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Leaders and Lovers

Chapter 4

The beachhead seemed light-years away.

Michael ran with all his strength. His every thought, his very existence, his very meaning, was simply to get there alive.

Sand rose in puffs all around him as bullets impacted the ground, and whined past him with a disturbing sound that spoke of how closely death had just been averted. He could see the world through his visor, bobbing about with his every step, his Heads-Up Display flickering with his movements. All he could hear in his ears was the whine and thud of bullets, the sound of his thumping feet, the screech of mad radio chatter, and above all...

God! I wish they would stop screaming! All the screaming...it's their death rattle! They're all dying!

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Raymond running with all his might, his rifle swinging from side to side in his arms, his back arched with the strain of running, his breath coming in ragged pants that he could hear through the comm channel.

The sight of the lieutenant filled him with a sort of mad fervor, and he pushed himself forward, running with all the strength left in his limbs. A sudden explosion rattled him, and he raised his arms reflexively to ward off the impact, covering his face. The shock almost ripped the pistol out of his grip, but he managed to hold on, his wrists shaking. When the dust cleared, all he could see was a mile of empty beach in front of him.

He was alone.

He was the first.

He was now the main target.

"God, no! Oh shit!" He madly backtracked, his legs pedaling as he tried to make himself less of a target, cowering behind his arms against the hail of metal that he expected to rip through him.

Suddenly, Raymond appeared beside him, his helmet missing."What the fuck are you doing? Go! I'm right beside you!" He smacked Michael on the back and yanked on his arm, pulling him toward the beachhead. A blue light enveloped them all of a sudden, blinding him in a brilliant flash and causing his fur to stand on end. There was a metallic taste in his mouth and he could see sparks.

When the spots in his vision cleared, all he could see was Raymond staring him in the face. He was saying something, but Michael couldn't seem to hear anything.

S-H-E-I...

What's he saying?

L-D...

The ringing slowly subsided from his ears, his limbs shaking with the fear and exhilaration. "What...what..."

"My shield! My fucking shield! Oh shit, shit!"

Michael gasped. The blue flash!

It had been his shield breaking.

There was a loud crunch, and Raymond shot backwards, his body twisting. He was propelled several feet, and he landed back on the sand with a thud. Not a sigh escaped his mouth.

A sort of automation took control of Michael's limbs. Without a word or thought, he pulled himself over Raymond's prone body. The Seperatists were known to watch for soldiers whose shields had broken, aiming for them and not giving them an opportunity to let it recharge, and the ones here were no different. He felt his body jerk as his shield took the impacts from several rounds, the metal spinning away and impacting the sand around him. He prayed with all his might, with every fibre of his being that his shield would hold. It had to. It had to!

Below him, Raymond took a shuddering breath, his pointed ears twitching. Michael could feel the lieutenant's hands running over his body, trying to push him off. He held on to him even tighter, watching the shield bar on his HUD, watching it deplete, and when it reached the end he knew his life was over.

"Get up! For fuck's sake get up! Come on!" Vaney's voice was strained through her stress, and she gestured madly with a hand, Needle cradled in the other. Behind her he could see Raul, firing with a rifle he had picked up. His shotgun was strapped to his back. And behind him...

Soldiers. Friendly soldiers. So very many of them.

Michael had never seen a finer sight.

He heard a roar in his ears, the combined voice of all the soldiers on the beach that day, running towards the enemy, their only thought for battle and sweet revenge for the battering they had received near the water's edge. The result was deafening, echoing through his radio, a cry for vengeance.

Raymond.

Michael leaped around, grabbing on to the prone figure of his lieutenant, shaking him. He ran his hands all over his body, checking for wounds, words coming in a jumbled mess out of his mouth.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no no no..."

"What the hell...I'm fin-" Raymond took a stuttering breath. "Fine."

"I saw your shield break! How..."

The lieutenant smiled and bared his chest. On the chestplate strapped to the front there was a massive dent the size of his fist, the result of a bullet impact. But there had been no penetration. The armor had not been compromised.

"Thank UCC RnD and titanium-ceramic composites. Damn thing saved my life. But my chest feels like there's a fucking anvil sitting on it. Bloody hard to breathe."

