Terran history was filled with examples of armies forced to withdraw under fire. Xenophon and the Ten Thousand. Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow. Dunkirk. The Tharsis Death March on Mars. Examples of soldiers in rags, disease-ridden, exhausted, demoralized, facing attacks on every side, without hope, focused solely on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to get home.
Rúna wondered if they had felt like she did now; scared, hurting, spent, parched, filled with sorrow. She was betting they had. Humans had changed little over the centuries. Technology had changed, knowledge had expanded, but people? Still the same petty, callow, vindictive, selfish assholes they’d always been.
Only as she looked around at the men and women surrounding her, what she really felt was honored. Proud of this battalion, who despite being outnumbered and outgunned had faced the enemy with courage. Proud to be Terran, the unwanted mongrels of the galaxy who had survived everything the Fates could dish out and still stood defiant.
But most of all, she was proud of this squad. Of her family. It almost made her forget the pain.
Almost.
The weight of her helmet pulled her head down as she struggled to balance her rifle on her trussed-up arm, the wound sending spikes of agony coursing through her body with every jolt. It made an interesting counterpoint to the dull ache in her spine and lats, weighted down with all the ammunition she could carry and leaving her hunchbacked. The blisters on her feet had popped somewhere during the march, adding their own sweet strings of torment as dirt and sweat ground at them like sandpaper, leaving bloody raw meat in their wake.
She was supposed to be leading her team. She was supposed to be watching her sector for the enemy. But after thirty plus hours without sleep, after being pushed to the breaking point and beyond, the only thing left she could concentrate on was moving forward.
Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Over and over and over again.
Behind them she could hear Jericho playing itself out. The last of the Havoc aircraft had flown overhead an hour or so prior, dropping full loads onto the enemy, but she hadn’t seen a return flight. Something told her she wouldn’t be. She could still hear a couple of Centurions battling it out now and then with the Legion armor, but they wouldn’t last much longer. And after a massive barrage, the artillery had slowed down to a mere trickle. That was it. It was down to their rifles now, and with their new position almost in sight, she prayed they could reach it before the enemy caught up to them.
Arthur stumbled beside her, and she reached out to steady him as best she could. He mumbled something that might have been thanks, but he was in no better shape than the rest of them. Somewhat worse, in fact, seeing how he wasn’t born into it like the rest of them. Military training started early in the Valkyries, and while it wasn’t quite what the legendary Spartans inflicted on their children, the physical conditioning paid dividends when they formally joined a battalion as adults.
“We’re almost there,” Kai said over the radio, startling her, “it’s just past the next bend.”
She was staring at the same helmet display he was, and she bloody well knew that already, but then he wasn’t giving her a status update. He was trying to keep their morale up, to help them dig down and find whatever reserves of strength they still had left, showing them that the promised land was nearly at hand.
Are we really that deluded? she wondered, That desperate? Were they all so far gone that the only thing keeping them going was the hope of brief respite and a modicum of protection?
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure from another squad collapse face first into the dirt. Those around him struggled to hoist him back up, dragging him along as they resumed their slow plod forward.
The ironic timing was not lost on her.
... Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot….
“... Rúna!”
She blinked, staggering to a halt. “Huh? What?” The corporal goggled, shaking her head in confusion as she tried to get her bearings. And why had they stopped? Where had Kai come from? She checked the GPS and…
… wait… that couldn’t be right.
“You went full zombie on me,” Kai told her, grabbing her by the shoulders. “I’ve been calling your name for the last five minutes.” She stared, still struggling to process. “We’re here,” he said with a weary smile. “We made it.”
Oh. She’d dissociated. It happened sometimes, especially on long marches or doing tedious repetitive tasks. The brain took a quick break and checked out, leaving the body running on autopilot. When you came back, there was a chunk of missing time you had no memories for. It was unnerving at first, but you got used to it. On a trek like this one, you actually hoped for it. It meant a brief respite from the pain.
