Camp Veers Redoubt, Northern Outskirts,
Primus City, Noris (874 ABY)
Thirty Minutes Prior to Next Mawite Attack....
The process of reorganising, rearmament and briefing everyone involved would always take time, and though High-Command agreed that the last to deploy from the 117th would be the Embers, their arrival to FOB: Belisarius was still greatly anticipated. The troops already deployed at the frontlines would be on high-alert since the distant landings, with 38th Company having already prioritized defensive fortification-construction efforts, with doubled projects endeavoured on and around the western HASCO-line, so fresh legs and supplies at the 11th hour were expected to raise the morale of the task-force troops in the area.
Every little helps, but would it be enough to evacuate all the Chiss in time?
<"Control T-Four to Ember One! You've got one hour to wait for the transports to finish refuelling, so use your time wisely.">
<"Noted, Tower-Four. Speak again soon. Ember One out!">
'Cantrell! Get the Low-Number Clique up here! We've got time to relax a little!', Captain Karsh called out, with his voice carrying in both parade-ground volume and with the aid of the mostly unpopulated spaceport-perimeter. The only other faces there were of Chiss descent, either clutching at belongings or waiting for the inevitable dangerous inevitable flight towards the stars, a state of being old Remmel remembered, and rued with great intensity - even then as all his highest-ranked subordinates walked out to gather round with rifles and LMGs slung lazily at their shoulders. Despite being safer than any Norisian-born Chiss would've been or would be going forward, the looks in their red eyes brought out memories of Nachtland's downfall that the Krieger was all too sure he'd repressed with lasting finality, memories of a fear All-Heart was furious to be feeling again after so long.
'So what's the script then, sir? Any time-frame for boarding-hours yet?'
Lifting a cigarette to his lips, the old warrior muttered,
'Meant to be an hour until we board, or so I'm told.... Give us a light, Greene.', as they drew close enough to chat in hushed tones, as per the company-command norm. All could see this deployment wasn't right, but it was on such deployments where the 117th had endeavoured to shine and prevail the most, succeeding more than most in their shoes with cohesive prejudice that held them in good stead every time, but everyone who'd gathered around the unimpressed Captain knew this would be their worst battlefront yet by far. In the following moments, every last one of the officers and higher non-coms would take the opportunity to enjoy the silence for a few moments, including Karsh, who's eyes had drifted back to the same Chiss he'd made eye-contact with before, though this time his eyes would exhibit an entirely contrasting emotion.
Pain.
Be strong for the others, young Chiss. Hope needs to survive, even if only a spark remains.
'I know how you feel, sir. But please, don't. Just don't.... We're not even at FOB: Belisarius yet for goodness sake!', Master-Sergeant Cantrell growled in the moment he caught Karsh in his pained glance towards the refugees, directing the old Thane's gaze to his arm and consequently making a show of pulling the sleeve under the armour-padding and drawing it down towards his wrist. A silent, harsh though it was, subtle proverbial reminder to pull his sleeve over his heart if he had any hopes of surviving this one, and expressed only once before in Remmel's direction since he passed the Fort Rex selection-process almost fourteen years before. Karsh knew fine and well what it meant, and though it very nearly tore his soul to shreds the first time Cantrell had expressed it, the old Captain smiled this time; surprising the Ravelin-born Master-Sergeant in that moment, as it seemed as though the Nachtlandir was preparing to fight his last, given a special kind of resolve that both inspired and frightened his subordinates greatly to see.
'Fair point, because - well, now there's more than just each other to fight for. I hope you've all realised this by now.... If you haven't said your goodbyes yet, Holonet terminals are back by the gatehouse.'
A couple peeled off, but the rest would stay put, happy to stay put for a while as the world burned, suffered and began rattling it's death-throes around the redoubt. The wiser ones among them had already spoken with their wives, lovers, friends, family and, in some cases, had even gone so far as to leave their wills and adequate sums of money with the,
"Token-funeral", directors and/or their relevant religious authorities; though for All-Heart, all he needed to be sure his death would have meaning, were two video-feeds and two voice-calls on the Holonet before the 117th shipped out. One to his former commanding-officer, one to his deaf firstborn, one to his wife, and one to the son who could hear him; and all these Holonet calls were tear-eyed goodbyes and all near-impossible to hang up on in the end, and as a result, slightly dimming the brightness of a kind soul's blinding light.
'This deployment, as you'll know by now, was a one-way ticket long before the 117th were mobilised to come here. High-command kept their cards close to their chests this time. Probably making a fat retirement-fund as we speak, all while we do the fighting and the dying here.... So every foe we drag to the afterlife with us, as evil as they are, will be dragged along with us in spite of those who leave us to die here!'
