09.30.3456
12:47
Tram Line 2B
Renzlowe shifted his pulse-rifle restlessly, plasti-armor rustling as he fidgeted. Uneasily, he glanced around. The tram tunnel stretched out endlessly before him, vanishing into the darkness. Overhead, the lights flickered on and off, electric static accompanying their cold, white light. Behind him, a transport tram stood silently, parked on the very edge of usable track. Beyond that, rubble littered the floor and the tracks were bent and twisted out of shape. Dimly visible was a pile of boulders and rock blocking the rest of the tunnel. The invading Trogg horde had caused a cave-in, and this tram was a vital supply line for the war effort. It had to be repaired. Around him, the muted clanging and pounding of the civilian tinker corps at work echoed off the tunnel walls. The usual joking banter that floated around construction zones was absent. No one laughed; faces were set to grim, determined lines. A sharp crackling filled the air as the brilliant blue glow of an arc-wielder bathed the side of the tunnel in light. Renzlowe shifted his weapon again.
The army was spread thin. He knew it, his lieutenant knew it, the civilians knew it. He'd been given a grand total of seven hour's rest from the last assignment before being re-assigned to a new regiment. At least he'd lived through the assignment. Glancing around once again, Renzlowe eyed the rest of his unit. The armor and weapons of the G.I.'s to his left and right matched the armor and weapons of his old regiment. The faces didn't. Renzlowe turned his gaze back down the tunnel before that line of thought got too dangerous. Right now, a tinker corps needed guarding. Grief would have to come later.
To his left, another G.I. suddenly spoke up, "Hey mac, how you holdin' up?"
So much for blocking out that line of thought. Renzlowe answered shortly, "Fine."
The other G.I. pressed, not taking the hint, "Well, I'm bored outta my skull. Plenty of big, important battles going on out there. Battles that are turning the tide of this war! And we're stuck here babysitting some tinkers. Gimme some action any day, I say."
Renzlowe had turned to stare incredulously at the other gnome halfway through his speech. He wanted action. He was either very stupid, or very insane. Renzlowe eyed him over; gun held in the wrong position, weak stance, no visible scars or markings, bright eyes. New recruit; very stupid. Grunting, he turned back to the tunnel, "Kid, you don't know nothin' about what you're talkin' about."
The other gnome rolled his eyes, "Yeah, sure, war's hell, blah blah blah. Aren't you Mr. Veteran. You're just playing it down because you're not out there getting any glory either. And my name's Gimbly, not kid."
Renzlowe didn't even turn to look this time, "Talk to me again after seeing your best friend have his guts ripped out by a trogg. And my name's Renzlowe. Not Mr. Veteran."
That shut the kid up.
Unfortunately, it opened the door for other G.I.'s to jump in.
"Don't be too hard on Gimbly."
Renzlowe turned to his right, looking at the heavyset gnome that had spoken. A scar marred his forehead, vanishing into his hairline. The gnome met his gaze, and then continued, "He means good. You were a rookie once too. Hell, so was I. They called me Hot-Head Herb."
Renzlowe didn't respond for several moments. "They used to call me The Renz."
Herb raised a brow, "That's a weird rookie name."
"Before all this."
"… Oh."
Herb shouldered his rifle and looked down the tunnel as well, "I don't think I had a nickname before I got drafted."
Renzlowe shrugged a shoulder, body armor rustling as it rose and fell, "Grew up in the sublevels. Everyone had a nickname in the sublevels."
"I had a nickname! I was G-man!"
Herb chuckled under his breath, the sound grating through the air like a rusty saw, "That's nice, Gimbly."
Renzlowe shook his head, about to retort despite himself. Before the words could leave his mouth, another voice pierced the conversation, "Silence! This is a sensitive operation. No chatter required."
Following the sound of the voice, Renz glanced behind himself. Another gnome, with sharp, angular features and narrow, accusatory eyes was approaching from behind the transport tram.
"Aw, come off it Paskal. You're a private like the rest of us, quit trying to give orders," Gimbly sneered.
Paskal returned the jibe with a withering stare, "Regardless of my station, the lieutenant gave the order for minimal communications. If you're talking, you're in direct defiance of orders. Do you want to be in direct defiance of orders?"
As Gimbly deflated under the verbal assault, Renzlowe cocked a brow and looked at Herb questioningly.
"Paskal's not a very fun guy," Herb deadpanned.