Letting her arms go limp, she sloughed off her ruck, letting it fall to the ground. She struggled to focus on what Kai was saying, though he wasn’t doing much better himself. None of them were. Tawfiq’s skin looked gray, his eyes haggard, obviously exhausted from lugging the machine gun. Rivka was swaying on her feet, punch drunk, while Becca was fighting with some shrubs… literally fighting, like someone had spilled her beer. Rúna was fairly sure the scout was hallucinating. And judging by the way Doc was flitting about, he’d likely dipped into his stores of amphetamines, while Arthur had already collapsed to the ground and passed out.
They were in no shape to order lunch, let alone fight another battle.
But the enemy was still coming, whether or not they were ready. She turned her weary eyes to Kai, and asked, “Orders?”
“Dig in, as best you can,” he shrugged. “Try to get some rest. And be ready. They’ll be here soon.”
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She sketched a ragged salute, then turned and kicked Arthur. He didn’t move, so she kicked him again. One bleary eye pried itself open, pleading with her to let him rest.
“Dig in,” she told him, pulling out her own entrenching tool, “and don’t fall back asleep.” He nodded absently, then closed the eye and started snoring. It took three more kicks to get him on his feet and moving before she made her way to Becca.
“... goddamn it bitch, I told you to move!” Becca snarled, taking a swing at the bush. Rúna poked her in the shoulder, provoking her to turn around and face her. “What?” she shouted.
Lacking the time for anything fancy, she hauled off and punched her in the face. Surprised, Becca stumbled back, her arms windmilling for balance, as she abruptly landed on her ass with a whoof of expelled air. She blinked, shaking her head, before looking up in confusion.
“You were arguing with a hedge,” the corporal sighed. “Grab a shovel and dig in.” It took a few more seconds for her to process, and then with a drained nod slowly pushed herself back up to her feet, before stumbling off to do her bidding. Limping back to her own position, she knelt down and started scratching at the dirt. The ground was sandy here, less rocky, which made for easier digging, but as loose as the soil was, the low walls of their foxholes kept collapsing. It sapped what little strength they still had left, shoveling out a blade of dirt only to have two more drift back in. The holes slowly grew wider, but not much deeper.
They all managed to grab a brief nap, taking turns, but as short as it was, it left them even more disoriented. The sounds of battle drew steadily closer, the Centurions and mortars giving it their all before they too fell silent. As the echoes of the last explosion drifted away, a grim realization settled in on them.
They were all that was left.
The enemy must have sensed how few remained, how bad their situation truly was, yet strangely they seemed to hold back. The squad waited, their weapons at the ready, but there was no sign of the enemy. It made no sense. It wasn’t like they’d be stopping them at this point.
The Colonel’s message explained the anomaly with brutal clarity.
The sound of his voice in her headset started Rúna awake. “The is Warlord Six to all personnel,” he announced, sounding no better than they did themselves. “We have just received flash traffic from Fiddler. Message follows.”
They looked to one another in confusion while he paused. They’d all but forgotten about Fiddler’s Green up in orbit, ever since they’d taken the enemy ships out of the equation by muddying up the atmosphere. What could they possibly have to report now?
“Message reads,” he continued, “quote; ‘Smoke Screen is dissipating. Unable to restore. Enemy vessels preparing for planetary bombardment’.”
A collective moan escaped their throats, as the ramifications of that simple statement hit them like a meteor. No wonder the enemy wasn’t attacking. They’d lost hundreds already fighting the Valkyries, and by now they had to be feeling the pinch. It wouldn’t have surprised her to learn that more than one of the mercenary outfits they were facing collapse, just like them. Letting their ships finish the job would preserve the warriors they had left, instead of exposing them to their fire.
And like the adage said, nuking them from orbit was the only way to be sure.
Not that they’d use actual nukes, of course; too great a risk of contaminating their prize. Nor was it necessary, not when kinetic rounds would do the job just as well without radiation. Whether they used specially prepared metallic rods or chunks of asteroid scavenged from the system, once they were accelerated to orbital speeds they’d devastate anything on the ground. Nothing could survive that kind of barrage.
