---Charge---
---Jaylah’s perspective---
---2686 Terran Calendar/27 years BF---
“I’m ordering you to pull back, Major!” comes the infuriating voice of Brig. Gen. Knotts down the line.
“Due respect, Sir…” I snarl “…I’m Cavalry! These folks here report ta me… not the Army!”
“Maj. Chevalier! Don’t be ridiculous! It’s not the Goddamned 19th Century! You can’t…!”
This point, I hang up the call, not really interested in anything else he might have to say.
I turn to look into the two hundred seven surviving faces of the 1204th Cavalry, standing facing me on the dusty red ground beneath the two blazing suns.
I raise my voice to address them “The Brigadier General has ordered us ta retreat, ladies and gents! Says a cavalry force ain’t got no place on a modern battlefield!”
A muted jeer goes around my riders.
My mouth twists as I wave for quiet and say “Now, now… maybe Knotts’s got a point(!)… Afterall, when we were drafted, we were all assured that we’d only be playin’ a supportin’ role in the Military, weren’t we(!)… ‘Don’t worry!’ they said! ‘Y’all’ll be behind the front lines’ they said! ‘Chances are ya won’t even see a xeno ’fore the Wars out!’ they said! They told us that all we’d be doin’ was runnin’ messages an’ supplies ta Army folks in places where vehicles an’ radios weren’t no good… and we all know how well that turned out, don’t we now(!?)”
My battlehardened riders chuckle, bitterly.
“The Army’s known the xenos’d wiped out those Brits guardin’ the Gorge for five DAYS…” I roar “…FIVE days, and now they say they need another hour ’fore they can get reinforcements here! An hour they ain’t willin’ ta let us buy ’em! NO!… An hour they want bought by those poor bitches an’ sons o’ bitches out in those trenches!… An hour they ain’t gonna be able ta buy! An hour that, if it ain’t bought, will mean those xenos makin’ it ta THAT city behind us!… Forcin’ those Army folks arrivin’ ta shoot at xenos with the folks the UTCM PROMISED safety to ALL around ’em!” I falter for just a moment before I say “An hour we just might be able ta buy ’em…” my tone grim.
My riders all know what I’m asking of them.
“I ain’t gonna order y’all ta die with me… Any o’ ya that considers yer duty done can ride back ta New Canberra with yer heads held high… Fer MY part, I’m ridin’ over that ridge and inta that army and hopin’ I take out as many o’ those bastards as the Good Lord sees fit ta allow! Any o’ y’all that wants ta join me’re welcome ta!”
Every face surrounding me says none of them are taking the offer to ride back.
Every one of these damn fools are gonna follow me into Hell!
“…Alright… Everyone mount UP!”
All except one of my riders turns to make for their horses.
The lone exception is a petite, freckled Latina, coming right for me.
At 5’5’’, Lt. Luz Chimal barely made it into the military at all! A fraction of an inch shorter and she would’ve been below minimum height…
“Luz, I…” I start but my wife doesn’t let me finish before reaching up to rap her fingers over the collar of the light durasteel breastplate I’m wearing, yanking my face the necessary 4 inches down to be able to kiss me.
Tender, vulnerable and frightened while somehow still defiant, fierce and passionate!
If it wasn’t for the circumstances, I’d call this the best kiss of my life!
I wrap her in my arms and briefly wish she wasn’t wearing armor, so I could hold her properly… until I remember what we’re about to do that is…
Finally, her lips part from mine.
She pauses, letting out a shuddering breath, her eyes still closed before saying “Just in case it’s the last chance we get, mi amor…”
“I’ll wait for ya at the Pearly Gates if it is, darlin’…(!)” I reassure her.
She gives a half laugh, half sob then simply says “I love you, Jaylah.”
“I love you too, Luz…” I answer with all the sincerity in the universe.
As much as I want this moment to go on forever, I can see the last of my riders getting up on their mounts.
If, by some miracle, we both survive this, I swear I’m never letting her go after!
We’ll go through the entire rest of our lives standing right by eachother!
For now though…
We break from the embrace and she goes to mount Val.
I turn to my horse.
If you’d told me at my sweet sixteenth that the foal my pappy just gave me’d one day become a Warhorse, I’d’ve laughed in your face… but Ranger’s seen me through all 7 years so far!
He’s probably one of the most combat experienced horses there are by now!
I step into the stirrup and lift myself into the saddle.
Without wasting another moment, I ride to the front.
