"We clear on the mission?"
"Aye, corporal."
"Aye corporal."
Orianna nods to her weapons team in a casual dismissal before turning her attention back towards Thera. Her sergeant is drawing in the dirt with a twisted bit of scrap iron, surrounded by her unit; some new, some old. Still briefing the assault team? Unusual, given that all she'd need to do was charge straight in, right? That's what Orianna used to think, at least. Things were a lot simpler when she had been just a trooper, all she needed to worry about was where to point and shoot, to charge when the sergeant said charge. Didn't have to think about positioning her team, or what munitions they'd need, or how her decisions could kill more than just herself now. Yeah, a lot more went into a successful assault than she wanted to originally know, and even more into a smash-and-grab sort of insanity that the Leftenant wanted them to pull off tonight.
She holds back the grumbles by humming a tune to herself, something to calm the nerves as she works on her lance. Doesn't need all that much maintenance despite what the armourer complained about; Dunni had kept good care of it in his time and Orianna made sure that she did as well. Best way to… preserve him. Modified from its previous iteration, all piledriver functionality had been removed- lance tip included- so really is it even a lance at all anymore? Orianna didn't care, she is in charge of Weapons Team now, meaning if she was in close combat, they would have a serious problem. Besides, that is what she carries a sabre for. What matters now is the lance being lighter and being able to chamber nothing but ranged rounds. As great as that is, there's no way the Victorian military would have her slacking off, and all that saved weight on the weapon just meant being able to carry even more rounds than before. Thera'd tease Orianna as a battle-buddy would, say how Orianna should just requisition an engineer frame if she is always so intent to laden herself with multiple bandoliers of canisters… but when Thera needed firepower, she'd get firepower. She had started counting out her bandoliers, making sure she had enough grenades to tear down a two-story house when someone yells out, "Oi, Thumper!" over from Thera's scattering group.
Only three others in the company call her the old nickname anymore, and only one of those people is both bold and dense enough to interrupt Orianna while she's trying to count her rounds.
"What do you need, Trevolt?" She pelts back, annoyed with having to count the explosive rounds again from the start. The black-haired Feline hovers nearby, that clipped tail of hers wiggling with excitable energy that Orianna just didn't have right now. Still as cock-sure as she always was, if not a bit more scarred, and wearing the empty chevron of a lance-corporal on her jacket.
"Want to get a bite to eat? Looking a bit thin again." Katherine grins with the teasing, even if Orianna didn't. Brass-balls move messing with someone who outranks you, but Kat was always one of those that didn't care- if you had shed blood with her, you were her equal… too bad that also meant she thought herself a bit above her station- noble kids always think differently, don't they?
"I'm fine, I'll eat before the mission." Orianna offhandedly mumbles, pointedly not looking up as she finishes counting out her first bandolier. She can feel Kat's frown, even if the short-haired Feline doesn't say anything; she's gotten better at holding her damn tongue too- at least the scathing bits of it.
"Bull'll be there. He's back from the transfer; I bumped into him this morning in the hangar."
That catches Orianna's attention, gets her to put down the clunking canisters without another word. She turns to her troopers working a bit aways from her- a Pero lass named Cunningham and a Vouivre lad named Bailey- and tells them, "Getting a bit to eat. When you two finish prep, be sure to get some rest."
"Aye, Corporal Leepu." They answer, curiously watching as Katherine practically drags their team leader away by the arm. Greenhorns still; they didn't have the clout to poke their noses into someone who's wearing Assault Honours like Orianna and Katherine.
And that is the one and only thing that Orianna is grateful for- everything else just weighed her down with the gravitas of expectation.
She struggles to shake that lethargy even now, trailing as Kat thrusts her way through the Justice's mid-deck hallways, treating this trip to the mess hall like a practice trench-clear. Orianna even quietly apologises to those that Kat blows by, the assault team leader leaving a stunning wake of confusion and annoyance- another one of her bad habits. Reminds her of a less restrained Thera.
And thankfully Kat gets them to the mess-hall without starting any fistfights with the Justice's sailors. Snuggled right between meal shifts, the mess is relatively empty save for a single, crinkly-faced Pero man sitting with a tray piled on with cysty-beef and potato, shovelling it all in like a man starved.
"Bull! I managed to pull her out of her burrow!"
"Thwer'sh owuurh Lee-poo!" Bragg delights, pounding on his chest to work the lump of meat and starch down while Kat and Orianna gathered up their own trays and slid their way down the empty slop line.
