The city was a sniper's delight...lots of places to hide, plenty of noise to mask a shot and drop unsuspecting soldiers. This was everything he could've asked for with another spec ops unit making enough trouble. Thanks to this distraction, a Vortian General lay dead...though this government official he was after...the head of intelligence had some intelligence after all…
First Sergeant Kazak worked his way through the blown out hulk of another civilian structure, three stories above the ground. Out of contact with HQ given how he operated, now the company sergeant had to work his way back and see how many of his men succeeded, or just didn't come home. With his sniper rifle on his back and a machine pistol in hand, he stopped at the back of what was once a bedroom. Concealed by shadows from the direction of sunlight, he withdrew a set of binoculars and surveyed the street below, trying to plan his move across the street and continue his stealthy maneuvers back to base. Occasional duels with some Vortian marksmen aside, he's done well avoiding the grunts, dropping some where he needs to.
Everything was plotted out..until he saw movement. He holstered his machine pistol and replaced his binoculars and drew his sniper rifle; it had the greater magnification despite a lower field of view. The figures moving out of a ruined building below weren't Vortian, they were Irken…
One he recognized rather quickly, beaten and injured as he was, Saro, that infamous commander with his reputation for some rather heinous actions. The other with him was strangely dressed, even from a special forces perspective. Kazak himself would have looked odd to regulars in gray but this one looked even more out of place than him...still Irken. Not daring to key his radio to avoid triangulation, he moved for the stairs and started down it, swapping weapons back for his machine pistol as he moved. A quick peek down both ends of the street from the main entrance, then a sprint across the street and through a blown out window. From there, he made his way to the entry door at the other side of the street, not exposing himself just yet, though remaining silent. Last thing he needed was to be shot by his own side.
The displaced Commander replayed events over and over again in his mind. All that had culminated in this moment over the past few days: Being forced to work alongside one of the most disgusting, cruel, foul creatures to masquerade as one of his own people. The suffering endured by one of his own at The Vortian Nightmare's hands. His own demons that escaped and resulted in the loss of innocent, civilian life. The ill-fated sabotage of the manufacturing facility and its inevitable collapse. The grim realization that he and Saro survived a terrible fate only to be treated to a worse one.
Tired, weary, and exhausted with his uniform stained, tattered, and fouled from recent events, the blue-eyed Irken grunted with effort as he bore the weight of his despicable Irken Elite ally. Saro deserved death as far as he was concerned. The man was a walking atrocity. All justified for the glory of the Almighty Tallest and the Irken Empire. Yet...his state of affairs left him conflicted. No sentient being should suffer as much as Saro had at the hands of his captors. His limbs dislocated, legs shattered, and left bloody and bruised. Even if the man tempted fate by loudly boasting of his presence for all to see...he didn't deserve this.
The debate of morality and ethics through his muddled mind weighing heavy on a plethora of things had to wait. Priorities first. The weight of Saro's unconscious form across his shoulders in a fireman's carry and procured weapons threatened to buckle his knees as he climbed out of the rubble of the hidden command post belonging to the Vortians. Rub'Akho and his subordinate. The same that he spared days before. Mercy had spared his life. Their lives.
Unfortunately, several kilometers of enemy territory lay between them and the front. That didn't even address crossing back to friendly territory, let alone reunited with his unit. They were in good hands. Corr and Volx would continue in his stead, ensuring discipline and virtue remained.
After all that had transpired...maybe that was for the best.
The sniper peered down the street opposite the two outside from his position. Satisfied there wasn't anyone jumping out to shoot, he paused a moment and stepped out, muzzle of his weapon pointed on the ground with his left hand out. "Hold your fire." With that opening, he stepped forward, stopping a few feet away from Vult and Saro.
His uniform was clearly spec ops, but completely medium gray rather than the standard colors of the Elites. His gear the standard, but modified, but his weapons, definitely not standard. "First Sergeant Kazak, with the scout snipers of the first spec ops group. Looks like you could use a hand navigating your way back to friendly lines." He paused, looking over Vult's equipment, but he couldn't peg where he was from, "Who are you with? That stuff is...pretty fancy, even for special forces."
Having done his best to remain unseen as he moved with the burden of Saro on his back in the most literal sense, the sudden appearance of a fellow Irken startled him. The green of his skin and sight of antenna alone is all that stayed Vult's hands from dropping the Irken Elite Captain to shoulder the procured Vortian rifle slung across his chest.
Steadying himself to better support the weight of his comrade in the loosest sense of the term, he gave a small, weary nod of affirmation in the direction of Kazak.
"Any help you have to offer is much obliged, Sergeant." The blue-eyed Irken greeted. "Commander Vult...Spec Ops, classified beyond that. We can security clearance check each other later. For now, this smelly sack of dookie is weighing me down. We're separated from our units. Have been for days. No rations and very little sleep. Lead on."
Kazak reached into a pocket of his jacket, withdrawing a ration bar as he started back towards the building he stepped out of. "I can spare this. Should tide you over until we get back." He opened the bar's packaging, holding it out for Vult once they stepped inside. "Moving through the ruins, I estimate we'll be at the front in three hours." He paused then looked over Saro again, "...Double that, maybe as long as eight. Then it's just a matter of sneaking past enemy troops, or letting the front move past us. Should be in some disarray with their general down."
He withdrew a hologram, checking their location based on his estimates of their surroundings and mentally outlined a rough path as he started moving towards a side exit that would lead to an alley and quietly move through the streets. He was far more used to solo ops, but he wasn't about to leave one of his own behind with a...hindrance on his shoulders.
Vult nodded, adjusting the weight of Saro's body.
"Before we move, he needs stabilized. Both legs are shattered, arms dislocated. They tortured him for information." He explained darkly. "Not worried about the eye, but he will bleed out before we make it back. How's your first aid?"
"Not much of a medic, but I know enough to be dangerous." He stopped and holstered his weapon, withdrawing a medkit and looking around in a room, finding a table in what used to be a kitchen, though covered in rubble. "In here," he swept the largest chunks away with one arm, breaking some items within for makeshift splints and tearing cloths to tie them in place.
Following the newly-acquainted Irken Spec Ops Sergeant, Vult waited for him to clear the table of debris and rubble. Careful as he could muster with his waning strength and lack of energy, he set the wounded Captain down, laying him back to begin administering aid. Relief filled his aching back and bones with the weight free, allowing him to focus on the task at hand.
"Here," Vult offered, procuring his own medkit from his belt. "Surely there is enough here between the two to patch him up. Just need him to stay alive long enough for his PAK to do the heavy lifting. Set the bones, sterilize, stop the bleeding, and bandage."
As the Commander spoke, training took over, moving deftly to render aid. A moment he desperately missed having Sula around...or any of his unit for that matter. They likely believed him to be dead after being buried alive by a collapsing building. A critical blow to morale he wished to rectify post-haste.
Using both their supplies, his first priority was to use some clotting agent on some areas before bandaging them. After that, he splinted the legs to prevent any further damage until the PAK kicked in. Last thing was a pain, but he had to relocate both arms. Saro was beaten within an inch of his life by his guess. There were a few bandages left just in case, but nothing else. Most of their personal kits were used up patching up one man to be 'good enough' for the trek home.
This whole ordeal easily ate up the better part of an hour. Better than lugging a corpse back to base. He slipped the few bandages left in his own kit and gave a nod to Vult. "That should hold him over for now. Let's get moving. I got an idea of a path out of here, but we may have to improvise along the way."
Having done all they could to expedite Saro's recovery, there was nothing else they could do with the means at their disposal. A bombed-out, ruinous urban hellscape that was once pristine, family-sized apartments was no place to address the severity of his wounds proper. As Kazak had decreed, it would have to do for now.
