The Attican War
Chapter 2 — Night
"A man's dying is more the survivor's affair than his own." — Thomas Mann, 'A soldier, and Brave', Der Zauberberg, 11924, (1924 A.D.)
2.4.12176, Hyrta, Elysium
Dark and cold bathed the moonless Elysian night.
Only the Grizzly's soft hum and the crackling sear of burning paper brushed her ears.
Days here lasted nearly twenty-eight hours, nine of which were the darkest Staff Sergeant Nilay Barış had yet seen. Bright orange lit her olive skin and baroque features as tobacco smoke shrouded them. It was darker still when she snuffed out her cigarette.
"Staff?" Her driver asked over the net. No sooner had the soothing bitter soot left her lungs and she was being bothered again.
"What's up, Clem?"
Private Clemens Niklasson was just a stripling. SASNA said he was old enough but she didn't believe it. That platinum hair and dopey look belonged in a children's ad, not a war.
"I think you should come back now."
"Whys that Clem?" She said with a sigh.
"Ani says, um, that's, Corporal Bedrosian says there's chatter on the radio."
She grinned like a kid at his slip. She thought the two of them had eyes for each other, now she knew one of them surely did. But radio chatter was no joke, could mean brown-backs were close.
"Right Clem, on my way." She said and closed her helmet. The All-Purpose Helmet was a two-piece helmet with full head and face coverage as well as integrated night vision and thermal optics.
And she wasn't supposed to have it. At least tankers weren't supposed to.
She chuckled a bit at the thought, experience told her that even tankers had to reprise the infantry role from time to time, proper equipment, however, acquired, helped. She gave her cig another stomp for good measure and heard a bush rustle in reply.
Shit
With a button press the optics came on; bright infrared lamps, integrated into the helmet, came on to illuminate her surroundings like daylight.
All she saw was foliage.
She turned off the lamps, no need to advertise, and turned back to the muddy road and the old M29 Grizzly at the end of it. She tried to be quiet as she made her way back and clambered inside, just in case. And she sighed hard as she plopped down into the compartment.
"You alright boss?" Ani said as her commander shut the hatch above her.
"Yeah, just cold." She insisted, tentatively.
She threw off her helmet and pulled off her gloves. The compartment was welcomingly warm and cozy as she and the two crew sat side by side within an armored capsule, controlling the tank by computers rather than the analog methods of old. As glad as she was for that, she was more grateful for the heater just now.
"You said something about chatter," Nilay asked, changing the subject.
"I can't make it out, could just be encrypted."
"Could be batarians," Clem added.
"Maybe," Nilay allayed, "Maybe not. Does the Lieutenant know about it?"
Second Lieutenant Leoš Smola wasn't the finest officer she'd met, but he wasn't an idiot. She remembered when the third platoon got a commendation for their performance in the last exercise. He'd even managed to teach that navy puke Shepard how to drive. She smirked at the thought, it was hard to believe he was in charge of things now.
"No," the corporal said, "I only just told Clem and he told you."
"Right, I'll tell him."
She dialed her frequency to the command net, trying not to notice Ani awkwardly pushing out a crease in her pants and adjusting her hair. They shouldn't all be up right now; Clem should be keeping watch, Ani should be sleeping, and I should be smoking another cig. She sighed mentally, kids will be kids.
"Lieutenant, picking up unknown station, might be hostile, how copy? Over," she spoke into the receiver.
A quiet moment passed and only static replied.
"Lieutenant, this is Staff Sergent Barış, acknowledge."
Fuck
Neither of her crew were stupid. She needed to come up with a plan before they panicked.
She looked to the Grizzly's camera feeds, they offered a three-hundred and sixty-degree view and showed nothing suspicious save the faint orange glow from the far-off siege of Illyria, the colonial capital. She could see the other APCs, they sat in a crescent near the OP. Shepard was relying on the platoon to keep him up-to-date on the siege, they couldn't fail, but more, they couldn't be seen. If something was wrong it would need to be taken care of quietly, there was no way they could hold off the enemy if they came in force.
