over there, start moving them, I'll make sure nothin' shows up from the tunnels."
"Yes, nothing ever goes wrong, no? We will move them, but it going to take time." She said sarcastically. It sounded exactly like something Boris would say. To a letter, cynical insight included.
"What's your name again?"
Moore inquired, a tone of curiosity in his voice. She looked at him incredulously for a second, as if surprised by the question. The expression on her face was exactly like one Boris would make.
"Medical Officer Sokolov, Natasha Sokolov."
"You know a Boris Sokolov, shock commando?" Moore suddenly pressed, a grin spreading across his face, hidden beneath his skeletal face-plate.
"Misha, start moving the wounded!" Natasha hollered at her comrade, grabbing a hold of an extra stretcher, the two began loading up another wounded man. Moore turned away to make room, wondering if he'd get an answer as he began to move down the hall, looking for any sign of trouble.
"Boris, Boris is my brother, mister-"
"Sergeant Thomas Moore."
"Ah yes, he complain about you, I remember! Say you never shut up. But you were not sergeant then, just training."
Moore scowled a little under his mask.
"Well, good to know he said such nice things about me. At any rate, you sound exactly like him. Lot easier on the eyes though," Moore quickly joked as he made his way down the tunnel he had originally followed to reach the wounded. Natasha's eyes hardened and she muttered something under her breath as the two medics began removing another casualty. Moore chuckled in response. The previous pair of stretcher bearers was there now, moving another man. Moore vanished into the tunnel. It was all calm, almost as if the alarm had been entirely false, not that Moore could complain if it was. Moore behaved in a nonchalant manner, but he kept his wits about him, moving slowly through the tunnels. There was shouting behind him, it was the infantry from the outer line, retreating. Moore could make out a few men pass behind him, dragging their wounded, shouting. One of them, an officer, ordered two of his men to stay behind. Moore could hear gunfire somewhere far away. It was already in the halls. He tensed instinctively, the flicker of calm was gone.
"Where's the rest of you?!" he shouted at the officer.
"Gone! A few are retreating through secondary tunnels!"
The man responded, his voice filled with anguish as he raised his head to face the commando. Moore felt bile rush into his mouth as he saw the mans face. A cracked visor covered the mans eyes, but the flesh was burned raw, no doubt from one of the heat based weapons the shviri had a penchant for using, possibly a plasma flamer. He asked no more questions and merely turned to face forward. Looking for his first target and wondering how he could cover both flanks.
"Heyo Rat!"
Moore winced at Vals shout, even though he knew it was only inside his comms. He turned around and sighed with relief as he realized the rest of his comrades had followed. He fully understood Ryss' reluctance to risk those under his command. But from Moore's perspective, there was only one correct decision, and that was to aid the defense until their evac arrived. He nodded slightly to Ryss, who immediately motioned his squad towards the wounded. They'd take up positions beyond the medical chamber, where the shvir had already made their breach a few minutes ago. There was shouting at the end of the hall. Moore began making his way forward, his squad close behind him. A deafening roar. Gunfire, screaming, the shvir had made another breach.
Moore winced at Vals shout, even though he knew it was only inside his comms. He turned around and sighed with relief as he realized the rest of his comrades had followed. He fully understood Ryss' reluctance to risk those under his command. But from Moore's perspective, there was only one correct decision, and that was to aid the defense until their evac arrived. He nodded slightly to Ryss, who immediately motioned his squad towards the wounded. They'd take up positions beyond the medical chamber, where the shvir had already made their breach a few minutes ago. There was shouting at the end of the hall. Moore began making his way forward, his squad close behind him. A deafening roar. Gunfire, screaming, the shvir had made another breach.
The SNC was never meant to fight holding actions. It was never meant to fight in a siege. They didn't have exo-suits to carry heavy equipment. They didn't have the ammo, or the armor. They didn't have the numbers. But there was nobody else. A few paratroopers were retreating down the tunnel, falling back, dragging another wounded man, his leg must have been torn off in the explosion. Moore guessed he wouldn't make it. The shvir turned the corner, crouching low in the tunnels, all of them far too tall for the low ceiling. He could hear another roar, a neighboring tunnel collapsed, the paratroopers were sealing the tunnels.
"Willy! Tell those fuckers to stop, or we're all dead men!"
He knew the young commando hated leaving and falling back from the fight, but he could easily make it back later, and Moore wasn't about to let his efforts be undone by the panic of a command structure trying to preserve the core of its defense at any cost.
