Treacherous Terrain

“I think we have found ourselves in somewhat of a precarious situation, sir,” stated Ythar.
“What makes you say that, Ythar?” I asked.
“Well, sir,” began the Minor, “we seem to be progressing at a slow speed, too slow to reach our rendezvous point at our designated time, which will pass in approximately… six minutes.” Indeed, what was left of our company was hobbling down a desolate, destroyed road to a small supply depot, where we were expected to regroup for further instructions. However, due to friendly fire, we suffered numerous casualties. “Sir… we will not be able to reach the rendezvous point in time. Sir?”
“I am aware of this, Ythar,” I replied.
“I see, sir. Are you… are you not concerned by this?”
“No.”
“I see.”
There was silence for some time, not a soul among us speaking as the sound of our solemn, fatigued marching was one of the few noises thrown across the burnt grain fields that the large roadway cut through, connecting one urban center with another on this Human planet. The city we departed some time ago was in its death throes, the once-shining steel and glass towers crying out in agony as they were felled by plasma bombardment. The orgy of violence was now distant, but its haunting noises taunted us yet still.
I looked to my left, and saw Mik.
“How are you feeling, Mik?” I asked.
“I don’t want to talk,” he uttered in a low voice.
“Okay.”
“It’s just… I found a friend in this warrior from Lance 2. Dran. Dran… Hmm, I didn’t ask for his surname. Damn. Anyway, I liked him.”
“Lance 2 was caught in the plasma bombardment, you know.”
“I know.”
Six minutes later, like clockwork, Ythar spoke.
“Sir,” he began, “my timepiece tells me that we have officially passed the deadline for the rendezvous, and are now late. No doubt our regimental commander will be quite livid with our tardiness, especially since we must adhere to the timetable the Supreme Commander has laid out for our operations on this planet.”
“Your thoughts on this matter are noted, Minor,” I uttered through my grinding teeth.
Ultimately, I was following the orders of our company commander, Esin ‘Ithosee. I shared in his outrage at the grave mistake our superiors made, subjecting a sector populated with Covenant troops to plasma bombardment without due warning. What madness! As a protest of such a blatant mistake, ‘Ithosee ordered us to proceed at a slower pace than we should have, and he guaranteed that he and he alone would bear full responsibility for any reprimand.
We were not at all close to our rendezvous point when I looked behind me, and noticed Ythar stirring uncomfortably, looking to and fro, clearly uneasy. I sighed.
“What ails you, Ythar?” I asked.
“I do not relish in disobeying orders,” replied the bookish warrior. I noticed several heads turned to look at him, if briefly. I rolled my eyes.
“We are not disobeying orders, Ythar. We are following that of our company commander. Is that so difficult to comprehend?”
“I… Um… I prefer not to be late to any sort of rendezvous, sir.”
Something in me just snapped, I know not what. I quickly turned around, pointing my finger at Ythar, right in his face, stopping the minor in his tracks. The other warriors were surprised by this sudden movement, and briefly stopped, staring. Mik was quick to appear by my side. Fear flooded Ythar’s eyes, and he leaned back, for my finger was so close to his face, he could do little else but recoil, lest it make contact with him. For some time, I said nothing, before letting out a few words. “You will hold your tongue.” I turned right back around and continued moving forward, and everyone else followed suit. I heard him tinkering with some sort of device he no doubt retrieved from a large pack he carried on his back, perhaps as a way of calming down.
After an hour of travel, we reached our rendezvous point. The depot was bustling with activity, defensive turrets placed at strategic points, and Phantoms landing and departing at frequent, regular intervals. Logistics personnel hurried from here to there, ferrying supplies to needy warriors on the frontlines. Our regimental commander, Sabac ‘Qavashee looked utterly livid. We all stood at attention before him, including ‘Ithosee.
“What is the meaning of this, Captain ‘Ithosee?!” barked ‘Qavashee.
“I guided my company as quickly as I could to our rendezvous point, sir,” said ‘Ithosee.
“Not quickly enough! We have awaited you for over an hour! Scanners indicated your company did not engage any enemy forces from the time you departed the city to right now.”
“The terrain was treacherous, sir.”
“You were on a highway, on flat ground!”
“I instructed my warriors to be cautious, for we did not know if there were ambushes, traps, or land mines placed by the Humans on the road.”
“And these… these land mines… are they the reason for your reduced numbers? I see you are short an entire lance, and many more of your other lances are depleted.”
“No sir. We suffered losses due to friendly fire from the plasma bombardment, in Sector Z-24, of which we received no prior warning.”
‘Qavashee fell silent, darting his vision between ‘Ithosee and what was left of our company. “Take up defensive positions at this depot,” said our regimental commander. “I will put in a request for replacements to alleviate your losses. Dismissed.”
‘Qavashee returned to a command post in a small structure in the center of the depot.
“You heard the man!” yelled ‘Ithosee. “Set up positions! Go!”
After several minutes, Basab and his fellow Unggoy had set up several barriers and a Type-27 Anti Infantry Stationary Gun for our lance, and we took up positions at such defenses. Mik mounted the turret, while I leaned against the barrier.
“We dodged a plasma bolt, no?” said Mik.
“Hmm… not all of us.”
Category:The Weekly