The 1204th array to either side for the maneuver they’ve only ever done in training, a full frontal charge!
“Let’s ride!” I shout, directing Ranger forward in a canter to set the pace.
This many horses all riding together at this speed sound like thunder!
We crest the ridge, bringing the battle into view.
Tens of thousands of xeno soldiers (crammed together so tight that most of them can’t fire their guns for fear of hitting their comrades) fill the basin between us and the cliffs. The feet of so many beings shroud the entire scene in a haze of red dust.
Behind them, visible in the distance, is the crack in the rock that they managed to get here through from the Jackman Valley after they shelled the force sent to hold it.
I spot the command barge with the gray skinned giant standing on its deck, safely behind the shimmer of an antiballistic field, and aim Ranger in that direction.
A rainbow of lasers and pulses come up from the enemy. The cracks of gunfire answer them from up here in the trenches just ahead of us.
“Trench!” I shout, just in case anyone hasn’t seen.
Ranger leaps across and, from the sound of it, the rest of my riders get over with no problem either.
The confused yelling of the soldiers directly beneath us is the only consequence.
I guess, any rider still wet enough behind the ears to fall into a 6ft wide trench wouldn’t be 1204th material!
The trench cleared, I gee Ranger into a gallop.
There’s maybe a quarter mile between us and the front lines, thirty seconds at this speed.
I draw my revolvers and take a deep breath.
I let out a high pitched scream.
Two hundred seven voices raise to either side of me, joining to my battlecry.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The faces of the xenos in the front ranks are obviously terrified at the spectacle of more than a hundred tons of screaming Human and animal charging toward them.
We draw fire from a huge section of their front lines but, thankfully, it seems like they’re not smart enough to aim for the legs.
Body blows with laser and pulseweapons are definitely not pleasant but, horse or Human, you’d be unlucky to be killed by one!
If they hit our mounts’ legs with a pulse, it might be a different story!
At 150yd, those with rifles open up.
I hear the familiar roar of Luz’s bullpup, some way to my left.
Carnage is unleashed on those at the front as a wall of tungsten and osmium rounds crashes into them!
I’m sparing my rounds for anyone who gets directly in Ranger’s way who looks too big or dangerous for him to simply plow straight through!
I’m still hollering my battlecry, right up to the moment Ranger’s front meets the first xeno.
The 1204th rips through the GU army like a tornado going through flimsy 21st Century construction!
War is not glorious…
No matter how righteous your cause is, at some point every soldier’s got to deal with the reality that War means killing for it! Every soldier’s got to steel themselves against the desperate screams of their enemy, the showers of blood, the din and clamor of battle roaring in your ears as folks from both sides desperately try both to kill and survive!
I see a xeno with a lit plasmablade standing between me and the barge.
I aim a gun between his four eyes and fire, reducing his head to a cloud of orange mist.
Still maintaining some of his momentum from the charge, I’m able to get Ranger to bob and weave through the horde of enemies at the man on that barge, using my guns as sparingly as possible.
Just as I fire the last of the ten rounds from my right gun into a guy who looks like a reptilian minotaur, I see a flash of white light on my left.
I look in time to see that the barrel of that gun is gone and there’s a glowing, molten surface right next to the cylinder!
Immediately, I hurl it over my shoulder and, from the sounds of rounds cooking off behind me, I wasn’t an instant too soon!
Damn!
I was saving those rounds for the Warking!
As good as I definitely am with my whip, I don’t much like the thought of trying to fight someone the height of a Columbian mammoth with just that!
I don’t have time to reload my right while I’m still charging… maybe I can take an instant once I’m up on that barge?
I holster it for the moment and draw my whip with my left hand, using it in place of my guns to strike at those standing in Ranger’s way.
That works great until I notice one of the guns on the side of the command barge being swiveled in my direction.
I try to turn him right but it’s too late.
A blast obliterates the ground in front of him and he goes down.
I’m hurled through the air and hit the ground hard.
My horse is dead but, if I don’t want to join him, the agony of that fact has got to be pushed down for the moment.
I roll to my feet and continue sprinting to that barge through the chaos of this xeno army, my whip still clutched in my left hand.
When I get to its side, I leap up onto it.
I’ve always been agile and climbing the side of this alien vehicle is no problem at all, since they haven’t taken the very obvious step of ensuring it’s smooth and free of handholds!
I swing over the safety railing, passing through the slight resistance of the antiballistic field, but I don’t have a moment to collect myself since 600lbs of Thlundthvugun is already charging at me!