"Less meat, more carrots, please, thanks." Orianna politely asks the cook, getting exactly what she wants with a bat of the eyelashes and a charming little smile that melts away into that cold half-frown the moment she turns back around to chase Kat once more.
"No Fangs?" Bragg asks, glancing between the two.
"Thera's busy doing operational prep," Orianna answers, biting her tongue before she divulges too much. Kat, however, has no such compunction.
"We're hitting an enemy OP tonight. Village just forward of the line." Kat blurted, shoving a handful of meat and potatoes into her big, fat mouth. Operational security be damned when in the presence of an old comrade, huh? Manners too, for that matter- Kat's been hanging around Thera too much, she's been forgetting all that prim-and-proper noble upbringing of hers.
"Must be a larger operation coming down the pipe." Bull snorted, "Trying to blind the enemy all across the line to keep 'em guessing where we want to break the Justice's battlegroup through."
"Isn't it your job to know that stuff, Bull?" Orianna tries to joke, even if her heart just isn't in it.
"Aye, it's my place to know it, not my place to talk about it." Their Pero comrade smiled, the burn scars on his face making it appear all the more wry when he glances at Kat.
"How have they been treating over in Intelligence, anyways?"
"Ah, fantastic, if you think sittin' around tappin at a terminal'd be fun, but knowin' you, madlass-"
"I'd rather throw myself from the Justice's prow than be caught dead at a desk." Kat grunts between mouthfuls.
"An' you, Leepu? How's the taste of leading?"
Orianna shrugs, pushing some soggy carrot around the tray as she tries to think of the right words. "Haven't lost anyone yet." She manages to toss out.
Bragg frowns slightly, or at least she thinks it's a frown- hard to tell sometimes even before the burns.
"She's got a knack for it, according to Fangs. Shit, Bull, should have seen our last operation. We had pushed in on that settled village- packed to the brim with those… what were those Ursans called, Thumper?"
"Infected Patrol."
"Right, Infected Patrol- they aren't even proper Ursan Military but they still decided to try and fight us! Anyways… We pushed on the village, right? Started taking heavy crossbow fire from every window! Kelly and Tillman took some bolts- they're fine by the way- and Fangs gets so riled that she calls up Thumper's team to just hammer the place-" Kat slams her hand on the table, making the trays jump, "Like a damn clock, every single second is just 'bam bam bam bam bam!' Thumper had explosives raining on those first few houses while we pushed up."
Orianna sighs, pausing her lunch a moment as Kat still slams the table, making the trays bounce about while she tries to spear a chunk of potato.
"They didn't let up, like the three of them never stopped to reload."
"Staggering fire, Kat." Orianna grunts, eyeballing Kat to see if she was done with all the excitement. "It's the first thing we teach bombardier teams."
"I wouldn't know!"
"But you should-"
"Eh I'm on track or Assault Platoon lead-"
"And you need to know the capabilities of your other teams." Bragg butts in before Kat could rile Orianna up anymore than she already has. "Hallmark of a good leader is someone who knows exactly what they are capable of with the soldiers they are given."
Shuts Kat up, for the moment at least, but Bragg turns his sights on Orianna next, and she knows full well what her malfunction is. "Gotta get Dunni out of your head, girl. There's going to be a whole lot more Dunni's if you don't have your wits about you when you climb into the transport."
"I know, Bull." Orianna tries to suck it up, but all that does is leave the bubbling gurgle in her stomach still. Her old corporal reaches across the table, and as demeaning as it was comforting, he ruffles Orianna's hair.
"Thera… Thera's doin' her best, but it's up to soldiers like you to help prop her up, aye?"
"Aye, Bull." Orianna and Katherine reply in unison- one thing they both could agree on at the very least. Thera is doing her best to try and keep them alive despite Leftenant Davies' best efforts. First to volunteer the platoon for trench runs, first to hop up when the Major asks for teams to range out in front of the battlegroup, and first to suck in all the glory.
Nobles.
Orianna grunts, shovelling more food into her mouth to keep from retching out the insults on the tip of her tongue. Never felt this way before, barely even noticed the hypocrisies until fighting for her life on their behalf. Kat is at least… tolerable in her own strange way.
"Well lasses, lunch break's over for this old dog." Bull grunts when he glances down at his watch, "Same time tomorrow, aye?"
