Chapter 7; Bones of steel
In the desert a group of sand skimmers were making their way towards their target, the facility known as the Boneyard. "Sir, are you seeing the same thing I am?" Aver, the commanding officer of this group of skimmers, heard a voice crackle in his speakers. The voice belonged to Redal, one of the soldiers of his skimmer unit.
"See what, please clarify?" Aver answered. In his mind he spat an annoyed curse for the hundredth time. He had talked to his people about this before, of how to say what they had to say in a curt but precise manner, without throwing in vague and ultimately useless phrases like *are you seeing what I'm seeing?*. Guess some lessons were hard to make stick no matter how much training and no matter how many lectures he gave about the subject. It would help if his unit was not in constant need of replacements, replacements that mostly were far too green to understand how to do things in a practical manner. But sadly a steady stream of casualties was the curse of sand skimmer units everywhere, something that could not really be helped. It took a special type of bravery and craziness to become a sand skimmer pilot, and most didn't ultimately last very long. People like him, that had been piloting these things for almost a decade now, were rare, even more so these days that new kinds of skimmers that could be controlled remotely from a safer location, without the need for a pilot to be physically present inside the machine. In this assault for instance, most skimmers were controlled from a production cruiser hanging back outside the actual battlefield. The only reason pilots like him were still kept around was because they had a rare set of skills that the brass wished to make use of. And since it had been shown that mixing remote controlled skimmers with piloted ones were difficult to coordinate in battlefield conditions, units like his still received replacement pilots. He hated that aspect of his service, of being a magnet for silly rookies to get themselves killed, just because he knew what he was doing. But that was just how it was, something that he had to live with, something that he tried to make work as best he could.
"Sir, wind speed and airborne particle density seem to be on the rise. It would seem that there is a big sandstorm heading our way, looks like a class five storm according to my instrumentation." Redal clarified.
"I see, how long before it hits?" Aver asked, checking his own instrumentation, quickly detecting the same anomaly that Redal had reported.
"I'd say half hour tops, around fifteen minutes after we engage." Redal replied.
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, this changes things up a bit. Once that storm hits long range sensors and communication systems will be severely limited. So we're going to try to move quickly today. Let's try to complete our mission objectives within the fifteen minutes that we will have." And in case it needs to be said, don't try to exit your vehicles under any circumstances. Class five storms can have wind speeds of three hundred kilometers per hour or more. That kind of winds with sand in it can rip unprotected people to shreds." Aver ordered, hearing a chorus of mumbled affirmations from the members of his skimmer squad.
He spent the next fifteen or so minutes contacting the other units of the assault force, advising them of the situation. It turned out that most of them had already detected the same anomaly already and were taking the actions necessary. Sand storms like this were a serious matter in the extreme, but with the proper preparations and thanks to modern technology it could be survived.
After a while longer of driving Aver could see a stationary ping on his sensors: "People, we have a sensors or a turret post out there. Approach with caution, keep in formation and be ready to engage."
His seven skimmers strong squad charged forward in a tight delta formation. In a few moments a coalition sensor came into view. The guns of the skimmer unit opened up, filling the air with high speed armor piercing bullets, tearing apart the sensors post. Just as the sensors post came apart Averios hear his radio to crackle to life: "Skimmer 4, rail 7-4 reporting. Be advised, we're chasing a pack of hostile AAV's through this area, probably a forward reconnaissance team or stragglers from another battle site. Will be moving through your immediate vicinity, be careful."
"Understood, we'll be on guard." Averios answered, then turned his attention back to the situation at hand. "Nice shooting people, get ready to advance. There is likely to be enemy turret defenses ahead, and enemy responders will probably be arriving momentarily so be on alert." he commanded. "Keep an eye out for those enemy AAV's; if they engage us then we are in serious trouble." he then added.
"Sir, should we wait out until the enemy responders arrive. I mean, if there is a turret and enemy units out there and if we get caught between them, well…" Redal asked.
Aver considered. "We don't have a lot of time on this, and we don't even know for certain that such responders are really coming. We don't have a choice. We move forward. We will be fine if we are careful and move forward quickly, keeping the heretics off balance. If the worst comes to pass, we will regroup with the railgun squads and resume our offensive with them." He finally said.
And so they pushed forward, making their way toward the Boneyard facility proper. Soon before them there was a standard Coalition ground turret. The turret gun tower turned toward them, spitting out a pair of high explosive shells. The skimmers responded instinctively, their formation breaking to two pieces and quickly moving to the side, the pair of shells impacting harmlessly on the ground before them.