I roll out of the way as he brings a roaring alien blade down, right on where I was.
Wheeling around, I’m just in time to see him recover his weapon and point it at me for a second charge.
My whip streaks forward to crack across the knuckles of his upper right hand, making him roar in pain, arresting his charge’s momentum and opening a wound which causes him to drop the blade.
It immediately melts a hole through the deck between his front legs and disappears.
The man draws back up to a height of about 16ft and sneers down at me, staying just out of the range of my whip.
His species are right up with Threndians as some of the ones you least want to get into a brawl with!
Eight thick limbs, a pair of tusks on the side of his face and the temperament of a pissed off rodeo bull in battle… even with a whip I’m not really liking my odds.
I notice two of the scarlet scaled Snake types standing (as much as they can ‘stand’ without legs) behind him… Great(!) Gotta make it through this fight in a fit state to then deal with two Class 9s!
His lip curls and he rumbles “Grondthuluron, Turrathu…” in a deep, gravelly voice “…Dorduthvunul thlontumotvo.”
I sneer right back at him and answer “’Fraid I don’t speak Ugly Bastard, ya ugly bastard(!)”
He grunts before charging forward right for me again, down on all eight now.
My whip cracks against his lower face but just misses his bluey-green eyes.
Nevertheless, the pain makes him wince long enough for me to get out of his way.
The microsecond I’ve got out of the range of his arms, I wheel to lay a second crack across his back, opening up the fabric as a long streak of blue blood shows up beneath.
He bellows in pain and swings a heavy arm in my direction, missing me by quite a way.
He stands back up, turns to me and, this time using his upper arms to try and guard his giant head, thunders towards me with his lowers outstretched to grapple me.
I let him know what I think of his guard by sending the tip of my whip right through the narrow gap between his forearms.
It hits a right eye, blinding it.
The howl of agony he lets out might have me feeling a little sorry for him if it weren’t for everything I know this monster’s done!
The next 40 seconds pass in a similar way with the now three eyed man desperately trying to get close enough to get his hands on me and me dancing around him, laying wound after wound on him with my whip.
That is until I lay a crack across his forearm… which ends up curling into his meaty palm just in time for him to grab it!
With an irresistible yank, he wrenches my weapon out of my hands and tosses it over the side of the barge.
I don’t hesitate before running aftward, for the passage between the cockpit and the starboard side.
Without my whip, I need a moment to reload my remaining gun! I just…
I feel fat fingers wrap around the back of my neck.
*Boom* is the sound of me being slammed into the deck, hard enough to knock the wind out of me!
He lifts me up by the shoulders to slam me down again, then a third time.
Wheezing as I gasp for air through the (I’m pretty sure) broken ribs, I feel his irresistibly strong upper arms gather my wrists over my head and pull me into the air by them.
His lower arms slam me into the side wall of the cockpit and pound me into it again and again.
Without my armor, I’d definitely already be dead.
Then he stops…
I feel his enormous hands grasp my sides and pivot me around to face him.
He notices my remaining gun and contemptuously rips it off my hip to toss behind him off the barge.
Pressing me into the wall, several feet off the ground, he brings my arms down to pin them to my sides.
Still struggling to breathe, there’s nothing I can do as I watch his lower right arm withdraw from my left and go to his belt, drawing a gigantic combat knife.
He points the tip to his destroyed right eye and says “Turvlogon…” then at my left “…vruvlogon!”
The metal blade flashes across my face.
I want to scream but I still don’t have any air in my lungs so all that comes out is a hoarse wheeze.
The pain is worse than anything I’ve ever felt!
It radiates out from the destroyed eye to make it feel like that whole side of my face is on fire!
Hot blood pours from the uncauterized wound and I’m already feeling my consciousness slipping from that, the pain, and the lack of air!
The world slows down as my adrenal gland dumps out it’s contents onto my nervous system.
My mind is quiet of all the noise I never notice until those moments it’s gone, desperately using every last grain of cognitive power to figure out how not to die.
Then I catch sight of where his left thigh is.
I kick my right leg forward, turn my toes to my left and stab the spur on the back of my heel into his leg.
It easily sinks into the flesh, causing him to yell and drop me the nearly 6ft back to the deck.
By rights, I ought to crumple to the floor with all the damage I’ve sustained in the last 20 seconds but, still running on adrenaline, I’m able to take advantage of the distraction by rolling through the giant’s four legs to my left, his right.
With no gun left, I reach for the last weapon I have available to me.
