Neds were notoriously hard to bring down. Even specially trained and equipped Shiv Teams rarely did so, and seldom without casualties. Each of those kills had been hard-won by her squad, and each target had gone down fighting, taking several of her teammates with it.
Her fingers lingered, momentarily, on the third mark. It was only two months old, and still looked fresh, just like the memories. She’d lost three men in that battle.
The marks were her reminder of what she was fighting for, and the cost. They meant more to her than any medal or merit she’d earned in her cycles of service. Each one carried a story that she hated to remember but would not dare to forget.
An uncomfortable knot of emotion welled up in her chest. She forced it back down with practiced determination.
Big girls don’t cry, right?
She holstered the EP rifle and looked around the craft's cargo bay at the other members of her squad. The more experienced ones had grown accustomed to her little ritual and knew that it was time for business.
Sergeant Randal Gray, her grizzled second in command, said nothing, but gave her a quick nod, then turned to the rest of the team and began shouting instructions. The other soldiers abruptly dropped their casual conversations and jumped into action, double-checking each other’s gear, loading weapons and focusing their minds on the mission at hand.
Lanis watched them, recommitting their faces to memory -- another of her personal pre-mission rituals.
There was Watts, the tall, dark-skinned native of southern Calandra. He had the most amazingly low voice, although he hardly seemed to talk unless he had something important to say. Lanis imagined that, in some other life, Watts might have been a singer, using that powerful bass to entertain rather than shout over the roar of battle.
Contrasting him was little Denio, the boisterous native of Hespira, a small town in Valdon. You’d never guess by his foul mouth that he hailed from one of the most religious cultures in the world. Maybe that's why he was here.
Lewis, the practical joker of the group, and the more subdued Lander, made quite the odd couple, having known each other for some time before joining the CAF. Both were from northern T’Lanth and their families had fled together when the Imperium invaded their homeland. A couple of refugee children who'd met on the road and stuck together ever since.
Specialist Abes was the team's sniper. He sat near the rear of the hopper, carefully cradling his cumbersome twenty millimet anti-tank rifle almost like it was a newborn child. He was always so serious about his work. While it was Lanis's job to break down a target dragon's defenses, it was usually Abes that got to make the kill with a carefully placed SCAM round. It was about the only time she'd known him to crack a smile.
Privates Holt and Carter, recent additions, rounded out the squad as cablers, whose dangerous but vital job was to pin down the target dragon using special Pilum rifles, firing armor-piercing barbs attached to magically reinforced wires.
Finally, there was Specialist Heiko, who served as both a cabler and the team’s medic. The little Meilanni girl was barely nineteen cycles old but she was a competent Medimancer--a channeler skilled in healing Techniqs. Medimancers were a rare luxury for field units and Lanis was extremely lucky to have her.
Shiv Team Nine had earned a reputation as one of the best dragon-hunting teams in the 33rd, a fact that made Lanis very proud. She had every intention of keeping it that way.
The other two hoppers in the formation each contained ten men -- Rangers from 8th Company who had been attached to Shiv Nine for this operation. Lanis had never worked with these particular squads before but CAF Rangers were considered to be almost on par with Corps troops in terms of competence, even rating runeboosted gear, when available. She had full confidence in their capabilities.
She only regretted that she hadn’t had time to meet them in the chaos leading up to the operation. She had always made a point of trying to learn at least something about the people under her command, even though her fellow officers had warned her against getting to familiar.
But, if she lost any of them, what would she use to remember? Some would say that she shouldn't even try. She silently prayed that she wouldn’t have to.
The door gunner perked up and began scanning the area for threats as the LAV decreased speed and descended toward the ground, the time when it would be most vulnerable. Lanis unhooked her seatbelt, stood up, and grabbed the handrail above her head. She pulled down her EVI goggles and leaned toward the door to get a clear view of the rapidly approaching ground.
