He Was Sorynn

“Objective secured!” yelled B’Scorak. “Everyone, check in!”
“Ah, I’m uninjured!” I said.
“I’m alive!” said D’Dhenn.
“I’m over here, I’m okay!” Oyi said.
“I’m good!” notified Gir.
“Agh… those bastards shot me!” warned Sorynn.
I went to Sorynn, and applied some medi-gel and a bandage to his plasma wound, which was on his lower right abdomen. We looked at each other. He made a solemn grin and nodded at me. “Thanks, friend,” he said.
“Where’s the observer?!” shouted Cmdr. B’Scorak.
Oyi shuffled to him.
“Call in chemical artillery, do it!”
“Headquarters, this is Nurian Squad! Requesting chemical artillery rounds on the following coordinates, authorization code trel-nak-vavam-zero-seven-zero-seven! How copy, over?”
“Nurian Squad, this is Headquarters,” said a dispassionate voice. “Request confirmed. Chemical rounds outgoing. Hope it’s helpful. Over.”
From far down the avenue, around the corner came a Xyphonite siege tank. Behind it was a column of those multi-hinged aliens with blue cuirasses and plasma weapons, and following them quivered a horde of their lackeys, some with shields and raptor-like, while others looked scrawny and weak, but were vast in number. They edged their way up the promenade, itself scattered with the occasional wreckage of a civilian vehicle. The large, ancient buildings flanking the street were burned out, bombed out, or just generally in ruins.
“D’Dhenn, hit that vehicle now!” ordered B’Scorak.
“Yes, sir!” D’Dhenn yelled. She raised her anti-vehicle rocket launcher. “Feel me!” she uttered before firing. The rocket screamed from the launcher, and in less than a second it divided into four separate warheads midair, and they all screamed towards the target. Two seconds passed, then all four rockets struck true. They steered clear of the vehicle before quickly turning back, slamming down on the tank from above and the sides. The vehicle exploded, and scores of Xyphonite forces were flung every which way from the force of the blast. “You see that, Keleon?!” she said to me. “Pow!”
“Open fire!” ordered B’Scorak.
Gir, who carried the squad support energy weapon, laid down heavy fire all along the avenue.
I, along with the rest of my squad, joined in the engagement. I drained my energy magazine of its charge, and necessitated a reload. I had counted five of the tall Xyphonites had fallen to me before the reload. Return fire from the xenos screamed above and around our heads.
“Woah!!!” exclaimed Gir. By now he had run out of charge on his substantially large magazine. “Goddamn piece of shit!” he cried out as he began to reload. One plasma bolt from a xeno rifle grazed him on the right shoulder. “Ah! Ugh…!” He crouched down behind a neo-concrete barrier. “I’m still alive, you amateurs!” he yelled, hoping the xenos would hear him.
“I’m throwing a grenade!” I said, hurling one after activating the detonation sequence. It fell in front of a group of Xyphonites. Several managed to duck, while others behind them were unaware of the danger and pushed on. The grenade exploded with a bright flash of green light, sending out white-hot shrapnel and a forceful concussive wave. Scores more aliens were killed by it.
Then, the chemical rounds came screaming in. One landed right in the middle of the street, where numerous Xyphonites had taken cover behind vehicle wreckage.
“Masks on, masks on!” ordered B’Scorak. We did so, pressing a button on the neck guards of our armor. The plasteel masks quickly and automatically enveloped our faces and muzzles.
I glanced over and saw everyone swiftly have their masks equipped. However, Sorynn was sluggish in movement. As I went to him to aid him, crouched behind a barrier, he was struck by enemy fire in the shoulder. It came from a beam rifle, and smashed through his personal shields. The beam made a clean line through his body. As his side faced the enemy, it passed from one shoulder, across his chest, and out the other. The noise he made was sickening, like a mix of a gurgle and a scream that he attempted to muffle out of pride.
“Casualty, casualty!” I yelled out.
“C’mon, he was on countdown!” said D’Dhenn. Now, ‘countdown’ is a term used in the Imperial military for personnel who are approaching the end of their tour and/or term of service. Many tend to count down to the days, hours, or even minutes, when they are scheduled to depart the front. Sorynn was a volunteer, and he was due to return home for a respite in two days.
I looked over at the Xenophytes. Many were choking in the gas, itself an eerie bright orange color. They hacked up blood and bile, and collapsed onto the ground. Those little Xenophytes who had worn masks already due to being unable to breathe most forms of atmosphere quickly panicked as their leaders fell before them.
“You killed your last Erdellian, xenos!” cried out Gir. He opened fire on the little Xenophytes, and cut down many. Then, he ran out of charge on his second magazine, but not uttering a pained, wrathful scream.
“Alright, they’re falling back!” said B’Scorak. Indeed, what Xenophytes had survived their ill-fated assault withdrew from engaging us.
Later that day, when our forces secured the city, we watched as Sorynn’s body was placed into a black bag, his name, rank, serial number, and place of origin written on the side. B’Scorak motioned the medics to refrain from closing the bag, as we gathered around him one last time.
“You did well, soldier,” said B’Scorak.
“Fly on home, battle-brother,” said D’Dhenn.
“I will remember you,” uttered Gir.
“At least he died for a good cause,” commented Oyi.
At first I said nothing, simply staring at Sorynn’s now peaceful face, his eyes closed. Had I not seen him shot, I would mistake his for a temporary sleep.
“Nothing to say, Bryndaryn?” asked B’Scorak. “He talked to you the most.”
Admittedly, I knew little about Sorynn. Until I saw the information on his bag, I did not know where he came from, what he did for a living before this war, or even his first name. All I knew was that he was Sorynn, he liked video games, alcoholic spirits distilled from fruits, men, and drawing, and he was the shortest in his family. All that contributed to my sorrow towards his passing.
“Goodbye, my friend,” I said with a slightly pained voice.
Category:The Weekly