"Alright, engage the target, circle around and keep moving, and keep firing! Don't let it get a bead on you!" Aver shouted into his radio. His squadron moved to attack, running in circles around the turret, their guns spitting an endless stream of bullets at the hardened armor of the turret, chewing through the plating. The automatic systems of the turret kept tracking them, shooting again and again, raising clouds of sand from the ground. They continued like that for a while, dodging, twisting, and dancing around their foe. Then one of his skimmers moved a fraction too slow. The turret belched out another shot, catching the skimmer squarely in its center. The machine came apart in a blast of shrapnel, black smoke and blue fire. Averios gave a sad wince. "Another youth lost because of me, my fault. Another soul on my conscience." he thought to himself. Before anyone could say or do anything else, a flash of red light came from behind him slamming into the Coalition turret. Weakened as it was by the attacks of the skimmers, the turret was blown apart by the shot, the top of the turret lifting clean off and rising high into the air. Averios turned his skimmer on the spot, whirling to face the thing that had fired the shot, already knowing the answer, even without the friendly class four contact on his radar display. He saw one of their railguns hovering some fifty meters away.
"Rail 7-4, I thought you were going after the AAV's?" he addressed the railgun, recognizing the unit markings it bore.
"We were going to, but the bastards managed to slip away from us using a smokescreen. We figured we should lend you a hand and join up for the next part." the railgun answered.
"All right, we…" Aver began answering, then paused when he noticed a fresh batch of contacts on his radar, hostile this time."
"Ok people, it seems there are hostile responders on their way, a group of enemy LAV's by the looks of it. Reform and prepare to engage, keep them away from the railgun at all costs. 7-4, hang back for now, this isn't the kind of fight you're cut out for. Give us supporting fire when you can, but don't take the risk of getting caught up in the fight. And by Sajuuk's mercy, make sure you don't hit us by accident. This next one is going to be one incredible furball." he commanded.
His squadron reformed around him, and the railgun backed up, taking firing positions on high ground. Then they settled to wait for the enemy to come within visual range.
"Redal, who was the one we lost?" Aver asked on a private channel as they were waiting.
"Devaath, sir." Redal answered. "I'd tell you to not blame yourself, but I know you won't listen to Me." he continued after a while. "There was nothing you could do. It's not your fault."
"No? Maybe not. But I am the reason he was here. Might as well have pulled the trigger myself." Aver said, his voice full of resentment.
If he had not been here, he would be somewhere else, doing something else, and likely finding whole other ways to get himself killed. It's not the kind of choice any of us get to make. We do as Sajuuk and our Kiith-Sa command as best we can. The rest is fate, nothing more." Redal answered.
"I'm tired of losing people, Redal." Aver said, sounding sad and angry. "I'm tired of them being sent out here because of me, and getting killed. I'm tired of having to pretend that it's just how it has to be. I'm tired of fighting, of killing, of people around me dying, and for what? What progress have we made, what good have we done? Sure, we've killed Faagani, but there's more of them each time. Sands take it, I'm tired of everything these days. Sometimes I just want it to be all over, ton not go through this pointless shit anymore."
"That's dangerous talk sir." Redal answered, sounding concerned. "We still need you here. Can't have you giving up on us now. You want to save these people, you have to swallow it up, stop wallowing in self-pity, and do your bloody job as best you are able, because none of us have any hope otherwise. Sir."
Aver sighed. "I get what you're saying, I just…" He paused, noting now that the enemy had drawn close during their conversation, almost to within engagement range.
"We shall continue this discussion at another time" Aver said to Redal, then turned the communication channels to the rest of his unit back on. "Alright, move in and engage, go, go, go!" he commanded his squad.
The enemy LAV's came over the crest of a dune, numbering roughly as many as the Gaalsien sand skimmers. At first they were in tight formation, but they quickly spread out as they noticed the Gaalsien railgun waiting for them. The said railgun took a shot as the two groups of vehicles were on their final approach to each other. The shot struck home, blasting apart the lead enemy vehicle in a flash of flame. Moments later the squads reached each other, and the area of their contact became a chaotic storm of fast moving vehicles, dodging and maneuvering amongst each other, guns chattering as they went. The skimmers were somewhat more maneuverable than the Coalition machines, but the turning turrets of the enemy compensated for this shortcoming quite handily, so the two groups were more or less evenly matched. The railgun hanged soma distance back, firing its gun repeatedly, aiming at the edges of the combat. With the fast paced combat and effort of not hitting its own allies ensured that the railgun scored no more hits. Despite this Aver knew that the railgun's contributions had its uses, limiting the enemy's possible field of movement and making them that much more nervous, that much more likely to break and fall back.
Despite everything, Aver could not help but grin as adrenaline flowed through him. These were the situations that he knew best. These fast paced battles between quick, agile vehicles, where life and death could be decided by a single decision made in the moment, were the moments that he lived for. He turned sharply, sending a hail of bullets against an enemy vehicle that crossed his screen tracing a trail of spider web shaped cracks across its windshield. The enemy LAV skidded forward on its remaining momentum until the vehicle thudded against a small mound of sand, stopping at last. With a start Aver dodged hard to the right to avoid collision with another Coalition vehicle. He succeeded only partially, the LAV clipped against his left side stabilizer. Subconsciously Aver checked his displays and found that the minor collision had left his ship reasonably functional. He quickly pivoted, feeling the forces of inertia press him against his seat, ad fired against the retreating rear of his enemy. The Coalition vehicle's tires shredded, tore and blew, the enemy's driving became erratic, and the machine flipped over violently, crumbling its frame as it rolled over repeatedly, trailing fire, before finally coming to rest on its roof.