"Thank god and all scientists." Michael had to resist the urge to laugh madly.

Raul gestured with his free hand. "If you guys are done praising the bloody eggheads, we've got a gun to take. Come on!"

Raymond leaned back. "I need a moment...wait...wait a minute."

"No!" Vaney's voice was exasperation, tinged with generous amounts of fear. "We're still in the middle of the damn beach!" Her voice lowered. "Sir."

"All right...all right. God, it hurts." Raymond pushed himself off the sand, grains of it sticking to his armor. "Gun. I need a gun." His rifle was nowhere to be seen.

"Here." Raul tossed the one he had been using towards Raymond, who deftly caught it out of the air. Quickly checking the ammo counter, he pulled the charging handle before nodding. Michael glanced at his own weapon. The pistol Raymond had given him was, amazingly, still with him, and undamaged. Michael looked up at the rest of his squad. They were his family on this hellish beach, his mates, his protectors. And he owed it to them.

"Let's go."

They ran, with all the strength they could muster, over the beachhead, through the defences, and all around them men and women screamed and died. The run was a blur, but somehow they found themselves huddled behind a concrete wall, actually a part of the beach defense but shattered by an explosion. Raymond stopped them, sensing the need for a plan.

It probably wasn't the best place, but there were no other options. Around them, the battle was already joined, with soldiers of both sides taking cover behind any object they could find, peeking out of cover occasionally to release a burst of fire before ducking back behind the object that was ensuring they still stayed alive.

"Ok-" Raymond jumped as a bullet smacked into the concrete above him, showering them all with dust. "Okay. Anita sent me the location for that gun. I've sent it to our armor computer, so the map on your HUDs should be pointing there now. We-"

Vaney gave a yell. "Sep unit! Right side!"

Raul popped out of cover and released a blast of pellets from his gun, and the unit scattered behind a row of rocks.

Raymond laughed. "I'm really getting interrupted a lot today. Squad, return fire!"

They were all more than ready to carry out that order. Michael popped up and snapped off two well-aimed shots at a little bit of knee that was sticking out from behind one of the rocks. The Seperatist's shields flashed as the rounds deflected, and the man hastily withdrew the exposed part. Another stuck his rifle over his cover, blindly, and let loose a long burst of assault rifle fire, causing them all to duck back behind the concrete.

"Nope, can't stay here. We gotta keep moving. Okay, okay. Raul, stay here and give 'em hell. Vaney, you too. Mikey and I will try and," he made a chopping motion with his hand, "flank them. You know what to do people. Here we go!"

Raul shot out of cover and released a few shots with his shotgun, the roar of it deafening them all and sending chunks of rock flying in all directions as the pellets impacted the Seperatist cover. The sheer volume of fire produced the illusion that Raul was more than one man, and served to ensure they stayed behind the rocks. Vaney peeked out of the side, scanning with the scope of her rifle for any exposed bit of the enemy unit.

It was like a chess game. Cover your pieces as they advance, make sure that the enemy has no opportunity to attack them, or worse, to counterattack. Pin them behind their lines, and you can roam as you please. Raymond looked at Michael.

"Our turn to shine. Mikey, with me." He creeped out of cover, keeping his head low to avoid letting the enemy see him, his back arched. Michael scuttled along behind him, trying his best to imitate the lieutenant's posture. They moved along the side of the concrete wall, covered by a chunk of rock and a small depression in the earth. Several seconds later, they were lying prone on the ground a short distance away from the Sep unit, the grass covering them. They were visible from their angle, huddling behind the row of rocks, with a man Michael took to be the unit commander from the beret he wore shouting madly at someone.

Raymond looked at Michael. "Hey there. You ready?"

Michael managed a sickly smile, even though Raymond could not see it behind his helmet. "Never better."

"Then let's do this." Raymond stood up with a yell, a battle cry that shook them, and opened fire with his rifle. The automatic fire ripped through the squad, overwhelming their shields in seconds, and Michael saw at least two of the four enemies go down, their shields flickering, their armor riddled with holes. They screamed as they died.

