Mano e Mano
The Derwight campaign had been the bloodiest time of Boris' life, for three years he served as a junior officer in the grand Army of the Yuri Free State. Psychic flayers and heavy ordnance had ripped man, woman and child asunder as the Navy and Army plundered their way through the rebel worlds. It was there he'd seen men at their worst and at their most valiant, Rebels sacrificing life and limb to stop the endless advance of Yuri's most loyal or his own soldiers fighting shoulder to shoulder against rampant ambushes and partisans.
Now sitting upon his command chair near a decade later, a man and no longer the idealistic youth who had watched in horror as the reality outside his ancestral manor proved as bitterly glorious and cruel as his Grandfather's stories foretold. Boris' knew as well as any commander should when to abandon the battle, even as the sting of shame burrowed in, no longer hidden under the power of his Psychic arrays he could gaze upon his fleet, two ships remaining and held back a strange tightness in his chest.
The bridge was to say the least, in complete disarray. Crewmen coming out of fugue of mental control met with burning consoles and the shrieking of metal as the hull groaned under its own damaged weight, the ship's superstructure battered with holes. Boris simply sat as his crew rushed to manage the damage, his officers long hardened by years of service and now sober from the rush of battle set to their stations. The fleet comms once bursting with life of his irregulars and loyalists who had kept command of the lackadaisical party of his memories, no popping of champagne, pouring of booze or lighting of joints. By Yuri how he missed the hedonism of the aristocracy, being shot at in duels for love affairs or drunken foolishness was much preferable to being shot at in a battlefield.
It was bizarre in some sense, Boris had long fallen back on the excesses of his youth and position, finding himself back in the chaos of the wars he had long tried to forget was unsettling to say the least. So there he sat, reminiscing, unfortunately however he was also the commander of the remaining fleet and his catatonia was particularly problematic seeing as admiral is a somewhat important position. The world never waited after all.
So the world didn't. Boris' command console comes to life breaking his reverie, the Assault ship Staliyut's Captain Valiya was on the line. With a crackle of static the booming voice of Boris' last staff officer came through "Boris! What are you doing sitting on your arse, we have a battle to win if those bastards blow up the palace we'll have hell to pay!"
'Oh bloody hell' Boris was struck with the sudden realisation that his last remaining Senior Adept was Valiya, the absolute incorrigible dickhead who was now his second in command. Vladevsky was probably a cooling corpse floating in voidspace leaving him with the heartless carpenter's son, joy.
"Battle to win! Valiya you twat what are we supposed to attack them with? A slagheap and an empty assault ship, did your 'officers academy' not teach you anything besides duelling and drinking?" making air quotations unseen to his subordinate Boris expressed his displeasure both for rock brained Adept and this newfangled 'public education' nonsense, honestly nothing like the good hardworking aristocracy. Bless his malaise, he had almost forgotten how much he disliked having to deal with the unwashed masses. He had no more a moment to ponder before Valiya's retort came through.
"Fuck you Boris! You wanke-"
"Language! You are speaking to your Lord and Commander!"
"Then act like it damn you, we must strike while the Iron is hot! Our boarding parties are pounding these foreign fucks, we gotta capitalise!"
'Good grief he has a foul mouth'. Boris, despite his great distaste for the wording, understood his subordinates' unexpectedly intelligent reasoning. The enemy while undoubtedly victorious in the engagement were still under pressure from the boarders, if exploited properly the Aliens could be delayed enough to allow a more prepared ground defence. A plan began to form and Boris wouldn't lose this one, not yet.
"Boris! Boris!? Are you still there? does this fucking thing even work!? Typical cheap Sino crap neve-" Ah it appears that he had in his introspection successfully tuned out Valiya's inane babble, nevertheless Boris' had a plan to execute.
"Seize your babbling Valiya, I can barely hear myself think, now activate your signalers and have your boarders maximise damage to the enemy ship systems" Interrupting the Senior Adept in his tirade against the horrors of modern Sino manufacturing. Boris had unknowingly risen from his seat sweeping across his command deck he activated his personal Governor's array between the ship and the Shanxi Palace. As Boris began desperately sending out commands to his retinue and marshal Valiya deigned to interrupt the work of brilliance.
"Maximise damage? What are you on about? I've got them by the balls, I could easily capture a few of these ships, why slag them when we could use them?" The confusion Boris' hadn't anticipated though it was fair if Valiya's boarding actions were going as well as he implied, typical policy was to capture and turn enemy ships against each other, disrupting their formations.
"Do you know how to operate an Alien warship Valiya?"