Thankful for the ration bar that was promptly devoured for a tiny iota of much-needed energy, Vult prepared to move out with the Spec Ops Sergeant. All signs of their presence were promptly gathered. Soiled bandages and used medical supplies were stuffed back into the kits haphazardly. Leave no trace behind. They were ghosts, never there to begin with.
Grunting with exertion as he took up the now-doctored Saro back across his shoulders, he nodded towards Kazak.
"Ready to move out when you are. Lead the way."
Drawing his secondary weapon once more, the sniper moved towards a side exit of the apartment complex. He carefully scanned their exit for hostiles before stepping out into a rubble congested alley. Stepping over top of fallen pieces of structures and a few dead civilians, his footsteps were calculated, but quiet as he could make them. Passing a couple buildings, he made a turn, then stopped and crouched behind a dumpster with a portion of wall affording some added cover.
A quick switch to his sniper rifle and he started surveying the upper floors of the buildings opposite them, looking for any glints that might indicate a Vortian sniper. Satisfied he didn't see any after a meticulous scan, he looked around and saw nobody at street level. So far so good. "I'll run for it first, cover you on the other side." With that, he rose and rounded their cover, sprinting across the street, catching a couple of Vortians in his peripheral vision. Sliding to a stop and against the wall, he paused a few moments to relax before peeking around, exposing as little as possible, they were both coming his way.
Rather than waste a pair of shots and possibly give away their location, he drew a captured plasma grenade, activating it and hurling it at the two. A scream of shock and the resulting explosion saw them both dispatched. With the two down, he signaled for Vult to cross, scanning for any more hostiles that may arise.
With combat effectiveness waning between fatigue, the handicap of carrying a fellow Irken's weight in addition to his own hindered what little he could do. The plasma rifle acquired from the rubble days prior belonging to their adversaries hung slung across his chest, barely usable with a single hand.
Optimistically, they would make it back to friendlier territory. An ironic thing knowing full and well the closer they grew to the front, the more likely they were to face staunch opposition. Rank-and-file Vortian Defense Force regulars growing exponentially in unit sizes, combat mechs and walkers, artillery, armor, and aircraft...a literal army stood between them and friendly forces.
Circumstances required of him to follow his fellow Irken soldier's lead. This Kazak seemed competent and capable enough. Spec Ops given his training and attire, by appearances. He reminded Vult of Tuu, his own unit's marksman.
Some more movements between ruined buildings, the sounds of war became more apparent. Rather than take the risk at the moment, Kazak stopped the trio in an office building, moving to the third floor to get a better view. Walkers, growing numbers of troops, moving would be dangerous. Lowering his sniper rifle, he went back into the hall and sat back against a wall. "I'd suggest we wait before moving. Might be best if the front moves past us before we make contact. Fighting from behind would only get us killed." He rested his rifle over his lap and he looked to Vult, "You sent to rescue the Commander or did you just come across him?"
Vult felt a conflicting mixture of relief and frustration at such news. Having spent the past several hours moving continuously to evade detection and certain death at the hands of their Vortian adversaries, he finally accepted the forced reprieve. Sighing, he slid down the wall, gently lowering the injured Saro to the floor to not aggravate his healing injuries more than necessary. Even in the low light of moon filtering through the cracks of the rubble and the occasional brilliant flash of an explosion nearby, his uniform was ruined. Armor beaten, battered, and gnarled, fibers torn, shredded, and stained with dark green and violet alike.
The dark green skin only visible beneath his battered helmet and stuck open visor was covered in sweat, grime, and soot. Eyes dark, sunken with fatigue, running on hopes and dreams at that point alone as being the savior twice over for a man he so desperately despised left him struggling with his own conscience. Another mental battle to wage on another day at another time. Worry later. Survive now.
The tattered sleeves and scuffed gauntlets belonging to Vult rose to his helmet, pulling it off to free his neck of the burden of weight even if briefly. His head rest against the cracked facade of plastered concrete at his back.
"He's a Captain...and no," Vult offered, throat dry and raspy. "My unit was tasked with working alongside his Irken Elite Company. They were the distraction. We the scalpel."
Pausing as he reached behind to his belt for his canteen, he pulled it out. Twisting it open, he upturned the dented container, only to find it empty. A frustrated sigh and toss of the bottle was all he had in response.
"The manufacturing plant northeast of your sector? The one that collapsed? That was us."
Kazak looked inside his own canteen, seeing it at least a quarter full, holding it out for Vult. "So you did that?" One of the many distractions that allowed him to move undetected. A massive collapse of an industrial building would draw more soldiers than a lone Irken moving quietly in the shadows. The sniper himself removed some shades over his eyes and removed the soft cap he was wearing, preferable to a helmet for him personally. A man with dim orange eyes and light green skin.
"I was sent to assassinate one of their leaders. Field Marshal, head of their defense forces. Solo op." He looked over the Commander, he noticed earlier he was taller than the other man. Curious… "So, how are you a Commander? You're a bit short for your rank. I've seen Commanders taller than me usually."
Hesitantly, he eyed the offered canteen before accepting it. His parched throat and arrid gullet demanded relief. All that survival simulator training was being put to the test. He still drew breath and may very well make it back alive at this race. A success in his books.
"They are...and its classified," He pointedly spoke, resting his head back against the wall before handing the nearly-drained canteen back to his fellow Irken. "Level 9 clearance. The Captain here is unaffiliated. Protocol dictated I should have left him to his fate for being so weak and careless to allow himself captured. He escaped under his own strength and wits should anyone press the matter."
That high of a security clearance? That was an instant cue to Kazak to shut his mouth and not pry further into whatever it is Vult does. He took an ever so slight sip from the canteen before slipping it back. A few hours and he'd have replenished supplies anyhow, hopefully. "Right, we just ran into him on the way back." May as well have the story straight in case anyone pries. Conflicting stories from Vult and himself wouldn't go well at all.
"So I guess the rest of your outfit is already back at base? If you're free to say, anyhow." His own company was waiting on him, that much he figured. Still had to take stock of losses, get their next mission. Throwing the kitchen sink at a peer adversary...he'd be in this for some time with little rest...until this was done or he ended up dead, probably.
"They are...I hope they are, anyway." he realistically reasoned, furrowing his brow with a palm flattening his antenna back against his head in concentration. "After the structure fell, I don't recall much. I dug myself out of the rubble. Some time had passed...hours...days...I'm not so sure anymore. I was stuck with this dead weight and slowed me down," The Commander gestured to Saro.
"Only Invaders operate solo. Why are you here behind the line alone without support?" Vult pressed, switching the topic of conversation away from him at risk of implicating Kazak into a free, one-way ticket to deactivation for knowing too much.
"Well, this isn't my first run," he started with a sigh, "I haven't had the best track record with spotters. Not all of them came back, just the nature of what we do. I always made my shots, my guess is that's why I wasn't branded a defective." He shrugged, "Weeks before this campaign, I get pulled into this experimental unit within the First Spec Ops Group. I train up the snipers and spotters before we deploy. Unit's trained to operate in sniper-spotter teams…" he paused and took a glance at Saro before looking back at Vult, "The commander and I are the only ones who operate solo, we both had an HVT to take down and targets of opportunity if we ran into any. A proof of concept he had cleared for use in the campaign on Vort."
That was the short story without diving into critical details, anyhow, "I find already I prefer operating alone. One less liability, one less body to worry about. Not too many I find up to my demands, but the ones I trained? Some of the best if you ask me."
"So there are more in-field tests than myself and the team I assembled…" Vult commented at this revelation. Interesting. Very interesting. His curiosity piqued, his focus returned to Kazak. The ambiance of distant battle was growing louder as time passed. The line was slowly moving towards them. A sign that the Vortian Defense Force was being pushed back as the Empire gained ground.
