Retreat, Hell - Episode 20 (Patreon)

A/N: Hey, guys! It's been a long time, but I've finally finished the next episode! I had a few different things that have been providing distractions, but this episode was a LOT more painful to write than I was expecting.

It's coming in at 13988 words, which is a LOT longer than I was expecting for this episode when I first plotted it out. A number of things I wasn't planning on or plotting out/prepping for popped up, and some of it was quite a challenge. Writing a bunch of character exposition that you hadn't actually figured out yet, while making it consistent with everything else that's already happened, and everything else that you've planned to come in the future ... Well, that's not easy.

A lot happens in this episode. There are some big developments, both character-wise, and overarching story-wise, and we learn a few details about a number of people in First Platoon.

Episode 21 will be a jump to some new characters, some of whom might show up later in the story, some who might not. That episode is something I've been planning for a long time, and it's already mostly written.

I've also got another visit to Tyriel and his misadventures coming in Episode 20.5. That one is still mostly just outline, but I'm not expecting it to be a long one.

Now, without further ado, what you've all been waiting for!

Retreat Hell – Episode 20

“Echo Company!” Spader shouted, climbing onto the hood of a Humvee. “Circle up and gather ‘round!”

Rinn stood and stretched, popping a few joints in the process. Tahsh … I’m too young to feel this old …

“Hey, New Riley, time to wake up,” Edison said, tapping the younger Marine in the leg.

“Ahh, no!” Riley shouted, bolting up and scrambling back, his eyes wide, face pale. “Fuck.” He said, panting. “Fuck.”

Edison leaned away from him, giving the younger Marine a concerned look. “Jesus fuckin’ christ, dude, you alright?”

“Fuck. Fuck … Oh, fuck, it was just a dream. Fucking hell.”

Stephens leaned down to help him up. “You alright, bruh?”

“Yeah, I’m,” he shook his head. “I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”

“Looked like it got pretty intense, there,” Sampson said.

“Yeah.” The younger Marine wiped a hand across his face. “I was back at Ripley, but there were just bodies everywhere. A mountain of bodies, and I was buried in it …” He shuddered.

“It’s all good, bro,” Kawalski said, slapping him on the back. “Was just a dream. C’mon, let’s go see what Capt’n Spader’s got to say before we get yelled at.”

“Yeah,” Riley said, grabbing his helmet and placing it on his head. “Just a dream.”

It won’t be the last one he has … Rinn thought, rolling his ears as he turned to follow the rest of the squad. Up ahead, he spotted Bradford coming from the direction of the command tent as the company gathered around the Humvee. “Bradford,” he called, his ears twitching back before he forced them forward again. “Sergeant, do you have a minute to talk after this?”

“Hey,” she said, giving him a smile. “Yeah. I think I do.” She frowned as she fell in beside him. “I apologize for not making time sooner, I know something’s been bothering you, but Staff Sergeant’s been dragging around in his back pocket all week.” She rolled her eyes. “And if it’s not that, it’s been briefings and planning sessions, or hurry-up-and-get-this-done tasking, which has mostly just been make-work bullshit, and-“ She cut herself off as she turned back to him, holding her hands up. “I apologize, you don’t want to hear me gripe. We’ll talk after this, I promise.”

He nodded, flicking an ear, and turned away as the last of Echo Company filtered in.

“Can everyone hear me alright?” Spader asked, glancing around. He got a series of nods and a few thumbs-up. “Alright, well, first things first, congratulations, Marines, you’re all astronauts!”

He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the crowd. Rinn flicked an ear back, then forward, and gave him the same confused look as the rest of the company.

Spader smiled. “The eggheads back home have finally figured out where we are. They were able to map enough of the starscape from Gahla, and a few other astronomical things, crunch a bunch of numbers with some really powerful computers back on Earth, and pinpoint our exact location. We are on the third planet of a star formerly known as HD 86226, about 150 lightyears from Earth. It’s not quite bright enough to see with the naked eye, nor is our sun bright enough to see from here, but it’s close. You’ll be able to pick it out on night vision, or with some binoculars, in a couple months or so," he pointed up at the sky. “When the local sun isn’t between us and Sol.”

Gods above, Stephens was right … Rinn flicked an ear. He’ll be insufferable about it for a whole five minutes.

“There’re some pamphlets coming down with directions on how to find our sun, for anyone that’s interested. They’ll probably trickle their way out to us around the same time we’ll be able to look up at Sol in the night sky. We’ll put it out when they come in.”

He looked at a small notepad in his hand. “As you all know, Turkey Day is tomorrow. We’re on the move again the day after that, but battalion HQ’s working with the USO to try and get us something like a real Thanksgiving dinner, and they’re setting up a comms shack specifically to allow people to call home. It’ll be up for most of the day, starting at zero-seven, but computer and phone slots are limited, so you’ll only have a few minutes each to make you calls.” He lowered the notepad and looked around the company. “I can’t make it an order, but I strongly recommend you call home. Let them know you’re alright, and remind yourself why we’re out here.”

He glanced back at his notepad. “Friday, we’re moving out, bright and early, at zero-five-hundred. Over the last week and change, the keeblers have finally started some kind of counter-offensive. We’ve thrown them back, and killed ten of them for every one of us, but they are in the area in numbers, and they are a threat. We won’t be bounding forward in great leaps very much, anymore. Expect everything from here on to be a fighting advance in shorter hops, with a lot of old-school scouting and recon.”

“That means a looot a’ walkin’,” Kawalski grumbled.

“Squad Leaders, check your gear. I want a full report on anything we’re short on or need by fifteen hundred. I want everything cleaned, inventoried, inspected, and staged today, so you can have an easier time during the holiday, tomorrow. Oorah?”

“Oorah!”

“Mission brief with Squad Leaders and up at Fifteen hundred.” He flipped his notebook closed. “Any questions?”

Kawalski grabbed Riley’s hand and held it down before he could raise it past his waste.

Spader nodded. “First Sergeant, they’re all yours,” he said, hopping down from humvee.

“Aye, sir,” Khatri said. He waited a moment for Spader to depart. “You heard the Captain! Get ready to move out. You know your jobs. Get it done. Anything not done today will be done twice over tomorrow. Retreat!”

“HELL!”

“Two-Five!”

“RETREAT, HELL!”

“Dismissed!”

***

As the company fell out, Bradford glanced at Rinn, and bobbed her head to the side. He turned and followed her, past a row of brand-new JLTVs that had just been delivered two days before. “Still can’t believe these aren’t Army hand-me-downs …” she muttered as they walked past.

Rounding the corner of the last vehicle, she stopped and turned around to face him. “What’s up?”

Out of the way, but not completely out of view. Nobody could accuse us of anything. His ear twitched, and he took a deep breath. Control. Speak properly. “Why did you tell him?”

She gave him a funny look. “Told who what?”

His ears swept back against his skull and he clenched his teeth, but he fought down the snarl. Don’t be an ass. Get an honest answer. He took a breath.

“I know it’s not the same for humans, in America, but for us, in Ganlin, propriety is everything. Even the appearanceor suspicion of impropriety …” His ears flickered back and forth. “It is anathema.” He turned and started pacing back-and-forth in a short loop, his tail whipping back-and-forth. “There are things that are just not done. Not talked about. Not even among friends.” His ears flattening, he stopped and faced her again. “Those things include what we talked about that first night.” He met her eyes, forcing her ears up. “I did not regret that conversation, but you must understand, it was highly inappropriate.”

He turned away again, his ears flicking back and low, and snagged his tail, clenching it in both hands to keep it still. “I didn’t want anyone to see me like that. I-“ I don’t want youto see me like that. “I didn’t want anyone else to know.” His nose twitched and he squeezed his tail. “I trusted you not to tell anyone about it.”

Bradford frowned at him. “Ahyat,” she put a hand on his shoulder. “Rinn. I didn’ttell anyone. I would never tell anyone without your express permission.” Her other hand reached out to his other shoulder and she gently turned him to face her. “That was personal. Private. That you trusted me to open up like that …” She took a breath, glancing away as a range of emotions flickered across her face. Exhaling, she looked back to him, her green eyes locking with his. “I would never tell anyone.”