"I'm here to relieve a 'Renzlowe Wrenchcog' from his post," Paskal continued, glancing at Renz, "You're to report to the back of the line and take up a post by the construction."
Renzlowe nodded wordlessly, and shouldered his rifle, glancing quickly at Herb and Gimbly. As Paskal tapped his foot impatiently, Renzlowe took a step forward.
A noise echoed out from the darkness down the tunnel. Renzlowe froze mid-step, straining to hear. The noise sounded again; the clatter of a pebble being shifted. More soldiers took notice, turning to stare down the darkness of the tunnel. Another noise drifted out of the gloom. Simultaneously, a dozen G.I.'s raised their rifles and aimed down the tunnel, filling the air with the sound of rustling body armor. The sounds of construction immediately ceased, tinkers halting their work to look up at the soldiers with wide eyes, full of fear. Renzlowe breathed slowly, his eyes lining with the sights of his rifle. A bead of sweat slowly ambled from his temple to his jaw. Movement flashed in the gloom. A barrage of rifle fire filled the air, tearing into the shadows, muzzle flashes filling the tunnel with a blaze of light. Almost as soon as it had begun, the hail of fire stopped. Heavy, oppressive silence filled the tunnel. When no other movement or sound was heard, Paskal whispered harshly, "Someone investigate."
Cocking his weapon, Gimbly grinned, "Alright, I was waiting for some action," and trudged forward before Renzlowe could open his mouth. He strode forward down the darkened tunnel, rifle held at the ready, vibro-sword at his waist. With each crunching step, he faded further into the blackness. Soon, he was barely visible. Renzlowe gritted his teeth. A short laugh echoed out from the darkness and Gimbly re-emerged holding a bullet-ridden rat by the tail, "Just a rat, you can all calm down."
Renzlowe cursed under his breath and lowered his rifle. It was just a rat. Eyeing Gimbly's smiling face, Renzlowe let out a small sigh. The kid was lucky. With a carefree grin, Gimbly tossed the dead rodent over his shoulder. He laughed again and took a step forward.
His laugh jumped to a gurgling shriek as a gnarled hand exploded from his chest, fragments of bone and gore dripping from its twisted fingers. The snarling face of a trogg loomed out from the darkness behind him, its cavernous unhinged jaw clamping down around his head. For a single, ice-cold second, everything froze, the troops staring horrified at the scene before them. Renzlowe stared, wide-eyed, unable to move, to act, to tear his gaze away from the atrocity. Then the tunnel exploded with the sound of gunfire, bullets tearing into the floor, the walls, the trogg, and what was left of Gimbly. As the last of the shots echoed through the tunnel, Renzlowe looked down at his smoking rifle and realized they were his. Two bullet-riddled corpses fell to the ground with a thud.
Almost immediately, screeches and howls burst out from the darkness, echoing around the tunnel. Soldiers in the back rushed to the front, weapons raised, sights aiming down the darkened corridor. Renzlowe stared into the gloom, straining to see movement, shadows, anything that might give an estimate of how much danger they were about to face. Behind the line, tinkers dropped their tools and bolted for safety, hiding anywhere they could, their panicked screams and sobs rising to mix with the howls and roars already filling the air.
A flash of movement from within the shadows caught Renzlowe's eyes. He had raised his gun and fired before the image even registered. Around him, other troops began firing as well at other points of movement, the screeching and roaring growing ever louder. Almost in unison, dozens of troggs barreled out from the darkness, eyes wide and frenzied, spittle flying from their gaping maws. A hail of bullets tore into them, sending sprays of blood arcing into the air as the beasts collapsed to the floor, twitching violently. The barrage of gunfire continued, but more troggs burst forward, consumed by the single-minded obsession to crush and kill, Slugs tore gaping holes in their abdomens, but they still staggered forward. Limbs were blasted off by the force of the hyperkinetic bullets, but their advance was not slowed.
"Brace for impact!" Renzlowe found himself screaming over the chaos. The troggs were close enough to smell. Around him, soldiers dropped their rifles, drawing vibro-swords and electroshock bucklers. Renzlowe tossed his gun to the side, the electric whir of his vibro-sword rising to join the piercing buzz of the swords around him. He raised his buckler. Half a second later, the horde of troggs smashed into the gnomish line. Grunting with effort, Renzlowe dug his feet into the dirt, sliding backwards as the troggs forced their way forward, clawing hands reaching past the wall of shields, searching for flesh and bone. The sound of bodies clashing, troggs howling and gnomes screaming began to dull in his ears. The world around him faded between two scenes. He was in the tunnel guarding the tinkers. He was on a bridge deploying a bomb. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.