"Affirmative sarge!"
Always so formal. Moore opened fire. Gobbets of blue blood spattered the walls. Val and Kurt were at his side, pouring measured fire into the attacking mob. Already, three or four shvir lay lifeless in the tunnel, slowing their comrades advance. These were no ordinary aliens though, Moore could see their modified bodies, limbs replaced with mechanical augmentations. Grenades were being thrown, no time to kick them all away. The commandos split. Detonation. The brilliant light shut out by the helmets systems. Kurt was silent as ever, Val was laughing, Moore cursed as he felt a bit of shrapnel lodge in his chest-plate. But the black armor had held true. He swung out into the open again, firing at the aliens that now advanced two abreast. They could easily hold here he thought.
"Moore, we got a problem!"
It was Ryss, and he sounded worried, or about as worried as the steely commando ever got.
"There's three damn tunnels leading here, this damn medbay's a nexus. The sheevees are starting to find their way down all of them, we're gonna be flanked!"
Moore nodded to Val and Kurt.
"You two, go, I can hold here 'till Willy gets back!"
The two men didn't ask any questions or argue, they merely turned around and began making their way back to the other squad, firing a parting burst before vanishing like ghosts. Moore was now alone. The lighting flickered and failed.
"Hey, Willy, what's the status on the tunnels?"
"They're holding off sarge, I'm headed back inside. Any idea how long 'till the wounded are out?"
Moore turned around and hollered behind himself.
"Hey, Natasha, ya there? How many more?"
"Not good sergeant, we need more time."
"Goddamit, not moving fast enough. Willy, I need you down here, now!."
Moore turned back towards his front, too late. The shvir had taken advantage of his moments distraction to close the distance. He fired, bullets sparking against their thick armor. One toppled to the ground, the wreckage of his augmented limbs sparking and twitching for a few seconds before finally expiring. Laser rifles seared into Moores armor. For once, he was thankful that the protection the bulky black carapace offered. There was no way Moore could slow down the sudden rush. The empty magazine fell from his Akarn. Too late to reload. He drew his pistol. The silenced weapon whistled gently as he emptied his entire clip, backing away as carefully as he could, giving himself distance to reload. Some of the shvir, led by an officer and obviously incited by the failure of their laser weaponry to put the little man down, suddenly charged. Moore only barely evaded the incoming sword stroke, lightly moving to the side, allowing the blade to smash into the ground. The sergeants hand darted to his hip. Out came the stiletto, a steel spike aimed directly into the aliens unarmored side. It slumped as the knife reached its heart, the creatures weight dragging Moore's knife down with it. Moore acted on instinct, dragging the officers sword clear of his hand as he crumpled. Suddenly, the hall was illuminated by light, gunfire, Moore could hear a shot ricochet off his shoulder plate as he jumped aside. Behind him, Natasha was emptying the remainder of her clip into the aliens, killing the two nearest the sergeant and slowing the press of bodies.
"Holy shit, thanks!"
The medic merely nodded in response, holstered her pistol and moved back, dragging one of the wounded back down the tunnel, illuminating the way with her headlamp. Moore swiftly reloaded his own weapons and hefted the officers sword. Moore was no stranger to the blade. A member of the finest fencing academy in the entire Imperium for over a decade, he still marveled at how light the saber felt. Even a rapier felt clumsy and bulky compared to the alien weapon. The balance was perfect. The weapons qualities were something he didn't have long to think on as the shvir pressed onward inexorably, unfazed by their lead officers sudden demise to an inferior creature like Moore. He drew the sword, letting his Akarn dangle empty at his side. This was not the situation he wanted to be in. His armor was good, but not proof, eventually it would fail, or the shvir would hit the joints, or his neck, or they'd bring up a plasma flamer. Moore shuddered at the thought of being immolated. He had to fall back, but there was nowhere to go.
"Sarge!"
It was Willy, rounding the far corner of the tunnel, rifle blazing in the unlit corridor. He fired a few controlled bursts and moved up. The tunnel was choking up with shviri dead and wounded, making it increasingly difficult for them to maintain the pressure. It was miraculous to see how quickly the tide could shift in such close quarters. The aliens numbers were working against them. Moore smiled grimly to himself and pressed forward, killing the nearest with a single strike of the officers sword. Willy was firing over his shoulder, advancing a mere meter behind his sergeant as the two pressed forward. The wall of dead and wounded wouldn't hold indefinitely, it wouldn't even hold for long, but it would hold long enough, they'd easily get everybody out and be clear at this point. The shvir were hesitating, their thirst for battle quenched by somewhat by the brutal slaughter being perpetrated by the commandos defending the hall.