The remaining two shifted themselves towards the both of them, but instead of opening fire, they charged them, their rifles swinging in the air. Michael raised his pistol and took a deep breath. Fear, exhilaration and bloodlust ran through him, but right now, in the world there were only two objects. The enemy, and his pistol.

He squeezed the trigger several times, his fingers working as fast as they could, and Michael could see the commander's shield flash as it deflected the rounds. Michael could only think for a second that the enemy commander was getting too close, when his gun clicked.

It was empty.

There was no time for thought, as the nameless commander collided with him, both their guns spinning out of their hands. They rolled around in the dirt, each trying to get an advantage over the other.

With a growl, Michael snapped his head forward, his muzzle smashing into the commander's unarmored head. The impact sent a shock rattling down his neck, but it was satisfying to see the enemy's head snap back, blood flying from his nose.

They bleed.

Michael was struck by how closely they resembled him. The great UCC propaganda machine had portrayed the Seperatists as insane, blood-crazy killing machines, who tortured prisoners and raped children, who stole and burned and destroyed. But the man in front of him looked nothing like what he had imagined.

He is wolfkind, just like me.

And so he was, except that his ears were floppy, which told him that he had been raised in the Farbound colonies. But they were no different, otherwise.

But all that was knocked out of his mind when the commander's hand shot forward, fingers balled in a fist, and connected with Michael's midriff. He gasped as a bolt of pain shot through his abdomen, the air flying out of his lungs. Michael grasped on to the Sep's head with both his hands.

"Fuck...you..." Michael pushed with all his might, pushing the Sep onto the ground. His hand scrabbled madly for the knife strapped to his boot, feeling his fingers brush the hilt. He yanked, the blade flashing in the sun, turning it white, like a bolt of lightning.

The commander's fingers locked around Michael's upper arm, and his mouth worked madly. "No...no...Wait!"

Michael hissed, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. "Too late."

The knife flashed down, Michael aiming for the vulnerable neck. The hardened steel penetrated his fur and skin beneath like silk, the blade puncturing his windpipe and severing the jungular blood vessel in his neck. The Sep writhed and twisted like a snake, blood gouting from the hole in his neck as Michael pulled it free with a sickening, meaty sound. He burbled, the blood filling his lungs and mouth and a trickle pouring out. He wrapped his arms around his neck, in a futile attempt to stem the flow, as Michael watched impassively. His mouth opened and closed, trying to form words, and a moment later he twitched and was still.

Raymond stepped up behind him. "Nice job. But don't rest yet. We've still got a guy."

Michael looked up. "Where did he go?" He scanned the area confusedly, his eyes taking in the ruined defences and short, tough grass and sand.

"I don't fucking know! He was running towards me and he suddenly disappeared. I didn't get a good look. Bastard must be using those camouflage modules they love so much."

Raymond stared around, before continuing. "Keep a lookout. He could be anywhere."

They carefully studied the ground, looking for any trace of the invisible Sep. The grass parting where he stepped, footprints appearing on the sand, a slight shimmer in the air, all the tell-tale signs even an invisible man cannot hide.

There was a sudden crackling.

Before Michael could react, a figure suddenly appeared behind Raymond. He realized that 'he' was actually a woman, from the way the figure's chestplate was shaped. The woman raised a rifle, bringing it down on Raymond's head. Time seemed to slow, Michael's mouth opening in a warning, the rifle coming inch by inch closer to the lieutenant's head, and the still unknowing Raymond looking around.

The woman's head suddenly exploded in a shower of blood and bone, the impact throwing her body several feet into the air before dumping it unceremoniously back down on the ground, viscera leaking from the gaping hole where her muzzle used to be.

Raymond started. "Jesus fuck! What-"

Vaney's voice filled their ears. "Another beautiful shot by yours truly."

Raymond spun around, his eyes widening as he took in the mutilated corpse. "Damn. Nice one. I trained you all well." He looked back at the concrete wall, where Vaney smugly tucked her oversized rifle under an arm.

Michael was trembling, his teeth rattling. He hadn't had time to think about such things while the enemy was still alive, but now the thoughts all filled his mind. He had just killed a man, his first man, and in such a gruesome manner. His knife dropped from his suddenly nerveless hands, and he stared at the blood covering his armor, body shaking uncontrollably.