A LIFETIME OF SERVICE: ACT 1 (DUTY) - PART 1
FOB: Belisarius, Nadrin Quarter,
Primus, Noris (874 ABY)
??-Hours to Next Mawite Attack....
All the inbound short-distance flights to FOB: Belisarius would be put on hold until the next swarm of Mawsworn warriors had been routed or pushed off their own momentum at least, meaning the 15th had no way of contributing to the defence-efforts at the time, no way of even getting on site to help in any meaningful way. And yet, the green light for boarding would be given after just two hours of listening to and gazing on the distant hostilities from the access door to Control-Tower 4's mildly sloping rooftop, and within the space of ten minutes, all the Embers would load, board, travel then disembark at the Forward-Operating Base's well-covered western approach. The landing and the approach would both be easy enough for 15th Company, but in stepping past the west gate's threshold, the Embers soon realised that things were bleaker, grimmer, and even more troubling than their less-than-hopeful assumptions could ever hope to predict.
There was no doubt that the desperation had set in all around them, but even then, signs of hope and camaraderie could still be seen among the backdrop of dusty, downtrodden troopers. Some Chiss could be seen among them, armoured and armed to the teeth in their last stand for the memory of the only world they ever knew, among other elements who'd been bloodied just as heavily in their hypervigilant defence of the HASCO bags that served as their salvation, brief and sleepless though it would be the Embers from that moment onwards.
'You there!.... Woah, fella! Calm that look in your eye, it's alright. Rest assured we're not the jobsworth types - jus' looking for Sapper Company HQ is all. 38th Company if I can recall correctly.'
Receiving a dangerous, wide-eyed scowl in response to being singled out to start with, it seemed that Greene's lilting Carrack accent and demeanour was poorly applied until his conscious efforts to be more understanding changed the soldier's demeanour, bringing out a sigh before finally muttering,
'It's fine, East gate.... Debris and wrecked ordnance has been cleared away behind us, so it'll be quite easy to reach from here now.', pointing directly down the crooked access-lane behind his other, quieter squadmates. This sudden dropping of the hard-hearted attitude would be appreciated by the officers of the 15th, though none quite so much as the recently-promoted Commander from Galidraan IV in that moment, extending his right hand in an offer of peace and friendship as the trooper with the missing helmet continued,
'Might want to be a tad more careful with that sudden loudness in any case, most agree we need our alertness - most also agree we need our uninterrupted silence too. Food for thought.', accepting the handshake only when his warning was concluded.
'Took quite the kicking in the last attack, sir. So if you want to talk from the gut like you're calling out for any reason, best make it meaningful around these here parts. For your own sakes and such.'
Taking his own trooper helmet off to impart more sincerity, the Carrack waited until the helmet itself was properly free of his head before replying,
'Duly noted, Sergeant. We've heard much an' more a' the Red Legion Volunteers in the last few days, an' for your efforts, I must admit I'm beyond glad.... There'd be nothin' left a' Belisarius by now if it wasn't for your unit, so we'll definitely make a point a' behavin' arrselves here. Safest guarantee you'll ever enjoy.', taking his sneaky chance to light a cigarette and silently offer one to the new acquaintance as he listened on to Greene's reply. As the Corporal accepted the offer and lit it himself, both simultaneously gave each other personal nodding seals of approval, bringing out a light chuckle in the Commander before concluding,
'We're here with th'Fifteenth.... Here to the last gasp.', to which a fist-over-heart salute was sent Karsh's way as soon as the insignia could be seen more clearly on Greene's armour.
Good to have the Embers with us anyway, this does help alleviate our troubles - no matter how withdrawn we may behave towards you.... Remember this when the FOB eventually falls to the enemy, remember this as we all fight, bleed and die for you when that fateful moment arises-'
<"-Esk one-four-one to any Imperial forces, does anybody copy?">
With three simple steps out of line, and a simple pivot to make an about-face turn, Master-Sergeant Cantrell exclaimed,
'Dibs, stuh-raight off the bat!', immediately staking his claim to the rescue attempt, jumping on a golden opportunity before anyone else could take it and blunder what they endeavoured in running with it. There was nothing in the ideals of the veteran sniper that permitted him to let the downtrodden endeavour what he was more than capable of endeavouring for them, and even if it was only in order to earn them a much-needed respite or two along the way, it was still enough to keep Cantrell from descending to self-hatred and the creeping guilt of,
"What if?", for a time. There would never be any room for even so much as entertaining such thoughts, not whilst the Master-Sergeant still had fight left in his soul to keep his weapon shouldered properly.
<"Esk One-Four-One, this is Master-Sergeant Cantrell, callsign,"Ember Six" - leader of Scope Platoon. Guessing this is a distress call, so my subordinates will be ready within ten minutes. Switch on your GPS-tracker, then report.... Just whisper, keep low and move eastward towards FOB: Belisarius. We want to help. Ember Six out!">