“The crew of Fiddler’s Green has offered to give battle to the enemy vessels,” he continued, allowing them a moment of hope before dashing it completely. “I have ordered them instead to withdraw, as they are both outnumbered and outgunned. Any attack by them would be certain to fail, without significantly altering the outcome.”
Rúna winced, closing her eyes and turning away. He was right; she knew he was right, but fuck it hurt to hear. Something broke in the colonel’s voice, as he prepared to give what was likely to be his final orders.
“I know you’re tired. Many of you are wounded.” She glanced down at her blood-spattered sleeve as he continued. “I know that I have asked more from you during this operation than I ever have in the past, and I know that many of you are ready to surrender to despair, but still I ask, one last time, to attack.”
“...is he serious?” Arthur asked, incredulous, voicing the same thoughts she had herself. She shushed him as the colonel went on.
“There is no place on this world we can run to where they won’t find us,” Colonel Holme reminded them, “and while they might be unwilling to risk the bombing near the bay, with their numbers on the ground they could still easily destroy us. There is only a single course of action left to us that gives us even the smallest chance… and that is to close ranks with the enemy and fight them on their own terrain. Grab them by the belt and don’t let go.”
Her jaw dropped as she realized what he was proposing. If they could get close enough, intermingle themselves with the enemy, then their ships wouldn’t dare risk bombing their own troops. It was a plan born of desperation, but he was right.
It was all they had left.
“I know what it is I ask,” he told them, “and I know the odds facing us. They still outnumber us on the ground, but our chances are a hell of a lot better against them than they are against their ships.” An odd timbre came over his voice as he spoke again.
“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,” the colonel entreated them, the ancient words sounding odd and stilted to her ear, but the sentiment behind them was clear as vacuum. “My officers and I will lead this attack, and when the dust settles no one will question the bravery of the Valkyries. May Holy Mother Terra bless you all… and Semper Fi!” They stared at one another in stunned amazement as he signed off.
There was silence as they each digested his orders until finally Doc spoke up. “What he’s talking about… it’s madness,” he said with revulsion. “What’s the point? Why not just stay here and wait for the end?”
“If I’m going to die, I’d rather die standing up,” Rivka said quietly. Tawfiq wrapped a protective arm around her, nodding in silent agreement.
“Maybe it is madness,” Kai answered, addressing each of them, “but they are also our orders, and we are going to follow them.”
“Or what?” Becca demanded. “You’ll shoot us? At least that would be quick.” She scowled, crossing her arms in resentment and frustration.
Their squad leader just shook his head. “You’d abandon us now, here at the end, when we need you most? You’d forsake your own family?” he asked her. There was an air of melancholy about him, but not a trace of anger. Just sadness and disappointment.
The scout glared at him at first, but she couldn’t maintain it for long. Finally, she crumpled, bowing her head in submission. “... I’ll go,” she whispered.
One by one they nodded until their eyes rested on Arthur. “I... didn’t think it would be like this,” he said helplessly.
“Neither did I,” Rúna told him, “but here we are.”
He looked down at his feet. “I’m scared,” he whispered.
Sergeant Kai walked over and rested his palm on the private’s shoulder. “Me too,” he admitted. Arthur’s head snapped up, staring at him in shock. “Don’t look so surprised, we’re all scared,” he told him. His eyes darted about, looking at each of them, and none tried hiding how they truly felt. “Use that fear, kid,” he advised him, “stoke those flames, and let them scorch the sky.” Arthur took a deep breath, nodding once more, as Becca turned to Rúna.
“You haven’t said much,” she pointed out. “Where do you stand?”
Hefting her rifle, she checked the chamber, before letting the bolt slam forward. Her lip curled with a dismissive sneer. “Come on, you apes,” she told them.
“... you want to live forever?”