Chapter Seven: Manly and Impulsive

Chance fidgeted with his telescoping staff idly, at rest with the rest of his platoon. All last night, the soldiers in his platoon came to him for judgments on Gathering the Magic. They had all gone through their basic training together, so when Chance had shown the game to one of the other soldiers, he told another, who then told two more. Cardboard card game compound interest adds up quick.

This process continued until essentially everyone at their original training camp would pester him constantly, asking for help understanding the rules or making cards. He would show them the cards that Regina had illustrated and he found himself the target of no small amount of envy.

Sleep deprivation followed by the long march from training to the front line had taken a severe toll on Chance’s attentiveness. He just hoped he would get to take a nap soon. They hadn’t eaten yet and Chance’s stomach growled in protest.

Mundane soldiers played as well, but just for fun. Chance stood apart and simply watched. The two groups didn’t get along very well, except on the battlefield. The magical soldiers generally thought themselves better than the mundane. The mundane soldiers knew this and resented the attitude. Chance did think that as a gifted soldier he was more valuable tactically, but he didn’t think his life was any more valuable at least. They had just as many mothers as he did after all.

Two women approached from the center of the camp. Even from a distance, he could see the red epaulets that signified that they were commissioned officers. Rashilian society is quite stratified by gender. But the military, strangely, was the one notable exception to this rule. The women’s utility outweighed any misogyny transmitted from the culture at large. The older of the two officers was even taller than Chance, and she had the long blond-brown two-toned hair of the royal line, but in a bun behind her head. The younger woman had her red hair cut short.

Chance turned back to face the troops. “Platoon, ten-shun!” he shouted. The assembled crowds scattered and they all fell into lines ten across and four deep, organized according to prearranged squad groups of four apiece.

The senior officer bellowed, “Good morning, cadets. Or should I say, good morning, soldiers!” The platoon had been well trained by their master chief back in their orientation training, so they stood unmoving. “It’s ok, soldiers, you can cheer at that.” An enthusiastic if very tired Chance joined the chorus of cheers that erupted in a wave. They were given only a movent before the officer raised her hand to tell them to quiet down. She spoke again. “I am Commander Jass; I am the officer in charge of this whole operation. If you screw up, it’s me who looks bad, and I DON’T like looking bad.” She gestured to the woman standing beside her. “This is Lieutenant Perry; she’ll be your platoon commander. She doesn’t like to look bad either.” Lieutenant Perry gave a small wave. “Which of you is the platoon sergeant?”

Chance stepped forward a rank. “That would be me, ma’am.”

The commander walked over to stand in front of him and eyed him up and down. “What’s your name, soldier?” she asked.

“Chance Alloway, ma’am,” Chance said with a clipped tone.

She raised one eyebrow. “You related to General Alloway?”

Chance nodded. “Yes ma’am, he’s my father.”

“We’ll expect great things from you then. General Alloway is one of the best mundane commanders in the army’s history.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll do my best.”

She went to walk away but then turned back. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you enlist and not go through the academy to become an officer?” the commander asked bluntly.

“I—uh, I just had something I wanted to get away from. Ma’am. I . . .”

She raised one hand to quiet him. “Say no more, we’ve all had to get away from something in our past. Well, we’re glad to have you. Fall back in, Sergeant.” Chance simply nodded in response and stepped back into line. The commander cleared her throat. “Your first weeks in camp we would normally assign you to guard duty or scut work, but we find ourselves in an interesting situation. We’re here primarily to support the army of the Patriarchal vassal state, Jeranin, as they will do most of the heavy lifting, but the Rustang army has withdrawn most of its troops from the pass through the mountains.”

The troops murmured in response. Chance thumped his staff on the ground and gave them all a severe stare. They quieted. “This presents us with a unique opportunity. The pass is still well fortified with the soldiers they left behind, trying to take it conventionally would have an unacceptable level of casualties.

The Jeranese Army obviously does not have an Army Corps of Magic and Spellcraft as we doand have requested our help in securing the pass. I have decided to provide the support of the magical division, however, our First and Second Brigades are off on maneuvers some distance away. We don’t know how long this opportunity will last, command has decided we will move on them now. That brings me to you soldiers,” the commander announced. “I’ll let your lieutenant tell you.”