"Last year...were you at Praxxus 7 during ID One?"
Kazak nodded in reply, "Yeah, yeah I was. Back then I was a Lieutenant, company commander of the special weapons company, first battalion of the Third SOG. We had a mission of sabotaging enemy artillery, directing fire from behind enemy lines, eliminating HVTs, all in supporting Elites in their advance. When the priority one call went out to retreat, my spotter and I were too far behind the lines to even make it back."
The sniper shook his head, "To make a long story short, he got a plasma bolt to the head, I had to steal a Vortian ship to escape, and that's when they stripped me of my officer's rank and demoted me. Apparently making use of enemy tech even to follow orders and return home gets you in deep unless you're an Invader. Made no sense to me...but my success rate with our objectives...I guess is why they didn't hit my off switch back then." He sighed, "That entire operation was screwed up from the start...my company lost a quarter of our number, but the group itself was practically decimated."
"I was a Lieutenant then, Irken Elite. We had the "honor" of participating in the first wave of the offensive. Make planetfall, secure a landing zone, and push the VDF out of their entrenched positions." Vult began, checking on Saro's condition. The man, battered and bruised with shattered legs, was stable. His breathing and pulse were steady. His PAK shouldered the burden of recovery. He was going to survive much to the dismay of many both ally and enemy alike.
Memories of that ill-fated day on Praxxus 7 replayed in his mind. The scent of burnt ozone of thousands of plasma rounds being exchanged, the steady pounding of Deathwave cannon volleys, explosions of all shapes and sizes ranging from hand grenades to artillery and airstrikes in close proximity. The putrid scent of Irken blood and cries of agony, pleading for relief or to see the cold, unfeeling robot arm of the hatchery one last time.
"That day went about as well for me as it did anyone else with boots on the ground. Every inch of ground gained was paid in far too much blood. We completed our objective and momentum stalled as we ran into more staunch opposition. There was to be waves of fresh troops and armor support landing behind us after establishing the front and holding the line. None came."
Vult's cybernetic fist tightened with enough strength to tremble, the faint creak and groan of stressed joints could be heard.
"...All because of one, inept, incompetent, overzealous, arrogant Invader...my company sustained a 70% mortality rate."
He relaxed with a shaky exhale, taking a deeper breath to clear his mind.
"...I swore that day never again I'd lose men so senselessly for a lost cause. Fate seemed to agree as the Almighty Tallest themselves summoned me in the aftermath of that humiliating defeat and offered an opportunity to reclaim the honor we lost that day. It was that or face deactivation for dereliction of duty. I had not choice, but do not regret the one made."
"Looks like both special forces and Elites alike weren't spared the horror of high casualties in that..mess." Vult being a former Elite turned special forces? Curious...especially so the fact of their two experimental units fighting against the Vortians in this conflict. How many others were there? This on top of both of them being survivors of that disaster of an operation. They had something in common already. "That day, I swore if I had the chance to make sure my troops made it back alive instead of dead, even if it was just as simple as giving them the means to survive, I wouldn't let that repeat itself."
Inwardly, he was starting to wonder if Vult was no fan of the style of command as well, though he quickly redirected his thoughts away from that line of thinking, "Your unit, they also survivors of that? My company was formed of surviving spec ops snipers, scouts, and spotters from Praxxus." Perhaps he, Vult, and Mizak were all cut from a similar cloth, at least that was Kazak's thinking.
"They are. I was given complete control over personnel selection. I made sure to find the best in their respective fields that survived Praxxus 7. Soldiers that had seen the horrors of war at their worst and their resolve remained unshaken. I am afraid I cannot go into details due to security clearance issues. Only that they were hand-selected by me to perform specific tasks within the unit. Each has their strength."
Kazak was impressed with Vult in a short time to say the least. "Captain Mizak would like you. Of that much I'm certain." He was certain Mizak would make it back, at least in his best estimates. He was one of the snipers who operated behind the front on Praxxus and made it over the front to rejoin friendly forces to pull out. That's likely why he's the commander, it took a lot of bravery to pull a stunt like that. "You haven't lost anyone in this mess yet have you? I'm not trying to pry where my business doesn't belong, I'm curious from the perspective of another experimental spec ops unit's leadership."
"As far as I am aware of, no. I combed over the rubble after I came to looking for survivors. All I found was dead Vortians and Captain Saro here. I want to believe they all made it clear of the collapse and are back at the forward operating base in this sector. They will not be there for long, however. The war continues with or without us and we are all expendable." He concluded, somewhat dejectedly bordering along the lines of bitterness. His time outside of the rank-and-file and recent events weighed heavy on his mind.
The sniper waited, sighing first, "Yeah...that feeling of knowing that even for all your skill and experience, at the end of the day you're just as easily replaced as anyone else…" His eyes closed, resting his head against the wall behind him, "It's a bitter pill, and it never gets better. I try not to remind myself of that." In his case...how many of his spotters were so callously replaced over his career. Not even as much as a modicum of respect paid for them...to say he was bitter was putting lightly.
Vult lifted his right gauntlet, flipping open a panel with the digits of his left hand. Thankfully they still had power and were functional as he took stock of the status of his suit's systems and remaining equipment.
"You said you preferred working solo. How well do you perform in groups?"
"Been a while since I've operated in anything larger than a sniper-spotter pair, but…" he thought back to some of the missions back on Praxxus 7. There were some instances operating in six man squads where he fared well, not only sniping but acting as a squad leader given his rank at the time. "The times I did in the past? They went well. Not only was I the squad's marksman in those cases, I also had to command. I can manage." His record would speak enough if he could pull it up. Vult would likely have access to it once they got back, that much he figured, that and the commander would no doubt review his record.
He had some idea of where this sort of question was leading. "You looking to attach an extra sniper to your unit?"
"Unlike the Armada rank-and-file, I actual recognize competency and talent. Your skills speak for themselves as you've demonstrated in leading us back to the front. Why allow such talent to go to waste, unappreciated by your superiors, and ordered to take hill after hill with no recognition for your efforts?"
He concluded running diagnostics, looking up to Kazak.
"Naturally, the choice is yours to make short of forcing a transfer to my unit. While I may have that authority, I would prefer individuals who willingly seek to challenge themselves and prove to be the elite of the elite for the glory of the Empire."
The sniper rubbed his chin before a loud explosion outside snapped his train of thought. He scrambled to his feet and moved to a door frame facing the exterior, crouched down as a smaller, secondary explosion went off. He peered around the frame to look out of the destroyed segment of exterior wall and saw a Vortian mech that was clearly retreating as wreckage below. "Looks like we're really graining ground now, front should be over us in a matter of minutes."
The blast, closer than the rest yet, shook the ground. Pictures hanging from the wall at Vult's back rattled, one falling to the floor. Its pane shattered, sprinkling shards of glass across the stone floor. Debris and dust sintered from floors and support above. He too moved into the frame of another interior doorway, spotting the movement outside as part of the exterior wall gave way.
Vortian forces were being routed and pulling back. No voices could be heard yet, but the mechs and walkers were backing up, providing covering fire. Other vehicles would soon follow and eventually the infantry at the front. Assured there was no other following rounds likely to hit the structure they were in, Vult slunk out of cover to drag Saro to safety.
"Ahhhh…" the Captain seethed, coming to finally at the rude awakening of being drug across rubble-strewn floors to aggravate his wounds.
"Relax, be quiet," Vult asserted, propping him up against the door frame.
"Nnn...w-where are we?" Saro blearily queried, his natural eye blinking, struggling to focus in the low light.
"Safe, for now. How are you feeling?"
"Like I was ran over with a Voot Cruiser...twice…" He grimaced, looking at his splinted, set lim and bandages saturated with blood. His skin remained pale and gaunt. "...but alive."