He stared into her eyes, his hands fidgeting with his tail as it curled around them. He so very much wantedto believe her, but … His ears swung up to a firm angle, in line with his horns. “Then how does Davies know about it?”

“What?” she jerked her head back. “What do you mean, Davies knows about it?”

“He knew everything I said.” Rinn took a breath. “He told me you told him.”

Her hands dropped from his shoulders and it was all he could do to keep himself from taking a step back from the fire that lit in her eyes. “That is a fucking lie! Where is that little, weasel fuck-“She caught herself, clamping her mouth shut. She walked a tight circle, her fists clenched at her sides, her whole face pursed in the struggle to control her rage. After two circles, she stopped, her entire body shuddering as she inhaled and slowly exhaled, recentering herself.

She met his eyes again, the fire still smoldering, but under control. “I don’t know how he knows. Ididn’t tell him. I swear to you. I can’t stand talking to that sonofabitch. I would never tell him anything like that about anyone, least of all, you.”

Rinn released his tail, his ears flicking up as a great weight lifted from his shoulders. I know she hates Davies. I know he keeps trying to do things to act like they are friends. It doesn’t make any sense that she would tell him. He rolled his ears. And there is no faking that fury.  Any notion that she had broken his trust evaporated away.

That just left one question.

“Then how does he know?”

She shook her head, her jaw clenched. “I don’t know. He wasn’t there, he wasn’t even on the planetyet.” She looked up, her lips pursed and jaw shifting as she worked through the problem. “Everyone else had left, and I don’t think any of them would have told him if they came back and overheard anything …”

Rinn frowned, his ears twitching as he pondered the dilemma. Who else could have witnessed that conversation? Noted it down to run through later … His ears shot up. “Was there anything that could have recorded it?”

She stopped her pacing, her head tilted as she considered the possibility. “No, I don’t think so. My phone was off, and I’m pretty sure everyone else either had theirs with them. The only other thing that c- oh.” She stared into space for a long moment. Rinn’s stomach dropped in empathic response. Snapping out of it, she spun a circle, looking around, then started marching away. “C’mon, we need to find Edison.”

Bradford moved with a purpose, and a hardened glare that left few people standing in their way. A few, curt questions, and they tracked Edison down. Intercepting him on his way back from the supply tent, Bradford pulled him aside and backed him up against a hescoe wall.

“What’s up, Jabs?”

“Where’s the GoPro?”

“Uh, right here.” He pulled the new camera out of a pouch, giving her a look of concern.

“No. The old one. Where is the old GoPro?”

“We buried it, remember? I mean, you got pulled off to some briefing or something, but we gave it a full military burial back at Tolkien.”

“You pulled stuff off of it, though.” She took a half step into his personal space. “What did you pull off of it, Edison?”

“Um …” He glanced back and forth between the two of them, pulling back against the wall. “Just that last fight, and a couple videos from when we were staging at the portal.”

“Did you pull anything else off of it, Edison?”

“Uh …” Rinn saw a lot of white around his eyes.

“Edison.” She glared at him.

“I deleted it! I swear, I deleted it!”

“You deleted what, Edison?”

“The last video it took! I didn’t realize it, but I set it to record when I was trying to fix it that night, and it recorded everything. I mean, I assume it did. The video was hours long. The sound wasn’t great, and half the image was fucked or just blank, but you could see and hear both of you, but I didn’t’ watch it! None of us did! As soon as we realized what it was, Kawalski made us stop and delete it!”

“Was Davies there, too?”

“No! I mean, he was in the room, but he was on his bunk, and we only watched for, like, 30 seconds before Kawalski made us stop, and he couldn’t have understood any of it, anyway.”

“Then how does he know what was said, Edison? It’s the only way he could have known. How did he watch it?”

“He couldn’t have! I deleted it! I swear! Shift-delete. Done. Gone. No recycle bin! There’s no way he could … have … Oh, no …”

“Oh no, what, Edison.”

He slowly looked up at them with dawning horror and shame in his eyes. “I’m a fucking idiot! I deleted the file I transferred over to my laptop. I didn’t delete it from the GoPro itself! Fuck!”

Bradford scowled, but stepped back with a sigh and waved her hand to the side. “Get out of here.”

Edison glanced between the two of them, then clearly decided it was best to be scarce, and bolted away.

Rinn watched as she worked her jaw around, lips pursed in frustration. After a moment, she took a deep breath, and released most of the tension as she exhaled. “So,” she said, turning around to face him. “Now what?”

“We could confront Davies about this. We cannot let this stand.”

“No, we can’t, but …” She frowned, chewing on her lower lip while clenching and unclenching her fists. “I don’t think I can do that without assaulting him.” She snorted a laugh. “And, while beating the shit out of him would probably be very cathartic, it is not the best way to handle this.”

Heaving a sigh, she pulled her helmet off to run her hands over her head, then glanced at her watch. “Fuck. I have to meet Staff Sergeant in ten minutes.” She sighed again, fitting her helmet back on. “If he’s not dragging me around in his back pocket again, he’ll have me running around, doing half his job as Platoon Sergeant until briefing time.”

Rinn cocked an ear low. “Staff Sergeant Rickles did not strike me as the type to pawn off his duties.”

Bradford shook her head, then stopped so she could re-buckle her chin strap. “He’s not.” Her voice dropped low. “It’s just that, half the time, he’s doing the LT’s job for him, and half the time he’s fixing the LT’s job.” She rolled her eyes. “Meyers is …” She sighed, shaking her head again.

He nodded, giving her an understanding ear flick. I’ve certainly seen worse, and I’ve seen worse get better, but our illustrious Lieutenant has not been improving …

“Tell Dubois I’ll be back by 1430 to see where we’re at, and to let me know if there’s anything we need that Kawalski can’t muster up.”

“Aye,” he said. His ears wiggled and his tail curled as she turned and started walking away. “Jabs!” he called after her.

She stopped and turned around “Yeah?”

He took a breath, then stepped up to her. Their armor plates faintly clacked against each other as he pulled her into a hug. She froze for a moment, then reached around and hugged him back as best as their plate carriers allowed. “Thank you,” he said, then pulled back. “You are a good friend, and you have my sincerest apologies for doubting you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Davies has a way of getting under your skin. Trust me, I know.”

“I believe I am beginning to properly understand that.”

She raised both eyebrows, giving him a look that screamed oh, I know, before shaking the matter off. “I’ll talk to Staff Sergeant, see if he has any advice. And Rinn, if there’s anything else you need to talk about, I’m here.”

He nodded.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Alright, I gotta run. I’ll catch you later.”

He flicked an ear at her, and watched as she jogged away, before shaking himself free of thoughts he dared not have, and headed back to the squad’s tent.

*****

“Ah, there you are, Bradford,” Rickles said as she walked up. “LT didn’t like the squad readiness reports, and is now insisting on a detailed accounting of the exact state and readiness of all the platoon’s supplies and equipment, and a reason why anything isn’t 100% after spending a week securing our position. C’mon.”

“Aye,” she said, rolling her eyes as she fell in beside him. She fought the urge to bite her lip as they walked in silence for a moment. “Hey, uh, Staff Sergeant?”

“Yeah?”

“You got a moment to talk?”

Rickles stopped and looked at her. “Yeah.” He glanced around, then led her over to a row of Humvees. “What’s up, Sergeant?”

“I’ve got a problem, Staff Sergeant, and I don’t know how to handle it.” She glanced away for a moment, pacing half a step. “Back when we first got through the portal, that first night when Shields wandered into our camp, the rest of the squad left with Kawalski to, uh, acquire some gear, leaving just the two of us.” She frowned. “He was pretty messed up, and their society doesn’t let them deal with PTSD at all, and he kinda broke down.” She sighed, shifting awkwardly. “We had a long talk about, well, a lot of stuff.” She waved a hand, dismissing the details she didn’t want to go into. “The point is, it was private. Just between the two of us. But Edison left the old, busted-up GoPro on record, and it caught the whole thing. They found out later, when they managed to pull videos off the camera when Ahyat and I weren’t there, but didn’t watch the video. Kawalski made them shut it off and delete it as soon as he realized what it was.”