Lieutenant Perry stepped forward and started to speak. She had meadow green eyes and a nose that looked too small for her face. Her voice was higher than the comparatively gruff commander, but she still spoke with practiced authority. “We’re to be attached to the Third Brigade. With their veteran troops, we’re to form the right flank that leads the way for the Jeranese forces. I know this will probably be your first real taste of combat.” The assembled soldiers mumbled among themselves. Chance thumped his staff again but didn’t turn around and they quieted.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Lieutenant Perry gave a lingering glance to Chance. “As I was saying, since it will be your first action, I want to reiterate that war is not about gallantry or thrilling heroics. Stay in cover, stay behind your designated sorceress when you can, and only advance when ordered. The goal isn’t to die for your country, it’s to make the other poor bastard die for theirs.” Commander Jass smirked a bit, but Lieutenant Perry’s face was deadly serious.

“If you die, it reflects poorly on your sergeant and me, so no one has permission to die. If you do, I’ll kill you myself.” Lieutenant Perry smirked a little herself now too. “We move out mid-afternoon, so you now have some time to prep your weapons and grab some chow. Take a nap, or for those magically inclined, take the opportunity to store up some additional luck. Fall in at the north side of the camp in six hours. I will NOT tolerate tardiness.” The lieutenant looked at all the soldiers gathered one more time. “Can I get a boo-yah, soldiers?”

“BOO-YAH!” The platoon shouted in unison.

“DIS-Missed!” the lieutenant shouted. The platoon began to chatter and dispersed. Chance went to go get some food, but was stopped by the lieutenant. “Hold sergeant, I’d like to ask something.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Chance replied.

She crooked her finger in a “come hither” gesture and turned to walk away from the still-assembled platoon. Once they were off behind a tent she stopped. “What can I do for you, ma’am?” Chance asked.

“Tell me honestly, do I have your complete confidence?” the lieutenant asked. She averted her gaze briefly from practiced deference. Her only slightly used but brightly polished boots unconsciously crushed the small gravel beneath them. Rippling cracks of unconscious anxiety hissed with each turn of the heel. Two heel turns later she forced her attention away from Pre-Academy Perry back to eye contact.

“My confidence? Well, ma’am, permission to speak candidly?”

“Of course.”

“ I don’t know you yet.” She looked at him with an expression he didn’t recognize, so he was quick to add: “Not that I don’t think you’re qualified, you clearly are. It’s hard to trust someone you just met.”

She nodded her head. “I appreciate your honesty. I’ll be straight with you; this is my first command of actual troops in the field. I need to know that my number two is behind me all the way.”

“Of course, ma’am, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Chance replied confidently.

“Good, good, if I remember correctly your father was mundane, but you are not, correct?”

“Yes ma’am, my mother was a third cousin of the Patriarch, so she was gifted. I have plenty of luck stored up. I play my game with the other soldiers every night that I can.”

The lieutenant turned her head questioningly. “Your game? What do you mean?”

Chance went to try and explain, but hesitated and simply said, “It’s complicated. It’s a card game I made that seems to be an excellent means of luck generation.”

The lieutenant narrowed her eyes slightly. “Well, I never had the advanced math classes you men do. But I would like to learn more about that.”

Chance’s semi-serious demeanor shifted to a smile. “I would be happy to give you an introduction. Though I warn you, it is quite hard.”

“Well, it’s good for us both that I like hard things.” Chance stifled his subconscious response into a cough and shook his head twice quickly. The lieutenant’s eyes widened just a bit at the implication. More gravel crumbled to dust underfoot and Chances extendable staff. Letting out a conspicuous cough, she continued, “Well. Uh, excellent then. Our platoon is on the right flank. I want you and your sorceress on my right. I’ll lead from the center; I’ll trust you to assign a good squad on my left flank. I plan for us to be the point of the bayonet that drives straight into the still-beating heart of the Rustang defense,” the lieutenant said. Chance blinked a bit at the graphic imagery.

“I’ll see to it, Lieutenant.”

“Good, now go get some food, an army marches on its stomach after all.”

Chance extended his fist forward in a salute. The lieutenant returned it and Chance marched away to eat and rest while the lieutenant headed off to another briefing. She found herself distracted, thinking about her new sergeant the whole time.