"Unfortunately," Vult commented under his breath before speaking normally to him. "Your PAK seems to be handling your recovery just fine. We are almost back to Irken-controlled territory."
Unconvinced at Vult's assurance, the Irken Elite Captain lifted his head, looking around the vicinity. Shadows...rooms...doors...residential complex...home to filthy, inferior aliens...another Irken. Wait...another Irken?
"W-who's that?" He squinted, trying to see more clearly. "One of your Speckie friends?"
The sniper soon repositioned himself, switching back to his secondary weapon in case some Vortians tried to come up the stairwell. He moved towards them, a bit more cover from the crumbling exterior walls from his previous vantage point. "Something like that, and a reason you still live. First Sergeant Kazak, scout sniper company, First SOG." He heard a door slam open on the lower levels, probably some infantry. So long as they didn't come up the stairs they should be all right.
That's exactly what was happening, however. Four Vortians, one of them with a guided AT missile launcher, started up the stairs to get a better shot at oncoming Irken vehicles.
Before Saro could respond to Kazak's introduction, negatively or otherwise, the commotion from the staircase of the building alerted the three Irken. Training took over as the two able bodied men quickly repositioned for more suitable cover. Vult ensnared Saro by the collar of his uniform, dragging him on the floor with him much to his dismay across fractured stone and broken glass once more.
Optimistically, they'd keep climbing the floors for a better vantage point.
The Commander looked to Kazak, touching a single extended digit to his lips as he pressed into the shadows of an overturned table in what used to be the dining room of the abode. With only two of them combat effective and an unknown number total of potential hostiles, fighting their way out would not have ended well in their state of affairs.
The sniper nodded, making his way into a hall closet and crouched down. It wasn't the best place to hide, but with seconds to react, and no need to open the door, it seemed the best bet as he slid behind some stored boxes. Much to Kazak's dismay, and likely Vult's, they soon heard voices as they ran through the front door and towards their end of the apartment. A Vortian corporal, two riflemen, and the man with the AT launcher set up in a bedroom facing the street where their enemy would no doubt advance.
"Who has the spare missiles?" No verbal reply, but one of the riflemen started taking tubes off his back. In total they had eight, including one loaded in the launcher. The team fully prepared to do quite a bit of damage to any armored advance that came up.
Kazak poked slightly out of cover, looking to Vult's position and get information on what they were up against. For now, it seemed there was just these four. The rest of the infantry below were too busy running for better cover down below or moving into other buildings that seemed a bit more stable.
Vult pressed himself further back into the shadows, forcing Saro even further back in the process as the Vortian soldiers stormed into the apartment towards the opening in the exterior wall. An anti-armor squad by appearances taking up position. Four men. Controlling his breathing and remaining calm, he observed for the time being. There didn't seem to be any others coming to reinforce. The sounds of battle were growing louder and louder with each passing minute.
Thankfully Saro had enough functioning brain cells to not blurt out rhetoric and claim superiority over their "inferior" adversaries and give away their position. The dilemma remained though: To remain idle and wait for them to displace and move on or to compromise their position and engage with the hope of escaping.
Weighing their options and considering their chances, Vult finally reached a conclusion. Waiting until Kazak glanced in his direction once more, he gave a series of short, rapid non-verbal commands with his hands.
You...Two Left...Me...Two Right...My Mark...Confirm?
Kazak returned a hand signal acknowledging the order as he shouldered his secondary and slipped towards the door, peering around and waiting for the signal to move. Once he got the signal to go, he rounded the frame and advanced, the joint attack something of precision expected of spec ops. With controlled bursts of plasma from his machine pistol, his two targets soon came to rest on the floor as lifeless heaps.
Even if he had never worked with Kazak before to the same capacity as he did his own men, the man was well-disciplined and appropriately trained. He moved with Vult did, engaging the same. The squad of Vortians screamed in surprise at the sudden ambush, attempting to turn and return fire in vain as they were dispatched subsequently without incident. Controlled bursts from Vult's own appropriated assault rifle stitched the pair on the right as Kazak dealt with the two on the left. In the blink of an eye, four Vortian men never knew what hit them, dying in defense of their homeworld against the Emerald Tide just like countless millions across the planet.
"Clear!" Vult called, hearing or seeing no other reaction from the very brief firefight that was entirely one-sided. Stopping only momentarily to pilfer much-needed power cells for his VDF rifle from the men to stash in his own pouches, he took up on of their rifles like his own and approached Saro.
"Here, take this."
"Get that horrible piece of disgusting filth away from me."
Vult unkindly shoved the weapon into his chest. His patience for Saro's jingoism had run its course.
"Not up for debate. We're leaving, now. Kazak, on me, get him on his feet, let's go before more show up."
"On it," the sniper ran over to the injured Captain, pulling his left arm over his shoulder and bringing him to his feet, he still had one hand free to use his own weapon. "If you have such a damn problem with that thing and want to be a petulant fool instead of trying to save our own skin, take my sidearm, it's a cross draw." He gestured with his head down to his left leg before starting after Vult, encumbered somewhat by Saro but still moving faster than carrying him over his shoulders. "Should be able to take the alley back the way we came, lest you want to try risking the streets. Should lead to the next building and hopefully open up in front of our lines, or close enough that they'll pass over us quickly."
Taking up Saro's other arm across his shoulders, he tucked the stock of the rifle in his right hand underneath his arm. While not anywhere near useful at range, if Vortians soldiers got too close, they could fend them off with volume of fire alone.
"Nnnya!" Saro grunted with effort, tossing the rifle as if it were the plague itself to take up Kazak's sidearm. "Filthy, disgusting, alien technology!"
"Shut your noise tube, Saro." Vult chided in annoyance as the trio began making their way down the stairwell, scanning for any signs of trouble with each flight taken. The structure shook and groaned with repeated rumblings of ordnance beyond the walls going off in varying intensity. Cracks snaking up the walls grew with each impact. Chips and chunks of concrete splintered from them.
"Keep moving, this building is going to go at any moment. One direct hit and it's coming down." The Commander warned. "I will not be buried alive again coming so close."
A pair of Vortians met them in the alley as they came out, not in any sort of military garb. They just looked like a pair of armed civilians. Kazak didn't hesitate, it was either them or those two in the moment. He raised his weapon and gunned them down before the two came out of a state of shock seeing Irkens coming out of what was effectively an empty building. "Over there!" He gestured to the building down the alley, an office building, but one that would come out the other side, or at least Kazak hoped it would.
Such was partially the case as they came in the service entrance at the back of the building, the sound of gunfire came from the lobby up ahead. An entire squad of Vortians pinned down by Elites outside. After setting Saro down in a chair he peered around the corner and counted how many were inside. Ten of them, a couple armed civilians and the rest were VDF.
"Where's the Sarge?!"
"He's dead! What do we do?! We can't stay here!"
As the Vortians yelled among themselves and returned fire blindly from cover, the sniper moved over to Vult, "Looks like we got ten in there, our guys are out front. You got any grenades?" He started checking his own pouches, finding only a single proximity mine meant more for use as a trap, but one that could be used offensively in a pinch. "This is all I got."
The memory fresh of Kazak's lack of hesitation in cutting down civilians before his eyes, he left it to process and mull over later. Saro called him soft and weak for hesitating to do the same days prior. Granted, circumstances did not allow them the luxury of going over a morally and ethically difficult choice to be made. It was risk being compromised or continuing forth without detection.
Instead, he focused on the tasks at hand. Get to safety. Get away from the front. Return to his unit and lead them. Survive. Something he had accomplished with great success up until this point. Just a few dozen meters and staunch opposition stood between them and that goal.
With Saro seated in a chair watching their six, Vult moved closer to join Kazak. Quickly darting across the opening to the opposite side, he pressed his back to it before peering around the corner to get a good look at what they were up against. A stray bolt of Irken plasma struck the corner, searing stone into slag with uncomfortable heat.