“Okay,” Rickles gave her a slow nod.

Bradford blew out a breath. “Thing is, Staff Sergeant, they deleted the video from Edison’s laptop, but forgot to delete it from the camera itself. Sometime after that, Davies managed to pull the video off it and watch it, without anyone else knowing. Last week, when we were picking through the … stuff.” She grimaced, then shook the memory away. “He approached Shields, acted all consoling and understanding, and talked about stuff that Shields didn’t tell anyone but me that night, nobody else, ever.” Her body tensed, and her right hand locked into a knife-hand as she grit her teeth. “Then that fat bastard lied to his face. Said that I told him, and that I’d said some fucked up shit about Shields behind his back!”

She took a breath, clenching her fists to control her rage. “That slimy sonofabitch snuck around and stole a private conversation, then he lied about it, lied about me, and undermined my integrity!” She took another breath. “I’m at a loss, Staff Sergeant. I want to address this, I can’t not address it, but other than the sleezy dishonesty, I’m not sure that he’s specifically done anything wrong. Nor can I fathom whyhe might be doing it, except maybe, ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure Davies wants to get in my pants.” She shuddered with revulsion. “Ew.”

Rickles opened his mouth, but she paced a short loop away from him and continued before he could say anything. “And, maybe he sees Rinn as a threat to that, which is also ridiculous and would be horribly unprofessional, and I’m honestly not even sure that’s what Davies is after, I might just be jumping to conclusions. I despise him, and what he did is fucked up, but he’s a Marine under my command, and I have to deal with him, regardless of my personal feelings, and-”

“Sergeant.” Rickles’ sharp tone cut her off.

Taking a deep breath, she brought her hands up and rubbed her face as she exhaled. “I apologize for rambling, Staff Sergeant, but I’m in over my head, here. I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Bradford,” Rickles said, locking her eyes with his. “Slow down. Breath.”

She followed his advice, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Forcing herself to not re-clench her fists, she slowly let it out. Opening her eyes again, she was met with Rickles’ stern glare.

He rolled his eyes before she could flinch away, though. “I’ve got enough shit to deal with, already, Bradford. But this is more of the shit I’m supposed to be dealing with.” He sighed. “Though I’m afraid I don’t have a good answer for you.”

“Aye, Staff Sergeant,” Bradford said, nodding in disappointment.

“However, comma, I do have a clear solution.”

“Oh?”

“We take this up the chain. This sounds like it might be a PAC violation, but even if it isn’t, the solution is above either of us. My first step in helping you is taking this to First Sergeant Khatri.”

“Aye, Staff Sergeant,” Bradford said, feeling her gut clench. Oh, fuck, the First Sergeant …

“And just so we’re clear, taking this up the chain isn’t something that can be undone. If this goes the way I expect, it won’t get him kicked out of the Corps, but he will be gone. That is never a fun process. Do you understand, Sergeant?”

Bradford frowned, looking away, looking inward. Isn’t there something I can do on my own? Shouldn’t I be able to handle this, myself? What if I’m just over-reacting? Am I being too emotional? Letting my feelings get in the way of figuring this out? “I don’t think we need to go that route, Staff Sergeant. I’m sure I can figure out how to handle this, myself.”

She took a half-step backwards, but Rickles stopped her with a glare. “Bradford. I didn’t make sure you understood what road taking this to First Sergeant would go down to get you to second guess yourself, or back out on getting help. You have a Marine who is undermining your personal integrity, and the cohesion of your squad. You can’t allow that. I can’t allow that. It has to be addressed, and the solution is above both of us. But you also need to understand what that means.”

“Staff Sergeant, I hate the man, but I don’t want to ruin his career. It’s unprofessional, and I can’t allow myself to-“

“And you can cut that bullshit out right now, Sergeant.” He jabbed a knife-hand at her. “You are not ruining his career; he is doing that himself. This is not about you and your feelings and whether you like him or hate him. This is about his actions. This is about him being a piss-poor Marine and damaging the combat effectiveness of this unit. Don’t let your desire to not let your personal feelings get in the way of doing the right thing get in the way of doing the right thing. Do you read me, Sergeant?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

“Now, c’mon,” he said, turning and marching away. “Let’s go find the First Sergeant.”

***

Ten minutes later, Bradford stood in the First Sergeant’s tent, retelling her story, and struggling to keep her voice calm as Khatri’s expression increasingly resembled hard-edged stone.

He held up a hand, interrupting her. “Corporal Billings!” he called.

“Yes, First Sergeant?” The admin staffer poked his head through the curtain that separated Khatri’s “office” from the rest of the pavilion.

“Have Second Artificer Ahyat report to me, time now.” He considered something for half a second. “Tell him it’s about an issue regarding his pay.”

“Aye, First Sergeant,” Billings said, and ducked back out.

Khatri turned back to Bradford, waving at her to continue.

Bradford was just finishing her account when Rinn arrived. Stepping through the curtain, he glanced at Bradford and Rickles, before coming to attention in front of Khatri. “Second Artificer, reporting as ordered, First Sergeant!”

“At ease, Ahyat, I ain’t an officer.” He nodded as Rinn relaxed, then locked eyes with him. “Sergeant Bradford has been tellin’ me about your interaction with Corporal Davies. I would like to hear your side of things.” He paused a beat. “Sergeant Bradford, if you would step out.”

Rinn flicked an ear, then shook his head. “She can stay, First Sergeant.”

Khatri raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Rickles, then waved at Bradford to remain in place. “Alright, then, go ahead, Second Artificer.”

“Last week, after we drove off the elves and were dealing with the mess, Corporal Davies approached me.” He flicked an ear. “He and I don’t interact much. He couldn’t understand me for the first month in the squad, which I could tell frustrated him a lot, and after he always seemed distant. He had a cold shoulder, I believe is your term.”

Khatri nodded.

“Last week, however … He spoke with a lot of concern that did not follow our previous interactions, at all.” Rinn frowned, his ears sagging out to the sides, “I am still not the best at reading your expressions and body language. Your face has similar enough expressions to ours, but you don’t have ears or a tail,” his own tail twitched. “Regardless … Something about his approach just smelled insincere. He spoke to me about things of which I never told him, drew personal comparisons to previous battles I’ve fought that he could not have known. He knew things I have only ever told one person.” His ears rolled up, and the right one flicked at Bradford. “In a private conversation, in a moment of weakness.”

Glancing away, his ears flicked back, then forward as he swallowed. He looked back at Khatri. “I asked him how he knew, and he told me that not only had Sergeant Bradford told him, that she regularly confided in him in private, and that she had described a rather disparaging opinion of my lack of composure during our conversation.” He shifted his feet, his tail curling before he consciously straightened it. “To be frank, First Sergeant, that night I was not properly of sound mind. My behavior was inappropriate, and the subject of conversation violated all propriety. I have been deeply grateful to Sergeant Bradford that she maintained it in confidence, and was deeply disturbed to be told that she had not, in fact, done so. Especially with someone whom she had previously described to me as having a deep frustration with.”

“And when did you find out about the recording?”

“Today, First Sergeant. I politely thanked Corporal Davies for his concern, but distanced myself from him. Afterward, I attempted to discuss the matter with Sergeant Bradford, but her duties have kept her extremely busy, and I was not able have a private conversation with her until today.” He flicked his ear at Bradford again, and briefly described their conversation, and consultation with Edison.

Khatri folded his hands, shifting a stony gaze between the two of them. “Y’all’ve certainly got yerselves a siteeation.” He sighed, the stony edge fading away. “I don’t need to know the details of yer conversation, though I do recommend y’all talk to the Chaplain, the both of yuz.” He looked at Rinn. “Especially you, Second Artificer. It took us a long time to figure out how to handle these problems, and we still ain’t got it all right, but bottlin’ it up inside, forcin’ people to pretend it ain’t a problem, it don’t work. Just makes it worse. We learned that the hard way. Don’t let your problems fester, like an infected wound, ‘cause that’s what they are. Wounds that can be healed, but not if you cover ‘em up and don’t treat ‘em. It ain’t easy, I know, but even just talkin’ about it helps. Chaps can help you with that, and he can point you to where you can get more help if you need it, all confidential.”