Wisps of snow swirled in the stiff breeze that cut through the maze of deserted ruins, carrying the sounds of battle echoing back through the empty streets. Picturing the lines on the map, Lanis looked northward to where she estimated the current line of battle to be. Through the alchemechanical lenses of the "ee-vees" she could clearly see the streaks of light made by runeboosted munitions and the eerie flashes caused by spellshocks. This was definitely the place.
Looking back at the other hoppers, she could make out the Rangers lined up at the doors, waiting to leap out. She imagined that they, too, were anxious to get out of these big, flying, targets and down on the ground where there was some hard cover.
The hopper slowed to a stop about one met off the snowy ground and settled to a hover. Lanis could hear the squad behind her preparing to disembark. She took a deep breath of the frigid air and hopped down to the ground.
It was time to go to work.
***
Staff Sergeant Cory Westlan crouched behind a crumbling wall of stone and mortar as a hail of gunfire peppered the area above his head, showering him with flecks of rock and ice. He slapped a fresh thirty-round magazine into his Kovel assault rifle, cycled the action then took a few deep breaths as he waited for the enemy fire to abate.
As the sound of impacts died down, he snapped up into a firing position over the wall and quickly scanned the area for a target. There were certainly plenty to pick from. Several dozen Imp infantry were advancing toward his position, darting from cover to cover amongst the abandoned vehicles and piles of rubble as they moved up the street.
Westlan zeroed in on an enemy who was making a break through a gap in the cover. He fired a quick burst, sending up small plumes of dirt and snow around his target, who stumbled behind a debris pile and disappeared. Westlan immediately ducked back as another volley of enemy fire erupted around him.
This had been the story all morning. No sooner had the city's defensive barriers dropped, Imperium troops had advanced into the city; moving block by block toward the main reactor complex. The last order his unit had received was a general order for all troops to hold position for as long as possible, giving time for the reactor 'stones to be removed for transport. It had started out as a reasonably organized fighting withdrawal. But it wasn't long before it devolved into a near rout as the Imps steamrolled their way in, supported by those blasted Neds and their magic--pretty much flattening everything in their way.
Rumor was that an Arcane Corps airdrop battalion was defending the reactor complex. Typical ARCHie bastards, standing around looking all pretty in their enchantech gear, and leaving the mundanes out here to slow down the Imperium’s advance. Westlan didn't really want to believe it, at first. But the more he considered his current predicament, the more irritated he got at the mere thought of it.
His unit had started out with almost sixty men. Of that, maybe half were still alive, and a good number of those were in bad shape. They’d been pushed out of their defensive line by the Imps' first major push and had slowly retreated nearly a full kilomet in the hour since.
An enemy recoiless had killed Lieutenant Stavel and the EComm operator during the opening assault and about ten more went down before Westlan was finally able to rally the unit enough for a withdrawal. They’d dealt some hurt to the Imps along the way, but it had cost them. Their path was littered with enemy bodies and no small number of their own comrades. His dwindling unit was running low ammunition and t
here had yet been no sign of reinforcements. Nerves were frayed and morale was getting thin.
He glanced down the short, forty-met long wall where the survivors had taken cover and were attempting to lay down suppressive fire on the encroaching enemies. Nearby his medic frantically tried to patch up the wounded enough to allow them to be moved. Before long, Westlan would be forced to call a full retreat and without Comms, he wasn’t even sure what the next rally point was. As far as he knew, his unit was the only one left in the sector. The whole situation was quickly going from bad to worse.
Westlan shuffled along the wall toward a small cluster of his men, keeping low to avoid drawing enemy fire. He stopped and kneeled next to private Vicks, who was curled up with his back against the stone as a hail of fire pelted the wall just over his head. A few mets away, Wertz was laying down a steady suppressing fire with his belt-fed light machine gun; all the while bellowing an endless stream of expletives, which, of course, the enemy couldn’t have heard over his fire anyway.
Westlan tapped Vicks on the shoulder, startling the young private, who glanced back at him, his dirty face reddened by cold and his breath coming out in rapid puffs of frozen vapor. The kid looked pretty rough, but put up a determined expression. Westlan leaned in so he could be heard over the roar of the LMG.