"Too much crossfire to flank," He observed, getting a mental count of what he could see. Kazak produced the proximity mine from his gear. Explosive ordnance was explosive ordnance. The gears already turned in the Commander's head on how to adapt and improvise with what they had on hand.
Allowing his rifle to fall on its sling across his chest, he held his hands open.
"Toss it here, cover me if they spot us."
With a nod, Kazak tossed him the proximity mine and readied his weapon, crouching down to avoid taking a bolt to the head from his own side. He still had a good view of the lobby all the same, "Ready when you are."
Despite the chaos of combat raging around them, Vult remained focused on the task at hand. Mine in hand, he emptied his pouches of the recently-acquired power cells for his weapon. Plasma was plasma, no matter the source. Another pouch held various odds and ends. Chief among them was adhesive tape. The mine became the center of an improvised cluster explosive device as Vult adhered four power cells like flower petals around its circumference with healthy amounts of tape. Nearly using the entire roll, the explosive package was ready.
"Soon as I arm this thing…" He spoke, checking his line of sight to the Vortian defenders. "...I'm going to slide it into the group of them...you're a marksman. Take the shot, set it off after it comes to a stop. The added cells will increase its potency. Crude, but effective. Ready?"
Kazak holstered his secondary and drew his sniper rifle from across his back, shouldering it and waiting for the word to go. "I'll nail it, don't worry." He steadied himself, keeping a watch out of his peripheral vision for the toss before his focus shifted to the scope. Things seemed to slow down for him, the burdened mine sliding across the floor and coming to a stop near a group of Vortian soldiers as he took up the slack of his rifle's trigger. Some slight pressure added atop that finished the intended cycle as a bolt from his rifle flew at the armed mine.
He quickly slid back into cover from what would no doubt be a resounding explosion.
Vult did not remain out of cover for long after releasing the mine. He only made sure it slid far enough to be effective before pressing himself back into cover as Kazak took the shot. The crack of the rifle in close quarters made his antenna ring, but was quickly overpowered by the shattering BOOM that followed a split-second later. The shockwave sent a blast of dust-choked air rolling through the open entryway, drowning out whatever screams of pain and agony that followed from the Vortian defenders.
A few moments passed, dragging by slowly. The exchange of fire had ceased as smoke lingered and the dust began to settle. The sickeningly sweet scent of charred flesh fixed with the hot flash of ozone. Peeking out, only then did he see the level of destruction warranted. There were bits and pieces of Vortian strewn about. A leg here, an arm there, and a myriad of fractured, unidentifiable pieces. The flash and heat boiled away blood and tissue, leaving charred remains. At least none of them suffered from the ensuing blast.
"They're down," Vult observed, relieved as he took up his rifle at the low-ready. "Nice shot."
The confused mutters and relaying of orders to move in and investigate began to filter through the air from the Irken Elite company outside the lobby. Familiar boots stormed through the broken windows and non-existent revolving door to secure the room.
"Move, move, move!" their commanding officer barked through his vox speaker. "The idiots blew themselves up! Put down any survivors!"
"Only filthy, smelly meat here, Sir!"
"I found a horn, Lieutenant! No survivors!"
"Tu'raat!" Vult called out, an archaic means of confirming friendly forces...and to avoid being targeted by said friendly forces. An old Irken word for "tall".
Naturally, the Irken Elite immediately raised their weapons in Vult and Kazak's direction, but stood fast at the sudden break in the silence. At least they couldn't be faulted for lacking discipline.
"Ol'muta!" The Irken Elite Lieutenant returned the counter sign, "Almighty". "Stand down, friendlies!"
Relieved as he saw the Irken soldiers do as ordered, he nodded to Kazak as they retrieved Saro before moving to greet them.
With Kazak slinging his rifle over his back once again, he walked forward with Saro and Vult. "Get us a medic, we got one wounded here." Shortly after, an Elite medic ran over to tend to Saro as he took back his borrowed sidearm. An officer also came over, Kazak nodding to acknowledge his rank rather than saluting given the battlefield circumstances. "There's a dead anti-armor team on the third floor of the building to your right once you come out of here, in case it doesn't come down. Couple of armed civvies were out back too, just keep an eye out when you move in."
"Thanks for the heads up, Sergeant. Who are you with?"
"First Spec Ops Group. Looking to rejoin my troops at the FOB."
The Lieutenant paused, looking Kazak's oddly colored attire over. Gray instead of the usual colors of the Empire. Something in his expression didn't like it. He looked over Vult as well, strange gear about him, but he figured they must've been working together and didn't pry. "Right, head out, take a right, it's a walk up the block once you make a left at the intersection. One of our drivers will give you a lift back."
"Much appreciated, sir." He looked to Vult with a nod and started to head out, though he stayed quiet...he had a moment to mull over that he quickly had to gun down a couple civilians back there, armed as they were.
"What about you? What's your outfit?" The Lieutenant asked of Vult. A man of similar height yet vastly outranked.
"Classified." Vult retorted much to his dismay. "The insignia isn't for show and I haven't the time and you lack the clearance. Just see to it Captain Saro is tended to and continue with your mission, soldier."
"Captain Saro? The Vortian Nightmare?" The Irken Elite queried in disbelief, looking to where the medics were mulling over the man in question.
"The same. It would be...unfortunate if a man of such great notoriety in the Empire were to succumb to his wounds beneath your oversight, wouldn't it? Imagine the displeasure the Almighty Tallest would have with you should one of their most favored, loyal soldiers was neglected."
It almost physically sickened the Commander to pay Saro of all people any sort of lip service. Everything served a purpose though. Misdirection and make him ignore his morbid curiosity about his uniform and rank.
"O-of course. He'll be seen to and receive the best medical care we have to offer."
"Good. See to it." Vult clasped the Lieutenant's pauldron before turning to face Kazak. "One moment."
Leaving the Sergeant momentarily, Vult approached Saro. The medics worked quickly, getting his dressings changed and much-needed fluids intravenously induced. He already had been given nutrient paste and juice box as they worked around him. His withered expression soured as he caught Vult's approach.
"What?" He sneered, contempt in his voice despite the grotesque loss of his cybernetic eye and damage done from the initial sniper shot that nearly killed him and led to his current state of affairs. "Come to gloat?"
Vult silently motioned for the shorter medics to give them space and leave them be for a moment before taking a knee beside Saro.
"No, not gloat. I'm not blinded by pride like you are."
"Then what do you want? You and your Speckie friend can go about your business now. I have no need of you."
The Commander leaned forward, purposely putting pressure on one of his injured legs to illicit a cry of pain from the Captain.
"As much as I despise you with every fiber of my being, Saro...I hope this time we've spent together has been...enlightening for you."
"It has." He growled through the discomfort, huffing. "...the feeling is mutual…"
"You hesitate. Something to add?"
"...as much as it physically sickens me to say...but...thank you."
"For?"
"Are you purposely seeking praise? Do the Tallest not stroke your antenna enough as it is?"
"No, just seeking clarification."
"...For saving my life...liberating me when others would have left me behind."
"I would say you would have done the same for me."
"I wouldn't."
"I know."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why on Irk would you risk your life to save me?" Saro struggled to fathom, wincing still at Vult's not-so-subtle pain-inducing pressure.
Seeing now he was starting to get through that veil of stubborn pride and impenetrable ego, the Commander sat back on a knee, giving his injured limb much needed relief.
"Short answer? I'm not you and never will be." Vult soundly countered, cutting to the heart of the matter. "Evil begets evil. Cruelty begets cruelty. All you do only galvanizes these people into resisting us further. Do you actually believe the Tallest are proud of your actions down here? Your blind loyalty and sick ways is why the universe is united against us."
