by Pirateaba
And now he was dead. The symbol would be redrawn on the walls of the barracks. He would be remembered so long as the walls and the Soldiers living within remained—but the Soldier was dead.
In the aftermath of the battle, as the remaining monsters retreated back to the dungeon or were finished off, Yellow Splatters found Pawn again. The Worker was standing with two other Workers, both of whom were poring over maps of the Hive’s tunnels. These maps were a new thing; all Antinium knew the layout of the Hive through the collective mental link they shared, and their Queen knew all, so what would be the purpose of maps? But these two Antinium were [Strategists], and they had insisted on the need to make them.
Belgrade and Anand, the two coordinators of the Hive’s defenses, were speaking with Pawn as Yellow Splatters waited to be given orders. The fact that they were Workers and he was a Soldier was important; they could talk and he could not. Thus, they gave orders to the Soldiers, and Yellow Splatters, the highest-level and only leader among the Soldiers was often tasked with implementing commands.
He led the Individual Soldiers, the ones who had distinguished themselves with paint and begun to level within the Hive. They were a small unit assigned to Pawn, but they were growing and they had distinguished themselves in battle, holding ground and defeating monsters with far fewer casualties than regular Soldiers and Workers.
But the casualties did occur. Each day, there was usually one death. On bad days, there were more. And of late—Yellow Splatters ached inside, remembering the deaths. Holding the dungeon against the influx of monsters who attacked regularly was difficult, but it had been harder of late as well. In fact, the Workers were discussing that very issue now.
“We have held the tunnels nearest the lowest southeastern breach into the dungeon. Casualties were…minimal given the attack. I regret that my static defenses were overwhelmed. Thankfully Anand had already redirected your division, Pawn. And there have been no other attacks today.”
Belgrade was pointing to a map. Yellow Splatters knew he was pointing to the location he had just been in. He stared at Belgrade.
It was a new idea, to think of each Antinium as separate. A few weeks ago Yellow Splatters would not have been able to understand the concept. But now he did, and he had already begun to appreciate the difference between Belgrade and Anand. Both had taken over for Klbkch and the Queen in leading the defense of the Hive, usually from the dungeon attacks. And both had different styles.
Belgrade was a fan of fixed formations, of chokepoints and static groups of Soldiers who would hold a particular tunnel while he reinforced areas at risk at need. By contrast, Anand seldom kept Soldiers and Workers under his command in one place. He preferred to send roving strike forces out to attack monsters, usually choosing to ambush them or attack from all sides with superior numbers.
Apparently, that preference for strategy was derived from the games of chess both played, and Yellow Splatters understood that Anand was considered the better player—and [Tactician]—of the two.
He agreed. Yellow Splatters had developed opinions in the time since he had become [Sergeant], and one of his opinions was that Belgrade’s method of defending was too costly. If a powerful monster—like one of the giant Face-Eater Moths, or a Crypt Worm—attacked, regular Soldiers would be quickly killed. By contrast, luring the enemy and setting up tactically advantageous situations was infinitely better and saved lives.
That wasn’t to say that Yellow Splatters didn’t appreciate the need for Belgrade—he was efficient at intercepting smaller monsters or ones that tried to dig into the Hive. But wherever possible, Yellow Splatters would prefer Anand to lead. And that was often the case when both [Tacticians] were on duty and neither one was injured.
So why had today’s battle seen Belgrade take the lead? Two tunnels had been overrun by monsters, two tunnels that were practically entering into the dungeon. They were not the usual areas of conflict.
“It seems like the radius at which monsters will begin to attack each other is indeed around four thousand paces from the dungeon’s outer walls. As you said, Anand.”
Belgrade turned to the other Worker, who nodded. Anand’s voice was different from Belgrade’s. While both had the same body, Anand spoke more confidently to the softer voice Belgrade had.
“Indeed. Holding these areas—”
He touched on four spots on the map, each one indicating an entrance from the dungeon into the Hive through a collapsed wall or open breach in the dungeon.