“We can’t stay here!”
Vicks nodded an affirmative, whether in understanding or agreement Westlan couldn't tell. Westlan pointed down the street behind their position, using hand gestures to clarify his orders.
“I want everyone to fall back in pairs! Take cover in the structures… regroup on 21st street!
“Pass the word!” he said with a quick pat on the soldier’s back. “Go!”
“Yes, Sergeant!” Vicks yelled back, then scurried down the line to inform the rest of the unit.
Westlan watched the kid run off then turned around to take position at the wall. Suddenly, the enemy fire trailed off and an eerie silence settled over the area. Westlan was about to peek over the wall when he heard a sound that sent a shiver up his spine. The high-pitched, rapid tittering seemed to echo in his head more than his ears. There was only one creature that made a sound like it.
Eth-Hounds.
The canine-like creatures were not native to Elandis, having been brought from the Netherdragons' home world of Gnisis. The Imperium Legions used the beasts as hunters and sentries, occasionally unleashing them in packs to cause chaos among dug in defenders.
Well-adapted to their dark home world, the eyeless creatures hunted by means of etheric echolocation, the source of their disturbing screeches. It was this unusual perception, rivaled only by netherdragon Vimsense, which allowed Eth-hounds to literally sniff out the auras of living prey. Short of being dead--there was practically no way a person could hide from them.
Far more disturbing, however, was their preference for devouring the actual life force of their prey. Their silvery teeth and claws somehow had the ability to ravage both physical matter and pure essence, allowing them to chew their way right through magical wards. Eth-Hound wounds were devastating to a victim's body and aura, making them difficult for even an experienced Medimancer to heal. Short of a netherdragon, there were few threats more terrifying for an infantryman to face on the battlefield.
“Eth Hounds!” Wertz yelled as he frantically turned and laid down sustained fire in a new direction.
Westlan glanced over the wall to see about ten of the grayish-black creatures leaping over and around debris piles in a single-minded charge toward his unit’s meager defense line. Their eyeless faces were covered in bony plates and their lips parted back to bare the silvery sheen of their deadly teeth. Their shrieking filled the air, even over the deafening roar of Wertz’s near-constant MG fire.
As Wertz stopped to reload, Westlan took a firing position over the wall to give him cover. He zeroed in on the closest hound as it bounded over an old vehicle wreck and turned to focus directly on him. His initial burst missed to the left as the creature quickly closed the distance, so focused on its prey that it seemed oblivious to the danger.
Westlan adjusted his aim and fired again. Misty spurts of blood spattered the snow as the rounds found gaps in the hound's bony hide. The beast emitted an ear-splitting wail as it tumbled headlong up to the base of the wall, where it flailed wildly as it struggled to get back to its feet.
Westlan leaned over the wall and emptied the rifle’s remaining rounds into the creature at point blank range. Cursing, he slid back and reached toward his belt and pulled out a fresh clip. But as his cold, panicked fingers fumbled to reload his weapon, he glanced up to see another of the beasts clear the end of the wall, slip on the frozen ground, then scramble back to its feet heading straight towards him.
Westlan had only seconds to react. He dropped the magazine and flipped the rifle around, his only recourse now being to use the weapon as a club. He pulled back to swing just as the hound leapt toward him.
Westlan fell back, expecting to roll with the impact. Instead, the air between him and the beast seemed to shimmer slightly as the hound struck some sort of invisible barrier that knocked it back to the ground, slightly stunned. It quickly twisted back to its feet and threw itself at the barrier in a rabid frenzy.
Westlan scampered back as the creature repeatedly thrashed against the shield, its claws and teeth creating faint, blue ripples as they gouged into the magic as the monster frantically attempted to reach the prey beyond.
Suddenly, a high-pitched squeal filled the air and the hound’s upper body exploded in a shower of gore that spewed across the wall. Its hindquarters dropped to the ground, twitching amongst a pile of twisted, bloody, remains.