'Same time tomorrow'. An implicit acknowledgment. No need for luck or prayers for this evening, just a smiling confidence that they will all see eachother again. By her Light, Orianna has missed Bull…
But being alone with Kat? Trevolt always means well, but… the two of them went as well together as two jigsaw bits from completely different puzzles- just couldn't understand one another. Orianna's about to excuse herself when Trevolt… deflates slightly, lets all that bravado leak from her until there is only a diminished Feline noble sitting before Orianna.
"Hey Ori?"
"Ori?" The Cautus blinks wildly- that is a new one she's never heard before. It's that dissonance that has Orianna leaning in that little bit more, unsure if this Katherine Trevolt is just some… stress-induced hallucination.
"I think Thera is right too." Trevolt sucks in a sharp breath, like the coming words she is about to say needed fresh air to squeeze out of her. "You're a better leader than me- for now."
Ah, there is the regular Trevolt once more- would have been some sort of strange daydream if she didn't have that biting competitiveness undercutting what should have been a compliment. Though Orianna frowns, there's no anger or exasperation, and Trevolt senses that- chuckles at Orianna's new normal. One of the few people who knew just what Orianna had been like before, Trevolt held that like a dirty little secret- even if, ultimately, there was nothing to gain from blackmailing the Cautus. Trevolt shakes her head, scooping up her tray as well.
"Whelp, I'm going to go get a wink of sleep. I'll see you on the gangway tonight though, yeah?"
"Yeah, of course," Orinna can't help but smile, if only a tiny bit, "I'm a team leader. Can't be going AWOL and leaving Thera to deal with you alone."
A mutual chuckle, a melting of that frigid shell of Orianna's. She has to admit that it isn't entirely unpleasant, but its more food to chew on even after finishing her meal, something she can carry with her down to the Cavalier's deck. It makes her steps feel lighter though, a little bit less of that grim fog weighs down on her shoulders and clouding her thoughts.
"I just find it funny how, because we're mounted infantry, we're the ones who have to drive out to the line and attack a post." A man's voice floats in on Orianna's final approach.
"Bailey..."
"Like, we're the Steel Cavaliers, right? We're shock troops, but we're supposed to be leading the charge, riding in under the cover of Her Majesty's greatest glory-"
"Uhh, Bailey?"
"-so why are we going to be dropped off five kilometres from the target and walk in? We should be riding in-"
"Because, trooper, we're supposed to be surprising the enemy." Orianna growls from behind Private Bailey as Cunningham does her best to look away. Orianna doesn't have the same bite as Thera, but somehow a Cautus like her could make even a Vouivre cower. Has to be the chevrons on her sleeve, huh?
"So unless you want the nearby patrol base to know we're coming, I suggest you shut your mouth and just walk."
Orianna tried her best to make her gaze bore through Bailey, to really stick that discipline into his tiny little brain. She lets Cunningham gets off with just a stern frown, but Orianna knowingly nods to the Pero woman- she'll have to try harder next time to shut Bailey up.
"Carry on then, just a little less bitching." Orianna… smiles at them, something that takes both troopers aback. She slips away once more though, eager to just… not think for a moment longer.
The transport hangar is conspicuously empty despite being on the eve of a mission. Crews were out on break, leaving Shae to her own devices wandering between the six-wheelers. As unusual as that seemed, it's not unusual for a sergeant to be down here readying their vehicle. Shae's not doing that though, her squad was all ready to go already.
No, down here in the soft underbelly of the Justice, shae stands before her steel chariot, the great burdenbeast that bears her to battle. It's never the same one, Ursan gunners always make sure of that, but she holds the same reverence for the thing as if they were all a part of a greater whole. Six wheels, independently suspended, all holding up that lithe body. The armoured belly where she and her troops are carried into battle, the boxy little command deck where the driver and support gunner huddled together, cramped in but a fraction of the space given for Thera's soldiers.
All it takes is a anti-ship lance through that box to stop a transport dead… and yet the drivers still climbed in every mission without hesitation… just like Thera's troops. Just as much heart in them as she's got for the steel burden-beasts. She pats one of those oversized wheels, feeling the dust of the wildlands come off on her fingers, and breathes deep.