“—is far more costly than if we pulled back. Redirecting the monsters into kill zones where they become aware of each other and reduce their numbers is the most expedient strategy.”
Precisely put. Yellow Splatters shifted from one foot to another. His upper right arm—the one he’d used to block a mace earlier—was dripping blood from between the cracks. Since it was the only wound he’d taken and very minor, he ignored it and the pain. He waited, trying to understand why no one was listening to Anand’s sensible advice. Why were they so close to the dungeon, taking casualties? Was this Belgrade’s idea? It was foolish. Stupid.
Wrong. Yellow Splatters thought the word deliberately, although he couldn’t speak it. Belgrade nodded.
“I think it will be difficult to hold this area. But of course, we must. For now, I recommend doubling the Soldiers guarding each entrance, and keeping Colored Antinium in reserve. Pawn, how many of your Soldiers can you spare?”
Pawn hesitated and glanced at Yellow Splatters for the first time. The [Sergeant] willed Pawn to give the correct answer.
Colored Antinium. That was what the two [Tacticians] had begun calling the Soldiers with paint. As if they were…different. And they were. They were elite warriors, in a Hive where there had been only uniformity before. They were few, though. And growing fewer. It was hard to show a Soldier what it meant to be Individual, and daily losses meant they were slowly losing more than they converted. Yellow Splatters thought on that often.
“…I can spare twenty, I think, Belgrade. I would like to rest the injured, and if I am not here to pray for the wounded, casualties seem to—”
Belgrade was already nodding his agreement. Neither he nor Anand ever really contradicted Pawn, except in matters of strategy. The sole [Acolyte] and first Worker to become Individual was deeply respected by all of the Antinium. Yellow Splatters considered Pawn a fine helper. But he was not a leader.
At least he had given a good number. Twenty. Yellow Splatters had a running tally of wounded Soldiers under his commands and the ones who were tired from battle. Twenty to be sent for active duty left a margin of around…sixty three for emergencies and tomorrow’s combat. Acceptable.
“Agreed, then. Send them here and I will keep them in reserve. No sense losing any if it can be avoided.”
Belgrade was speaking to the others. His words made Yellow Splatters…hurt. What he said was of course correct, but by preserving the lives of the valuable Individual Soldiers, he was sacrificing more regular Soldiers instead. To Yellow Splatters, any Soldier’s death was unacceptable. He had been a regular Soldier, once. Now he was a leader, the leader of Soldiers. He would save them all if he could.
And indeed, as the Workers turned they had to look up at him. Yellow Splatters was a Soldier and taller than Workers, but he was actually taller than other Soldiers as well. Just by an inch or two, and his body was a tiny bit larger, but it was noticeable given the uniformity of other Antinium. Pawn had speculated that it was a product of his leader class. Yellow Splatters felt it was a mark of rank.
“Sergeant Yellow Splatters, thank you for your efforts. I believe today’s wave will be all for the next four hours at least. The dungeon seems to influence monsters to attack at semi-predictable intervals…you may rest for now.”
Yellow Splatters nodded his head towards Anand, deliberately shifting his body so he wasn’t nodding at Belgrade. If the other Worker noticed it…no, he did not. He was still looking over the maps.
Holding the tunnels c
losest to the dungeon. Why? They should be fighting in the more distant tunnels and blocking these ones with dirt to slow the monsters as they burrowed to the Hive. Yellow Splatters fumed as he marched back with Pawn towards the other Soldiers. They were all waiting for him and all, save for their one fallen brother, relatively unharmed. There would be no need for the precious few healing potions that Pawn had been given by Klbkch.
“Yellow Splatters, let us return. I would like to speak with you in the barracks.”
Pawn deferentially let Yellow Splatters proceed in front of him. Yellow Splatters pointed, and the Soldiers formed up into a double line and marched out of the distant tunnels and back towards the heart of the Hive.
The [Sergeant] tried to grapple with his anger as he marched down the main tunnels, letting Workers move quickly out of his way. However, emotion was a rare feeling for him. It was practically unheard of among Soldiers. But Yellow Splatters had begun having opinions. Again, it was probably part of his class, but those opinions made him question things.