#

After a filling—though not delicious—meal, Chance returned to platoon’s camp. Fortunately, he had enough time for a brief nap. When he woke up and stepped out of his tent, he saw his platoon getting ready for the battle. Chance joined them and helped the mundane soldiers prepare and load their rifles. Then he helped the sorcerers put on their heavy armor. The sorceresses didn’t need any help, as they wore light leather padding rather than full armor. Last, he put on his own armor, though with the help of one of the mundane soldiers. Armed and armored, enthusiastic smiles on the faces, the recruits marched off to a bloodbath to be.

Outside of the camp, you could see across the even plain that leads into the mountain pass. Finding their place on the right flank, the platoon stood at rest until Lieutenant Perry approached. Calling the troops to attention, Chance stood at the front of the platoon and greeted their commander.

“Everyone prepped and ready, Sergeant?” she asked.

“All present and accounted for, Lieutenant!” he snapped back in a professional and clipped tone. This earned him a raised eyebrow and the faintest hint of a smile.

“Listen for the horn, it will give general battlefield guidance, but more than anything, listen to me, your sergeant, and your squad leaders. If we work together, this should be a glorious day for the Patriarch!”

Almost as soon as she finished, the first horn blared long and loud. The march began. Held together in close ranks, the different platoons stood elbow to elbow, sorceresses in front, sorcerers behind them, then mundane soldiers in the back. The sorcerers carried various weapons such as staves, polearms, longswords, and even a few axes. They also typically carried a reserve flintlock single-shot pistol on their belts as a backup weapon. Sorceresses carried only a long dagger for personal defense in case the line was routed, and a similar, if smaller, pistol. Officers also carried a shortsword to demonstrate their rank and make their command gestures easier to see.

The mundane soldiers in the back all had the same mass-produced breech-loaded rifles. Slow to reload, prone to misfires, and the occasional unfortunately face shattering explosive failures the rifle was a relic of several wars back. The calculated cost of new rifles outweighed the cost of a few friendly fire faces. They also all carried several pouches including spare ammo, powder, bandages, and a bayonet. All of whom were new, but made by the lowest bidder.

They had almost entered shooting range when the commanders all down the line shouted, “Shields up!” Together, the sorceresses raised one arm and focused their attention downrange. A shimmering wall appeared that moved in front of the army as the sorceresses advanced. The first shots were fired and the battle began.

At first, it was a trickle, one shot after the other, but then they got organized and fired in volleys. A BANG echoed off the walls of the pass as thousands of rifles fired as one. They aimed well but when the bullets hit the shimmering wall, they would bend up into the sky, down into the ground, or careen off to the side into an unfortunate soldier several ranks away from the intended target..

Then came the mortars. Chance had never seen one in use, as they were not used in Rashil. He could not deny their effectiveness. Shells came down behind the magic wall, exploding in a brilliant ball of fire and blasting shrapnel in all directions to separate some limbs from their rightful owners. They mostly landed behind the bulk of the army. Each volley claimed the lives of more and more mundane soldiers, who marched helplessly forward.

Chance winced as he heard a shell land behind him followed by screams. He forced his eyes forward and kept marching. The horns blared three times in a row. A chorus of “CHARGE!” echoed down the line of commanders. Chance tightened his grip on the staff in both hands and took off at a run. The army surged to follow. The sorceresses kept their arms held forward, maintaining the shield. The enemy forces roared and echoed out of the canyon fortress in a countercharge. Once the enemy entered the shorter range of the Rashilian rifles, the horn blared twice. “Halt!” Lieutenant Perry yelled as she heard the command come from the center and raised her sword into the air to signal to the platoon. The soldiers lined up again, reforming ranks.

“Ready!” The riflemen and women squared up their shoulders to shoot.

“Aim!” They shouldered their rifles and aimed them downrange at the approaching horde of enemies.

“DOWN!” the commanders cried out. The sorcerers and sorceresses in front of the line dropped to their hands and knees, ducking their heads down. The protective shield dissipated.

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“FIRE!” The thunder was deafening and Chance could feel the heat of the inferno spewing from the weapons over him. But he wasn’t hit at least.