Down at the bottom of the belt pouch where I kept my whip is a second length of rope, one I’ve never actually used in a battle.
I pull out my lasso.
The tusked giant turns to me and lets out a pretty unmistakable chuckle.
“Gorthlunutuvl-” is as far as he gets before the loop I’ve thrown passes over his tusks and head, closing around his neck.
I leap out from the side of the barge, holding the spoke end, causing the honda to cut into his thick neck as I swing around him over the 30ft drop to the ground, and he struggles to keep his feet.
As soon as I touch down behind him I leap up to his back, keeping all my weight on the rope.
His lower arms are trying to dislodge me but they don’t bend right to be able to reach.
His uppers are preoccupied trying to claw at the rope around his neck.
I’m bracing for him to slam his back into the wall or fall down on top of me but he doesn’t.
His front legs are the first to give out, which causes him to fall forward onto the deck and me to land on top of him.
His back arches upwards in a desperate attempt to reduce the distance between his neck and my hands.
In answer, I place my bootheel between his shoulderblades and push him back down, pulling the rope tighter and tighter.
Finally, the tension is released and I fall backwards onto my ass.
Across the gigantic limp body, I’m able to see an enormous tusked head rolling across the deck and leaving a trail of blue blood behind it.
I pick myself up, gingerly because of the broken ribs, partially collapsed lungs and gouged eye.
I’m just in time to see the Snakes appearing from the front of the ship.
The woman looks at her decapitated commander, outraged, and turns her poisonous green eyed face up to me before shrieking, slithering towards me.
Welp! This is it! I can barely stand and I do not have the energy to fight these two off anymore!
Sorry Luz… gonna have to meet you at the Pearly Gates…
“Srassalo! Kvathahasz si’azzalak! Thalszviaka!!!” screams the Snake woman in accusation.
The man following behind her looks fairly composed by comparison as he reaches to the belt around his… gonna call it a ‘waist’, and draws a pulsepistol.
Then… he does the absolute last thing I would’ve expected!
Instead of pointing the barrel at me, he casually extends it to the back of the woman’s head.
There’s a muted *fwoom* of the weapon being discharged and her skull is instantly the wrong shape.
She remains upright for a brief moment before her muscle tension releases and she collapses to the deck alongside her superior.
I turn my ungouged eye to the Snake man, confused.
He tosses the gun at my feet and splays his weird, two thumbed palms in the air, unmistakably surrendering.
“Salasski, Tirran…” he says, calmly, then pointing a finger up to the section of the deck on top of the cockpit to my left, asking “…Kviakss ssi? Sirralsa sfviaz?”
Not able to tell what he’s asking to do but certain I wouldn’t be able to stop him right now, I grunt a ‘go ahead’ and he turns to slither away, round the corner.
I hobble after him, picking my way between the bodies of the people we just killed, going slowly from my injury.
As soon as I clear the cockpit, I turn my head up and to the left, just catching the end of his fingers working some panel in front of him.
He opens his mouth and a neutrally accented male English voice booms out of the barge and fills the entire valley.
“Attention all Galactic Union and United Terran Coalition forces: This is Sandcrosser Ssafazaoz and, as of moments ago, I became the highest ranking officer in this army. I am hereby ordering all Galactic Union soldiers to lay down their arms and surrender themselves to the forces of the UTC! I repeat, lay down your arms and surrender yourselves to the forces of the UTC!…”
I half laugh, half sob with the relief of hearing those words.
I look out in the direction I came from and see the men and women of the 1204th Cavalry… hoping to give a triumphant wave to my wife before I collapse.
I frown.
I don’t see her…
Oh! There she is!
No… that’s just Valiente… without Luz riding him…?
At this point my legs give out and I hit the deck, only able to look at the sky until I lose consciousness.
---2715 Terran Calendar/2 years AF---
I come down the stairs in my apartment, just wearing my skivvies and a tee since it’s been a long day of work and chores and I’m about ready for bed.
Just need to relax with a little music practice first.
I open up the cupboard and reach for the bass I played at Mudaliar’s funeral but then stop myself.
I reach next to it and pick up the acoustic guitar instead.
I walk it over to the couch, open up the case and take it out.
I sit down, bring it across my lap and start to tune it.
I look up at the wall where I’ve hung a picture of the woman whose guitar I’m about to play.
I smile up at the freckled face and say “I met a girl recently, Luz… She reminds me a lot of you…”
I start plucking out a heartbreaking melody.