“As you say, First Sergeant,” Rinn said, his ears swinging back to lock into his neutral expression.

Sitting back, Khatri sighed. “Now, as for how to deal with this, I ain’t inclined to go through formal PAC proceedings. The battalion’s fixin’ to get back on the move in a couple days, and with the loss of Third Battalion, we need every Marine we can get in the field right now.”

He leaned forward again. “But I also cannot leave Corporal Davies where he is, unaddressed.” He snorted. “He ain’t the first petted Marine I’ve had to deal with, however.” He turned to Rickles. “Staff Sergeant. I need a new Company Clerk. Pick someone from your platoon to transfer up to HQ. He’ll be working directly for me, so make sure you pick the right Marine.”

“Aye, First Sergeant. I think I’ve got the perfect corporal in mind.”

“Outstanding, Staff Sergeant. I’ll have Billings draft up the paperwork. I expect him to report to Company Headquarters by the end of the week.”

“Aye, aye, First Sergeant.”

“Is there anything else that needs my attention?”

“No, First Sergeant,” the three of them chorused.

“Carry on, then.”

Stepping out of the Headquarters tent, Bradford exchanged a glance with Rinn. “Well, that went a lot easier than I was expecting.”

“Senior NCOs exist for reason,” Rickles said, “And not just to browbeat young Marines on grooming standards.”

“Yeah.” Bradford chuckled, then sighed. “I’m just glad this mess is taken care of. Thanks, Staff Sergeant.”

“All part of the job, Sergeant. You’ll have it yourself, one day.” He frowned. “Though right now, that job includes figuring out how to sell this to the LT.”

Rinn snorted. “Just tell him it’s reward for one of his men, and congratulate him on his leadership.” He rolled an ear. “That’s usually what we did when we wanted to promote someone out of the way.”

Rickles snorted a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.” He shook his head. “Alright, back to work. We’ve still got a war to win.”

*****

“So, what is ‘Thanks Giving,’ anyway?” Rinn asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he stood in line with the rest of the squad.

“It’s a federal holiday,” Elder said.

Rinn’s ear twitched. “When you guys say that, is it ‘hawly-day’ or ‘Holy Day?’”

“Yes,” Bradford said.

He gave her a bleary-eyed look of contempt, wondering again why he decided to roll off his cot and fall in with the rest of the squad instead of taking the opportunity to sleep.

She laughed. “It’s one of those English words that used to be two, but got mashed together into one.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, twitching his ears in mock disgust. “One of those.” He wiped his eyes again, finally managing to pull the last bit of gunk out of them. “And what is the significance of a ‘federal holiday?’”

“It’s a holiday recognized by the federal government,” Gomez said. “Unlike International Pancake Day, or St. Patrick’s Day.”

“Ah,” Rinn flicked his ears. “It’s a King’s Day.”

“King’s Day?” Bradford asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“A festival day officially celebrated by the Crown.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Bradford said.

“And what is ‘Thanksgiving’ a festival of?”

“So,” Elder jumped in. “Way back before the US was founded, like, four hundred years ago, a bunch of Pilgrims from Europe came to the New World across the Atlantic Ocean, searching for a place to live their lives free of persecution. They ran into some troubles and rough times setting up their new colony, but the local natives shared their bounty with them, to help the Pilgrims get through the winter. Thanksgiving was a great feast they had, celebrating their cooperation and thanking the native Indians for what they were giving.”

“Well, that’s a super simplified version of it.”

“Duh. He asked what the holiday was about, not the five-hundred-year history of colonizing America.”

“And European exploitation of the Native Americans,” Sampson said. “Taking their land and giving them shit trade deals for wealth and profit.”

“Ah,” Rinn nodded. “Like our nobles are trying to do with the Khalim’Khali, across the Xiechen ocean,” he rolled his ears. “Though, by some accounts I’ve heard, they see themselves as taking advantage of us, benefiting from all the trade without the expense of maintaining a navy and merchant fleet.”

“Sounds like Britain and the far east during the Age of Sail,” Riley said.

“Certainly better than we’ve treated the natives back home,” Sampson said. “Even after we won our independence from Britain, we carried on the tradition of stealing native land and stamping out their culture, if not just wiping out their whole people.”

“Yeah, after the Trail of Tears, my people have been stuck livin’ on reservations, far from our original lands,” Davies said with a stern nod.

Rinn noticed several eyes roll around him.

“Davies, you’re the whitest mother fucker I know,” Kimber said. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Hey, I’m part Cherokee on my mom’s side, damnit! Not everyone who’s native lives on the rez! But I have been back to visit family there, keepin’ in touch with my roots.”

“He went on a cross-country road trip with his family right after we got back from Afghanistan,” Bradford whispered in Rinn’s ear as they reached the USO tent. “They visited a reservation as tourists, and he’s been going on about being part Cherokee ever since.”

Rinn gave her a rolling ear flick, and ignored Davies’ continued ramblings as they ducked into the tent.

Realizing he didn’t actually have anything to do there, he stepped to the side as the rest of the squad filed into lines for separate stations. Blowing out a sigh, not sure what to do with himself, he sidled into an out-of-the-way corner.

“Hey Shields, Brah!” Glancing over, he saw Stephens waving at him. “C’mere, brah! C’mon!”

Rinn walked over to find an active screen showing a man and a woman who bore a strong resemblance to Stephens.

“Mom, Pops, this is my bro, Shields,” Stephens said, throwing an arm around Rinn’s shoulders and dragging him in front of the screen. He saw his own likeness next to Sephens in a smaller window in the corner. “He’s a rad dude, and keeps us all healthy and free of holes.” Stephens beamed with pride at the camera. “I’m sharing you with him today, because he doesn’t got any way to call home himself.”

“Hello,” Rinn said, his ears twisting awkwardly, then his tail curled as he remembered they didn’t have the translation spell. He cleared his throat. “Hello,” he said again, in English.

“Hello!” Stephens’ dad echoed back.

“Hiii!” his mom said, waving, before placing a rolled packet of something, lit on one end, to her lips and taking a long pull. She coughed a little, breathing out the smoke, then waved again. “Hiiiii!” She giggled.

“How’s the waves been, pops?”

“Good! The winter swells have been pretty righteous this year, and the tourist season ran later than it usually does. Oh, and we’re finally up and running with that new supplier for wet suits. You were right, they’re a big hit!”

“I told you they were sick! Mad comfortable.”

“Oh, enough about work,” Stephens’ mom said, batting at her husband’s arm. “Tell us about yourself, Shields. That’s your name?”

“My name is Second Artificer Rinn Ahyat, ma’am,” he said. “They just call me Shields.”

“Yeah,” Stephens leaned over and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Because he puts up this great, big shield that stops bullets and magic blasts and explosions and everything!” Stephens patted his back. “He’s a real O.G., been in this war from the start. He’s taught us a bunch, and been keepin’ us all alive. We picked him up in our first fight. Ol’ Jabs grabbed him off the deck and dragged him along with us, and he’s been kickin’ ass with us ever since.”

Rinn shifted awkwardly, his ears flicking back in embarrassment. “I’d say you all have saved me more than anything.”

“Nah, brah, we’d’ve all been packed home in boxes ten times over if not for you!” Stephens threw an arm around him. “Bro’s too modest,” he said to the camera.

Rinn tensed up under the attention, but Stephens’ mom stepped in and started asking him questions and talking about things that sounded inane at first, but the more she talked he realized there was some deep wisdom tangled up in there, somewhere. Stephens’ dad, Tom, stepped in and shifted the conversation back to surfing, occasionally touching on his business, and insisted on taking Rinn out surfing the next time he was in the area.

The call ended far too soon, but Stephens started a trend. Rinn found himself pulled into calls home to family with the rest of the squad, and half the Company.

He met Elder’s family in the middle of an afternoon Thanksgiving Dinner, and helped comfort Kimber’s mother as she cried on the video call.