“Reload!” The command came down the line. The sorcerers and sorceresses stood up into the still warm smoky air. The shield was back in place as the remaining wisps of gunpowder smoke twisted and danced in the field unnaturally. The spell came up just in time to send the counter volley careening away. Several seconds passed that felt like an eternity as the line of soldiers reloaded. Chance stood there anxious and half deafened, unable to do anything for the moment but watch the fear on his men’s faces. His role would come later. He eyed the approaching enemy. He noted that even from a distance their “uniforms” weren’t uniform at all. These were irregular shock troops, designed to be devastating up close, but were equally expendable. Easy prey.

Another refrain of “Ready! Aim! Down! Fire! Reload!” and Chance readied for the first of the oncoming enemy to reach their line. He stepped up beside his assigned sorceress partner and put a hand on her shoulder. Her name was Shelly, and she looked over and gave him a worried look.

“Don’t worry, they won’t get past me,” he said confidently.

Her face tensed a bit, but then relaxed. “They better not. Or else, I’ll be really cross with you!”

The commanders called the final cycle of “Ready! Aim! Down! Fire!” but no “Reload!” Instead, the command was one of the single most terrifying things you can say to a soldier. “AFFIX BAYONETS!” They pulled the bayonets from their pouches and slotted them into position on the front of their rifles, turning them into makeshift spears.

Chance forced his breathing steady and suppressed the fear welling inside him. He was able to see the approaching enemy more clearly for some reason, and all he could think of was that he was about to kill someone. Mostly likely more than one. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the case. But his stomach felt like a pit of snakes on fire, and he neared the point of vomiting merely standing still as the thudding of his heart against his gunfire deafened ears and taste the sharp acrid sulfuric ash in the air nearly drew his attention away from the oncoming wave of death.

The loud shout and battle cry of the enemy army very rapidly approaching forced his attention from his anxiety. He turned his staff over in his hands reflexively. The oncoming troops ran straight through the shimmering barrier that served as a shield from the gunfire. The first enemy to approach Chance didn’t even see the strike that killed him.

It was not ambiguous either. Chance’s practiced strike hit the man’s unarmored head, destroying it so fully that splattered crushed-skull and brain matter clung to the staff as Chance readied to strike again, only for his victim to collapse like a puppet with its strings cut. Chance did not really have time to take in the view of the shattered skull or the corpse’s last spasmodic twitching as the next enemy soldier stepped over to his similar fate.

Now that the first one was done, adrenaline had taken full control, and the constant onslaught of attackers shifted Chance’s demeanor quickly from uncertain and anxious to ferocious and bloodthirsty. His eye dilated, the taste of ash faded from his mind, and with blood on his boots he readied himself to pounce on his next victim.

The first enemies approaching him did so one at a time. They all got the staff to the face or knee, sending them tumbling to the ground either dead, concussed, or clutching their wound in pain. Seeing their comrades fall one after the other, the attacking soldiers stopped to get organized and approach in groups. Chance swung his staff in a large horizontal arc and hit two of them before being blocked by the rifle of the third.

Chance pulled the staff back for another strike, the soldier who had blocked his attack leveled his rifle with a bayonet attached and charged him. Chance easily batted the strike wide and punched the enemy in the face, hard. Chance winced at the pain as he felt a bone in his hand snap. Then he felt a tingling sense of—

déjà vu

Chance pulled the staff back for another strike. The soldier who had blocked his attack leveled his rifle with a bayonet attached and charged him. Chance swung the staff up and hit the charging man in the crotch. The man dropped his weapon and fell to one knee in pain. Chance stepped back and crushed the man’s skull with one powerful downward swing. Chance thought back to their instructor Zal’s lessons: You win, or you die.

The mundane soldiers soon stood beside him, bayonets at the ready, as the main body of the enemy army approached. He looked to the left and to the right at the men beside him. They kept their eyes forward, fear and resolve clear in their eyes. Then the cavalry arrived. From the left flank, the horseman kept in reserve charged across the field to encircle the enemies who had so recklessly charged away from their fortress. Any first-year officer would know better than to leave the entire back half of your army exposed. The whole line cheered as they saw the heavily armored cavalry tear through the rear of the enemy near the wall that was the enemy’s last line of defense.

Fate took it’s turn.

A cacophony of rapid gunfire erupted from the wall. On top of the wall, there were several reinforced and fortified turrets that fired hundreds of rounds in just a few seconds. The withering fire cut down the cavalry completely. The fire also struck their own troops that were past the cavalry, and suddenly the use of low-skill shock troops made sense to Chance.

