Chapter VII: A Return to Nightmares
Becker held his head in his hands and shook it. This was getting crazy.
He'd just ended a comm conversation with Colonel Reed, and was informed once again that his platoon was given a solo assignment. But he was assured it'd be easy.
Becker laughed, but there was no mirth to the laugh. It was never easy.
He stood up and wearily put on his flak jacket. Then he walked to the office door and stepped out into the bunk room.
The soldiers of One Platoon, his soldiers, were lying, sitting, or standing in any position they could find that was comfortable. They talked to each other, a few of them joking. After a three day rest, they looked a bit refreshed, even. But there wasn't a single soldier who didn't have the look of a person who'd just faced death so many ways in so little time.
And it was time to do it again.
Becker cleared his throat to get the attention of the soldiers. Once he had it, he began speaking.
"I'm afraid our rest is over. A sighting has been made of a small group of Tau. Should be a cake walk, or so the spotters and the higher ups said.
"I've been told to take only part of the platoon, so I'm selecting first, second, and third squad to go on this one. The rest of you will remain here. Fourth and
fifth squads are the worst off from the past few days of fighting, so they're not all that combat ready right now anyway."
Becker tried to gauge the reactions on the soldiers' faces. Some seemed almost eager, others seemed afraid, and yet others did their best to mask their feelings.
"My 'unusual request' to the supply department came through. There's
weapons black, green face paint, and camo cloaks for everyone. Grab some and use it. You'll need it."
Becker sat down at a table and pulled out some
weapons black and face paint. He picked up his rifle from where it lay on the table, and began applying the
weapons black. The gun soon became dull and took on a flat look, easier to hide in shadows.
He then grabbed up the paint and put it on, smearing it around his face and arms. The face paint would help camouflage the
troops, making them even harder to see in the forest.
He looked across the room, watching
as the soldiers dulled their weapons and painted their faces. Out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention.
He looked that way and saw Bob applying a bit of red face paint, apparently picked up while he was in town. He made patterns across his face with the paint, and when he was through he looked like some mythical daemon. Becker shivered at the sight, then turned away.
Bill approached, and slid into a seat across from Becker.
"Bill?"
Bill leaned across the table. "Uh, Dennis, or sir, whichever is more appropriate right now..."
"Dennis is fine."
"...I've been wondering something. I've checked out a few of the notes for soldiers combating Tau, and I haven't seen much of their support. I can understand lack of tanks, but hardly any battlesuits, no Stealth suits, no Broadsides, none of the infamous Kroot. Where are they?"
Becker leaned back in his seat and half-closed his eyes. "Very perceptive, Bill. It seems the long, drawn-out war has diminished the Tau support, and without any way to get through our blockade they can't get any more in. Just be glad they can't. I've heard nasty things about Kroots."
"That's probably it," Bill said. He stood up to leave, then turned back toward Becker and asked, "What about support for us on this mission?"
"Artillery, but only a little. We're not too well equipped this time out. All we're supposed to do is clean up a small band of Tau."
"Thanks."
Becker watched Bill walk back to his bunk and start readying his combat gear. Becker stood and stretched, then took his rifle and walked back toward his office. Getting his gear was a great idea.
* * *
The troopers of One Platoon walked forward slowly, crouching so they would not be seen from a distance.
Bob checked his rifle. It was set to fire three shot bursts, a good move to conserve ammo.
The soft sound of brush being pushed aside or lightly trampled on was the only thing to be heard. Not a soldier spoke. Not a bird chirped or whistled. Not a single creature growled or called out to its pack.
Bob stopped walking. There was something dreadfully wrong about that. He reached for one of his knives.
With a flurry of whistling and clacking, dozens of Kroot fell from the trees around the soldiers. Bob quickly pulled his knife, slashing it across the throat of a Kroot that landed in front of him.
Another creature smashed his gun aside, but before it could do any more Bob brought the knife sharply across its chest, dropping the creature quickly.
He pulled his other knife, fighting with both of the Tau blades he'd taken from fallen leaders. He leapt at a pair of Kroot that were running toward another Guardsman, landing heavily on their backs. He brought the knives down across their heads, breaking the creatures' skulls with the force of the blow.
