I understand Tauren sending us on this mission too. Raids, hitting camps and factories, that causes damage, but it doesn't make the Rebels respect or fear the Rangers. On the other hand, taking out a hundred Lancers makes a statement, saying that the royal forces are better than the Rebels. We smash them hard, and we smash them again, and we could bring this whole heaven and starts thing to an end faster.
“Wing units, deploy to your assembly areas,” I call over the network, watching as Kelbara and the other wing peel off. This is our largest deployment ever; the wings are going to have twenty Rangers each while I lead the remaining on the fixing forces.
We set down, still five kilometers from the camp, and start walking, moving quickly. The camp isn't near any woods or forest, we're crossing nearly open plains as we approach, the only help coming for the wings as they circle behind the shallow hills that roll over this area. But my group is coming right up the middle of the light valley, speed and stealth our only advantage.
“At least they got us some camo covers,” my radio operator mutters under his breath as we jog. He's carrying the heavy repeater on his back, fifteen kilograms of electronics that will make sure we can punch through any electronic jamming in the area to talk with both our own forces as well as any royal forces we need to, in addition to his armor, but he's tough and strong, exactly why I chose him. That and he's cool under fire.
I look down at my armor, which has been covered with a sandy beige fabric that at least partially blends in with the ground around us. It's not perfect, but it's better than iridescent black. Instead of replying though I keep moving, closing the distance with the enemy camp.
“Wing two in position,” I get in my ear over the network, and I raise my hand, calling for a stop in approach. Everyone gets down, hugging dirt to the point that even I have a problem seeing them against the prairie, and I take a knee, holding my hand out to my radioman, who passes me a flexi, updated with live feeds from the overhead satellites. We're a little more than a kilometer from the camp now, and I can just start to see the fence that surrounds the camp. There are guards on duty, but they're not expecting this, they look like they're going about their normal garrison duties.
“Wing Two, set your offset weapons and commence firing in two minutes. Wing three?”
Kelbara comes on, her voice tense. “In position. On you, Commander.”
“Understood. Main unit commencing attack.”
The plan's simple, and one that is a remarkable throwback to ancient times. With the rise in weapons technology, trying to use fire and maneuver in open space like this is not feasible. In fact, even using armored transports aren't effective in terrain like this anymore, not with the power of a platform-mounted Gauss gun that can tear through meter thick duranium plate with a single shot. Even our own armor isn't much good except against handheld weapons.
Instead, speed and shock are our main allies. In something that would have looked not that unfamiliar to our ancient Greek or Scottish ancestors, we approach in a run, our lances out and firing as we sprint across the ground, a war cry rising from our chests as we charge, hoping to scare the shit out of our opponents.
The guards are surprised at first, and the chaos is increased as the first of the mortars from the second wing start hitting the shelters, sending plastic and metal flying everywhere.
When we get within fifty meters of the fence we fire our volley of explosive tipped darts, ripping the fence from its foundations and tearing gaps in the wire. We pour through, firing our lances at any Rebel we see, sparing nothing. There're no plasma rounds this time, there's nothing but Gauss rounds and tracker darts. I see two Rebel Lancers coming around a corner from their shelters and I fire, taking one in the head and another in the thigh, amputating his leg at the hip. He goes down screaming, a geyser of blood shooting from his severed stump before the shock and blood loss take him away.
Kelbara's wing smashes into the other side of the camp just as the Lancers try to organize a response, crashing into their side and inflicting heavy casualties. It's brutal and ugly, the dirt running reddish black with blood from the fallen. Finally, the firing tapers off, and I see that there are a few Rebel Lancers trying to surrender. “Bring them over here!”
The Rangers lead over three Lancers, all of whom keep their hands in the air, their hands open to show they aren't armed. I look them over, checking their rank badges, and see one of them wears the rank of a Platoon Leader. He tries to say something, probably something to the effect that he surrenders, but my hand flashes out, my powerlance snapping out to catch him in the mouth. The tip catches him in the teeth and he goes down, knocked unconscious, and I'm close to shooting him but just barely hold back. “How many Lancers are still alive?”