"Willy, go help move the wounded! Hey Ryss, what's the status!"
There was silence on the comms. Damage and knockouts weren't unknown, Moore changed back to his own squad.
"Hey, Kurt, Val, status!"
"There's a lot of them. Ryss is in the other corridor, we got pushed back. Kwam and Jeff should be with him still. No contact with 'em."
Kurt responded, his calm, cool voice seeming completely out of place when one considered what he was saying.
"Goddamit, get contact! Willy, drop the wounded, get over here, take my place. I'm movin' to bail 'em out!"
Moore turned and ran back down the hall, bypassing the wounded men that lay strung out along the hallway. There were only a few left. They should have plenty of time, but something told Moore that was no longer so certain.
"Willy! Tell those fuckers to stop, or we're all dead men!"
He knew the young commando hated leaving and falling back from the fight, but he could easily make it back later, and Moore wasn't about to let his efforts be undone by the panic of a command structure trying to preserve the core of its defense at any cost.
"Affirmative sarge!"
Always so formal. Moore opened fire. Gobbets of blue blood spattered the walls. Val and Kurt were at his side, pouring measured fire into the attacking mob. Already, three or four shvir lay lifeless in the tunnel, slowing their comrades advance. These were no ordinary aliens though, Moore could see their modified bodies, limbs replaced with mechanical augmentations. Grenades were being thrown, no time to kick them all away. The commandos split. Detonation. The brilliant light shut out by the helmets systems. Kurt was silent as ever, Val was laughing, Moore cursed as he felt a bit of shrapnel lodge in his chest-plate. But the black armor had held true. He swung out into the open again, firing at the aliens that now advanced two abreast. They could easily hold here he thought.
"Moore, we got a problem!"
It was Ryss, and he sounded worried, or about as worried as the steely commando ever got.
"There's three damn tunnels leading here, this damn medbay's a nexus. The sheevees are starting to find their way down all of them, we're gonna be flanked!"
Moore nodded to Val and Kurt.
"You two, go, I can hold here 'till Willy gets back!"
The two men didn't ask any questions or argue, they merely turned around and began making their way back to the other squad, firing a parting burst before vanishing like ghosts. Moore was now alone. The lighting flickered and failed.
"Hey, Willy, what's the status on the tunnels?"
"They're holding off sarge, I'm headed back inside. Any idea how long 'till the wounded are out?"
Moore turned around and hollered behind himself.
"Hey, Natasha, ya there? How many more?"
"Not good sergeant, we need more time."
"Goddamit, not moving fast enough. Willy, I need you down here, now!."
Moore turned back towards his front, too late. The shvir had taken advantage of his moments distraction to close the distance. He fired, bullets sparking against their thick armor. One toppled to the ground, the wreckage of his augmented limbs sparking and twitching for a few seconds before finally expiring. Laser rifles seared into Moores armor. For once, he was thankful that the protection the bulky black carapace offered. There was no way Moore could slow down the sudden rush. The empty magazine fell from his Akarn. Too late to reload. He drew his pistol. The silenced weapon whistled gently as he emptied his entire clip, backing away as carefully as he could, giving himself distance to reload. Some of the shvir, led by an officer and obviously incited by the failure of their laser weaponry to put the little man down, suddenly charged. Moore only barely evaded the incoming sword stroke, lightly moving to the side, allowing the blade to smash into the ground. The sergeants hand darted to his hip. Out came the stiletto, a steel spike aimed directly into the aliens unarmored side. It slumped as the knife reached its heart, the creatures weight dragging Moore's knife down with it. Moore acted on instinct, dragging the officers sword clear of his hand as he crumpled. Suddenly, the hall was illuminated by light, gunfire, Moore could hear a shot ricochet off his shoulder plate as he jumped aside. Behind him, Natasha was emptying the remainder of her clip into the aliens, killing the two nearest the sergeant and slowing the press of bodies.
"Holy shit, thanks!"