Bob jumped to his feet and looked around. The entire group of Guardsmen was embroiled in fighting.
* * *
Sara aimed and fired a burst ,then changed her aim, fired, and repeated the process, over and over.
Kroot came at her from seemingly all sides. She stood in place, firing on them as they came. With each burst or two fired, another of the aliens fell.
Suddenly she felt a heavy blow to her back, and she was
knocked to her knees. She felt a pair of legs on her back.
With all her strength, she levered her gun and used it to push herself over, causing the creature to
unbalance. It slashed at her with its rifle as she tried to roll away, catching her across her stomach.
Sara screamed, the pain like a blast of heat across her stomach,
then cold as the grass touched exposed muscle. She reached down, covering the wound with her arms.
Above her, the Kroot raised its rifle excitedly, ready to deliver the killing blow.
A burst from an autorifle punched three holes in the Kroot's head, bringing it crashing down on Sara.
Unable to get up, she laid in a fetal
position holding her arms across her stomach wound, and prayed that the other aliens wouldn't notice her.
* * *
Mel kept firing at the Kroot, until they finally gave up their assault.
The Kroot fell back into the jungle, blending back into it seamlessly, as if they were just an extension of it.
Four soldiers lay dead, and another seven were injured.
Mel stood uneasily in the silence that followed the attack, the only sounds being the wounded moaning as they were tended to by the platoon medics.
Nothing was
occurring in the bushes. Suddenly, there wasn't even a trace of the Kroot's passage. And stealthy as they were, Mel knew there was no way the Kroot could have gotten away so quickly without disturbing the brush.
In an instant, his mystery was cleared up.
Almost two dozen Tau warriors and nine of their battlesuits from from behind hiding places, opening fire on the platoon.
Mel returned fire, as did anyone else able to, but it was to no avail. The troopers were outnumbered and outgunned.
Becker called out from the middle of the battle line, "Fall back! Return to base. Abort mission. Abort mission!"
Mel gladly prepared to follow orders. He ran over to one of the medics, helped them hoist up a wounded soldier, and began running. Elsewhere, other soldiers grabbed the dead and wounded, and those who could laid down covering fire.
Shots came close to hitting the soldiers, but luckily nothing did. They continued on through the jungle, fleeing from the Tau, and never slowed their pace even when they were far from the Tau's range.
* * *
Bob's eyes slowly focused. He saw only green, darkened by shadow.
He rose to his hands and knees, and almost collapsed. His head was pounding, still painful from being knocked against a tree.
He tried to remember what happened. The platoon was retreating, then a blast from a Tau hit him in the back. It didn't cause him much harm, aside from knocking him into a tree with the blast's force.
Bob got to his feet, then checked his gun. Too badly damaged to use, he let it hang by his side and picked up his knives, dropped when he went
unconscious.
He looked around, and saw little. No sign of his fellow Guardsmen, and only a few scattered dead Tau and Kroot. The very fact that the bodies were still there put Bob on guard; it meant the Tau had not left the area.
He heard movement nearby, and scanned the area around him to find it. A pair of Tau were walking nearby. He understood nothing of what they said, except the words "Kyrn River".
He slowly crept to a tree close to the Tau's path, waiting for them. As they reached his position, Bob jumped out and slashed across their throats with his knives. They fell to the ground with little sound. He bent down and plucked off their helmet vanes, keeping them as trophies.
* * *
The soldiers dragged themselves back into base, weary after their defeat.
Becker watched them come in, one by one, carrying the dead and wounded on their backs. As each passed, he made a mental note of their presence.
As the last soldier passed him, he realized someone was missing. Double checking the list in his mind, he didn't recall Robert Oliver marching in.
Hurriedly, he looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of Bob. But there was none to be found; he hadn't come back to base.
Becker took off for the captain's office, hoping he could get together a band of troopers to look for Bob and find him before the enemy did.
* * *
Bob ran up on another Tau, cutting his throat open before he could cry for help. He began to pull off the helmet vane, then stopped.
The armour was about his size, and seemed to give decent protection to those who wore it. It might help protect him should the need arise.
Carefully, Bob slid off the torso, arms and leggings of the armour, placing them over his combat fatigues and flak jacket. He took the helmet and placed it over his head. The sigils on the display were unreadable to him, but it would give him a bit of a disguise should any Tau pass by him. He also picked up the rifle to use.