Pain exploded in his shoulder, snapping him back to reality. He glanced over, the gnarled hand that had gashed his arm retreating back behind the shield wall. With a snarl, Renzlowe thrust his vibro-sword after it, feeling the blade sink deep into flesh as a sharp squeal pierced the air. With another yell, he jerked the blade back, screaming to the rest of the troops, "Turn on the juice! Now! Now! Now!" The tunnel exploded with electric blue light. Searing bolts of lightning arced from the electroshock bucklers and into the swarm of troggs, sending the foremost troggs collapsing in charred heaps while the rest convulsed violently backwards.
Breaking formation, the soldiers charged, vibro-swords carving a swath of death into the churning mass of beasts. Renzlowe dashed forward, blocking the overhead smash of the howling trogg before him. Retaliating quickly, he sliced his blade low, severing the brute's hamstrings and sending it toppling to the floor. With a grunt, he leapt onto its collapsed frame, stabbing it through the back before withdrawing his sword and using its convulsing body as a stepping-stone to leap forward once more, cleaving through the skull of another trogg.
A deafening explosion rocked the tunnel, the force knocking Renzlowe off-balance. He squinted and raised his hand against the wave of heat emanating from the raging inferno that had ignited within the horde of troggs. As the fires receded, a rain of torn limbs and shattered bone fell on the troops, covering them with trogg remains. Renzlowe risked a glance behind the line, and saw the civilian tinkers arming mining explosives and hurling them into the fray.
Turning once more to face the battle, Renzlowe was greeted with the sight of a trogg bringing down a bone club, screaming in fury, aiming for his head. Before he could react, a vibro-sword slashed through the air, whirring sharply as it severed the beast's arms, bone club falling harmlessly to the floor. Glancing over, Renzlowe saw Herb finish his swing. He gave a curt nod before spinning around and ducking back into the fray. Grimly, Renzlowe raised his sword and did the same.
Smashing a trogg across the face with his shield, Renzlowe spun around, ducking wild swings and blocking crushing blows. Something warm and wet dripped onto the side of his face. He quickly wiped at it, looking at his hands. Saliva. Jerking his head upwards, Renzlowe saw a dozen troggs clawing their way across the ceiling, scrambling over the line of soldiers towards the civilians. Leaping wildly, several of the beasts cleared the fight, loping directly towards the explosive-tossing tinkers. The gnomes screamed as the troggs smashed into them, dropping the primed charges and turning to run. There was a scuffle. The charges exploded.
The agonized screams of the tinkers were silenced by the deafening blast. The force of the explosion threw Renzlowe back, slamming him into the wall of the tunnel. What was left of the tinkers rained down around him. A mist of blood and gore filled the air. Spots danced before his eyes. His ears rang, drowning out all other noise. He stared blearily as the distraction from behind broke the gnomish line. Troggs dropped from the ceiling onto unsuspecting troops, crushing them underfoot. A trogg grabbed a soldier by the arm, and with a heave of sinew, tore it from his socket. As the soldier dropped to his knees in horrified agony, the beast began beating him with his own limb. A large one tackled Paskal, sending him toppling to the floor. The monster raised its fists and smashed them into his prone form, bashing and crushing. His hands raised in a feeble attempt to ward off the blows. With a soundless howl, the creature caved in his skull.
Turning to his right, the frightened face of a civilian tinker filled Renzlowe's vision. The gnome was screaming something, her eyes wide and frantic. He stared back, hearing only the rush of his own breathing and the ringing in his ears. She slapped him. Blinking, he turned to look once again, her words beginning to assert themselves over the noise in his head; the ringing in his ears giving way.
"I said what the fel do we do now!?" She repeated.
Renzlowe cast his eyes around the repair-site turned battlefield. His gaze rested on the transport tram. "To the tram!" he screamed, staggering to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain in the back of his head, "Everyone get inside the tram!"
Soldiers and civilians alike sprinted for the tram, the troggs only steps behind them. Renzlowe staggered forward as fast as he could, the tinker doing her best to help him along. Stooping low, he scooped up a discarded rifle as he ran, slamming a spare clip into the ammo cartridge and hurrying for the tram. Within seconds they reached the threshold, Renzlowe scrambling inside, then turning around to help in the other gnome. He reached out, grabbing her firmly by the hand. A trogg loomed up from behind her. Renzlowe's eyes widened as he immediately felt the freakishly strong pull of the beast, hauling on the other gnome, trying to pull her from the tram. He pulled back for all he was worth, the pitiful screams of the tinker filling his head. Bracing himself against the doorframe, Renzlowe grabbed the rifle and aimed down the trogg's gaping mouth. He fired point-blank, blasting open the monster's head. As it fell to the ground with a thud, he hauled the gnome into the tram and slammed a fist onto the door control panel, sliding the steel-plated doors shut.