Raymond noticed. "Hey, hey Mikey! Look at me, look at me, you're all right. First time's always like this, but you'll be okay. Be strong, all right? Come on." Raymond pulled Michael into his arms and held him tight. He took a breath, savoring the feel of his lieutenant's arms around him. He felt as though he never wanted to leave this safe cocoon of the man he was so attracted to, never to return to the hellish landscape he was in.

But Raymond thrust him back into the world by withdrawing his arms with a pat on his shoulder. "Come on. We've still got a job to do. That gun is still firing, so we're not out of this yet. Unit, regroup on me!"

Raul and Vaney scrambled out from behind the cover and hurried over to the both of them, their boots thumping on the ground. Raul was busy reloading his gun, sliding the fat shells into the breech and pulling the charging handle. Vaney dusted herself off, gazing at the corpse of the woman with a mixture of self-satisfaction and nauseated disgust across her face. Tearing her gaze away, she pointed at the body of the commander, the blood now dried across his face in a hard, brown mask.

"Might as well take his gun. Better than that shit you were just using."

"Oi. That was my pistol. Show some respect." Raymond scooped his pistol off the ground and brushed the sand off it, before attaching it to the magnetic clip at his side. He then picked up the commander's gun and tossed it at Michael, who almost dropped it. It was heavier than what he was used to.

Guns had I.D locks on them, and as this was a Seperatist weapon it could not synchronize with his armor, meaning that no crosshair appeared on his visor. Michael was forced to use the sights on it, two ugly bits of metal that stuck up from the top of the gun. He tried to remember his training, and cursed himself for overrelying on his armor's systems.

"Okay..." Raymond looked them over. "Everybody ready? Fantastic. You all know where the gun is, and our job. Raul, take point. Vaney, rearguard. Michael, stick with me. Let's bug out." He jabbed a finger in the general direction of the target, and slowly shuffled off. Michael followed, and Vaney held up the back. They left behind the corpses of the unit whose lives they had extinguished, whose names were now lost among the bodies of the dead and dying that littered the ground. Here, they were just more casualties among the hundreds. They lay there, soon forgotten.

The anti-aircraft gun was a utilitarian piece of metal, broad and ugly, it's twin barrels facing the sky, spouting fire at the occasional pod that careened across it's view. The sound was a deafening bam bam bam that shook the earth and rattled the bones in their body. As they approached, they could see the crew milling about at the bottom, loading the ugly metal beast and aiming it. The gun was located on a little concrete platform several feet above the ground, littered with empty casings ejected from it's breech. Short trees and shrub surrounded them, providing an excellent opportunity for them to get close undetected.

Michael could feel his breath catch in his throat as they approached. Tense nervousness filled his body and seemed to constrict his throat. There was an iron fist around his heart. They were so close to the end. All he had to do was survive this last, final phase. Beside him, Raul coughed nervously.

Raymond showed three fingers. A countdown.

3...

Michael gripped his gun.

2...

A breath.

1...

He raised his gun and squeezed the trigger.

The deluge of bullets whined into the packed group at the base of the gun. Michael saw blood spray as some ripped into the unarmoured bodies of the operators. They jerked with the impacts, their arms flailing about in a sort of gruesome dance as they died. The rest of his squad popped up too, Raymond with his assault rifle, Raul with his shotgun and Vaney with her oversized rifle. Michael could see blue flashes as the guards, who were wearing armor, backpedaled around the crates of ammunition stacked all around the perimeter, the steel boxes providing a decent mediocum of cover. He could hear confused shouting as they tried to figure out where the fire was coming from.

"Squad, forward! Don't let them recharge their shields!" Raymond leaped up, his rifle in his hand, and sprinted forward, firing as he went.