"There's only one thing for it." She resolved, pulling her gloves back over her fingers.
"What are you—"
"I'm going out there," Nilay declared, "I need both of you to stay here. Ani, stay on the turret and keep watch. Clem, be ready to bug out, with or without me."
"Yes, sir." They said in unison.
She nodded solemnly as her remounted helmet closed. She couched her rail rifle, railfle some called it, in the crook of one arm and opened the hatch with the other. The dark was as thick as ever and she was careful not to turn on her IR lamps. Without them her vision was not much improved, but, at least she could see something.
Sliding quietly down the hull, her boots lightly squelched against the mire. She shouldered her railfle and slowly made her way to the next IFV. Her shoulders sang relief when she finally tread turf, instead of the noisy mud. Just further afield, away from the road, was Gunnery Sergent Paul Niemec's IFV, Cruel, they called it, for C-Company.
Despite its brilliant white paint, somewhat tarnished by so much sod on its underside, it hardly stood out against the background to her IR optics.
As she drew close to the tank she racked her weapon's charging handle and flicked on the EM rail assist, it hummed briefly and became silent again. The hulk rumbled a dull thud from within, it did again, and again. Quickly, she climbed and hurriedly flung open the hatch to the crew compartment. She couldn't recognize Paul Niemec, or the pitch-black figure with its fingers embedded in what had been his skull. With the pull of a trigger, the crack of her weapon told that no one else would either. At this range, the Alliance's inferiority in arms hardly mattered; neither kinetic barriers, armor, nor god could save and the figure slumped over its quarry.
With hardly a look within the interior, she closed the hatch.
Smola was probably dead, his right-hand man Paul was. That left her in charge if anyone was left. There wasn't any time to waste, if any of the other crews were alive they'd need a leader. With nothing else for it, she ran back to her crew, and Cat, her IFV.
Nearly there, she went ahead and opened her helmet, preferring to go the last few steps in darkness than be blinded by the interior lights. That's when she saw it. Just silhouetted against Illyria's orange glow, breaking up the IFV's silhouette as it stood atop it. She couldn't know how, but he was invisible in IR, it didn't matter now. None of it did.
It had the draw on her.
From within Cat, two splitting cracks rang the hull. One louder and more familiar than the other, a railfle. Then a thud. Like something had fallen on them, something heavy, like a hart.
"What was that?" Clem gasped.
"I don't see anything on the cameras, but," she sighed, "I guess I'll check it out."
"Be careful."
"Always." She smiled.
The hatch was heavier than it ought to have been. With a heave it gave and another thud, worse than before, told the tale. Blood dripped inside the compartment, fumbling, Ani grabbed for her torch and its illumination showed the crimson-spattered white of Cat's paint and the gurgling wreck of her commander.
"Barış!" She cried, "Christ, Barış is hit, Clem get out here."
She paid no mind to the dead thing that had done this to her commander, or to its blood which she'd unknowingly smeared on her hands. Her knees bent as mud flew from her landing and she flew to Cat's CO.
Alien weapons were beyond lethal, Nilay had lost most of her arm and too much blood. There wasn't much time.
Clem gawked at the corpse Barış had managed to make of her assailant before snapping back to reality. Medi-gel, the one thing it could be said we had over the other races, in hand, and lept from Cat and began applying the substance carefully over the tank commander's wrecked limb; Ani packed the wound and tied down a tourniquet. Her formerly olive skin had already yielded to a pallid mask.
"Help me carry her."
"Where?" Clem asked, heaving.
"Passenger compartment," Ani replied through gritted teeth. Between her kit and strong build, it was no easy feat picking her up at all.
"Shouldn't we call for medics?"
"No!" Their commander finally spoke. "Get," her breathing was heavy, "out," it was so hard to even speak, "of here." Darkness was creeping in on her vision, but there was still more to say. "Get the platoon out."
"Stay with me, Nilay, we'll get them out, just stay with me," Ani said as they laid her down in the compartment. "You heard her, Clem, get on the radio, warn everyone, then drive like hell."
"Yes ma'am."