This is Shae's pre-mission ritual, another one of those strange things that the old breed do; Sergeant Coldstream of First always stands on the prow and roars into the wind; Sergeant Talbert from Fourth will always hold a vigil for Victoria's light besides, ironically, the ship's searchlights; and Sergeant… Sergeant Folly had always brewed a batch of rosehip for the other non-coms…
Shae… no, Thera thumps the thick tyre with a closed fist, shaking off more dust and dirt that the maintenance crews never bothered with. From one beast of battle to another, her respect.
"Sergeant."
A polite, but nonetheless timid voice calls out to Thera. Shae knows Leepu's real voice, the one different from the cold aloofness that the Cautus has grown into when leading.
"Hey, Leepu." She calls back, beckoning her favourite bombardier to her, making it clear this is purely informal. "Came to report?"
"No. Came looking for a place to just… I don't know, sit and be alone for a bit?" The Cautus sighs, ruffling her own head of ragged, short-cropped raven hair- Shae can hardly tell how bad the back of her neck and scalp had been burned once it grew out a little bit more past the grooming standard.
"Gonna sing?" Thera teases, watching as Orianna goes rigid- right on the money then.
"No."
"Mmm? Not even for your good sergeant?" Thera gives Leepu a toothy grin, watching as that timid girl honestly considers it. Leepu starts to hum a light tune, one that wavers like the old Leepu used to, and Thera knows there will be no beauty in it if she starts now. So Thera puts a hand on Orianna's shoulder, feeling how just a simple touch from her can put the spine back into someone.
"Hey, how about this, Leepu. After we get back, you show the greenhorns what your voice is really meant for other than shouting at them, yeah?"
Leepu hesitates still. She hadn't sung since they had lost Dunni, couldn't muster her voice at the burials, even turned down the opportunity to sing at the Honour's ceremony. To be honest, Shae truly misses hearing that lovely voice, but she's not just about to pry it out of a frightened Cautus, especially when she relies on that Cautus to do far more for her than just sing.
"I'll let you have the moment-" Thera smiles, handing Leepu her arming key for the assault ramp, "Be sure to make sure it's closed up tight so no one hears you practising before your performance later." With that, Shae's personal bits are squared away nice and tight, so she leaves Orinna to her own device.
"S-Sergeant?" Leepu calls, voice echoing through the hangar.
"Aye, Corporal Leepu?"
"When we make it back… I'll consider it."
There's no prayers on this run, no major bumps past what the wildlands have to give, nothing like a trench run, at least. Just an awkward and tense silence as Orianna, Bailey, and Cunningham bump around in their transport. The troop bay is nearly empty save for them- the space needed for the prisoners they were hopefully going to snatch.
Or worse… the wounded they'd need to evacuate out. Orianna cuts glances at the two, but neither of the privates say a word. Are they intimidated by the coming mission, or were they scared of her? Who is even scared of a corporal? Not even rumours should be able to prop an insignificant woman like her up into a snarling madwoman like Sergeant Thera. Maybe she could say something, speak up and show them that she's not… not unapproachable, but everytime she opens her mouth, she shuts it once more, that little gnarled bit in the back of her mind muttering 'What's the point?'
Her grip tightens around the handhold instead as she swings herself over to the assault-ramp's viewport. There's nothing to see but the inky black- both transports are on light discipline as they drive, and even if they weren't the amount of dust coming off the lead transport is like driving through a Catastrophe's storm-wake. She just… stands there, frozen, until the transport rumbles to a stop.
"Light and noise discipline," Orianna parrots from the earlier briefing, as if they needed any reminder. The ramp drops, but there is none of that charged energy of a head-on assault, only the sobering rush of a stiffly cold Ursan wind. Wasn't even winter yet- they still have time to make gains… just like the generals want.
Have to march out five kilometres to the rally point in the dead of night, just like the major wants.
Have to stick to the rocky valleys to conceal their approach, stumbling in the dark, just like the captain wants.
Have to set up the perimeter and steel themselves for that final, fateful minute, just like the leftenant wants.
All in Her glory. That's what they say at least, but Orianna knows it's just for the nobles' glory.
Never before had Orianna wanted to break noise discipline, to just… sing her frustrations, her worries, her weariness away. She hefts the spear over her shoulder instead, motioning for her fire team to follow her up the nearby ridge. They scramble upwards, canisters clacking, swears muttered under-breath, until they can see into the pale darkness beyond.
A ruined village, the mobile platform long broken down, just like all the others on the border. Left to waste in the wake of this dying empire. A dim light flickers from a single household, rough five-hundred metres away. Maybe a hopeful beacon to some, but the sight of it makes Orianna's heart sink into her belly.