Westlan recognized the infamous wail of a “Banshee” EP rifle, although he could scarcely believe he’d heard it. He looked toward the direction of the sound. Standing atop a mound of rubble about twenty mets away was what could only be a Coalition Battlemancer.
She was clad in flat gray runic armor over heavy winter fatigues. Her hood was pulled up and a bulky pair of EVI goggles covered her eyes. She was holding the EP rifle to her shoulder in a firing stance, its barrel emitting a small wisp of smoke.
She gave a quick hand signal and several squads of Arcane Corps marines and Rangers wearing heavy REBAr charged around the mound with rifles at the ready.
***
Lanis mentally prepared another barrier techniq and began “folding” the matrix into her booster to give it added power.
She'd have to be more a bit more careful next time. That etheric ebb had nearly crashed her last techniq, and that Eth-hound came dangerously close to breaking through it. It must have been that soldier's lucky day.
She should have known better, considering the conditions.
According to her Vimsense, the ambient magic in this area was in a heavy state of flux. The unpredictable Vim levels were going to wreak havoc with her Enchantech gear and make channeling difficult.
Such disturbances were not uncommon in modern warfare, where the high number of spellshocks and the discordant blasts of antimagic weapons tended to churn the Etherum into a froth of magical surges. Sometimes, the disruptions would become so severe that they would manifest in the physical world, resulting in large storms laced with bursts of etheric lightning. In such conditions, channeling ambient Vim could become extremely unpredictable--even dangerous.
Lanis focused on the patterns of the Etherum, trying to ascertain the extent of the disruption. Another ebb rolled through, temporarily dropping the ambient Vim level before rising yet again. She'd seen worse, but she'd need to keep an eye on it.
As a battlemancer, she’d been trained to channel Techniqs under such conditions. Her only concern was that, if the ambient levels dropped too much, the hoppers wouldn't be able to get in to pick up her team. Being stranded out here in a dead zone did not appeal to her in the least. Best not to hang around too long.
She keyed her EComm as she strode down the hill.
“Squads two and three,
take down the hounds and form a firing line!” she yelled as she fired an EP burst that shredded another of the creatures, leaving nothing but a shuddering, bloody heap in the snow.
Her team advanced to the wall, adding their fire to that of the beleaguered garrison troops. Most of the Eth-Hounds quickly dropped in the deadly crossfire--but not all.
One of the creatures somehow managed to slip through the killing zone and bound over the wall, single-mindedly tackling one of the garrison soldiers to the ground, where it began mauling him ferociously. The man screamed in terror and pain as the beast's deadly claws slashed through his armor, digging deep rents into both his flesh and aura.
Watts saw the man go down and sprinted toward him, activating the strength-enhancement schema of his armor as he ran. The beast glanced up just as Watt's threw a hard front kick to its ribs that launched the creature hard into the wall behind it. Watts leveled his rifle and emptied nearly a full magazine into the beast before the thing finally quit thrashing. He yelled for a medic as he reloaded, then knelt down to reassure the trembling soldier.
Lanis ran forward and knelt down at the wall next to a Staff Sergeant who appeared to be the ranking soldier in what remained of his unit. She peeked up over the edge of the wall and made a quick survey of the situation.
The sensitive ERIS lenses of her EVI goggles easily cut through the smoke and blowing snow, revealing an undulating sea of light and shadow as they converted the invisible magical harmonics of the Etherum into the visible light spectrum. Occasional bursts indicated nearby magical spellshocks while the bright trails of rune-boosted munitions streaked through the darkness.
Out of the filtered haze of ambient magical energy emerged the faintly visible auras of almost three-dozen essence signatures slowly advancing toward her position. The Imp troops were approaching in small groups, using the rubble in the street to cover their movement, for what little good it did them. A number of the enemy soldiers were sporting rune-boosted armor and weapons, their complex etheric halos clearly indicated on the EVI display. Lanis uttered an irritated growl as she recognized the familiar schemata of Coalition-style enhanced armor.
Big Girls Don't Cry: Shadowdragon War Diaries Vol. 1 Page 2