"That's rich coming from a man days ago that cut a literal swath through a sea of civilians to get to me."
"A burden I bear and will carry with me for the rest of my days...I lament what I've done...you revel in it...it will be your undoing."
Saro glared hard in response back at Vult. The silence he had to offer spoke volumes where he could not. The man had a valid point he could not refute without relying on all the things Vult had just tore into.
"Anything else you'd like to add, Commander?"
"I only hope these events have opened your eyes...well, eye...and moving forward you'll show someone else the gratitude and mercy I've shown you when you deserved nothing, Saro."
Vult stood once more, leaving that bitter bit of harsh truth laid out at the Captain's feet for him to digest and mull over.
"Vult." Saro called to him as he began to turn about to leave. The man delayed, staying his feet mid-turn to face the Irken Elite Captain once more. "...thank you."
The blue-eyed Irken man said nothing, only giving an affirming nod before turning about to rejoin Kazak a short walk away.
Kazak waited for Vult to come out before continuing on towards the rear. He was quiet, still thinking of what happened back there. Maybe Vult could get why he did in the moment, they both needed to get back, get to their troops. That's how he was trying to rationalize it, but it still didn't sting him any less. Two shocked civilians unable to react before he gunned them down where they stood, lest they turned their weapons on them.
He could use a drink, that much was evident, even with a rather stoic expression on his face after the whole ordeal. Whatever rest he could grab before the next mission would be greatly appreciated.
With the burden of Saro free of their backs, the pair of displaced operatives moved deeper into friendly territory. The sounds of battle behind them waned as they traversed the streets. Fresh corpses, Irken and Vortian alike, littered the streets and husks of collapsed buildings and charred, burning rubble. Pristine neighborhoods reduced to macabre canvases painted in the blood of the fallen. Fires raged and smoke billowed, illuminating the early morning hours.
Vult unslung his Vortian plasma rifle, casually ejecting the power cell and tossing it to the ground near a dead VDF soldier. He had not the patience or the mood to fend off rabid nationalists of his own flesh and blood offended he dared soil his hands with alien technology. His beaten, battered helmet was pulled free, clasped to his belt as he continued walking.
Nutrient paste...cleansing chalk...a change of uniform...a cot...soon. Very soon.
The two approached a vehicle manned by a Corporal with some spare seats, just about to run back for supplies but stopped as Kazak held up a hand. "Corporal, need a lift back to the FOB."
"Hop in, First Sergeant." With Kazak and Vult inside, it was a ride of several minutes back to solidly friendly held territory. Dead Vortians litter the streets, military and civilian alike, along with wrecked vehicles and walkers. A mess that was certain to be cleaned up by Vortian slaves once this conquest was through. Once back and out of the vehicle, one of Kazak's troops noticed him and ran over.
"Sheesh, First Sergeant, am I glad to see you."
"Corporal Maraec, what's the news?"
"Captain Mizak's wounded, six of our teams haven't reported back yet. Five spotters, three snipers lost overall so far."
"Which ones? The ones that the Elites pulled in for support?"
"Yes, First Sergeant," that reply instantly soured Kazak's expression. He didn't train his troops to be resourceful and deadly only to have them act as glorified marksmen and get themselves killed. "You okay?"
"I will be," he started with an answer before looking back to Vult briefly, "Keep me posted with any new details."
"Yes, First Sergeant," the Corporal then returned to the others as Kazak walked back over to Vult.
"If it's not going to get me killed for knowing too much, I think I should see how well I work with your troops before we make any big decisions about unit transfers. I just learned by CO was wounded. They might need me in the meantime. Though, I would still like to meet who I'd be potentially working with."
"Sorry, Sergeant. One-way trip. Either you do or don't." Vult informed him, still seated on the transport. "Having camradire with your unit is important, I understand. Something I have taught my own men...but either you remain with them or you come with me and as far as the Empire is concerned, you no longer exist. The choice is yours."
He pondered his decision, silent for several moments as he ran over everything in his mind before letting out a sigh. "I need to let my commander know. Mizak and I drew this unit up from nothing. I don't want to leave him without his top NCO without knowing what's going on, within reason."
The sniper made his way to the medical tent, finding Mizak closer to the back. The Captain, with a plasma wound to his gut still recovering, sat up, "Kazak, you made it out."
"That I did," he sat next to the medical cot. Mizak could tell by his tone and expression that something was up.
"What's on your mind?"
"I got an offer to join a new unit. I need to pick now, no looking back if I take it and no second chance if I turn it down. Spec ops like us."
He nodded, rubbing his chin, "I'd hate to lose you. Even in spite of what happened on Praxxus, you're clearly worth keeping. Your training is coming in handy. Your success coming back? I think you helped prove the concept of a solo sniper." The Captain then placed a hand on Kazak's soldier, "Go on, you have my clearance to go. I just have one question to ask of you."
"Sir?"
"Who would you suggest as your replacement for company sergeant?"
Kazak thought that one over briefly before he replied, "Staff Sergeant Avak"
"I'll tell Avak the good news that you think he's suitable for solo ops and your old spot. Best of luck to you, Kazak."
"Likewise to you, Mizak." With one last nod between the two, Kazak stood and left the medical tent, returning to the waiting commander. "Well, the arrangements are made. I'll go with you."
Despite the filth and fatigue of the days wearily worn into his skin and clothes, he patiently awaited Kazak's return. He had been gone this long from his likely worried-sick comrades, a few more moments would not cause any further duress.
Eventually, the marksman emerged from the nearby medical tent, darting between columns of troops moving towards the expanding front and the supporting vehicles in tow. Hearing his decision made, the Commander rose to offer a hand up into the transport.
"Welcome aboard then, Kazak. I'll get your security clearance and personnel file sorted out later. For now, it's time for you to meet the team...especially before they go mad with uncertainty about my fate."
Kazak nodded and boarded the transport. He looked to some of his men still gathered, "Maraec! I got a new assignment! You guys stay safe out there!"
The Corporal gave a wave from where the scout-snipers were gathered, "Will do, First Sergeant! Good luck wherever you're going!" With that, the sniper took a seat in the transport and took a breath. "Starting to think you and I might not think too differently when it comes to our troops, Vult."
"A good trait to have. Should make your integration into the unit go all the smoother." Vult nodded, watching as the transport continued down the thoroughfare past a sea of green skin and deep purple and violet armor.
"Just be forewarned...I do not expect them to warm up to you being the outsider. A stranger. They will, however, follow orders and will remain disciplined. I expect the same from you. In due time, that will change, but this unit operates beyond the regulations and protocol of traditional Armada forces."
"I was a Lieutenant prior and I'm still a senior NCO, don't worry, I'll do what's asked of me." Kazak responded with reassurance that he would hold up in the group. "Whatever it takes, I'll stick it out." He looked around, outside briefly, looks like the invasion was going full force now...no doubt thanks in part to their actions. "You mentioned before you were an Elite. This unit of yours your first with special forces type missions or did you work with us before?"
"I'm familiar with Spec Ops and Invaders, by extension," he begrudgingly admitted. "I cared for neither prior to the formation of my unit. I still have little to say of Invaders. Propaganda and nothing more. A "highly trained" lone operative "preparing" an enemy world for conquest? I am yet to see Invader Larb anywhere on this Irk-forsaken rock. He gathered intelligence that was relayed to the Armada. Imperial Troopers and Irken Elite are the backbone...not Invaders."
"You won't hear any argument from me on Invaders." The sniper huffed and shook his head, "If I were a gambling man, I'd be willing to wager a good deal of money and goods that the guys I trained can do a lot better gathering working intelligence than any Invader. Besides, wouldn't an Irken stand out unless the population is filled with absolute morons?" That was his take, anyhow. Invaders were nothing but a waste of resources in his view. Their mission would be better handled by special forces. He also had his bias from ID 1 that greatly played into his opinion. That notwithstanding, he still spoke from his perspective as a soldier on the ground, with experience as both an officer and NCO.