The medic merely nodded in response, holstered her pistol and moved back, dragging one of the wounded back down the tunnel, illuminating the way with her headlamp. Moore swiftly reloaded his own weapons and hefted the officers sword. Moore was no stranger to the blade. A member of the finest fencing academy in the entire Imperium for over a decade, he still marveled at how light the saber felt. Even a rapier felt clumsy and bulky compared to the alien weapon. The balance was perfect. The weapons qualities were something he didn't have long to think on as the shvir pressed onward inexorably, unfazed by their lead officers sudden demise to an inferior creature like Moore. He drew the sword, letting his Akarn dangle empty at his side. This was not the situation he wanted to be in. His armor was good, but not proof, eventually it would fail, or the shvir would hit the joints, or his neck, or they'd bring up a plasma flamer. Moore shuddered at the thought of being immolated. He had to fall back, but there was nowhere to go.
"Sarge!"
It was Willy, rounding the far corner of the tunnel, rifle blazing in the unlit corridor. He fired a few controlled bursts and moved up. The tunnel was choking up with shviri dead and wounded, making it increasingly difficult for them to maintain the pressure. It was miraculous to see how quickly the tide could shift in such close quarters. The aliens numbers were working against them. Moore smiled grimly to himself and pressed forward, killing the nearest with a single strike of the officers sword. Willy was firing over his shoulder, advancing a mere meter behind his sergeant as the two pressed forward. The wall of dead and wounded wouldn't hold indefinitely, it wouldn't even hold for long, but it would hold long enough, they'd easily get everybody out and be clear at this point. The shvir were hesitating, their thirst for battle quenched by somewhat by the brutal slaughter being perpetrated by the commandos defending the hall.
"Willy, go help move the wounded! Hey Ryss, what's the status!"
There was silence on the comms. Damage and knockouts weren't unknown, Moore changed back to his own squad.
"Hey, Kurt, Val, status!"
"There's a lot of them. Ryss is in the other corridor, we got pushed back. Kwam and Jeff should be with him still. No contact with 'em."
Kurt responded, his calm, cool voice seeming completely out of place when one considered what he was saying.
"Goddamit, get contact! Willy, drop the wounded, get over here, take my place. I'm movin' to bail 'em out!"
Moore turned and ran back down the hall, bypassing the wounded men that lay strung out along the hallway. There were only a few left. They should have plenty of time, but something told Moore that was no longer so certain.
Moore could hear the fighting long before he reached the scene, and what he saw seemed to be a situation straight out of a nightmare. The shvir had sent combat drones down from the surface and were flooding in from two of the three tunnels, all converging on the medical bay. Far better armed and armored than any being of flesh and blood, they were pressuring the three commandos back, unhindered by the small pile of demolished machinery strewn across the hall. So far they had kept the alien forces from pincering the last tunnel, but it would only be a matter of time before that changed. There was only one course of action to save the trapped commandos, attack.
The sergeant flew past the his squad-mates like a black lance, Akarn raised and ablaze, bayonet affixed and glinting with every flash of the rifle.
"Shit, sarge is going in! Kurt, watch my six!"
Val jumped to his feet, Moore knew he'd be the first to pick up the slack, always keen to follow in his sergeants footsteps. Sizzles of laser fire, a sudden flare of pain in his shoulder. He'd been hit. Moore fired a final burst and let the rifle hang at his hip, then drew the shviri officers sword. The aliens never got a chance to register the shock of the assault as the slight human cut them apart with impeccable precision, the blade a whirling arc of death in the darkness. Behind him came his comrades, the only indicator of their position being flash of rifle barrels.
"Right hand hall sarge!"
"Let's go!"
Moores voice was a harsh snarl as he led the way. Up ahead he could hear the gunfire, echoing in the cramped space. There they were. Kwame and Jeffrey, firing at a cluster of incoming shviri automatons.
"Where the hell is Ryss?"
"Gone, took a shot in the throat. The fuckers killed him. Killed the two paras with him too."
Kwame spoke the words without any sign of emotion, keeping his focus locked on the shvir in front of him. Moore's eyes widened with shock. He cursed under his breath. It had been his fault. He had dragged the rest of the unit down here, to defend wounded who weren't even their own. He pushed to the front, searching for a glimpse of the sergeant anywhere.
"He's gone Moore, all we can do is get the body."
Asch shook his head slightly. Moore suddenly felt the pain in his arm, the agony of the laser hit. The weight of guilt. No! There was no time for such stupidity. They had gotten breathing room. He was the only man left in charge, he had to decide what to do immediately.
"Fall back!"
He ordered the group to retreat.
"What about Ryss' body?!"
"We either get out or we all die, Ryss has his peace!"