“Not many,” one of the Rangers says, and I nod, looking around. There's a lot of black armored bodies on the ground, we hit them hard. “Do you want a count, Commander?”
“Yes. And find Sub-Commander Kelbara, I want medics deployed for any injured. Then we get out of here,” I order, turning around. “We lift off in five minutes.”
“And the camp, Commander? The bodies?” one of the other Rangers ask, and I look around one more time, shaking my head.
“Fuck it. We're here to send a message, not gather intelligence. Burn it all.”
Chapter 13
Kelbara
Two days later, our next battle, this time ten thousand kilometers away and in a totally different setting. This time we're deep in urban warfare, literally, since the Rebel base is built in the tunnels underneath one of the old polar cities. It's one of the most dangerous forms of fighting there is. We can't just hit them and move on, we need to get in and dig. And today's Rebels aren't folding as easily as the other groups.
“Delta team, right!” I yell, not even worried about deception anymore as we go down another level. The Rebels have hit us hard, my group's taken eight casualties already, and I don't even know what Jensen's group is doing. The ground is full of heavy metals, the tunnels bounce radio signals everywhere. Communication's been reduced to line-of-sight yelling, passing messages along using repeats, and the occasional rare fuzzy signal as we move through the tunnels, routing the Rebels out like rats in a maze. “Alpha and Bravo teams, follow me!”
We're in two-person teams as we swarm the tunnels, except for me, I get to tag along with whichever team I want. I wish I had Jensen at my back, but he's leading the other main elements of the attack that are sweeping the surface of the base, making sure that any Rebel counterattack doesn't pin us beneath the surface. Still, I can use the help, levels have a way of eating teams up even if they don't get killed since I need to leave people behind to guard our ass.
Delta team sweeps the room ahead while the rest of us secure the tunnel. I've already divided my forces three times at major intersections, of the original ten teams that I've brought down into this level of the labyrinth I've got four left. Delta comes back in a moment, and we continue to the next intersection, where I peel Alpha team off, leaving Bravo to secure the intersection and the area.
Down to two teams, Charlie and Delta follow me to the next level, the lights flickering when our boots hit the duracrete. I take the lead, hoping that we're close to the end, I'm running out of troops to use down here, this complex could swallow a regiment if we followed basic protocol.
“Sub-Commander, what do we do at the next intersection?” one of the Rangers asks as he thinks the same thing, and I shake my head.
“We're sticking together, I think five is small enough for the situation, don't you?” I ask. Suddenly I hear a whine, and instinctively dive just as a tracker dart whizzes above me and hits the same Ranger who just asked me a question. He explodes, and I'm covered in blood as I roll, looking for whoever fired the weapon. Up ahead, I see something and I fire back, switching between my right-hand firing Gauss rounds and my left firing plasma to give me more illumination.
I see boots disappear around a corner just as a plasma ball goes by and I get up,
sprinting down the tunnel after them. I don't know why I'm doing it, I'm violating every rule that we trained for this attack, but I can feel hot blood dripping off my face and pounding in my ears. I head around the corner to get blasted off my feet as the powerlance hits me in the side. I lurch, bouncing off the wall to see a man with the lance square up, readying to fire.
I don't have time to do anything but kick, my boot heel catching him in the kneecap, dislocating it just as he presses the firing trigger on his lance. He drops, the Gauss round hitting the duracrete just to the side of my face, and I can feel the chips cut my cheek. I roll up, kicking out again and hitting his arm, making him let go of the powerlance as his forearm breaks. He screams, falling back and trying to hold up his good hand. “I give!”
“Fuck you,” I growl, kneeing him in the face, rocking his head back. I climb onto his chest, raining down punches, my armored gauntlets making each punch as hard as being hit with a brick. All I know is that I want to hurt this man, this son of a bitch who shot one of my Rangers, one of the assholes who has put me in this stars-forsaken fucked up war.