"Optimistically, my unit's success should pave the way to rewritten doctrine and we can see Invaders be obsolete in the near future." Vult reasoned, watching as the transport slowed to a stop at one of many non-descript barracks. "Our stop."
With that, he stood, hopping down off the transport to the ground below. His weary legs and lack of energy threatened to let them buckle beneath him, but he remained upright. Standing up straight, tugging at his soiled uniform in a vain attempt to smooth it out and look presentable, he proceeded forth for the prefabricated structure adorned in Empire purple and magenta with iconography aplenty. Visuals were everything with the Irken.
Stopping short of the door, he took a deep breath, attempting to clear his thoughts of the chaos that had transpired in the wake of the last time they saw one another: The visceral incident against the Vortian civilians, the collapse of their target building, evading detection and most of all, the weight on his conscience of saving Saro of all people from a well-deserved fate. Would he change his ways? Would he even be capable of seeing what he had been blind to beforehand?
The door whisked open with a wave of his hand over the reader. Biometrics and clearance allowed him access. That alone was enough to have the undivided attention of those present. Nine different sets of eyes varying in color fell upon him in varying stages of fatigue, dread, and elation all mixed into one as relief filled them. Combat had seen them withered, their morale battered with what they believed to be the loss of their commanding officer. Immediately, it melted away as they rose in disbelief.
"You all act as if you've seen a ghost." Vult resisted a smirk, his sense of humor violently interrupted as his tallest soldier, Aero, snatched him off his feet in a crushing embrace of a hug.
"OHMYIRKYOUREALIVE-" She intelligibly spoke, grinning wide, pink eyes sparkling as she spun her commanding officer around.
"Aero." Vult winced, struggling to break free of her grasp.
"ICANTBELIEVEIT-"
"Aero."
"WETHOUGHTYOUWEREDEAD-"
"Aero!" His voice rose, a little more assertive to garner her attention finally.
She spun to a stop, holding him off the ground still.
"Yes?"
"You're...crushing my spine."
"Oh, right," She sheepishly smiled, setting Vult back down on the ground as the others gathered around. "Sorry, Commander. Just...you're here! You weren't before! We couldn't find you, we thought you wer-"
Grimacing as he attempted to stretch the impromptu kinks the First Sergeant forcibly put in his weary back, he opted to reach out and clasp her shoulder pauldron with a weary smile.
"I know. Sorry to make you worry. All of you. I got here as soon as I could."
Kazak stepped in after Vult, watching the display quietly. A few of the others looked to him, though there was one in particular who squinted. She was short, almost could pass as an Invader. After a few moments she walked over and stopped in front of him. "I knew it. I knew it had to be you." There was only a blink from Kazak before she spoke again, "Did you forget how to stand at attention for a superior?! We aren't the same rank anymore, you worthless pile of goop!" The sniper quickly straightened himself to attention with that. "That's what I thought, First Sergeant." Volx looked him over...clearly out of regulation. "You haven't learned a thing since Praxxus, have you?"
"I'd be inclined to disagree with you, Lieutenant. I helped form a unit of scout-snipers and successfully completed a solo-op."
"Solo-op?! Only Invaders go solo, Kazak."
"Experimental unit, Lieutenant. I met up with your commander and helped him back to our lines."
"Yeah, right, you, who practically lost every single spotter he ever served with. Your spotter is probably lying dead out there like all the others."
"There isn't one, Lieutenant, and there are three who would disagree. We both seem to know one, as I recall."
"Watch your mouth, First Sergeant." Volx then turned to Vult, "Sir, I'm glad your back. I have to ask, what's this pitiful excuse of an officer and a sniper doing here?"
The mood shifted away from elation to one of apprehension and tension at the realization of Kazak's presence. A stranger amidst them where secrecy and seclusion reigned. All eyes fell on Kazak now. Vult turned to address his third-in-command, gesturing to the man.
"Pitiful? Lieutenant, this man saved my life." Vult made clear.
"He did?" Aero queried, almost mesmerized by the notion.
"Had to of," Haxx, bearing the rank of Sergeant despite being taller than Volx. "Both of 'em look like hammered dookie."
Rha was next to step over and look him over, ranked lower than Haxx even being at a similar height. "He's right. Guy looks like he's seen better days. Where's your helmet?"
"Don't wear one."
"Of course he doesn't," Volx was quick to speak up again, "He's known to wear a soft cap in combat. Not while you're here, Kazak, not if I have anything to say about it."
Rha blinked, "What's your problem with him?"
"His record of losing those he's paired with should speak for itself. Though, if what the Commander says is true...he is still resourceful."
"Resourceful?"
"Yes, Corporal. Aside from losing his spotters, he stole a Vortian shuttle. It was days after the retreat from Praxxus went through, but Kazak brought himself and three other spec ops soldiers home. Looks like rather than brand him a defective and give him a one way ticket to nowhere, they bumped him down."
"Exactly what happened," Kazak spoke up after that.
"So, what is it you're doing here?"
"Vult gave me the offer to join the unit. I took him up on it after I spoke to my commander and made arrangements for my replacement."
Volx blinked, seeming shocked as she turned to Vult, "That true, sir?"
The Commander nodded once. "I did. Were it not for him, I would have died out there."
"Who is he replacing?" Haxx questioned.
"Shush," Aero chided sternly. "He's not replacing anyone...right, Commander?"
"No, no one is being replaced." Vult assured with a sigh. "As you are all aware, this unit is experimental. A work-in-progress. Changes will be made as we move forward. Things are going to be tried to address our shortcomings. One shortcoming is our limited roster. Two, five-man teams stretches our capabilities thin. One team has heavy weapon support, the other does not. Vice versa, one team has a designated marksman, the other does not."
"Too many fry cooks spoil a greasy burger." Haxx muttered under his breath, earning a smack upside his head from Aero. "Ow! What was that for?"
"For being you. Stop it." She sneered at him, looking back to Vult. "...so is he a Haxx or a Tuu?"
"A Tuu, Aero," Vult responded, bemused at her way of referring to the two roles. "We will find another Haxx soon enough. One step at a time."
"Please, there's only one of me," He smugly smirked.
"Thank Irk for that." The towering female rolled her eyes, looking to Kazak with a hand extended and offered. "I'm the grease monkey. First Sergeant Aero. Nice to meet you."
Kazak took her offered hand and gave her a nod, "Likewise. Looks like we're both the same rank here."
"Corporal Rha." He nodded to Kazak, who nodded in reply, "Back over there is Rem, our pilot." Rem gave a wave from the console that demanded full attention at the moment. "Going over our flight plan for the next mission."
Next to step up was the second in command, Corr looked the sniper over, "Captain Corr, Commander Vult's second. Good to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too, sir."
"There is Sula, our Medical Officer," Vult gestured to the shy, timid female giving a weak wave. Her medical supplies were laid out on her bunk, taking stock of what she had before their next assignment.
Quite possibly one of the shortest, if not the shortest Irken Kazak could have met in his life yet looked up at him with an extended hand from the center of the group. His face tucked behind the retractable visor they all shared in their standard-issue helmets, a pair of high-tech goggles over his eyes. Scanning equipment and broadcasting antenna jutted from his helmet. Curiously enough, a small drone hovered in his wake, following him like a pet.
"Greetings, First Sergeant. Sergeant Vard, Communications Technician."
"He's a magician." Aero winked with a snicker. "Anything that beeps or boops, he's got the magic touch. He's a big brain on tiny little legs."
