Chapter 50 #2
We’d lost a lot of men here today, but if we didn’t lose anymore, then that was all we could hope for.
If Fianna, Seba, and Breaker made it back okay, that was all I hoped for.
Disgraceful and selfish.
Yeah, I was both of those things. It was wrong to say that the other deaths didn’t matter, but I knew why I fought, and with every person who mattered to me who I failed to protect, I had always known why I fought.
“Duck,” Fianna yelled, and I listened, taking us both to the ground, just a single kilometer from the staging area. The blast went over both of our heads, and I held position until the energy dropped off.
Stop getting distracted, dumbass.
I got back up to the melody of two more imploding Tanks.
“Tanks eliminated… again.” Breaker called over.
“Gehenna’s been busy. I can’t believe how many of these things they’ve got, considering they’re attacking our training area, which isn’t even a tactically useful objective.
” He spoke like it was just some silly faux pas, despite the gravity of that observation.
“Anywho, Kishi, is still at 100% and so am I. Everyone clap. I’ll fend off all I can until everyone is in the transport.
Would appreciate it if you could all make that happen sooner opposed to later, though. ”
“You heard the man. Let’s get out of here.
” I motioned to Fianna, and we covered the last kilometer side-by-side.
I would much rather have stayed and helped Breaker, but if I lagged behind, she would too, and being I was down an entire arm, I would have been more of a detriment than anything.
As much pride as I might have, I’d been humbled enough times in both the simulator and training missions to know that ego was never helpful, least of all when real lives were on the line.
The escape pod was still docking as we landed on the staging platform, so we both took position with rifles to hold off anyone in shooting distance.
Seba landed next. Breaker was still making his way over, using his thrusters to skillfully dodge ranged attacks with the speed and precision of a hummingbird.
We had about forty-five more seconds before the pod would open. Two more Shinkas landed, one being Leo, the other being a recruit with a custom painted Shinka that I didn’t recognize, but the number 199 was written on his shoulder to clear up his ranking.
Five out of six. Breaker was the last outlier when the hatch opened.
Seba took position as a standing guard, as the rest of us filtered in. First it was Leo, then 199, then I pushed in Fianna who was still looking through her rifle and covering Breaker.
“Status,” Seba demanded through the line. I hesitated to enter the pod.
“Fuck.” Breaker responded. One word, but one that was pointedly efficient.
I grabbed my sword from my back. The unwieldy piece of equipment was made to be used two-handed, but I was a master of improvisation.
Strength was never my failure point, in life or a Shinka.
I launched off my heel thrusters towards another explosion, not twenty clicks from escape.
“Guard the pod. I’ll assist.” I told Seba, as I homed in on Breaker.
“You’re badly damaged, and my unit is still fully intact.
You should stay with the pod. I can cover Breaker,” Seba protested.
It was rare that he would ever question one of my decisions, just as I never questioned his.
But right now, there was an uncharacteristic nervousness in his carefully curated tone.
Cute.
He was never as good at being the unshakable general like his father that he wanted to be, but I knew how to offer the support he needed when he couldn’t.
“That’s why you need to stay. You’re in a better position to protect the pod from an ambush. I’m sure Breaker just needs a quick assist. I’ll be right back.”
“Elio—” Seba started, but I cut him off.
“Not up for debate, Princess. That escape transport is our only lifeline until reinforcements arrive. Keep it safe.” I was tempering the stress in my own voice.
This wasn’t a suicide mission in my mind, but if it was, Seba was the only person who I could trust to keep the rest of them alive.
They were all good pilots in their own rights, but this situation went far beyond the need for simply being “good.”
She needed to make it back and so did he.
I cared about all of our soldiers making it home—of course I did—but that selfish, unprofessional, broken side of me was hinged on the need for the two of them to survive above all.
My world would be darker without them, when I’d only just begun to find the first flicker of candlelight.
Seba didn’t need my protection, but I wouldn’t let him risk getting stuck out here if anything went wrong.
There weren’t many people who I trusted in this world, but I’d do anything for those who I did.
I guess Vann, Fianna, Mishka counted in that, too.
It would have been easier if learning the truth had made me hate her, but all it did was reveal that our pieces fit together better than I was comfortable admitting, and I was terrified to get any closer.
I wouldn’t abandon her, but I also didn’t know how long I could be in her orbit without fucking everything up.
This was easier. I needed to help Breaker first and foremost.
I arrived in the blackness of space, only to see Breaker ripping the head off three more Ghuls in impressively brutal succession.
He’d taken on some damage to his left leg, but it was barely more than surface burns and a lost thigh holster.
He hardly looked in a position to be stressed, even if he was surrounded ten-to-one.
“Need some help?” I came in hot, using the propulsion in my shoulder joints to aid in the single-armed swing of my giant weapon, crushing two more of the surrounding Ghuls to create an opening.
“No, but he does.” Breaker sent coordinates through the COMM system, directing my attention to an unpainted, stock model Shinka about a hundred meters away that was missing a leg, an arm, half its thrusters, and was about to get obliterated.
I took the initiative to strike down a Tank that was poised to melt what remained of his broken machine, then worked with Breaker to clear out the rest of the wave, so they’d both have enough room to get away.
“Thank you,” the injured rookie—rank 989 according to the paint on his unit—sent through the universal channel that automatically activated at close range.
Without words to spare, Breaker and I both grabbed one side of his battered suit and used our combined thrusters to start back toward staging.
We were three minutes from safety when it dawned on me.
I glanced at the remaining ally count again.
Six units. Not seven.
Six?
Fuck.
Fuck!
Bright lights bloomed from the distant platform, and I didn’t have time to think before I yelled over the COMM. “Seba, Mishka—abandon the pod. 199 isn’t ours—”