"Get your lances ranged to five-hundred. Bailey take left of the target, Cunningham right." She whispers, grabbing her binoculars and scanning the rocky foothill below. Thera's team was moving around there… somewhere and well, if Orianna can't see them from her vantage point, the Ursans sure-as-shit couldn't either.
"One set."
"Two set."
"Overwatch is set." Orianna whispers into the throat mic, watching for the dark outlines that start to move just on the edge of the lit house. Quick and quiet, she can see the lances bracing for the breach, the assault teams stacked and ready to crash in on the poor Ursans inside.
And for Orianna's part, her lance was braced and ready, ranged out to the no-man's land between the two sister posts. Two twists left and it'd be smokes, two twists right, it'd be flares; which she'd need first depends on how well trained these Ursans would be.
"Overwatch is set." Leepu's voice crackles, and that's the signal to set everything off. Thera motions to Kat, who's fire team members stand on either side of where they were to make a grand entrance. Butt-end of the lances braced into the dirt, tips dug into the withering wood, chipping the already peeling paint.
It'd be like cutting through warm butter.
Everyone else has lances ready, loaded with six rounds of spite- all except Thera. No steam-frame for this mission, had to be all quick and quiet-like. Just like the old times, before the Great Rift, before the Crowning, before everyone had to be nice and uniform- in uniform for that matter.
Just a little musing though as Thera readies sabre and shield, and nods to the breach team.
The popping of steam-hydraulics, the smell of condensation in the cold night's air, the confusion and shouting from inside drowned out by the crashing and splintering of the wall giving way to Victorian might.
Hand grenades first, always hand grenades first-
Then comes the canister shot, steel balls shredding through what looks like a cozy, if not dirty, little living room. Thera doesn't register the fresh crimson paint streaking across the walls, doesn't even hear the screams.
Just the deafening thump of her heartbeat in her ears as she holds herself back, waiting for that moment to be the first through the breach. There is no rousing warcry, no speech like in the propaganda reels back home, just Thera leaping in amidst steam and shot, blade flashing into whatever poor sod dared.
Parry and pass to shield, return stab-
Shoulder-check, pommel strike flowing into a bone-cleaving chop-
Glance a cut and answer with her own-
Thera flows between dead-men with a blade ever-eager to bite flesh, a flurry that had earned her her nickname.
"Fangs"- She hasn't brandished her fangs in what felt like years. She can feel her lips pull back as that terrible thrill fills her, that mad grin as she cuts through Ursan men who are struggling just to find their weapons.
"...!"
A ravenous beast loose in the coop.
"...ra!"
A murderous wind blowing in from the breach.
"Thera!"
Victoria's wroth manifest as a single woman.
"We need prisoners Thera!"
Voices muted- no the whole world is muted as she plies her deadly art, paints this drab room red, gives these Ursan savages a lesson in what a true artist can accomplish. Thumps from explosions above her lend an off-beat tempo, death-rattles and groans the wailing chorus as she darts about, until… until mercifully she completes her circuit, winding right back where it all began at the hole in the wall.
"Casualty! Casualty!"
"Suki! Fuck yourself, Victorian!"
"Fuck! Just- stem the bleeding!"
"Sergeant! Sergeant we need to go!"
"Blyat! Oi! Oi! Pomogi mne suki! Vy trusy blyat!"
It all rushes in at once, slams into Thera like a landship, nearly flattens her in a way that no punch to the jaw ever has. The frantic footsteps down the stairs, a bloodied Ursan at lance-point, Belderman nursing an arm wound, and two of her troopers carrying… carrying a bloodied Kat as hastily as they could.
Her hand missing, body pockmarked black and leaking crimson through her uniform.
Grinning.
"F-Fucked up…" Kat stutters, trying to not look at the bloodied stump where her left hand used to be, "One of them… tossed the grenade back." The Feline laughs at herself, deep and delirious, wincing only when Vern tightly tournicates her at the wrist.
"Shut it, lance corporal." Thera snarls. Clock is ticking now, the Bear waking up, and they need to be out of the den before it's fully roused. "Vern, Poll, on me." Thera signals for the two carrying Kat as she kneels, the intent obvious.
"Sorry I… fucked up bad, Fangs." Kat whispers after being hefted onto Thera's back. Her voice is fading, her muscles twitching as she tries to hold on.
