The fighting had been gruelling, and extensive. Instead of the quick shock attack and rapid victory, they had been pinned down by an enemy far more organised than they had expected. The squad had been separated from the rest of the unit, who kept in distant touch via the vox connection, which was shaky at best. The crackling noise was lost underneath the more pressing sound of gunfire and explosions.
Polonus and Taran peered around the scrap of building they were using for cover, taking a glance at the approaching enemy. There were rather a lot of them and only four squad members left. Although falling back did not sit well with any of them, it seemed like the only choice they currently had. Polonus gestured for the other two, Solabus and Viras to begin the move back to the rest of the company. There was no argument.
The moment the others moved back, Polonus open fired at the oncoming enemy. Taran did the same. The noise cut off everything else. A wave of aliens fell under their fire. He did not stop shooting. For a moment, it looked as though everything was going to go according to plan. The sound of bolter fire behind them made him stop firing. A quick signal to Taran and it was their turn to move backwards. Bursts of fire shot over their heads as they darted back behind their brothers. When they had covered a decent distance, they turned, aimed and fired at the approaching enemy.
Disaster struck on the third rotation. They had been seen by their reinforcements, who were taking aim, allowing the four of them to move back to the rest of second company. It was in the final moments that a huge explosion churned up the earth below them all. Taran took the brunt of the blast; Polonus watched as his brother was flung like nothing more than a ragdoll into the air. The ceramite plates were bent into interesting shapes; he could see blood glistening on the dark blue plates. He landed awkwardly on the floor. Taran did not move.
The screams of his brothers echoed around him as Polonus darted to his fallen comrade. He was at his side in moments, looking for any sign of life. He was no apothecary, that role belonged to his fallen friend, "I didn't give you leave to rest," he muttered. He screwed up his fist and hit it against the mangled chest piece of his friend's armour. There was no movement, Polonus had seen battle-brothers die from less grievous wounds and an unfamiliar sensation washed through him.
Viras appeared at his side, "We'll drag him back," he said. Polonus nodded and gripped his left shoulder plate in his gauntleted hand. Viras took the right and together, they managed to haul the prone apothecary back to the awaiting transport. The sound of gunfire ceased. Taran had not moved since he had been dumped on the floor. Viras moved off leaving Polonus alone.
"Come on!" he hissed, not willing to accept that his long term friend and brother was going to expire because of some heretic's grenade, "No time for resting," he said. He gave Taran's shoulder guard a shake for effect.
There was a groan. Taran's hand twitched, "Heard you the first time," he muttered in a cracked voice. An unlooked for smile broke out onto Polonus' face and he bit back a laugh. He was alive! "Were you worried?" he asked.
"You had me for a moment," he said. He could imagine the smile on Taran's face when he said that, knowing he would never live it down. At that moment, he didn't care. "Can you stand?"
Taran sat up then, another groan escaping him as he did so. Not one to let something as simple as being blown up stop him, he then got to his feet. He looked a state, parts of his power armour were heavily damaged, his helmet was cracked and there was a large chunk of his kneepad missing. Polonus watched as he staggered up to where he was leaning at the entrance to the transport, "Did we win?" he asked. Polonus nodded.
"For now," he replied, knowing there would always be another fight.