2
The artillery screamed overhead and Private First Class Ianto Jones thought of turtles. He thought of how they could pull into their shell and not only be safe, they could feel safe. As the artillery continued to span the sky, declaring defiance, Pfc Ianto Jones looked around him. He didn't so much pay attention to the battered and broken homes and buildings along the equally busted street, as he did the other members of 2nd platoon, Candia company, Auvergne Langue.
No one was ducking for cover. The platoon was stretched out in two lines, one to either side of the street. Ianto was in the middle of his line, the other line was to his left. All of this was normal procedure, and that confused Ianto. Could they not hear the artillery rocketing through the air, getting closer and closer? Shouldn't they all be looking for safety? A basement? A drop-ship? Someplace other than out in the open? It was bad in the open. The artillery would see them. It would find them.
"Jones? Jones!" Ianto looked around wildly. Was the artillery calling him by name? "Jones. Come on, Fuckface. Snap out of it."
The voice belonged to his new fire team leader. Ianto focused on that, the familiar, just as the ship counsellor had suggested. Focus on the familiar, the safe. "Cpl Hallett."
"That's right," said Cpl Lisa Hallett. She flashed a smile. "You all right, Jones?"
"Yeah, sure, Corporal, why?"
Cpl Hallett laughed. Ianto recalled through the haze of concern that she always laughed.
"Why?" she said. "Because you're over here ducking and looking around like the last kid in the orphanage with a cookie."
"Sorry," Ianto said. "The artillery."
"Ours. You remember? The Werlhogs were pushed back days ago. The artillery keeps them back while we secure the town."
Ianto looked around him, past Cpl Hallett. The platoon had come to a stop. A few of them looked his way, giving him a nod or thumbs up. Most of them were watching the buildings and rubble around them. Werlhog snipers had crept back into the town several times, preying on the remaining civilians, the local militia, and the Regulators. They were dealt with swiftly, but the Werlhogs never seemed to run short of them.
"We all right back here?" Lt Curtis had come back to where Ianto and Cpl Hallett were positioned. "Jones? You holding up okay?"
"Yes, Lieutenant."
"He's been a bit twitchy since the artillery kicked in, Lt Curtis." One of the privates said with a sneer.
"Well of course he has," the lieutenant said. "None of us has ever been caught out in the open during an artillery barrage like Jones has."
"Nor been the only one left alive to tell about it," said the Regulator several yards behind. "Which is amazing, Private Palmer. Don't you think?"
The lieutenant's comment was directed at the Regulator who'd just spoken. Pvt Palmer stood a little taller and had the good sense to look remorseful for her words. "Yes, Lieutenant. Sorry, Lieutenant."
"Empathy, Palmer. It's what separates us from the bad guys."
Lt Curtis turned back to Cpl Hallett and Ianto. "Maybe you shouldn't have come out on patrol, Jones? Not today. No shame in it."
After a month on the ship in orbit, talking every day with the people in psych, Ianto had been aching to be with a unit again. His, as Lt Curtis had alluded to, had been wiped out by Werlhog artillery after being caught in the open. There'd been no shelter as the rounds rained down. All they'd been able to do was hug the flat earth and then run when there was a pause in the destruction. Ianto hadn't been the last survivor.
Not until they'd reached a dry slew.
The last explosion he'd remembered had shoved him over the lip and down to a rocky landing. Two others had been with him. Cpl Metker and Pvt Slinter. Both had died on the ravine edge, centimeters from some semblance of safety.
"No, Lieutenant. No shame," Ianto said.
Days in recovery before being lifted off planet to the Regulatoral ship, Dhanvantari. Days recovering there and then the weeks of constant conversation with the therapists and the psychologist. The nightmares hadn't bothered him then, nor now. To Ianto, they were just the price he'd paid for surviving. But he'd grown tired of the conversations and the sitting while more of his fellow Regulators dropped down to Inyan to offer aid and comfort and defense to the Souianians.
The Souianians had been under assault by their fellow Inyans, the Werlhogs. The Werlhogs wanted the viable lands controlled by the Souianins. They weren't above killing a few thousand Souianians to get it. It had taken days of begging and pleading before Ianto had finally pulled the sympathetic ear of his battalion commander and got his needed transfer to a new unit.
Two days with 2nd Platoon and he was in a drop-ship back to Inyan. A week at the forward base and now he was back on patrol. It was only when the supporting artillery went growling through the sky that his body had responded of its own accord.
"I'll be fine," Ianto finally said. He'd said it out loud, for the lieutenant and those nearest him. It was mostly the truth. It seemed to satisfy the lieutenant and that was what mattered.