“Sub-Commander? Sub-Commander!” I faintly hear, but I'm not listening, I just know that I'm punching, beating the enemy. I can hear a squelching sound, but I don't know where it's coming from, I just know that the more blood that I can draw from the face of this asshole who hit me, the more I want to see it happen again. “SUB-COMMANDER!”
Arms grab mine, pulling me off my enemy, and I'm kicking, screaming in anger. I shake free, and I start kicking the enemy, who shakes with every impact of my boot to his body.
“He's dead, Sub-Commander!” a Ranger yells, pulling me back some more, literally lifting me off the ground with my arm twisted above my head in a neutralizing half nelson. “He's dead!”
The words cut through, and I see what I've done to the Rebel. There's not much of a head left, it looks like bloody hamburger meat on top of a lumpish mass. My gauntlets drip with the gore, and I realize that the whitish part...
The Ranger lets go of me. I turn and puke, what's left of my rations splattering on the duracrete. I heave again, another jet of acidic bile joining my breakfast, and I start to wipe my mouth before I realize that my hands are black with blood, and I let them fall. Turning, I step over the body, blinking back the horror for now. “We need to complete the mission.”
The remaining Rangers say nothing but continue down the hallway in a single group. I watch them go, take a shuddering breath, then continue after them.
* * *
“Are you okay?” Jensen asks quietly, while outside the shelter I can hear the Rangers cleaning up. In typical Ranger fashion, we came back to our camp after the battle, although this time there were casualties. Too many casualties.
“I... I never lost anyone in one of my groups before,” I whisper, looking at my hands. I've scrubbed and scrubbed, but I can still see the blood, I can still see it grimed into my knuckles, nearly black against my pink skin. It shouldn't be there, I was wearing my gloves under my armor, they're supposed to be waterproof, but it's still there, little lines of reddish black lines written in my hands. “I just... I just ....”
The tears come from deep inside, angry and burning, and I bury my face in my hands, sobbing. “I beat a man to death, Jensen!”
“I know,” Jensen says quietly, sitting next to me. “I know.”
He doesn't try to comfort me; he doesn't try to put a hand on my back or tell me it's all going to be okay. He knows it won't be, he knows that I've forever tainted myself and who I can be.
“Jensen... what am I becoming?” I finally ask when the sobs stop and I can speak again. “What type of monster am I turning into?”
“You're not becoming a monster,” Jensen whispers. “If you are, then I'm becoming one right beside you because I know how you felt. The last raid, when I told them to burn the camp, I was so close to shooting the prisoners myself. Just lining them up and putting Gauss rounds in each of their chests.”
“But you didn't do it,” I whisper. “I did. I beat him, and when I close my eyes I can feel the impact of his skull bouncing off the floor, the feeling of the shock going up my arms. Jensen.... what if I'm becoming like Ambaris? After meeting Mom, I know he couldn't have always been the twisted, evil man that he eventually became. What if he started with just a small step like this? What if....”
“We can play the what if game all night,” Jensen says softly, but with finality. “You don't need to tear yourself up like that. I reviewed the video, and I'm not going to punish you. You're doing enough of that to yourself as it is.”
“But I need to be torn up, I need to be punished,” I moan, tearing at my hair. I turn to him, desperate, needing to feel something, needing to feel pain, to feel alive, because since being pulled from that Rebel I've felt dead inside. “Jensen... please, I need to get this out of me. Punish me, tie me up.... choke me and fuck me, please. I... I'm so....”
“No.” Jensen's voice never lifts, but he cuts me off. I stare at him, and he's looking at me not as my Commander but as my lover, my soulmate, the man I love. “I know what you're saying, but we promised each other that we're never going to mix those areas of our life. Right now, you're not prepared for it, and neither am I. I won't betray what we've built between us in some sort of self-punishment. And before you think that you're becoming like Ambaris... listen to me very carefully, Kelbara. You are not your father. And I won't let you become him, either.”