"There's still Ursans on the second floor-" One of her troopers calls back, but there is no reason to stay.
"Not for long," Thera growls, lifting Kat's mass of muscles and stubbornness, "we got what we came for."
The team falls back, firing suppressing blasts of steam and steel up bloodied stairs, peeling away into the dark one by one until only the shouting of Ursan insults remain in that doomed house.
"Leepu. Engage the house, we have wounded."
"Sergeant?"
"Target the house. Full explosive. Suppression."
"Aye, Sergeant."
"Full explosives." Orianna orders her team, readying her own lance. Always had a knack for ranging, always had the right eye… and she guesses that's why she's here right now instead of down there risking life and limb like Thera's team. Lance-plate planted in the dirt, she braces, eyeballs the range off the front-post before locking in the angle, and squeezes the lever.
*Thump!*
Two seconds. She counts out two seconds in her head, watching for that flash spring up from the dimly lit house. A bloom, bright and brilliant- and the cat is out of the bag if it hadn't been before.
"On the money, Thumper. Send it."
"On my angle. Six volleys, three rounds each, incoming." Orianna repeats into her transceiver, motioning for Bailey and Cunningham to ready their firing arcs as well as she replaces the now spent explosive shell. They wait for Orianna to fire first, their signal to begin the volley.
*Thump thump thump*
Orianna chooses to just focus on the horizon, watching the blooms of light burst forth atop the roof of the target house.
*Thump thump thump*
Silence on her little edge of the fight, save for the hiss of steam and the ratcheting of their lances' cylinders.
*Thump thump thump*
Screams no doubt pierce the night sky from whoever was on the receiving end of this Victorian hail.
*Thump thump thump*
Yes, orange blooms flash with plumes of dust and smoke from that house. The ire, the resentment, just like before.
*Thump thump thump*
Orianna… feels nothing. Should she feel nothing? It's hard for her to tell. From this distance, she won't ever see the bodies.
*Thump thump thump*
The cheers float in from the distance, the whooping, the celebration as the building -someone's home- collapses beneath Victoria's light.
Oh, what a glorious light it is, and Orianna can't feel a thing.
"Good effect. We're pulling back, Leepu."
"Understood, Sergeant. Overwatching until you've reached the rally." Orianna radios back before dumping the spent canisters from her lance. The vigil hasn't ended yet, there still is time for the Ursans to answer the affront, and she makes sure to load enough spite back into her lance… or was that back into her heart? She can make them out in the inky dark, slowed by the wounded they carried with them.
If the Ursans would strike, it would be…
Now.
A flare streaks to the sky, a flickering man-made star that illuminates the shattered house. Another follows, the light chasing after Thera's team like their own personal, unwanted daybreak. The buzz of something large- a drone of immense size launching from the sister observation post.
Artillery spotter drone. Bulky, slow, but not limited by the rocky terrain nor hamstrung by the wounded. Did they have a landship nearby? An artillery post?
"Leepu?"
"Not much we can do against a drone until it gets close-" She holds the panic back, keeping her troop steady through sheer force of will. There are flickers in the distance as well, little motes of flame rising into the night sky-
"Jumpers-"
"Kicked the hornet's nest." Thera laughs into the intercom. Laughs. She has battle-tested Ursan assault troopers jumping towards her position, an understrength team with wounded in tow, a damn drone looming in position like a guillotine blade… and she's laughing.
That's… exactly as Orianna expects from her sergeant.
"Bailey, Cunningham, range two-fifty. If those jumpers come down, engage them." Orianna barks, ranging her lance. They are close enough to hear the roar of the jet-pack exhaust, the flapping of their kit through the air, and Orianna doesn't blink for a second as she waits for the burn of their descent-
And fires when she sees the trajectory of their landing.
Bailey and Cunningham join her drumming beat, high explosives rushing to meet their Ursan counterparts. The darkness blooms with Her light for a glorious second; grenade rounds exploding amidst the jump-troopers as a flare rises up from one of their number to illuminate Thera's team. Not fast enough, not accurate enough to stop a number of those black-shelled Ursans from taking off once more. Reduced in number, yes, but certainly not deterred from striking back at the retreating Victorians.
Next landing spot would be… practically on top of Thera- too close to risk direct fire.
The crackles and bursts of flames followed by that hissing thunder rising up into the air once again. Thera knows what's coming; she can hear them approaching overhead, see how the flares they shot up light the night sky to find exactly where they are going to come down.