"Yes, well...I do handle all of our technical systems as well...and reverse engineering...and hacking...jack of all trades, master of none," Vard wistfully smiled behind his mask.
"Like I said, magic." The pink-eyed woman grinned.
Kazak shook Vard's hand and gave a slight wave to Sula. "Sounds like you guys have quite the team assembled...I'm impressed." He looked around at the group, "Looking forward to working with you guys."
Corr opened up his wrist computer, glancing over Kazak's service record. What Volx was saying about him was documented. He did lose a number of his spotters on previous operations, though he was resourceful, and a previous officer himself. The others in the Armada saw someone who soiled his hands with alien technology and couldn't keep those with him safe, but what Corr saw was a leader, a quick thinker, a survivor. He approved of Kazak's addition to the team. A quick thought crossed his mind of asking Vult to reinstate his previous rank, but decided against it until he could assess the man himself. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do."
Kazak gave a nod to Corr as he headed back to a terminal he was sitting at prior, looking over some historical footage. "So, what is the next mission? I don't mind working with my current equipment if I have to until you guys can find me a set. Your kit is...definitely unique."
"Only the best for the best," Vult smirked, glancing down at his own battered uniform. "I dare even say it is thanks to this equipment why I'm alive. As far as procurement is concerned, we will provide you with what you need soon enough. Rem?"
The pilot stood from her console and walked over, "Yeah, boss?" She appeared strange to Kazak with the permanent modifications to her eyes. It was apparent to the sniper where she was drawn from prior to her service with Vult.
"Is the dropship ready to return us to the Ghost? Need to get the newest addition settled in."
"Just about, got a screen open keeping an eye on the process. They've finally got around to refueling us. We'll be up soon."
Corr came over after shutting everything down. "Our next assignment is up in the mountains, long range communications facility. That unit from the Third Spec Ops that Supreme Commander Grimm sent in went dark. Anyone that went in there is dead, one way or another," the language was ambiguous enough for Kazak to assume there must've been deactivations. "They want us to go in there and do what they couldn't."
Kazak blinked, "I served with some of the Third...they're tough to take down. Is this wise? No doubt they've increased alert levels at the facility."
"I'm sure command is assuming the exact same thing. That's why they're sending us."
"Lovely."
Volx passed by on the way to her bunk, "Welcome to the slagheap, Kazak. Enjoy your stay while it lasts." He just blinked, noticing a slight limp on her part. That's when he looked to Vult.
"I'm assuming you've seen some rather shoddy luck until now with injuries? Is my running into you really the first piece of good news you had so far?"
Vult read between the lines based on Corr's analysis of their next assignment. Another communications array, likely similar to the early warning system in place on Praxxus 7 they took down at the start of the campaign. There, they had the element of surprise. No detection. No warning. Unhindered operation and before they VDF could react, it was far too late.
This time, however, the terrain would be more treacherous. The weather against them. A failed assault prior to their insertion would mean the facility would be buttoned up tight with heightened security. Observation alone did not bode well for them on the surface...but orders were orders and there was a reason they were chosen for the task.
"Something like that," Vult commented with a sigh, pushing his own negativity down and away for the time being. "...and my blessing may very well be your curse by the sounds of things."
Vult turned to the majority of the team, straightening up into a more commanding presence.
"Atten-HUH!"
Like a well-oiled machine, all present immediately stood to attention, preparing to be addressed by their commanding officer.
"Those of you not paying attention, Captain Corr informed us of our next assignment. One the Empire is very familiar with. Outpost 627. Sub Zero Station in the Shalshaska Mountains. We'll go over details in the briefing. For now, I want your gear squared away and ready to disembark in 5 for the ship for a rearm and refit. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir!" A resounding answer followed from the team, going about grabbing their gear after Vult gave an at ease.
Rem looked to Kazak, "First Sergeant, you have any personal belongings?"
"Yeah, with the scout sniper company of the First SOG."
"I'll make sure ground crew picks those up and gets them loaded."
"Thanks." He then looked to Vult, noticing for the first time that he was missing half an antenna. Something he would have to pry into later. "We have any intelligence of the location? Maps? Satellite images? I can give it a look for possibilities on covert entries before a briefing."
"Sub Station Zero has been on the Empire's radar for a very long time. Long before ID 1 or ID 2 ever began. Satellite imagery, topography scans, and ongoing active surveillance have built a workable library of intelligence at our disposal. For the first time since putting boots on Vort, we're not flying in blind this time. The exception being that they are already on high alert due to the initial failed assault instead of sending us in first to begin with. A plan of action, approach, and contingencies will be discussed en-route. For now, top off. Outside with the rest of them."
"Commander?" Vard interrupted, standing at attention before him.
"At ease, Vard. What is it?"
"I understand this is impromptu with his addition to the team and all," He cleared his throat lightly, pilfering one of the larger pouches on his belt for a datapad and cable. "...but for everyone's best interest, it is my recommendation to update his programming, Sir."
"Oh, right. Of course. Thank you, Sergeant." Vult nodded, accepting the specialized tablet. "First Sergeant, about face. Time to rewrite your clearance and assignment. Clear any future confusion regarding opsec and as to why you left your original unit."
"Right, can't have them thinking I'm still with Mizak and the scout-snipers." Kazak turned around so Vard can do his work. "I just need a resupply of munitions. I'm guessing you got that back at...wherever it is we're headed?"
"We do. Our armory is well-stocked with the Empire's finest armaments and ammunition aplenty." Vult assured him as Vard accessed Kazak's PAK.
One of the three elliptical panels recessed before splitting down the center and parting to reveal a complex array of what could be best described as the inside of a very advanced computer. Microscopic circuitry, chips, boards, cables, wires, lights, and a single, unique jack. The receptacle for the plug Vard inserted, twisting and locking it into place.
The datapad scrolled rapidly through countless lines of code. Typical framework handshaking ensuring encryption protocols matched and this wasn't a malicious attempt to hack the PAK for whatever nefarious reason. Eventually, access was granted for Vard to bring up Kazak's encoding:
Designation: Soldier
Assignment: Infantry
Rank: First Sergeant
Armada Branch: Spec Ops* (* - See Attached)
Security Clearance: Level 7
"See attached…?" Vard muttered in curious confusion, scrolling through all of Kazak's personnel data. "Oh, I see...another experimental unit. Makes sense. Anyway...I will give you the same disclaimer as I did the others, First Sergeant. This device is worth its weight in platinum and must be protected at all costs. At this point in time, I am the only one authorized...or capable, really, to use it and only with the Commander's permission. One errant stroke or syntax error and you may very well cease to exist. Either a literal fatal error will occur or the Control Brains will register a Defective signal and remotely deactivate you."
As he cautioned, he typed away at the haptic interface, the keys illuminating on the semi-transparent pane as he entered information.
"...and should anything happen to me if it is on my person at that point in time, recover it at all costs. All else fails, ensure its destruction...even if that means I go with it."
For such a small-statured Irken, he was not lacking in resolve or fortitude. His voice did not waiver at the notion of his life being forfeit in order to protect others.
"There...changes made, would you like to review them before I rewrite his programming, Commander?" Vard offered, holding the datapad out for the blue-eyed Irken to review.
Designation: Soldier
Assignment: Infantry
Rank: Lieutenant
Armada Branch: Spec Ops
Security Clearance: Level 9
"All appears to be in order, Sergeant," Vult nodded, handing it back to him before addressing Kazak. "Officially as of this moment, you are registered as KIA as far as Armada High Command is concerned. There is only a select handful of high-ranking officials in the command structure that can access our personnel files and programming. Congratulations, Lieutenant...you made the ultimate sacrifice for the mighty Irken Empire."
Lieutenant? Vult just reinstated his rank from before ID 1? The sniper gave him a respectful bow of his head in gratitude. "I won't let you down, I can promise you that."