I look into his eyes, and I swallow, nodding. “Yes, sir. I... Jensen, I'm not sure I can keep doing this, though. Not after today.”
He nods, taking my hand. “I understand. Here's what we'll do. Go back to the capital, you can evac with the casualties. I'll stay here and make sure that everyone who doesn't need to go to the hospital is taken care of. Try to get some sleep, I'll send Justine a message to be ready for your arrival. No getting shitfaced drunk, though, that's an order, you don't need a depressant. When the Rangers are taken care of here, I'll come home, we can talk about it. For now, though, you're just going for medical rest, got it?”
“Yes... yes sir,” I whisper, and Jensen smiles, taking my hand. “Sir?”
“It's okay, Kelbara. Let's get you on the next shuttle back to the capital, they can drop you off at home. Try to get some sleep.”
I don't even focus during the shuttle flight back, sitting in the passenger seat and barely listening as the pilot evacuates me and eleven black bags. Even though the pilot never says it, I know what's inside. Nine of the Rangers who went down into the tunnels with me and two that were part of the surface units with Jensen.
The pilot drops me off, Justine meets me at the shuttle pad with a robe and a kind look on her face. The shuttle lifts off again, and Justine steps forward, her voice soft. “Lady Kelbara...”
“Don't call me Lady,” I say softly, refusing the robe and walking towards the house. “I don't deserve it... not right now.”
“Okay,” Justine says, opening the door for me. “I did draw you a bath, and the bed is prepared for you. And Lord Jensen ordered that I stay with you all night.”
“What about Olivia?” I ask, thinking about the innocent little child. I want to see her, to hold her and remember what this is for, but I can't pollute her with my filth.
“She's being taken care of by one of the other staff. When you're ready, maybe she can visit us. For now, though, let's get you some rest.”
Justine helps me zombie walk through a bath, where she strips without a word and joins me, washing my back and arms with fragrant soap before helping me dress and taking me to bed. She stays with me, watching me with her warm eyes, sitting next to the bed in a chair. “Kelbara, I know it hurts. But I'm here. Close your eyes, you've kept me safe. Now it's my turn.”
* * *
Red.
Everything's red, the walls drip with blood and the floor flows ankle deep in the rich, coppery scented gore. I make my way down, looking left and right, but I can't see anyone or any source of the blo
od.
“Hello? Jensen? Jensen!”
“You're alone,” a voice whispers from everywhere at once. “You're forsaken.”
No. I run, splashing through the blood. I can see shapes, faces in the blood covered walls, some of them familiar, some of them not, and I know these are the faces of the lives I've taken. I keep running, calling out, and in the distance, I can see a shape at the end of the hallway. “Jensen?”
“How could I have loved a monster like you?” the figure says, but I'm not sure if it's Jensen. It could be, but it could be Audra, or Tauren, or my mother. “You monster.”
I hear a growling behind me, a chuckle from beyond the grave and I glance back, seeing something coming from the darkness. “I'm coming for you, my daughter. You can't escape what you are.”
“No! NOOOOOOOoooooo!”
I sit up, the scream still ripping from my throat, but there's no hallway of blood, no monster chasing me, no voice saying that I'm alone, that I'm forsaken. Instead, I'm in my bedroom, and there are people with me. Someone was hugging me from behind before I sat up, and there's someone sitting next to the bed still.
“Shh...” a now familiar voice says behind me, and I realize that one of the people with me is Mom, she was the one lying in bed with me. “Shhhhh... I'm here.”
“Mom?” I ask, shaken. “But how?”
“After you were still asleep after twelve hours, but kept having nightmares, I called the only person I thought could help,” Justine says on the other side of me. “I'm sorry if we scared you.”
“N... no, thank you,” I reply, leaning into Mom who wraps me in a hug. “Mom, it was terrible.”
“I know honey,” Mom says, stroking my hair and hugging me. “Justine and Jensen filled me in on what happened. Let me tell you, you'll be okay.”
Red Planet: The Rebel War (Tamarians Book 3) Page 12