He discovered Edison’s parents were both colored a deep, almost black shade of brown, a stark contrast against the Marine’s pale skin. They caught his confused look immediately, and laughed as Elder explained that he was adopted at age 3.

Grimes dragged him into a call that reminded him of a couple old trappers that would wander into Laelae from time to time.

“Pa, Pappy, this here’s Shields. He’s a keshmin wizard type that’s got attached to our platoon. He can’t call home to his family, tho, so we’s all sharin’ him around in our calls.”

The younger of the two men squinted. “He looks like a fox and a bobcat fucked and done popped out a kid.”

“Pa!”

“Jus’ sayin.”

Grimes rolled his eyes. “Well, he’s come in mighty handy. Done pulled our bacon outta the fire more’n I care to count. His real name’s Ahyat, but we call him Shields ‘cause he puts up this big magic shield that deflects enemy fire. Spits out a bunch of his own heat, too, in addition.”

Grime’s pa nodded. “I done heard sommat about that. Ain’t we workin’ on figurin’ that shit out fer ourselves? Why’s we gotta rely on some foreign help for it? No offense.”

The older man rolled his eyes. “It’s like I keep tellin’ ya, boy, a car in the road is worth two in the yard.”

“I suppose you right, Pappy.”

“I always am.”

Grimes’ pa leaned forward. “Can he do any tricks?”

“I can do a few without a stave,” he said, holding up a hand and arcing bolts of magic between his fingers.

“HO-LEE SHEEIT! He can talk!”

“Well, o’ course he can talk, Pa! He’s got more education than all three of us together, what I unnerstand. We ain’t been sendin’ him smoke signals!”

Johnson’s family was very pleasant, almost unnervingly so. Much to Johnson’s disappointment, his sister wasn’t present. The hospital she worked at had called her in to cover for another nurse who was out sick. Rinn got a sense that there was a lot they weren’t saying because he was present, but they were nothing but polite and welcoming to him. Johnson, himself, was uncharacteristically pleasant in front of his parents, and heaved a sigh of relief when the call ended.

Thanking Johnson for sharing his call, Rinn stood up to see Yahgi getting dragged in by members of Weapons Company. He smiled at her bewildered look.

Stepping away, he was immediately snagged by Riley, and hauled in front of another camera. “Ma, Mimi, this is the guy I was telling you about, Second Artificer Ahyat. Shields, this is my mom, and my grandmother, but we all call her Mimi.”

“Oh, Lord have mercy,”

“Bless your heart,”

“Has the care package arrived? We sent a collection around at the church, to put a care package together for you. Has it arrived yet?”

“No, we’ve been on the move a lot, we haven’t gotten much mail.”

“Well, Mrs. Hunter, you remember her, Caitlin’s mother?”

“That girl you’ve been sweet on since the fourth grade.”

“Yeah, Mimi, I remember who Caitlin is …”

“Well, Mrs. Hunter’s always been sweet on you, wonderin’ when you’d ever get around to askin’ her daughter out, and she wasn’t convinced the first package would make it to you, so she’s putting together another one, said she’ll have it ready to go off before Church on Sunday. Now, have you been eating your greens? It doesn’t look like they’ve been feeding either of you right at all ...”

Rinn’s favorite call was Miller’s. He had no sooner sat down in front of the camera when Kaylee squealed in glee. “PUPPY!” Both Miller and Jenna shared mortified looks as Rinn wiggled his ears and chuckled.

“No, Kaylee, that isn’t a puppy,” Jenna said. “That’s Second Artificer Rinn Ahyat. He’s a keshmin who works with Daddy.”

“Hi, Kaylee,” Rinn said, giving the little girl a smile and a wave. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Her eyes went wide, and she gaped at him, before turning to Jenna. “Mommy! THE PUPPY TALKS!”

Standing up after several minutes of waggling his ears to make Kaylee giggle, he caught a glimpse of Yahgi stepping into a corner, wiping at her eyes. A couple Marines from Weapons Company stepped over, a look of concern on their faces. She smiled at them, despite her tears. “Thank you,” she said, pulling each of them into a hug. “Thank all of you.”

Turning around, Rinn saw Davies waving him over. Kawalski walked past, giving him a nod in Davies’ direction before leaning close as he slid by. “Like ‘em or not, when talkin’ to someone’s family, they’re a war hero and the battalion can’t run without ‘em.”

Rinn flicked an ear in acknowledgement, grit his teeth, then put on a smile for the man and woman on camera.

“Hello, Lucas,” the woman said.

“They said you would call at nine,” the man said, his gaze focused on something to the side of the camera.

“The USO opened the call center at 0700,” Davies said, shifting in his seat. “There was a line.”

The man rolled his eyes. “And you couldn’t cut to the front? Didn’t you just get promoted?”

The woman waved at him. “Oh, I’m sure he was just putting his men before himself. That’s what they do, you know. Besides,” she looked back at something just below the camera. “He looks half-starved. Have they not been feeding you? What’s your commanding officer’s number out there? I’ll call and give him a piece of my mind about how they’re treating you.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Carrol,” the man said, his attention still focused on something else. He glanced towards the camera. “Honestly, he could stand to lose more weight. Maybe Janice could give him some pointers from her new diet regimen.”

Davies opened his mouth to speak, but his mother immediately jumped into the opening. “Oh, yes! Did you hear? She won her latest case! I’m sure you’ve heard; it’s been all over the news. She tore those lazy deadbeats apart, saved Bram-Meyer from paying a single penny.”

“They gave her another promotion.” Paper ruffled as the man turned a page in whatever he was reading on the side. “This time, with that corner office she’s always deserved.”

“Oh, and they’re even talking about making her a full-time partner! And Jared closed another multi-million-dollar deal with Yunnan Construction and Investment. Their housing market is having such a boom over there!”

“They’re taking us to Fiji next week to celebrate,” the man said, still not looking at the camera. “Insisted on paying for everything.”

“Oh, yes, Luky, dear, will you be able to get some time off to join us? I know it’s short notice.”

“Don’t be silly, Carrol. I told you already. He has to file paperwork for that, and you know how long the government takes to do anything with paperwork. Bureaucrats wasting time and money.”

“Oh, but what about the wedding? June should be more than enough time for everything to go through!”

“I’m sure it will be, dear. There is no reason they can’t make accommodations with that much notice.” He glanced over his glasses at the camera. “You have given them notice, right? Nothing gets done when you always leave things to the last minute.”

Davies opened his mouth again, but was interrupted by an obnoxious hum from the other end. “Oh, that’s Janice calling!” His mother said. “We’ll talk to you later, Luky!” She pressed something below the camera, and the call ended.

“Well, that was my parents,” Davies said, glaring at the screen. His jaw worked side-to-side.

Rinn’s ears turned back and forth, independently. “It was, uh, nice to see them.”

“Yeah,” Davies said, pushing himself up and stalking off.

His ears swung back as he watched him go, then rolled as he shook his head. He pushed himself to his feet and stretched, then spotted Bradford at a booth, waving him over.

As he made his way to her, she turned back to the screen. “Guys, there’s someone I want you to meet.” She scooted over on the folding chair, making room for him to sit on half of it. He settled onto it, carefully leaving a gap of space between them, and looked at the collection of humans clustered together on the screen.

“Guys, this is Second Artificer Rinn Ahyat. He’s the keshmin artificer attached to our squad. We picked him up in the first fight when we got through the portal, and he’s been running with us ever since.” She smiled at him, waved at the screen. “Rinn, this is my family. Or, most of it. That’s my mom and my dad,” she pointed at the man and woman in the center of the screen, who each waved. The woman bore a strong resemblance to Bradford, and the man practically screamed Marine. “My little brothers, Tom, and Bobby,” she pointed at the young man on the far left, then the one on the far right. “And that’s Grandpa Joe, or Gramps, and Granny Jane,” she finished, pointing at an old couple next to her parents. The man looked like an older, more grizzled version of her father, and the woman looked short even with everyone sitting and leaning in around her.

“Rick got deployed,” her father said. “They sent his whole squadron through to a new air base they’ve set up on the other side of the portal.”