Before he could leave the body, another Tau came up beside him, pointing his gun at the armour-less Tau on the ground. The alien said something, a question, but Bob couldn't understand the language. Knowing he had no chance of talking his way out of the situation, he turned and quickly fired into the Tau's face.
The sound of the blast seemed to echo through the woods, a high pitched snap-whine that sounded louder than anything had before to Bob. He quickly yanked off the downed Tau's helmet vane and began running in a direction he was sure base was in.
* * *
Captain Allen slowly shook his head at Becker. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but I can't let you do that."
"Sir, one of my men is out there alone, dead, captured, whatever. He deserves to be rescued."
"I'm not arguing that," the captain said, leaning forward on his desk. "But I have to think of the other soldiers in this company too, and it would look rather stupid for us if we lost more men trying to rescue one who may not even be alive."
Becker sighed. "I can't just give up on him."
"I'm not asking you to," Allen said. "I'll see what I can do, but don't put too much hope in it.
* * *
With the sun setting below the mountains, a
single figure stumbled into the Imperial camp, wearing unfamiliar armour drenched in the blood of aliens.
Bob fell the ground, exhausted. He managed to drag himself
to his hands and knees before a pair of soldiers reached him and helped him up.
"Are you okay?" one asked. The other said, "This way, to the med-center."
Bob was helped along to the med-center, and as he passed the barracks where One Platoon was stationed a cheer arose. He was welcomed back like a hero.
In minutes, he was in the med-center and being shown a bed. Shortly after, his
consciousness failed him and he fell asleep.
* * *
Bob sat in a cold metal
chair in the middle of a cold metal room. The only other thing in the room was a machine attached to his arm and forehead with dozens of wires.
He'd been assured this was just a routine questioning for soldier who'd been lost "behind enemy lines". A voice came over a loudspeaker, letting him know his questioner was ready to begin.
"What is your name?"
"Robert Oliver."
"Rank?"
"Private."
"Assigned unit?"
"Second squad, One Platoon, Charlie Company, First Battalion, Median XIV."
"Number?"
"01973848."
A pause, then the voice came back.
"Private Oliver, what were you doing at the time you found yourself alone amongst the enemy?"
"One Platoon had been assigned to hunt down some Tau. We'd been ambushed and fought back, but we couldn't do any good. The lieutenant gave the order to fall back. In the process, I was hit by an enemy weapon, knocked into a tree by the force, and fell
unconscious."
Images flashed through Bob's mind of the events, the sights, sounds, and feelings of the ill-fated mission and its deadly results.
"What did you do when you first came to?"
"I gathered my equipment and began moving back toward base. Two Tau were nearby, talking. I
killed them to prevent them raising an alarm."
"Did you recognize anything they said?"
"I couldn't make out much of their speech, but I did understand that they said something regarding the Kyrn River."
"How did you come to be in possession of Tau equipment?"
"I killed an enemy soldier and took its gear, hoping to partially disguise myself so none of the other Tau would recognize me as I moved back to the base."
"I see. And all the communications vanes?"
"Trophies, just like my knives." Bob flashed a smile.
There was a moment of silence.
"Alright, Private Oliver, we are done with this questioning. We'll let you know if we need you again. For now you will be escorted back to your barracks by a security officer who will come into the room in another minute and disconnect you from the machine beside you."
And then no more was said. Bob sat in silence as he waited for the officer to enter, then remove the wires from his fliesh, then escort him back to barracks. Neither he nor the officer spoke.
Bob quickly made his way to his bunk and fell into it. Bill looked up from the bunk beside his.
"Hey, Bob. So what happened?"
"They asked me some questions," Bob replied.
"Like what?"
"Later. For now, I need some rest."
"'Kay. Take care of yourself." Bill stood and walked away.
Within minutes, sleep claimed Bob. But instead of the peaceful rest he'd
preferred, his dreams were haunted by faces of friends who'd never return home, by sounds that would terrify any man and tear at his heart, and sights that made one sick.
And yet, somehow, he slept through the night.
END CHAPTER VII
Continued in Chapter VIII: Friendly Fire
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