The cavalry was a complete loss, 100 percent casualty rate. The cheer from the line died in the air as the reality of what had just happened sunk in. Not only had their best troops been destroyed in a matter of seconds. The defenders proved that there was no way that the Rashilian army could take it by force.

The army started to rout, starting on the left flank. The shimmering shield faded and then went away altogether as the troops there fled for their lives from the charging horde. “Hold fast, soldiers!” Chance yelled. Then the horn blew two short blasts and one long one—the signal to retreat. “Or not,” Chance muttered to himself. “I want an orderly retreat, no turning tail and running.” The line slowly but orderly moved backward.

As the magical soldiers on the left flank were cut down, the shield dropped. Without their shield, the combined Rustang forces had stopped chasing and now merely fired volley after volley from repeating rifles into the crowd of fleeing Jeranese and Rashilian forces. Seeing this, the center started to rout as well. As the line collapsed, Chance said a quick prayer to the Patriarch that his platoon could retreat safely.

The Rustang attacking his platoon followed the retreat, but safely on the other side of the shimmering shield barrier. He looked to his right and the squads there seemed to be holding, but the squads to the left of the center fell to pieces. He watched in horror as the shield began to collapse and the barrage of bullets began. They fell in a wave, one after the other, until they reached the center. The center of their flank held, but only because Lieutenant Perry stood far at the front with her sorcerer partner, giving the other troops room to retreat. They fought back-to-back; the sorcerer wielded a long polearm, and Lieutenant Perry had one hand up, maintaining what little shield she could, and fought with her sword with the other hand.

In an instant, the sorcerer fighting next to Lieutenant Perry went down with a bayonet driven through the base of his skull from behind, killing him instantly. The soldier who struck the killing blow lifted his weapon into the air in a triumphant cry, only to be immediately to have his hamstrings cut by the lieutenant and collapsing to the ground mid celebration dance. She tried to back away from the approaching soldiers, but they chased faster than she could run backwards and they overtook on her quickly.

She swung her sword in big arcs in desperate hope of keeping the attackers at arm’s length. Chance rationalized his idiocy thinking if she fell, her line would collapse, and then his would, and all his soldiers would die. He couldn’t have that. He turned to Shelly and said, “No matter what happens, hold this line!” and took off at full speed. Shelly began to object, but Chance was far out of earshot by the time she spoke.

Chance met the oncoming attackers like a rock breaking waves. He swung wide, sweeping the legs of the enemies who stood in his way. He danced out of the way of most blows, slipping between attackers and using a bit of luck when he needed to. The line of attackers bent around him as he crashed through the chaotic melee.

A forearm vibrating swing of a heavy club know Lieutenant Perry’s sword out of her hand. The men surrounding her looked at her hungrily. She drew her dagger and prepared herself to die, or worse.

As Chance advanced through the crowd, he tried to build a mental model of how far he could leap with his staff to get over the soldiers surrounding the lieutenant. Distracted as he was by the demands of battle, he made his best guess and planted one end of the staff on the ground and pole-vaulted up. It took several attempts worth of luck to pull it off, but then like a bolt of lightning out of a clear sky, he leaped over the last foes between him and the lieutenant and drop-kicked a foe in the face.

He grunted forcefully as he landed. “Fuck yeah, THAT was cool!” He took big heaving breaths from his exertion, but never stopped fighting. He exalted in the thrill of battle in a way that, when he reflected on it later, was very concerning to him. He felt like he was taken over by manic madness, and he loved it. He swept the legs of the closest enemy soldiers and got close to the lieutenant.

She stared at him awestruck and then confused and then angry. “Sergeant! What did I say about heroics? Did you not hear the horn to retreat?” She ducked under a blow and stabbed her would-be attacker in the throat.