“He’s closer to you than we are, Jamie!” Her mother smiled.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” he said, giving them a smile. “Your daughter saved my life when we met,” he flicked an ear at her. “And several times over, since. She’s a helluva Marine.”

“She damn well better be,” her grandfather said, glaring through the screen. “Somebody in this family has to be man enough to support the Corps.”

Bradford chuckled as everyone on screen rolled their eyes, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “Don’t take him seriously. Gramps just likes to give shit to anyone who didn’t go Infantry in the Marines.”

“Don’t go whisperin’ behind my back, little missy, my hearing ain’t that bad.”

“Yes it is, Gramps,” she said, laughing at his antics. Rinn caught his wink as everyone else rolled their eyes again.

“Old man grumblings aside,” her father said, “Jamie, how are you holding up? We heard what happened to Three-Five.”

Bradford’s face darkened, and Rinn’s ears swung back. “Yeah,” she said. “It was pretty bad. There were only twenty-one survivors.” She frowned. “There were three others we found still alive, but they, uh … They didn’t make it.”

“We’re not talking about this,” her mother interjected. “It’s Thanksgiving. We’re talking about happier things.”

“Right, uh,” her father cleared his throat. “Have you heard anything about the Medal of Honor that’s in routing?”

“What?” Bradford shook her head. “No, I haven’t heard anything going around the rumor mill, but we haven’t had much time to worry about stuff like that out here.”

Her father and grandfather both nodded in understanding. “They’ve been pretty tight-lipped about it. I wasn’t sure if you heard anything.”

“Maybe for a corpsman from Third Battalion. He shielded one of the survivors with his body.”

He shook his head. “No, there were rumblings on the grape vine about this before that went down. It’s for a living Marine, but they’ve been real tight-lipped about it.”

She shrugged. “Maybe a tank commander? Our first big fight since we went on the offensive, we lured a Keebler force into attacking an entrenched position. Intel said they didn’t have any mage towers, but it was wrong.”

Her grandfather snorted. “It always is.”

“Yeah, well, the towers showed up, and were starting to tear into us when one of the tanks with us jumped out of its dug-in position and lead their whole platoon on a charge to get under their shield bubble and took the towers out from inside their shields before they could really do anything.”

Rinn nodded, his ears swinging up. “It was truly a brilliant maneuver.”

“And it’s still talking about the war!” her mom said, rolling her eyes. She leaned towards the camera. “Rin, how about you tell us about yourself. Where are you from, over there?”

“It’s Rinn, mom. He’s not a fish.”

Her mother blinked. “What?”

“His name is Rinn, mom, not Rin. Rin is a fish, and he’s not a fish.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” She pulled back, her expression sincere. “Rin?”

“No, Rinn,” Bradford said. “Ri-nn.”

“Ri-n?” Bradford shook her head. “Riii-n?” Another head shake. “Riii-nnnn … Ri-nn. Rinnnn. Rinn?”

“That’s it!” Bradford shared a grin with her mother, as Rinn and the rest of her family desperately tried to hold in their laughter. He quietly curled his tail under their chair and touched her ankle in thanks.

“So, Rinn … Rinnn? Rinn! Where are you from? What is your home like?”

His ears swung to the sides, then he took a breath, quickly burying the sadness that welled in his throat. She wanted to avoid talking about the war. Talk about before the war. “I grew up in the Yintar province, in a village called Laelae. It wasn’t a tiny place, but it wasn’t a city, either. Others might call it … Provincial. It … was quite out of the way, I would say.” He rolled his ears. “My father owned a shop, and while we never had much, growing up, we always had clothes on our backs and food on our plates, and father was able to scrimp and save up enough to send me to University to properly study as an artificer.”

Bradford glanced up at one of the USO ladies coming over with an apologetic expression on her face. “Uh-oh, looks like we’ve run over time. We’re about to get kicked off.”

“It was good seeing you, sweetie!” her mother shouted. “And nice meeting you, Rin! Rinnn!”

“It was nice meeting all of you, as well,” he replied, his ears waggling in amusement.

“You take care of my daughter over there, Second Artificer.” Rinn could feel the weight of her father’s gaze through the screen.

“I will, Sergeant Major.” He flicked an ear at Bradford. He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “I owe her my life, many times over.”

“Take care over there!” her grandmother said.

“Stay safe!” her mother added.

“We will!” Bradford said. “Love you all! Even you, Brat One and Brat Two,” she added, earning glares from her brothers. “Bye!” She waved, they all waved, and Rinn joined in as the call ended.

“I think they like you,” she said, leaning back to look at him. “Oh, and ignore my dad.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s always like that.”

Rinn leaned away to look back at her. “I was more worried about your grandfather.”

“Bah,” she waved at him. “Gramps is a teddy bear. He just puts on a Grumpy Old Man act, and likes giving Ricky shit for going officer, and Air Force, of all things.”

They stared at each other for a moment, until his ears twitched. “Thanks.”

“Any tim-“

“Shields! Shields! There you are! Bro, c’mere, I want you to meet my Meemaw! She don’t believe you keshmin are real!”

Rinn gave Bradford a glance and an ear flick as he was all but physically dragged from the chair and hauled off to another call.

By the end of the afternoon, Rinn’s voice was hoarse from speaking English all day, and he struggled to hold back tears of his own.

*****

Later that evening, Meyers walked into their tent. “Is Davies around?”

“Yeah, he’s over there, sir,” Riley said, pointing at his cot.

“Corporal Davies!” Meyers walked over as Davies stood up, confused. “It looks like your work last week got noticed. First Sergeant Khatri needs a new staff aid, and you were first on his list. Pack your gear up, you’re getting transferred to HQ section to work for the First Sergeant, directly.”

“Transferred to HQ, sir?” Davies asked, looking around in confusion as everyone else turned to watch.

“You’re work to support the Company and Battalion has been noticed, Corporal. First Sergeant wants you working for him at HQ. Congrats, Corporal, and keep up the good work.”

Meyers gave him an awkward nod, then did a sharp about face and all but marched out of the pavilion. Silence reigned as he left, then the platoon all jumped up to congratulate Davies, and help him pack everything up so he could report to his new posting right away.

A whirlwind twenty minutes later, he walked out of the tent to a chorus of “Congratulations!” and “Good luck, brah!”

The tent flap fell behind him, and silence reigned once again as everyone stared at each other in mild disbelief. Rinn and Bradford shared a knowing glance. Kawalski stuck his head out of the tent, then came back in. “He’s gone.” He gave Bradford a suspicious glance. “How’d you pull that off, Jabs?”

She gave him an innocent shrug. “Khatri needed a new aide, and told Staff Sergeant to pick someone from First Platoon.”

Kawalski gave her a look, and the rest of the squad eyed her and Rinn with suspicious respect.

“C’mon,” she said, standing up. “Let’s get in the chow line before the rest of the company eats all the turkey.”

“Still not a proper home-cooked meal,” Santelli said.

“Better than the burnt jerky my dad makes every year,” Riley said.

“And better than what we’ve been getting, lately,” Kimber added.

“I’m just glad to be getting food,” Rinn said as they all filed out of the tent.

*****

“I fuckin’ hate my life.”

“What’s the matter, Santelli? Don’t you enjoy a good hike?”

“Fuck you. Fuck you, too. I fuckin’ hate all of you. You got any fucking motrin?”

“Bro, you just took four tabs an hour ago.”

“Yeah, and my knees are still fucking killing me. We’ve been on this fuckin’ hike for four goddamn fuckin’ hours. Ain’t seen fuckin’ shit. I hope those damn elves show up just to put me out of my fuckin’ misery. “

“Don’t hold back. Tell us how you really feel.”

“Go fuck yourself, Kimber. I hope your cat gets cancer and shits itself to death all over your fuckin’ pillow.”

“Damn, bruh.”

“Fuck you, too.”

“Why the fuck are we even out here?” Kawalski asked, suppressing a chuckle.

“Because recon’s picked up elves in the area, and we’re sweeping the area in case they try to slip past us,” Bradford said.

“Yeah, but why the fuck do we gotta do it on foot?”

“Because they’ve managed to slip small units past us to harass our supply lines the last few days,” she said, turning to look at him as she walked backwards. “And if we run into them trying to slip another tower through, we’ll all just be sitting ducks in a Humvee. Now lock it up and keep your eyes peeled.”