He knew that Kwame and Asch were weighing his words, deciding whether or not to listen. Moore could sense their anger, their disgust with him and his decision. The pall of resentment hovered over them even as they kept shooting at the encroaching shvir. Finally, as one, wordlessly, soundlessly, they began to back off, rifles still firing at every alien and machine that poked around the corner.
"We're all clear sergeant! We're all out!"
It was Natasha, Moore could hear the relief in her voice, but all he felt was bitterness, fury. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Hatred. Rage. Wrath. All evident in every motion he made as he tailed the column of retreating commandos. A shvir charged out of a side tunnel. The sergeant impaled him with a single sword stroke, not bothering to confirm the kill, he knew it was a death-blow before it had even struck. His shoulder burned, but not nearly as much as the shame. He had betrayed his own peers for pride, for unnecessary and illogical heroics. Moore shook his head. Natasha was urging them onward. Willy was still firing at something Moore couldn't see. Detonation. The tunnels began to explode. Debris fell around the retreating commandos. A chain reaction seeking to obliterate, annihilate. Strike down anything within reach. An all consuming roar. They were all running. Fleeing. The sliding blast door slid shut a heartbeat after Moore threw himself through, dropping the shviri blade to the floor.
"We're all clear boss. We did it."
It was Valeri, striding over to Moore, a grim look on his face.
"Yes we're all clear."
There was nothing more to say.
The sergeant flew past the his squad-mates like a black lance, Akarn raised and ablaze, bayonet affixed and glinting with every flash of the rifle.
"Shit, sarge is going in! Kurt, watch my six!"
Val jumped to his feet, Moore knew he'd be the first to pick up the slack, always keen to follow in his sergeants footsteps. Sizzles of laser fire, a sudden flare of pain in his shoulder. He'd been hit. Moore fired a final burst and let the rifle hang at his hip, then drew the shviri officers sword. The aliens never got a chance to register the shock of the assault as the slight human cut them apart with impeccable precision, the blade a whirling arc of death in the darkness. Behind him came his comrades, the only indicator of their position being flash of rifle barrels.
"Right hand hall sarge!"
"Let's go!"
Moores voice was a harsh snarl as he led the way. Up ahead he could hear the gunfire, echoing in the cramped space. There they were. Kwame and Jeffrey, firing at a cluster of incoming shviri automatons.
"Where the hell is Ryss?"
"Gone, took a shot in the throat. The fuckers killed him. Killed the two paras with him too."
Kwame spoke the words without any sign of emotion, keeping his focus locked on the shvir in front of him. Moore's eyes widened with shock. He cursed under his breath. It had been his fault. He had dragged the rest of the unit down here, to defend wounded who weren't even their own. He pushed to the front, searching for a glimpse of the sergeant anywhere.
"He's gone Moore, all we can do is get the body."
Asch shook his head slightly. Moore suddenly felt the pain in his arm, the agony of the laser hit. The weight of guilt. No! There was no time for such stupidity. They had gotten breathing room. He was the only man left in charge, he had to decide what to do immediately.
"Fall back!"
He ordered the group to retreat.
"What about Ryss' body?!"
"We either get out or we all die, Ryss has his peace!"
He knew that Kwame and Asch were weighing his words, deciding whether or not to listen. Moore could sense their anger, their disgust with him and his decision. The pall of resentment hovered over them even as they kept shooting at the encroaching shvir. Finally, as one, wordlessly, soundlessly, they began to back off, rifles still firing at every alien and machine that poked around the corner.
"We're all clear sergeant! We're all out!"
It was Natasha, Moore could hear the relief in her voice, but all he felt was bitterness, fury. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Hatred. Rage. Wrath. All evident in every motion he made as he tailed the column of retreating commandos. A shvir charged out of a side tunnel. The sergeant impaled him with a single sword stroke, not bothering to confirm the kill, he knew it was a death-blow before it had even struck. His shoulder burned, but not nearly as much as the shame. He had betrayed his own peers for pride, for unnecessary and illogical heroics. Moore shook his head. Natasha was urging them onward. Willy was still firing at something Moore couldn't see. Detonation. The tunnels began to explode. Debris fell around the retreating commandos. A chain reaction seeking to obliterate, annihilate. Strike down anything within reach. An all consuming roar. They were all running. Fleeing. The sliding blast door slid shut a heartbeat after Moore threw himself through, dropping the shviri blade to the floor.
"We're all clear boss. We did it."
It was Valeri, striding over to Moore, a grim look on his face.
"Yes we're all clear."
There was nothing more to say.
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