Things like his place, orders he’d been given, and certain things Pawn said. Of course, it was necessary for Soldiers to fight, and guarding the dungeon was essential to preserve the Hive. Yellow Splatters was loyal to his Queen, despite never having seen her. But orders that wasted lives, like the ones Belgrade had given and continued to give? Hold the entrances? Why? Yellow Splatters disagreed with those orders.
And sometimes, with Pawn. Yellow Splatters turned his body as he walked to look back at Pawn. The Worker was maintaining the censer he’d used, cleaning it of incense as he walked. He was important. He had given Yellow Splatter identity, promoted him to [Sergeant]. But he did not understand war and battle by his own admission. And yet, he commanded the Soldiers?
Was that wrong? Yellow Splatters turned forwards and noticed the staring. Soldiers and Workers alike had paused in their endless commute to stare at him and the other Colored Antinium. They usually did, but today Yellow Splatters sensed that most of the gazes were on him.
Because of his height. Of course. It was probably less than an inch—more like a few centimeters. In a crowd of Drakes, Gnolls, Humans, or any other race it would have been completely unnoticed. But among the Antinium it was like someone was shining a beacon on Yellow Splatters.
He stood tall as he marched towards his barracks. He was not proud; that was a foreign emotion to him when Pawn had explained it to him. Rather Yellow Splatters was dedicated. He fought enemies. He killed to save as many of his fellow Soldiers as possible. He mourned the deaths of his comrades and strove to level up further, to become stronger in order to save more. That was all that there was to live. All that was meaningful.
—-
The barracks of the Individual Soldiers had changed in several ways since Pawn had first wandered into it. It had been expanded and given several access points for convenience and a speedier connection to the front lines in the Hive. Space had also been cleared on one wall for a…mural of sorts.
Symbols decorated the wall, each with their own space, but each close enough so that it seemed they formed a pattern. The marks of fallen Soldiers rested there. Yellow Splatters looked up and saw patterns he recognized.
A paw print in white. Eight lines and a curvy wave. A golden quartet of stars. So many already. And a Soldier was already dipping his finger in white paint, drawing out the circle and question mark onto the wall.
It hurt. But Yellow Splatters embraced this pain. It was right that the wall be here, reminding the Soldiers of who they had lost, who they had sacrificed. This is why they fought. For the Hive, for the Queen, but for each other above all else.
A few more details of the changed barracks caught Yellow Splatters’ eye as he turned from the mural. There was now a storage area in the barracks, a place where a small crate of healing potions had been placed, a stockpile of bandages and other healing agents usually reserved for the most wounded of Antinium—
And in one corner, slightly dusty from lack of use, a pile of books. They had been Pawn’s latest addition to the barracks.
No one had touched them. Yellow Splatters stared at the books. He considered them a waste of space. He understood—vaguely—that these books had images in them and were meant to tell stories like the ones Pawn told to the Soldiers each night. However, what was the point?
Stories were fine for helping new Soldiers become Individual. But they were not practical, not useful for Soldiers who were already Individual. If a Soldier had realized his potential, it was more important to do other things.
Like train. Yellow Splatters strode over to a cleared area in the barracks where several Soldiers were already sparring. It was an unheard-of idea for Soldiers, but once Pawn had suggested the idea, Yellow Splatters had immediately seen it was one of the Worker’s good suggestions.
The Soldiers were fighting in pairs and sometimes in groups. It could be a duel between two Soldiers, but since battle was rarely that fair, sometimes there were as many as five Soldiers beating on one. Not hitting with full force of course; that would be too dangerous. But they swung fast and hard enough to sometimes crack chitin, dodging, punching, learning to fight more efficiently.
A Soldier approached as Yellow Splatters walked into the sparring area. He was a new Soldier, one with a pink stripe on either side of his face. Pink Stripes raised his four fists, each one a bludgeoning tool that could gouge, grab, or bludgeon as necessary. Yellow Splatters raised his own arms and the two Soldiers charged towards each other.