“Yes, moom,” he whined, before suddenly wiping his expression neutral and nodding behind her.

She turned to find Lieutenant Meyer walking up to her.

“Sergeant Bradford, where is the rest of Third Squad?”

She glanced over at Sergeant Middleton, and suppressed a sigh as she turned back to Meyer.

Why is he asking me, instead of Middleton?

“They’re holding position to watch in case the elves try to slip past us after we move through, sir. They’ll catch up to us at the next waypoint.”

“Very good, Sergeant. Carry on,” he said, moving back up the line, leaving her wonder where he even came from. I haven’t seen him all morning.

“What was that about?” Middleton asked, walking over.

“LT wanted to know where Johnson’s fire team was at. I told him they were watching for anything sneaking past after we got through.”

He nodded. “Thanks for the cover, Jabs.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I’m not gonna tell him that Thorne’s behind a bush, shitting his guts out again.” She rolled her eyes. “But he seriously needs to get himself checked or get something to calm his asshole down. He can’t be stopping to shit his pants every time we’re on patrol.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him about it, again. He’s just embarrassed to go to medical about it.”

“Well, ask him what’s more embarrassing, talking to Doc, or having the whole fucking platoon laughing at him for shitting his pants. Again.”

Middleton chuckled. “Will do.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s been five minutes.”

She nodded. “Lets get ‘em moving.”

Rinn’s ears drooped as he sighed, then he swung them back up as he pushed himself to his feet. “The march never ends.”

With little more than the usual gripes and complaints, First Platoon got back on their feet to resume their patrol. Thirty minutes later, Johnson’s squad caught up to them at the next waypoint.

Rinn stopped next to Kawalski, surveying the open plain alongside him.

“This whole area’s a bunch of flat, open fields,” the lanky Marine said, stuffing a large pinch of dip into his lip.

“The first time I came through here, this was all farmland.” Rinn said, swinging an ear back, then forward.

“Welp,” Kawalski said, packing the tabaco down with his tongue. He spit out a shredded sliver of leaf. “We’ll just have to make sure it’s all farms again, the next time you come through.”

“Yeh,” Rinn said, flicking an ear at him. Kawalski held out the can of dip to him, but Rinn shook his head. Kawalski shrugged, tucking it into a pouch on his plate carrier before hefting his SAW and moving forward.

Glancing to his left, Rinn spotted Second Platoon to their left, and Third Platoon to their right. The whole Company had linked up and was fanning out to sweep towards a sparse copse of trees that cut across half of the field.

A familiar tingle snapped his attention back to the trees ahead of them just as a large elven force dropped invisibility on the other side, roughly five hundred tails away. There were no towers present, but dozens of catapults were arrayed behind their ranks.

“Contact front!” Kawalski bellowed, throwing himself down on a small rise that was probably a cartway in years past.

A faint thumping noise rolled over the field as the catapults lobbed large, almost barrel-like cannisters over the trees.

“Incoming! Take cover!”

Rinn threw up a shield, covering as many Marines as he could, angling for the best deflection, but the shells never arrived. As they arced overhead, they started bursting apart, creating large puffs of dense, yellow-green smoke.

“GAAAAS!”

The Marines around Rinn reacted almost immediately to the call, all scrambling for a satchel containing a strange mask he never really figured out the use for.

Sampson grabbed his radio handset. “GAS! GAS! GAS!” he shouted into it before dropping the handset and grabbing for his own mask.

Seeing the urgency and fear that the humans were throwing the masks on their faces, Rinn decided it would be a good idea to find his and try to put it on. He fumbled around, trying to remember where he stowed it. Another staccato series of pops sounded above as the elves lobbed more of the shells.

An M4 barked, followed by two more, then a long rip of a nearby SAW, as the Marines started to engage.

Hearing someone running, Rinn turned in time to see a masked figure barrel into him, tackling him to the ground. The Marine sat on his chest, pinning him down by weight alone, and ripped his mask out of the satchel strapped to his pack. He yelped as his snout was smashed as the Marine shoved it onto his face, roughly pulling the rubber webbing over his horns and sinching it as tight as it would go.

“TAPE!” Rinn recognized the muffled sound of Bradford’s voice as the Marine on top of him shouted at the top of her lungs. “I FUCKING NEED TAPE!”

Rinn struggled to push her off and sit up, but she shoved him back down. “Hold your goddamn breath!” she shouted, glaring at him through her mask, desperate concern in her eyes. He took a breath and held it.

“Tape here!” Edison said, skidding down next to them, his voice muffled by his own mask. Several more rifles opened up, and two more SAWs.

Bradford ripped the roll of duct tape out of his hands and started pulling off long strips. They went around his face and head, layer after layer, covering up the gaps in the mask. Half the roll was gone, he could barely turn his head, and his lungs were screaming as spots danced across his vision when she dropped the tape and placed her hand over the open end of the can at the bottom of the mask. “Inhale!”

The stale air burst from his lungs as he exhaled to make room, but when he tried to breath in, the mask and mass of tape sucked down against his face.

“Good seal!” Bradford said as two more machine guns screamed into the fight. She crawled off him, pushing herself up, then pulling him to his feet. A dull, yellow-greenish haze had fallen over the field as the gas dispersed in the still air. The mask was very uncomfortable, obscured much of his vision, and made it difficult to move his head, but he could breathe.

The heavy thump of a bushmaster cannon joined the fray as a pair of LAVs roared up to join the line of battle.

The near panic the humans had shown was enough to convince him that the mask was very important, but the danger was further reinforced as two Marines were dragged past him, choking, coughing, and struggling to breath despite the masks they wore.

“Gomer!” Kawalski said, flipping the top cover of his machine gun up and sweeping the feed tray clear of spent links. “Ammo!” He grabbed another pouch from his side and sneezed, spraying the inside of his mask with brown liquid and chunks of tobacco. “Fuck!”

“I got you, boss!” Gomez said, dumping two satchels of ammo next to Kawalski as he dropped down beside him.

“Gomer! I can’t fuckin’ see!” Kawalski shouted, reloading by feel. “Point me at the bastards!”

The distinctive rip of an artillery shell tore overhead, detonating some distance in the direction of the enemy. The haze made seeing long distances difficult, but the flash and dark shadow of the plume kicked up by the shell were still almost as distinctive as the concussive thump.

Another round of rapid thumps sounded further down their line.

The haze was thick enough now that Rinn couldn’t make out the elven position. The Marines’ shots tapered down to a sporadic, suppressive fire.

“Corpsman!” he heard someone shout in the distance, then more artillery howled overhead, and continued to howl. Explosions and fire walked over and past the shrouded trees in a barrage of hell Rinn hadn’t seen since the day the humans entered the war.

The Marines stopped firing as artillery continued to poor in, and began pulling back. Rockets streaked down from the heavens, walking a saturation bombardment away from their position. Rinn threw his shield back up, just in case one of the shells fell short.

Five minutes later, the constant barrage fell silent. A slight breeze had started to thin the gas, then the helos came in. Several Venoms swept down from the sky. Two landed, and started loading injured Marines, while four more orbited overhead, using their prop wash to try and disperse the gas, with some success.

“Sergeant Bradford!”

Bradford turned. “Captain Spader, sir!”

“Is your squad combat capable?”

She looked at Rinn, and he gave her a stiff nod, moving his torso more than his neck.

“Good to go, sir!”

“A platoon of Abrams is moving up!” he shouted, pointing at the tanks rolling through the clearing mist. “Grab your men, link up with Lieutenant Reed in Second Platoon, and escort the tanks in! Sweep and clear! Mop up anything the artillery left us.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

Spader glanced over his shoulder. “First Squad’s got three Marines down, including Sergeant Bidder. Once I get them sorted, they’ll be following you in with the LAVs and the rest of the Company. Anything you find over there, you terminate with extreme prejudice, you read me, Sergeant?”

“Loud and clear, sir!”

“And Bradford!”