"Well no- ah shit I see the problem, I'll handle it my lord" The connection terminated on the sheer insolence that dripped from what should've been an appropriate deference to Boris' honoured title. That and ending the communication on his side was most rude indeed, if they survived this ordeal Boris' swore he would make Valiya's life a living hell. Turning his attention back to the rushing of the crew and the flickering of battle screens, under the blaring of klaxons one High Adept Boris Yulashenko schemed the defence of his realm. To last one week for his initial, likely poorly informed reinforcements, could it be done?
Saren's nostril grooves shuddered from a most repulsive smell, his eyes shivering in a most unpleasant manner. With a thick snort he bolted up only to be hit by a wave of nausea, opening his eyes to the blaring harsh lights of the Percussor of Dayut's corridors. A blurry figure loomed over him, his ears still ringing unhelped by the relentless clanging of the ship's sirens didn't help with the whole perceiving thing.
After a few moments of hazy confusion the world slowly came into focus, the alarms ringing loud and clear, the face of his older brother coming into view. Lieutenant Desolas face was wracked with worry, his plates furrowed in deep concern, such a shame to put his brother in such a state. Limbs creaking Saren attempted to stand up, only to hear a sharp cracking and searing pain shoot across his back.
"Ow"
"Little bro you just got knocked out by a giant ball of muscle and murder, I don't think standing up is a particularly smart move"
"Got anything helpful to say smartass?"
"Well It is a useful natural soldierly instinct, you're not paid to be smart, that's my job after all"
"Very funny Des"
"I know"
As they spoke Saren accepted his brother's aid in standing up, using his assault rifle to help prop himself up. Stumbling to his feet he found himself surrounded by a tapestry of gore and death enough to make a Krogan drool. Marines and sailors torn to ribbons, mauled and crushed were strewn across the corridor, only fifteen marines remained including Desolas' joined by five sailors and Crew Sargent Korlus.
"By the great spirits… half the detachment is gone"
"Well at least we know you can still count"
"Really Des, now of all times you joke"
"Well someone has too, now come on we've got work to do little bro."
With a pat on the back Saren fell in line with the motley warband, at its head were Desolas and Korlus. The sounds of gunfire and death echoed through the halls, their brothers in arms were evidently quite busy with the boarding parties. Armed and ready they marched down the halls of the ship finding more signs of violence, one or several of those beasts had ripped through the deck. Following the trail of chaos heading towards increasingly loud gunfire down towards the cafeteria.
As they went Saren vaguely gathered that his Brother was planning with Korlus, though his attention kept wandering to the claw marks torn into the thick alloy walls or the occasional corpse. A fellow marine, Gurik, Sarens bunkmate couldn't help but comment on it.
"Bloody Titan's balls those things can carve right through steel, don't fancy our chances with that ey Corp"
"Please don't remind me, I've been staring at those things the last few minutes"
"You reckon your brother's got some brilliant plan to pull us outta this? Ah what am I talking about of course you do"
"Sarcasm unneeded private, and as a matter of fact yes, I do, he always plays it safe you know"
"So he's timid but somehow an officer? That doesn't sound right.."
"Not everyone is a gloryhound you know"
"Yeah but most are"
"Most isn't all"
"Most is still most"
"By the spirits can you just shut up"
"Fine, fine… bloody anal fringe fondler"
"I heard that"
"Oops"
With a helpfully demoralising conversation and a grumbling Bunkmate in his pocket Saren pressed on, the group reaching the Cafeteria, the sounds of combat now too close to tune out. Desolas signalled to stop, the force was then quickly divided between him and Korlus, the Crew sergeant quickly leading half of them down to another entrance. Gathering by the doorway the marines and sailors alike fingered their firearms, nerves gathering, memories of the last engagement with the monsters lingering in their minds.
For a tense moment, they wait presumably for Korlus to get in position, listening to the cries of their comrades inside and the withering sounds of gunfire blared. With a sudden bark Desolas' broke their nervous reverie.
"Breach and clear!"
With a moment's hesitation, rapidly crushed by years of Turian discipline they went once again into the fire. Entering the cafeteria Saren found himself before an absolut battlefield, by the serving area several tables had been flipped into barricades, with chairs strewn before it as makeshift obstacles to the charging monsters. Three rings of defences were what separated the chaos of the room and survival. Several dead beasts and dozens of dead, crippled and mauled sailors and marines were strewn across the room, a large band of them holed up behind their barricades as the beasts ripped in.
As they burst in so too at another door did Saren notice Korlus and his troops send several grenades flying at the main mass of beasts harassing the defenders. In one grand display of explosive fury and a mighty torrent of gunfire four of the damned things were ripped to pieces or blown to smithereens.