Breathing deeply, Renzlowe glanced around the inside of the tram. A half-dozen haggard soldiers and tinkers were scattered about, wincing as troggs smashed and pounded against the tram walls. A low clattering caught his attention. Looking down, he saw the gun in his hand was shaking. His hand was shaking. Renzlowe dropped the rifle. His hand continued to shake. Swallowing, he raised his head once again, "Alright, anyone of you know how to run a tram?"
The tinker at his side cleared her throat, "I-I can. Two weeks in i-introductory tram p-piloting, sir."
Renzlowe nodded and hurried her to the control room, the sound of howling and pounding against the tram growing louder and louder. "Okay, kid, what's your name?"
She trembled, eyeing the controls nervously, "Linzie, sir."
"Linzie, 'ey? My name's Renzlowe, you can call me Renz, alright?"
She nodded mutely.
"Okay, good. Now look, what I need you to do is get this tin can movin' outta here. Can you do that?"
Linzie nodded again, placing trembling hands on the controls and spinning a dial. The tram engines began to hum. As if sensing their prey was escaping, the troggs smashed harder and faster on the tram, the sound of their blows rising to a frenzied pitch. Screams and gunfire echoed back from the main car as troggs punched holes in the tram walls, reaching gnarled hands in to grab at the gnomes inside. The soldiers drew their blades, stabbing through the holes and hacking at the arms that reached through them. Cursing vehemently, Renzlowe turned back Linzie, who worked frantically at the controls.
Suddenly, the pounding outside the control room was replaced with a loud crash. The snarling face of a trogg leered through the opening. With a shout, Renzlowe raised his gun, but the beast was already leaping through the hole. It soared over Linzie and crashed into his chest, the rifle scattering off to the side. Inches away from his face, the creature roared, its mouth open impossibly wide, spittle flying against his face, its roar deafening in his ears. Dimly he heard Linzie screaming. He pushed against the trogg with all his might, straining as the crooked-toothed jaw sank ever closer to his head. Suddenly, the sound of metal thunking against flesh echoed through the control room, and the trogg rolled off of him, howling in pain. Looking up, he saw Linzie brandishing a fire extinguisher.
Glancing back at the trogg, Renzlowe saw it fix its gaze on the new prey. He scrambled to his feet. The trogg leapt at Linzie. He leapt at the trogg. The two collided in mid-air, crashing into another control panel.
"Floor it!" Renzlowe screamed over his shoulder as the beast thrashed against him. Dropping the fire extinguisher, Linzie turned to the controls once more. With a heave, she pushed a lever as far forward as possible. With a jerk, the tram lurched forward, sending Renzlowe and the trogg toppling to the ground once more. The two rolled, locked in combat, bashing, kicking, head-butting. The trogg rolled to the top, raising a fist to bring down on his skull. Renzlowe gathered his legs underneath the beast. With a howl, the monster brought down its fist. With roar of defiance, Renzlowe kicked out; launching the screaming abomination out of the hole it had burst through. The trogg fell screaming in front of the tram, bursting like a wet balloon as the wheels smashed its body.
The car jerked and rumbled as it gathered speed, troggs falling off the rapidly accelerating vehicle. Some landed under its wheels, limbs crushed and severed. Others fell upon the third rail, their bodies convulsing horribly as electric current blasted through them. As the tram sped off down the tunnel, their horrific screams and howls receded into the darkness. Soon the rumbling
As the screams and howls of the troggs faded away into the receding darkness, Renzlowe let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The car rumbled and jerked under his feet. Linzie stood at the controls; her eyes locked ahead, knuckles white as she gripped the lever. Hesitantly, he patted her on the shoulder. She didn't move. Turning around, he stepped into the other car. Civilians and soldiers alike sat or stood, staring at nothing. Someone let out a choked sob. One gnome looked up and met his gaze. There was a scar on his forehead. Herb. The two locked eyes; empty gazes meeting in midair. Wordless understanding was found in each haggard stare. The car rumbled around them as the tram sped down the tunnel.