Raul jumped up with a yell, the shotgun firing as fast as he could squeeze the trigger, with a roar and a burst of flame. Vaney and Michael followed, Michael screaming, Vaney screeching in an ululating war cry. They collapsed upon the hapless enemy guards in a tidal wave of armor and bravado, weapons raised and firing. The shields of the guards were overwhelmed in a matter of seconds, and they tried to drop their weapons and raise their hands in the air, but Raymond and his squad had already opened fire, and the bullets ripped into them, puncturing their armor with gouts of blood and flesh. They groaned and screamed and squealed with the impacts, viscera spraying. One of the soldiers, a young wolfkind not older than perhaps eighteen, darted away from the crew, his legs pumping as he tried to get away from the scene of death. Michael raised his gun with a sort of calm detachment and fired a quick burst. The lad's shields were too drained to repel them, and a bullet ripped into his thigh. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

By this time, the only member of the original guard still alive was the young man, crawling along the ground, burbling and begging, a stream of blood trailing behind him. The rest were all fetched up beneath the ammo crates, twisted and broken, their blood leaking out of them and pooling in a dark red patch beneath them.

Raymond sighed. "I hate this shit." Walking up to the helpless man, he grabbed him and sat him upright, the man screeching as his wound came into contact with the ground with a thud.

"What's your name?"

"Jo...Johanes."

"Johanes, you are now a prisoner of the UCC military. I-...Michael, what...?"

Michael had pulled Johanes' pistol from the clip on the side of his armor. Examining it, he pulled the slide back, chambering a round.

"Michael, what are you doing?" Raymond looked confused, and more than a little annoyed.

"Just disarming the enemy, sir." Michael looked calmly at the prisoner.

"Right, okay. Now..." Raymond rattled on a bunch of questions at the man, until Michael placed the barrel of the pistol against Johanes' head.

Vaney started. "Michael, no!"

The man's head exploded as the high velocity bullet punctured his skull and whined out from his neck, impacting the ground with a thud. At this range, beneath the layer of the shielding, there was nothing to protect Johanes. Blood and brains flew as Raymond gave a yell, jumping back in shock and to avoid the spray of gore. Vaney gave a short scream.

"Mikey, what the fuck!"

"I'm done." Michael dropped the gun and kicked it away, skittering away off the platform.

"He was prisoner for god's sake!"

Michael stared straight at Raymond. "Sir, you know damn well why."

Raymond gaped. "Your partner...the one that was executed... Dammit Michael, this man had nothing to do with that!"

"He sealed his fate when he wore that armor." Michael's voice was calm.

Vaney and Raul both stared, their mouths open. Raul's pointed ears twitched and his mouth worked. Finally, he managed. "Wow Mike...That's cold..."

Raymond gestured frustratedly. "Okay, okay. Let's just forget this ever happened. Johanes died with the rest during our first attack, case closed. And goddamit, Michael, the next time you'd better fucking get a hold of yourself!" Raymond flicked his hand angrily.

Michael's face fell. "Sir...I'm..." he sighed. "Sorry."

"Okay, fine. Just don't do that again." His face softened. "I know this is hard for you, but do try to have some control. Most Seps are animals, but even so, we don't execute helpless prisoners. We're better than that. We're better than them."

"Okay."

"Right, let's get down to business. Raul, any ideas on what we can use to send this thing sky-high?"

Raul grinned ferally. "One. It involves the ammunition crates and a little thing I like the call a grenade." He took one from his armor, tossed it and caught it.

Vaney snickered. "I'm starting to like you more and more, mate."

"All right, time to get to work."

They piled the crates all around the gun, until the pile was almost two deep. They then retreated a safe distance away, scrambling as fast as they could, all of them with maniacal grins on their faces. When they were safely huddled behind a rock, Raul popped up.

"Here goes!"

"Show your baseball skills, slapstick!" Vaney clapped him on the back of his knee.

Raul hurled the grenade out, the metal ball sailing through the air and landing right on the pile of crates.

Raymond ducked down. "Cover!"

The resulting roar was so loud that Michael could feel his innards shaking. The shockwave rattled through them, making them shake, and there was a gout of flame so large he thought he could feel his fur singe, even through the armor. A persistent ringing in his ears made him feel slightly dizzy, and as he stood up and surveyed the scene of destruction before him, he could not help but feel a sense of satisfaction. It was done.

Vaney dug in her armor pocket and withdrew a bar of chocolate, the one Raul had given to her back on the ship, through what felt like an age and more.

She stared at the rest of them, and they stared back. "Candy?" She proffered it to them.

They all laughed.