At first, Pink Stripes went to grab Yellow Splatters, but the [Sergeant] punched him back. Pink Stripes circled, lashing out with careful punches and keeping two arms back for a guard. Yellow Splatters ignored defense and went for a full-out assault. He—gently—hammered Pink Stripes, dominating his opponent. Despite that, Pink Stripes kept fighting, doggedly avoiding blows and blocking where he could until Yellow Splatters decided it was time to rest.
Exhausted, the new Soldier lowered his guard. The exchange of blows had been intense, and the carapace on his upper right arm and shoulder was slightly cracked. Nevertheless, he was ready for Yellow Splatters to continue.
Good! Yellow Splatters radiated approval and the other Soldiers sensed it. This is what was important. Not books, not stories—this was practical. Aside from rest and food, this was all a Soldier needed. Because the next battle would be upon them soon, and when it occurred, Yellow Splatters wanted his unit as prepared as they could be for it.
…Oddly, it seemed fewer of them were leveling up as fast as they used to be. Of course, higher levels meant they slowed down, but even Yellow Splatters was only a Level 12 [Sergeant]. The other Soldiers should be leveling faster, not slower.
He wondered why that was. Maybe the training was too light? But full-power blows were too dangerous. Well, at least the Soldiers were learning to fight in their off-time. Yellow Splatters beckoned to three Soldiers, wanting to increase the intensity of his sparring when he heard a voice.
“Sergeant?”
Pawn. Yellow Splatters paused and reluctantly turned. The Worker was waiting for him next to the pile of books. The Soldier trotted over and noticed Pawn carefully dusting the books off, arranging them to face the barracks. He stared at the books and then at the Worker, impatiently.
“I mourn the loss of one of our Soldiers. I prayed…but my prayers do not always work. Nevertheless, thank you for fighting as you did. Those Soldiers might have been slaughtered had you not charged in.”
The Worker looked up at Yellow Splatters and he nodded. Pawn always thanked Yellow Splatters and the other Soldiers after a battle. However, this time the Worker hesitated. He clicked his mandibles lightly together and made a weak clicking sound—the Antinium equivalent of clearing his throat.
“I wonder, though, if you are not becoming too brave, Yellow Splatters? It was a very risky maneuver you made. Brave, yes, and it did save lives, but it put you in great danger.”
The [Sergeant] stared at Pawn uncomprehendingly. Of course
he had been in danger, charging ahead of the others. Shouldn’t he risk his life?
Pawn seemed to understand his point. He usually did. The Worker nodded his head, clutching the censer with one hand to his chest.
“It is important. I know. But I worry about you. If you should fall—”
The other Soldiers would lose their leader. Yellow Splatters understood at last. That would weaken them, possibly leading to more casualties. Already, he was able to influence his unit as a whole in small ways, like leading a charge with his Skills and so on. He readjusted his view of his usefulness in combat. He was a leader and care was important. Still, Yellow Splatters couldn’t fault his actions. Saving a Soldier’s life was paramount.
Pawn seemed to agree, because he dropped that line of conversation. He looked to the books again and opened his mandibles, then hesitated.
“I ah—notice you have put yourself on combat duty every day for the last two weeks.”
Yellow Splatters nodded. Pawn reached out and touched at Yellow Splatter’s arms. The blood had stopped, but Yellow Splatters had broken chitin on multiple places on his carapace. Pawn looked distressed.
“It is important to have a [Sergeant], but it is not necessary that you fight every battle, Yellow Splatters. You need rest.”
Not yet. The Soldier stood tall, disregarding this suggestion from Pawn. Once he had agonized over everything Pawn said; now he recognized the Worker spoke out of ignorance at times. Misplaced worry and concern for his wellbeing, true, but ignorance all the same. He had to fight, to keep fighting. The battle was all that mattered. So long as his people were dying, he had to fight.
If Pawn understood that, he didn’t show it. Rather, he looked down at the censer and then up at Yellow Splatters.
“I believe you need rest. Or rather, a different kind of rest in addition to your regular sleep, Yellow Splatters.”