The remaining two however didn't go without a fight, one of them tearing through a steel table that had once fed many a weary sailor and carving through three of the sailors behind it. Peppered with gunfire it barged through to the second ring as desperate and surprised sailors similarly caught off guard by their sudden entrance turned their focus on the immediate threat. The other which had avoided death by being behind among the thick of several struggling sailors roared, mauling and crushing the dazed sailors surrounding it. Kitchen knives and cooking utensils jammed into it from the now passed defenders, turning to Saren and his comrades it charged.
His previous encounter with them flashed across his eyes as it barreled towards them soaking up gunfire, unlike last time however it quickly crumpled under the focused fire of the fireteam. The other beast caught a full barrage from Korlus and company, collapsing full of holes before the elated defenders. Cries of victory filled the room, the Sailors surviving seemingly certain death particularly appreciative of their arrival.
"By the heavenly spirits you wonderful bastards came just in time!"
The sharp voice of an officer met them, crawling over the barricades was the ship's provisions officer Lieutenant Taratet, followed by a gaggle of cooks, support staff, sailors and the odd marine. The survivors were an even more motley assortment then their own men armed with everything from assault rifles to cutlery.
Korlus came forward, giving directions to the crew. "Let your men rest Taratet, we can recuperate here, the crew should know to gather at this rally spot, a map has been sent to everyone's omni-tools. There are dozens scattered across this deck alone." Saren took this moment to peel a tuber to snack on as he listened to his superiors do their work, that and fortify his stomach with food before helping assess the injured.
"Appreciated Korlus, and it's good to see your well Desolas!"
"You too Taratet, these barricades your work?"
"Ah no, that would be Anari's, unfortunately she's bit the dust, the beasts got her as we were setting up the area, damn things are quick"
"That they are"
"Sorry to interrupt the reunion, but well need to know who's in a state to fight" Korlus' interjectected
"Ah right, we have twelve still good to fight with ten wounded and counting" His eyes scanning the battered and moaning bodies not finished by the beats.
"Good, gather them together, we'll need to start sending men out to aid in the ships defence, we can set up a temporary command from here. Taratet I want you to get those who are able to strengthen the defences here and establish an HQ, Desolas your detachment will head to the medbay, get supplies and help establish a new stronghold there. I will take mine to the armoury, secure it and return here, Desolas' will direct anyone you find here or have them join you"
"Yes Sir!"
"Got it Boss"
With a clack of boots salutes were given and the officers went to their men. Saren flicked his foretalon in confirmation as his brother wandered over, he had heard everything, no words were between them as they got to work. Their ten were gathered and augmented by a cook armed with a sidearm who joined from Taratet's lot. No time could be wasted while the ship is under threat, the new fireteam rapidly heading out, barely getting a moment's rest after their last engagement.
They left the Cafeteria to Taratet to deal with, heading off into the ship again, the medbay for the second deck was located near the rear end of the ship and would be a decent journey from the cafeteria in the centre. The fighting was distant from here and scattered across the ship, the band finding a few wandering sailors and small groups making way to designated rally points. Many were directed to the Cafeteria while some joined Desolas' force swelling their numbers to a respectable thirty men by the time they found their enemy again. A pair of beasts were hammering at a bulkhead only to be gunned down.
It carried on like this for a while, killing the occasional few beasts or losing a few of their own to attacks as they pushed on. A miasma of fear and exhaustion set in to the force worn down from the running battle against the beasts that seemed to come randomly, the boarding beasts seemingly attacking random objects or wandering the halls in pairs ambushing sailors or their own warband.
The force had swelled to a significant forty armed crew by the time they had arrived at the medbay. The corridor was packed with their column, sergeants and corporals commanded random assortments of marines and sailors Saren himself now commanded five sailors with the help of Gurik. His first ever command and it had to be this, honestly the world had gone mad.
The medbay was broken in by the time they arrived, the force split to head to each entrance of the room, fifteen in the starboard entry, fifteen at portside, with the last ten split guarding each of their rears respectively. Desolas' had placed him in command of the other force despite Sarens adamant refusal otherwise.
"Des this is nepotism"
"Oh don't be like that, you can do it!"
"I'm a corporal! There are people of higher rank under me!"
"Yeah sailors, not marines or combat specialists, you're one of the most qualified and equipped for this. I trust you to handle this."