"C'mon! Get to the rocks!" She bellows back at her flagging troopers, chancing a glance at the heated exhaust plumes right above. Where they'd land… well, most troopers they can handle with canister shot and steel if the Ursans decide to land amidst the Thera's unit, but more worrisome is that damn drone. The squarish thing is still slowly and relentlessly whirring its way closer, backlit by the fading flares.
They have no answer for Ursan artillery- not this far away from the Justice's guns.
Close though- they're close to the rocks, close to cover, close to getting the fuck back home… if not for those damned jump-jets blazing overhead. One of her troopers fires off a canister, steel balls blasting out in a wall faster than the eye can track, but to little effect.
Those jet-packs flare once more, scattering in the sky as the Ursans pick their drop-points. High ground, flanking the path that Thera had planned for the exfil. Leaves two choices: get shot to pieces by Ursan crossbows while trying to push through, or try and circle around the foothill… and risk getting painted by that damn drone.
"C'mon… sergeant… we can… we can take 'em-" Kat rasps in Thera's ear, her grip slipping from Thera. Kat didn't have the time for them to just go around-
"Push 'em!" Thera roars loud enough that her voice tears at her throat. Sabre drawn and with the literal weight of Kat's life on her back, she charges.
"Fuck! They're close!"
"Shut up and load!"
Bailey and Cunningham both flinch as steel balls ricochet amidst the rocks- Thera's team having forgot just where the fuck Leepu had positioned- all of them firing blind into the dark. The jumpers were literally just below the ridge from Orianna's vantage point- too close for their grenades to arm. Even if they did switch to canister shot, they'd be firing into Thera's team too-
Problem after fucking problem.
Orianna wants to scream out that frustration, curse at the top of her lungs so that even the other Ursan OP's could hear her.
She dumps her canisters instead, twisting the bandolier around her waist to a new set of grenades.
"You two, canister shot and hold fire unless they jump on us next-" Orianna snaps, trying to hide the urgent, anxious clip to her voice. Hands are shaking; makes loading the cylinder harder than it should be- Fumbles would have had a laugh if he could see Orianna now… earning his nickname for her own-
But she still gets the smoke canisters in, snapping the chamber shut with that clattering finality. With it, all that nervousness is gone, her aim is steady, and her plan… well hopefully her plan works.
"Push through!" Orianna's voice echoes out through the pass as she fires down on her own friendlies. She sees some of them panic, terrified at the thought of friendly fire as the round impacts right in front of Thera.
But her sergeant doesn't flinch. Thera trusts Orianna, and that… that's what Orianna latches onto.
Smoke billows, puffed out from the impact just as the jumpers loose their first volley of bolts, but Orianna is as blind as them- unable to tell if any Victorians are struck down. Five more thumps though, each round exploding gouts of grey, choking haze down the trail.
"Stay to the smoke!" Orianna screams just as the jumpers' attentions shift. Bulky helmets turn to glance up the ridgeline- and the crossbows aim at a new target. Orianna throws herself down as the first bolts crack past, and she knows what's coming next. Hand on her sabre, she looks Bailey and Cunningham dead in the eyes. No need for orders now as the rumble of jet-packs rises up from below.
The first jumper lands where Orianna had fired from, crossbow raised and ready… and he catches a chest-full of canister shot from, knocking him off the ridge. The second and third land closer in, right between Bailey and Cunningham and causing a crossfire.
Two snapping cracks of crossbows answered by that rousing Victorian cry- the blind and foolish faith of a trooper charging.
Of Orianna charging.
She… she had only trained with Thera for a month or two; she wasn't certified, wasn't confident in those hand-to-hand skills yet-
And still, Orianna blindly throws herself at one of the jumpers, blade crashing against the still-hot jump pack. Lurches the Ursan forward, stops him from winching his crossbow, and the jumper reacts on pure trained reflex. Knife drawn in a flash, he lashes at Orianna. The jumper has bulk, has armour, probably has experience too by the red markings on his helmet, and all Orianna has is a damn sabre.
The knife-thrust misses, but the Ursan's lunge is like a charging cystybeast, all that weight carrying him forward and Orianna barely manages to stumble aside-
Another thump of steam, canister-shot buzzing in the air as those deadly pellets deflect from rock and armour alike, and a searing pain streaks through Orianna's leg just as she throws herself at the jumper. Adrenaline-fueled and fury-charged, she swings in, clumsy and off-kilter from poor footing, but as long as she can keep this one occupied-
"Corporal!" Bailey roars as he charges in.