"Okay, then," said Lt Curtis. "Let's get back on patrol."
As the lieutenant turned away, Cpl Sergio Figueroa came trotting back up the line of Regulators. "Message, Lieutenant."
Lt Curtis huddled with Cpl Figueroa for a moment and then pulled out her tablet. Ianto could see that she'd pulled up a map and was following streets on an image. She turned it several times as if orienting herself with it. After that, she tapped her coms and had a muffled conversation. When the conversation was over, she put away the tablet and looked around.
"Listen up. We just got a call. They may have survivors buried in a building. Half a click to the east. That way." She pointed with her hand out like a spear. "Close ranks, Staff Sergeant. Let's double time."
"You heard the lieutenant," said SSgt Elijah Studibacker. "Close up! Double time!"
The platoon closed the gaps between the individual Regulators from several meters apart to one. Cpl Hallett gave Ianto a clap on the shoulder before she sprinted back to her position ahead. Ianto broke into a jog as the Regulator ahead of him started to move. In two lines, the platoon jogged down the street, turning left at the next block. Ianto made sure to scan the buildings on the opposite side of the street, watching for any movement that might indicate an ambush.
The street here was mostly intact. Some of the homes were charred at the tops. One of them had collapsed forward, putting a rubble barrier across one side of the street. It forced Ianto's line off the sidewalk for ten meters. Occasionally, Ianto saw a person peek out their window or noticed someone watching from a leaning position on a stoop or balcony. Though he saw them, he knew from orientation that there were few still in the city.
Many had moved to other towns and cities or taken shelter in the refugee camp Regulator HQ had established. The Souianians, for the most part, were glad to see the Regulators on planet. Some of them felt that the Regulators' presence exacerbated the attacks by the Werlhogs. But, the Regulators had pushed the Werlhog military out of the Santee region, including Kichawank where Ianto and Candia company were now deployed.
If nothing else, the Souianians of Kichawank now had time to recover from the brutal Werlhog attacks.
Ianto had no memory of his infancy. He'd been told by his dorm father that it was a land grab war that had killed his parents and family, leaving him an orphan. He'd been two, that was all he knew. No memory of his parents or siblings, just several pictures that were in a file given to him at sixteen after the traditional ceremony where he and the other orphans who turned sixteen received their Regulator pocket knife. His heritage had surprised him more than anything else but it did explain his strange accent the baby was currently attached to.
This was his life now.
.
.
Something in The Torchwood's engine was squealing, and it was driving Jack nuts. The ship had been in need of repair even before they escaped from Droxi Cybeeb, and the problem had only become worse since then.
"John!" Jack called out as he made his way through the tiny corridor from the cockpit to the engine room. "Johnty, why is my ship yelling at me?"
"I don't know" came John's faint response. "The engine needs to cool down so we can check it over, Goram, let's find a spot to park already!"
"Do you think we can make a couple jumps at least?"
John thought for a moment before responding. "I suppose so. Our jump drive seems to be okay; it's our 'regular space' engines that are not doing well. Where are we going?"
Jack sat back, doing a last-minute calculation before locking himself into a new course of action.
"Well, I don't think Droxi is going to come after me. I'm sure he's got better things to do. I did tell him I was going to get him a lot of money. I think he'll wait to see whether I get back to him before he does anything. What if we get him the one thing he has always wanted but is seemingly impossible to get? So, we're going to Inyan."
"What's on Inyan?"
"Dax is."
"Dax UReindance?"
"Mmm hmm." "What do we need him for?" "There's an idea I've been developing for a while now, and if I'm going to act on it, I'll have to put it into action right away. The opportune time is arriving quickly, but once that time has passed, the plan wouldn't work like I'm picturing. We'd have to wait for another opportunity, and who knows how long that would take."
John tilted his head. "I get it. So, who are we robbing?"
Jack smiled. "Paxtn Industries."
"You're kid - no, you're not kidding. What are we after?"
"Nothing much. Just the Ashes of Droxi's Father."
John's head tilted the other way as he leaned toward Jack. "Now I know you must be joking."
"That, and a few other items," Jack added.
John sat back, mirroring Jack's posture. "Everyone knows where the ashes are kept, but nobody goes for it because they also know it's kept in the most impenetrable vault in the Four... Ohhh. That's why we need Dax UReindance. A Welshorian."
"Yeah. I get Droxi his ancestral ashes from his estranged big brother, the Cyborg will be so grateful tht he will forgive my debt."
"Sure" John quipped "A walk in the park, eh?"