And then the fight was over as quickly as it had begun, the remaining Coalition machines turning to flee. He ordered his squad members to sound off, and the listened as they replied one by one, reporting their status. Fortunately it seemed that his squad had survived. Some were reporting damage to varying degrees, but nothing that would necessitate their withdrawal from battle in his estimation. Satisfied that his squad was sufficiently intact to continue their attack he gave the order to pursue the enemy to the Boneyard facility. His squad reformed and advanced the railgun they had with them following a short distance behind. They came over the final rise before the beginning of the outer edge of the base…
…and straight into the sights of a dozen enemy AAV's. Even as his squad came into view the turrets of the enemy vehicles turned to point at them ready to unleash a torrent of death at his squad.
"Evade!" Aver had time to shout, but it was already too late to. The gun barrels of the enemy vehicles began rotating, and soon the air was filled with a storm of heavy projectiles. Half his squad was dead in the blink of an eye. The rest of them broke up and tried to get away, evading incoming fire furiously. It was not working. One by one the remaining members of his squad were getting picked off, their skimmers coming apart in explosions of blue flame. Somehow Aver survived through everything that was getting thrown at him. He quickly drove his skimmer amongst a mess of old Coalition vehicle wrecks, which soon began twisting and exploding in showers of shrapnel as the enemy continued to fire after him. By this time he was the only member of his squad left alive, a fact that was registering somewhere in the back of his mind, although the immediate threat to his own life forced him to push these thought to the sidelines. When he would manage to get out of the current mess he was in he would grieve properly.
After a moment of frantic driving among exploding wrecks Aver emerged back into the open, turning hard to the right and heading back to the place he had come from only moments earlier. The guns of the enemy turned obediently, continuing to fire at him. As he managed to reach the crest of the dune he had come from, he saw their allied railgun again. He also saw a second group of Coalition LAV's assailing it, and almost as soon as he laid eyes on the railgun it was chewed apart, collapsing onto the sand as its hover pods malfunctioned, riddled with bullets. That was the last thing he saw before he heard before he heard a loud noise from behind him and everything around him became a world of spinning and hurt before he was swallowed in darkness.
Aver slowly regained consciousness, spitting sand out from of his mouth as he came to. Then he paused, wondering where the sand had come from. More specifically he was wondering why he was lying on a field of sand. He looked around himself, realizing that his skimmer was nowhere to be found, just bits of red and black metal scattered all around him. How was he here, alive? Why had he not been torn to shreds as his skimmer had been? He raised himself up to a sitting position, grunting in pain as he became aware of the many parts of him that were hurting. He took a look at himself, noting that his clothes were in tatters and he was bleeding from a dozen cuts across his body. His eyes widened as he saw that his left hand was now missing two fingers. He also noticed that his right ear was feeling like it was on fire. When he raised his hand to touch it, he realized to his horror that there was no ear there, only a wet splotch that hurt to touch where it should have been.
It was then he remembered a conversation that he had had some time ago, something that Redal had said about an anomaly that he had detected. This memory sent his thoughts racing in alarm: "Sajuuk have mercy, how long had he been unconscious? Could it be that…?"
He looked around himself then froze as he saw what he had been looking for. Off in the distance and fast approaching there was a wall made up of a thick cloud, roiling and churning as it drew closer, flashes of lightning shining in its depths.
He was dead. He was a dead man breathing. There was no way he could outrun a storm such as this and once it reached him… he did not want to even think what it would do to him. Off in the distance he saw the retreating mass of the Kapisi as it disappeared into the storm front. So, not only was he going to die, he would do so knowing that he had failed, that they all had failed. The enemy had eluded their grasp once again.
Aver gave a long, tired sigh, slumping a little where he was sitting. He felt exhausted, defeated. With nothing else to do, he clasped his hands together, and prayed:
"The unworthy one who names himself Aver offers you prayer in accordance with your commandments, Maker of all things, whose hand shapes what is, Sajuuk. He humbly asks for you to lend him courage, for the end of his life is near at hand, and he fears greatly in his final moments. He asks you to accept his soul, for soon he shall stand before you for his final judgement. Forgive him for his sins, for he is your servant and has striven to do your will as best he was able to see."
"At least there was one good thing to come out of all this." Aver thought to himself bitterly. With his end there would no longer be an excuse to have a manned unit of skimmers. No more lives would be heaped upon his conscience because of his abilities. No more would be lost because he existed.
The storm was now nearly upon him, howling and raging with all its terrifying might, flying grains of sand scratching his skin. His spread his arms outwards in a gesture that was somehow defiance and acceptance both. He closed his eyes and waited.
And then the storm reached him at last…