Orianna can see the black-barb sticking from him, the crimson spreading from the chest, and yet the Vouivre still rushes headlong, lance in hand. It catches the jumper by surprise, the lance-tip catching him in the back, right in the Originite-fuel lines…
And Bailey fires the pile-driver, lancing the jumper clean through with a gout of steam.
It is a moment of tense silence, a second of reprieve that Orianna instinctively uses to take stock; two jumpers crumpled on the rocks, a panicked Cunningham still hyperventilating the residual steam from her lance, and Bailey…
Bailey slumping off of his lance.
"No no no no!" Orianna rushes to the Vourivre's side, but the damage is clear; she can see the barb's razor tip, still slick with crimson viscera sticking from Bailey's back. A goner, just like that.
The low droning thunder in the distance kills any chance for grief, the flashes of more jumpers taking off replacing every single thought with the urgency of retreat. Back to the rally point, back to see just who is left. She's barking orders at Cunningham that she can't even comprehend, grabbing hold of Bailey and hefting him over her shoulder as best she can. The weight -his weight- is nothing when Orianna's mind is focused on the singular task of getting the fuck off of this ridgeline before it's reduced to rubble, even if she had to drag him.
There would be time later.
There is always time later.
There…
There is always time later for the living.
The platoon stands at attention, everyone in their dress-uniform as the coffins are brought forward. Pallbearers called from Thera's squad- Orianna… turned down the honours despite being the team leader.
But she still remembers the promise she had made to Shae.
Orianna feels Thera's steadying hand on her shoulder gingerly let her go, leaving her to walk alone. Leftenant Davies introduces Orianna as she marches forward between the rows of saluting brothers and sisters in arms, but she doesn't hear the words that anyone is saying- can't hear them with how her ears ring with a pitched keening of her own anxiety. Thoughts flitting through her mind, but never sticking for longer than an instant. Images, faces- both friend and foe, and her breath hitches.
"And now 'Through Gaulish Fields' as sung by Second Squad's Corporal Orianna Leepu."
Orianna's world stands still.
She is standing beside the pallbearers, hand upon the white-pine box that held… held someone that she barely knew.
She could have. She could have known him if she hadn't been so damn terrified of what she is feeling right now.
It… it didn't get easier. She can see now that it will never get easier. She takes one deep breath, feeling all eyes upon her as she turns to face her fellows.
"Through Gaulish fields the wind does blow,
Between the chimneys, row by row.
That take our ash; sent to the sky,
The doves, still brave-ly singing, fly."
Orianna holds the low note, lets her voice roll over the gathering… knowing the swell that is to come. A choir, harmonious and united, joins to her sorrow, lifts her voice higher where she can soar;
"Scarce heard amongst the guns below,
We are Her dead. Short days ago.
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow.
The dead are loved, and now we sigh-"
The pallbearers lift the coffin to the furnace using the crescendo. Slowly, reverently, they close the door and salute.
"Through Gaulish fields
Through Gaulish fields
And now we fly through Gaulish fields-"
The choir's voices fade, lowering Orianna back down to the ground, leaving her so… so very alone. Even here amongst the troop, amongst her comrades, she… she's alone.
And she can't stand it anymore.
"Take up Her quarrel with our foe:
To you from failing hands we throw.
Her Light be yours to hold up high,
If ye break faith with us who die."
The choir returns again, drowns out the sound of the furnace sparking to life. They hold Orianna together, fill her with warmth as voices intertwine. Yes, woven together, the shared despair as the flames consume the body… consume Bailey.
"We shall not sleep, though wind does blow.
Through Gaulish fields,
Through Gaulish fields"
Silence, deafening silence, Orianna left to the final verse herself. The sole voice, the singular mote of passion for all the others to rest their pains upon. The smoke billows high, swept to the winds.
"We shall not sleep, though wind does blow…"
Orianna's voice threatens to waver, threatens to crack with the sob she feels choking the very breath from her lungs. She can't stop the tears, but she endures, she holds her note long and powerful.
For Dunni.
For Darwin.
For Valentine and Richards and Lewis and Trevolt and… and…!
For Bailey…
"Through Gaulish fields…
Through Gaulish fields…"
For everyone.
She will endure.