"But Des-"
"It's an order"
"...They can court martial you for this you know, accusations of Nepotism are serious Des"
"Only if you fuck it up, otherwise its a serious opportunity for advancement. So don't fuck it up"
"Oh spirits I'm not ready for this"
"Come off it, the spirits don't want to hear your worries, they want to see your victories, just play it cautious little bro, you've got the head for this I've seen it, there's a reason your my number one"
"Because your a nepotistic pain Des thats why"
"Good lad, now get your men over to the other entrance"
"What Des! I haven't agreed to anything"
"Too late, toodles!"
With that Saren watched his older brother direct several of the crew to him as he bandied around orders. Saren steeled himself hiding his nerves, If Desolas was going to dump a command on him he would at least try to do it right then give Desolas flak for it afterwards. The men under his command were a small assortment of six of his fellow marines used to his limited command as a corporal, the rest sailors armed with sidearms or security's submachine guns.
Gathering by the portside entrance his new command waited with baited breath to enter the suspiciously silent medbay, peeking in had revealed at least two beasts seemingly just sitting in front of a wall of privacy curtains that rarely saw the light, bizarre. Despite the strangeness the medbay was essential to capture and the beasts had yet to display any serious tactics, if anything it had been set up by the crew here before they were killed. Even then Saren's gut told him something was horribly off here.
Turning to his omni-tool he opened up a channel to Desolas. "Des are the privacy curtains up on your side too?"
"That they are, odd isn't it, maybe the beasts are hiding something?"
"Yeah that was my feeling too"
"I really want to chuck grenades in, but it might risk the medical equipment, damn we might just have to go for it"
"I don't like it Des"
"Me too, good thinking little bro"
"Huh, usually you'd just tell me to stop worrying so much, are you alright?"
"Oh I'm fine, but your commanding now, you'd better be worrying about everything or your not doing your Job, I know it must be hard using your brain for once but you seem to be doing well"
"Very funny Des"
"Yeah I know, now prepare to breach in ten"
"Yes sir"
Closing his omni-tool Saren turned to command his men, Gurik, Saren and the marines would head in first followed by the sailors. As the ten seconds passed and their nerves coiled like a tight spring it was unleashed in a fierce roar, Saren gave the order "Breach and clear!"
Rushing in, the beasts were overwhelmed by their sudden arrival and heavy fire, dead in moments. Unfortunately Sarens concerns about the privacy screens proved well founded, as the beasts fell as horrid gurgling and rattling filled the room, the sheets of the screens fluttered as the staccato of gunfire rose again. The screens were ripped apart under gunfire as were half of his troops, the screen revealing a pillar of flesh, skin and steel plopped in the centre of the room.
A bristling wall of rotary guns jutted out of the horrid things grafted skin, strange symbols burned onto its body, three lines, one slightly pointing down, the other straight and the final curving in were emblazoned across its body. It stood there daunting, its guns smoking brom its barrage.
As the guns began to rotate again Saren was snapped from his reverie, "Find cover!" His decimated forces rushed out of the room or behind the cabinets or beds as the guns roared again. Saren himself huddled behind a thick cabinet with a bleeding Gurik by his side.
"Spirits damn it what is this thing!"
The fight for the ship was only beginning, and for Saren, the fight for survival had begun anew.
Codex: The Derwight Campaign The Derwight campaign is a minor war waged by the Yuri Free State against the rebel world or Derwight and its aligned systems. A series of tax disputes had pushed the already distant, ideologically and culturally incompatible world and its sphere of influence to break off from the free states. The war was generally poorly known in Human space, overshadowed by the much more internationally pressing Sino-American Intervention that occured at the same time. The three year war caused significant damage to the region. It saw many flagrant human rights violations, use of orbital bombardment, terror tactics and the total suppression of Derwight and its allies which have yet to recover from the damage wrought to them. The war is most noted for the failure of the newly founded Pan-National Systems to broker peace or limit the atrocities committed in the conflict.
Codex: Turian Talon Flick A Turian gesture to indicate both acceptance, understanding or general wellbeing. Often compared to the Human Anglo Cultures thumbs up it is commonly used as a quick indicator of a general positivity. Initially from the late unification war era where pilots flick their foretalons on their windows to indicate readiness for takeoff to co-ordinators. Though there are many other theories to the root of this practice it is generally from here that its popularistion in war propaganda common in the era spread the action as a general sign of readiness or well being.
AN: Yo! Its been awhile, I've been backpacking Europe for the last few months and haven't bothered much with the story, but now I'm back and thought to whip up a new chapter. Been quite enjoyable getting back into it - Saren has quite the abomination to deal with and a chance a command though totally legitimate means while good ol' Boris is back on his feet after a bit of malaise, can't win em' all afterall. I'll see you all next post (whenever that is)