No Lords Here

“Krudeshi! You stand condemned in the sight of lords and gods! Your place upon the path is forfeit!”
Tuka ‘Refum covered the last stretch of open ground with a desperate sprint. He threw himself behind a sliver of rocks just beneath the human bunker’s firing zone. His hearts hammered inside his chest. The grassy plains around him were littered with Sangheili corpses—the first wave of Kru’desh fodder thrown at the human defenses. Gunfire rent the air around him and glanced off his shields. He wanted to duck lower behind cover. That might save him from the human heavy weapons.
It would save Tuka but doom the rest of his lance now caught on the corpse-strewn field. They’d risked themselves covering his advance with a torrent of plasma fire. Now it was his turn.
“The penalty for your crimes is death! Spend your lives in the service of the Didact’s Hand and the gods may show mercy!”
Tuka’s storm rifle spat blue fire into the heavy position. One human Marine emerged over the sandbags, rifle sweeping for the Sangheili who’d slipped through the firing line. A chance plasma shot struck him square in the head. Gods be praised. Gods have mercy.
Shouts rose over the thundering gunfire. Ier ‘Barun urged the rest of the lance forward. A handful of desperate Sangheili and Unggoy wouldn’t last long against the human guns. Tuka’s paltry covering fire wouldn’t save them. In another moment they would join the mangled Kru’desh bodies on the field.
“Strike down the infidels! Cast yourselves into the fire and cleanse your sins!”
Tuka tried to shut out the accusing voice bellowing across the field. Kul ‘Vellun, the Kru’desh commander, blasted pious incitements from the same Phantoms that would gun down any krudeshi foolish enough to retreat before the enemy. ‘Vellun was no true servant of the gods. He did not care how many condemned warriors perished as long as they accomplished their mission and opened a hole in the human lines.
“Gods defend me!” The prayer burst unbidden from Tuka’s mandibles. He leaped to his feet and rushed the human position. Startled cries rose from the gun team. Hasty shots glanced off Tuka’s shields. His second-rate armor would only hold another moment. His death-fate could arrive at any moment. My life for the others! He had no choice.
His rifle cut down the first human he saw only to sputter and die in his hands as the plasma charge malfunctioned. Tuka cursed the shoddy craftwork and primed his last plasma grenade. The blazing orb plunged into human position and erupted in searing fire. Heat engulfed Tuka’s body and he fell to the hard earth.
Desperate, bloody humans emerged from the smoke. One Marine, his armor scorched and melted, trained a scatter gun on Tuka. The young warrior stared at the battle and fought back a plea for mercy. At least he could die well.
And then Ier ‘Barun slammed into the human. The larger warrior had no energy sword—no lowly krudeshi was permitted that honor—or even a wrist blade. He rammed a serrated curveblade through the human’s throat as the rest of the lance surged into the fighting pit. One Unggoy cried out in pain and fell wounded. Another Marine loomed from the pit, weapon raised to finish the wretched creature off.
Tuka found his strength. He pushed himself back into the fray, throwing his body between the human and her intended target. His plasma pistol was in his hands. He fired twice and the human joined the rest of her squad at the bottom of the pit.
“Reckless fool,” Ier growled. He dragged Tuka down into cover. The other Unggoy hurried to help their wounded brother. “Stop trying to throw your life away!”
“I live,” Tuka pointed out. Yes, somehow he was still alive. “The gods were with me.”
Ier gave a derisive snort. Tuka looked to the rest of the lance and tried to count the survivors. “How many did we lose this time?”
His friend paused. “None.”
“That cannot be right.” Every Kru’desh charge was a bloodbath. Tuka had survived the loss of three full lances before fate brought him into Ier’s team. Their last assault cost them half their number.
“We have a full count.” Ier wrenched the mangled human gun from its station and turned it on the next enemy position down the line. The rest of the lance took up positions inside the fighting position. “Thanks to your maneuver. You are more capable than I first thought.”
A human taught it to me. Tuka let that comment go unspoken. Ier might not understand. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“This battle isn’t won yet.” A Wraith mortar tore open a nearby hill. The fighting must have shifted if ‘Vellun was dispatching valuable armor to the field. Another blast of false piety echoed out from the Phantoms.
“Silence, cur!” The injured Unggoy shook a fist at the sky. He offered such a convincing impression of Kul ‘Vellun himself that Tuka could not restrain a laugh. The Unggoy ducked his head, embarrassed. “Thank you for saving me, lord.”
“There are no lords here.” Ier fired a burst from the human machine gun. “Only krudeshi.”
He was right of course. They were all condemned warriors. If they survived this charge, the next would claim their lives. Or the one after that, or the one after that. But Tuka was still alive. His friends were still alive. Friends—were there such things among the Kru’desh?
Tuka chose to believe their were. He set his shoulder alongside his friends and threw himself back into the furious battle.
Category:The Weekly