“So, you’re saying I’m heroic, huh?” Chance answered as he blocked a blow idly. She glared back at him, trying to continue retreating slowly. “Sorry,” Chance said, “I’ve never been a very good listener.” There were so few shields left that the Rustang fired into the retreating crowd with rifles that he noticed fired every time the wielder pumped a lever on the underside of it. Turning his attention back to Lieutenant Perry, he smashed the wrist of one of the soldiers closing in on her, causing him to drop his weapon.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t apreci—AH!” She cried out as one of the Rustang soldiers landed a lucky blow to her leg. She went to one knee and desperately fended off the soldier who struck her. Seeing this, Chance took a step back from the soldier he was currently beating about the face and swung his staff at the one bearing down on the lieutenant. The blow connected and shattered most of the bones in the victim’s face. He went down in a heap of pain and blood.

“Can you walk?” Chance asked as he stepped in to defend the lieutenant.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so; this cut is pretty deep.” She had dropped her dagger and held one hand to her leg, trying to stop the bleeding while barely holding on to her shield with the other hand.

Chance looked back at the retreating line. The two of them were almost completely encircled now. Chance cursed. “Ok, time to run, I think. Hold on.” He twisted the staff and pulled it apart unlocking the mechanism so that when he pushed it together, it folded in on itself like a telescope he could fit in his lowest bidder bag.

“What are you do—AH!” she cried as Chance picked her up and carried her behind him like a backpack with her legs wrapped around his torso. The soldiers surrounding them, seeing them both without weapons, closed in rapidly. Now with both hands free, Lieutenant Perry was able to maintain a shield around them rather than in just one direction.

“Keep that shield up!” Chance said as he moved to run toward the line of their troops. He ran straight for the line and caught a bayonet in the side for his trouble.

déjà vu

“Keep that shield up!” Chance said as he sprinted toward the line of their troops. He dashed in a zig-zag pattern to keep the enemy shooters unsure where to aim. Those that did get close had their bullets veer off and collide with their own soldiers. He was too slow; the enemy line now completely encircled them. It was two (or one and a half really) versus two hundred. The shimmering shield around them kept the enemy from shooting, but they paced ever closer with their bayonets at the ready.

“Welp,” the lieutenant said. “We’re screwed.”

“Don’t count us out just yet. I have an idea.”

“Oh really? What’s that?”

“Just be ready to drop the shield when I say.”

“Are you CRAZY!? That’s the only thing keeping us alive.”

“Exactly, and it’s the last thing they would expect,” Chance said, smirking to himself.

One of the soldiers stepped up and thrust his bayonet at Chance. Chance reached out to grab it, but had three of his fingers cut off in the attempt.

déjà vu

One of the soldiers stepped up and thrust his bayonet at Chance. He stepped out to the side and then reached to grab it. He grasped it by the muzzle and gave it a hard yank. The soldier holding it tumbled forward and Chance smashed him in the face with his elbow. Chance spun, but caught the butt of a rifle in the face.

déjà vu

One of the soldiers stepped up and thrust his bayonet at Chance. He stepped out to the side and then reached to grab it. He grasped it by the muzzle and gave it a hard yank. The soldier holding it tumbled forward and Chance smashed him in the face with his elbow. Without looking, Chance thrust the bayonet behind him and stabbed his would-be attacker through the chest. He pulled the weapon from the Rustang woman’s chest and inspected it. Like he had seen earlier, it had a lever on the underside and a trigger like he was accustomed to. He spun around, poking his makeshift spear at anyone who got close. “You ready?”

“Uhhh . . .” is all he got in reply from the lieutenant.

“Drop it!”

The lieutenant lowered her hands and the shield dissipated. As soon as he saw the shimmer fade, Chance leveled the gun at the soldiers directly between him and their own retreating army. He held the trigger and pumped the lever.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Click. Click.

Six soldiers in front of him fell in a heap and didn’t get back up. Chance looked down at the weapon. “I could get USED to this.” One of the leaders in the crowd shouted something in Rustang that he didn’t understand, but when all the soldiers around them leveled their weapons at him, he got the gist. “Shields up!”

As fast as she could manage, Lieutenant Perry raised her hands and resumed the shield. Half a moment later a volley of fire came from all around them. Chance could feel the bullets passing by him and could barely see, the smoke was so thick. The sulfuric snakes returned to his stomach, but only for a moment. A gust of wind picked up and dispersed the smoke, revealing that they were now surrounded by many dead and dying enemy soldiers. “Haha!” Lieutenant Perry yelled, “I can’t believe that worked.”

“Well, we aren’t done yet,” Chance remarked as he leaned over to pick up one of the fallen soldier’s weapons. Armed again, he ran toward the friendly line. When he got close to the next soldiers in his way he said, “Shields down!”

The lieutenant did as asked. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Click.

“Shields up!” The lieutenant raised the shield again.

Chance ran past the soldiers he had just shot and picked up one of their weapons.

This cycle repeated several times until they had almost made it to their own lines. But then, appearing as if from nowhere, directly in their way, stood a massive giant of a man who spun a flail in each hand while approaching them menacingly. He wore plates of metal that didn’t really count as conventional armor, but covered large patches of his body and his head.

The men surrounding them backed away and began to chant something that he could only assume was the massive man’s name. Chance smirked. Finally, a challenge. He leveled the rifle in his hands. “Shields down!” The lieutenant lowered the shield. Chance took aim and pulled the trigger. Click. Uh oh, Chance thought. He pumped the lever and pulled the trigger again. Click.

He had grabbed a weapon without any rounds left in it. The massive man smiled as he approached slowly, having heard the weapon fail to fire. The other enemies backed away to avoid getting crushed by the massive flails he spun with increasing speed. Chance looked around for another weapon nearby, but found nothing. In desperation, he threw the bayoneted rifle like a javelin at the big man. He merely swatted it out of the air with one of the flails and it fell impotently to the floor, smashed beyond usability.

The massive man was so close they could smell him now. Chance looked down at his belt and remembered his single-shot backup pistol. He pulled it out of its holster, cocked the hammer, and quickly shot the giant in the gut. The man didn’t even break stride. He raised his right arm, and brought the flail down on Chance.

déjà vu

The massive man was so close they could smell him now. Chance looked down at his belt and remembered his single-shot backup pistol. He pulled it out of its holster and cocked the hammer. He watched the giant raise his right arm and swing at Chance. He dodged to the right, then the giant’s other flail came in from the side and caught Chance in the hip, shattering his pelvis.

déjà vu

The massive man was so close they could smell him now. Chance looked down at his belt and remembered his single-shot backup pistol. He pulled it out of its holster and cocked the hammer. He watched the giant raise his right arm and swing at Chance. Even though Chance was slowed by the lieutenant-shaped backpack, he deftly dodged into the blow and got inside the giant’s guard. He reached up and under the ill-fitting tunic the giant wore until his hands found something he could grab. He grabbed and twisted, as hard as he could. The giant of a man let out a howl of pain and fell to his knees, head held low. Chance took a step backward and looked his foe in the eye. His face and head were almost completely covered in metal armor. Chance took his pistol, stuck it in the giant’s ear, and pulled the trigger.

Blood, skull, and brains exploded out the other side of the giant’s helmet and he collapsed unceremoniously. The crowd of onlooking Rustang soldiers stood there, gob smacked. They regained their senses, and one of the leaders began shouting something. The soldiers got ready to fire. “Oop, time to go. Shields up!”

He started to run toward their lines again, only this time when he was in visual range of the line, he could make out Shelly still hard at work protecting their platoon. She saw him too and gestured to him with her off-hand. Several of their platoon-mates noticed him as well and ran out to meet them. They parted as Chance ran by and they assumed a defensive posture with their bayonets extended. Chance didn’t stop until he was passed by the Jeranese reinforcements from the rear guard.

As the adrenaline wore off, he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, and Lieutenant Perry hit the ground hard. She let out an audible cry. Chance rolled onto his back and said “Sorry,” as he tried to catch his breath.

Lieutenant Perry sat up and winced. “That was, without a doubt, the stupidest, most bull-headed, half-cocked, idiotic, insane, impulsive, brave, and gallant thing I’ve ever seen.”

Chance sat up to face her. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I think . . .” he said.

“Seriously, thank you,” she said. “You saved my life, and maybe the lives of most if not the whole platoon.” She leaned forward and briefly but firmly kissed him on the lips. She pulled away and Chance was blushing profusely. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that.” She turned red and looked away. “That was inappropriate, I apologize.”

Chance took a moment and touched his lips. “No, it’s ok, it’s adrenaline high,” he said. “Plus, it was nice. Let’s just say you don’t court-martial me for disobeying a direct order, and we call it square, all right?”

“Deal.” And they both lay back on the grass. The sounds of battle still rang out from the distance. But they were too exhausted to care.