“Sir?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice, but not low enough that Rinn couldn’t hear. “If you find Lieutenant Meyer, if he’s useful, drag him along with you. If he’s not,” he sighed, looking away. “Use your best judgement.”

“Aye, sir,” she said with a quiet nod.

Spader nodded, then turned away.

“Second Squad!” Bradford shouted. “On me!” She checked the shell loaded in her grenade launcher as the squad fell in around her. “We’re moving up behind the tanks, watching their six! Wipe out anything that made it through the artillery. Retreat!”

“Hell!”

“Two-Five!”

“RETREAT, HELL!”

“Move it, Marines!”

***

His head felt heavy as he jogged over to the tank platoon with Bradford and the rest of the squad. His ears were half covered in tape and pinned at odd angles, he almost had to turn his whole torso to look around, and he couldn’t breathe air in through the mask as well as he would like, but he could still breathe. Why are they prepared for this attack? What have they seen that made them so terrified of it? He considered the horror of the air itself turning to poison for a moment, and decided he was terrified enough of it as it was.

Reaching the tanks, they quickly found Lieutenant Reed organizing his platoon.

“Sergeant Cook, you and First Squad are on Echo Six-Four,” he pointed at the rear tank, then each tank in line moving forward. “Sergeant Valdez, your Second Squad is with Echo Six-Two. Sergeant Bradford, glad to have you,” he nodded at her as they approached, then pointed at the next tank in line. “You’re with Echo Six-Three. Corporal Lu’s squad from Weapons Company is with me on Echo Six-One. Any questions?” He glanced around. “Good. Move out!”

Second Squad fell in behind their designated tank. Bradford opened a box on the back of the tank, pulling out a somewhat crushed roll of toilet paper, a rolled-up magazine with a barely-clothed women on the outside, and a clear plastic bag of candy. “Candy should be good,” she said after passing each back to the squad in turn, “Not sure I’d trust wiping my ass with the toilet paper, depending on what this gas is.”

“Tingling just makes it more fun!” Kawalski said, holding his gun in one hand, the other latched onto Gomez’s shoulder. Rinn couldn’t see his grin through the mess coating the inside of his mask, but he knew it was there.

Bradford rolled her eyes, and pulled a phone out of the box. “Echo Six-Three, this is Sergeant Bradford, we’ll be your escort today. Thanks for the gifts, we’ve got your six. Roger that!” She hung up the phone just as the tank’s engine spooled up, and the platoon rolled out.

They followed the tank forward, stacked up behind its sheltering frame. The tank’s godhammer thumped once, followed quickly by two others. The heavy machinegun on top hammered out a short burst, pivoting on its own, then two more.

The fourth tank thumped out a shell as they closed on the elven lines, then Bradford gave the order to fan out and sweep alongside the tank. Rinn stepped past the edge of its bulk into a cratered hellscape, shrouded in dust and smoke. Gunshots echoed across the shattered terrain. Single rounds, mostly, occasionally two in quick succession.

A lone figure staggered out of the haze towards them, staff raised and glowing. Rinn brought his staff up, but before he could fire, the tank’s godhammer spoke, staggering him with the concussion of the shot. Refocusing on the elven mage, Rinn found nothing left but a crater as bits of dirt and rock and probably other things rained back down from the sky.

A much shorter barrel alongside the godhammer sprayed fire as the turret swung from side-to-side, hosing a stream of tracers into the settling cloud. Two more tanks thumped their godhammers, and more machineguns echoed across the blasted terrain, tracers flashing eerily through the haze.

Something squished under his foot, and Rinn looked down to realize he was walking through a field of shredded elves, so blasted apart that he hadn’t even recognized them as bodies until he looked down. Something wet crunched under the tanks treads to his right. Glancing over, he saw the remains of an elven torso squished out of its flattened plate armor, alongside what might have once been an elven helmet with a head inside. He had no way of knowing if the elf was still alive before the tank rolled over it.

Pushing the grisly sight from his mind, he pushed forward with his squad. Sporadic gunfire and the heavy thumping of the tanks’ godhammers continued as they cleared the rest of the elven position. As before, they found no survivors to take prisoner.

Rinn wasn’t sure if they would have taken any if they had.

*****

Captain Spader surveyed the aftermath of the battlefield, his breath coming in soft hisses through his respirator. “How many did we lose, First Sergeant?”

“Five confirmed casualties, so far,” Khatri said, his voice muffled by his own gas mask. “Though there will be more.”

“We got damn lucky, First Sergeant.”

“Not so much luck, sir. We trained for this.”

Spader looked back at him, and cast his gaze across the other Marines gathered behind him. Davies straightened up a little, holding his rifle at the ready, making sure he looked ready for anything.

“Never thought we’d have to use it.” He looked at his watch. “It’s been an hour since the gas dissipated, and we’ve had that breeze for most of it. I think it’s time.”

“Yes sir, it is.” Khatri looked back over the rest of the Headquarters section. “It’s time to test it.”

Everyone looked around at each other, then Khatri pinned his gaze on him. “Davies, take off your gas mask.”

“Uh, what, First Sergeant?” He shifted his feet, lowering his rifle. What? Why me?!

“You’re our sacrificial lamb, Corporal. Take off your gas mask. That’s an order.”

Davies blanched, looking like a deer in the headlights under Khatri’s stern glare. He stared back as Khatri’s expression hardened. Seeing no respite or escape, and feeling the eyes of everyone around fall upon him, he fumbled with his straps and pulled his mask off. His eyes squinted shut, he held his breath.

“Breath, Corporal.”

Stifling a whimper, he took a breath.

*****

“Dump your packs! Everything out!” The Marine’s voice was muffled by his gasmask, but his tone and volume reminded Rinn of basic instruction in parade drills. “Guns, ammo, gear, on this table!” the Marine pointed at folding table where more Marines in full protective gear shoved equipment into plastic bags. The full suits they wore added a whole new level of intimidation. “Everything else on this table! Clothes, too! Everything comes off!”

Further ahead of them, naked Marines from Second Platoon were already getting nearly drowned by water spraying from a hose while more Marines in full suits rapidly scrubbed them down.

“Well, at least we’re all getting a shower,” Bradford said, frowning as she took off her pack.

“Dump your packs!” the directing Marine repeated. “Everything out!”

Rinn glanced at her, his ears pinned back, and followed suit. Around him, none of the Marines looked particularly happy or excited, but the handful of women present were even less so.

Well, everyone except for Kawalski, he thought, his ears swinging up as he looked back down the line. The lanky Marine had finished stripping and proudly marched forward, strutting for all to see. Thank the gods he’s too far away to see anything but his distinct lack of tail …

“Hose me, boys!” Kawalski shouted, striking a gallant pose, hands on hips. They turned the water on and he yelped, jumping back. “Fuck that’s cold!”

“Alright, Marines, listen up!” The directing Marine stepped to the side where everyone in line could see him. “All females, fall out and form a line at the second truck! Once they’re all through, we’ll split the line!”

“See you on the other side,” Bradford said, patting his shoulder.

He gave her a nod and dipped his ear, relaxing a little now that her propriety was given at least some protection.

“You know the drill! Guns, ammo, gear on this table!”

Rinn stepped forward, placing his stave, crystal pouches, canteen, ocarina, gas mask and bundle of tape that had to be cut off his head, anything that was solid metal, plastic, or wood, on the first table. It all went into a bag inside a bag, and his name was written on a long strip of tape slapped on the side of it. On the second table he dropped his spare blankets, clothes, anything fabric. That, too, went into a bag inside a bag, with his name written in tape slapped onto it. His clothes came off, and also went inside the bag.

Keeping his nose high, and pointedly not looking at anyone around him, he resolutely marched forward, into the patch of wet, muddy grass. The hose turned on, and he yelped as well. Gods, that isfucking cold! The brushes came next, and he was quickly and very thoroughly scrubbed down.

After a final spray from the hose, he was sent to the next station and handed a rough towel. Even after a solid shake, the towel was still soaked through before he was properly dried, and he had to consciously suppress the urge to shake again as he was ushered down the line. Wrapped in a wool blanket and what little of his dignity remained, he made his way back towards First Platoon’s campsite, thankful that they hadn’t been carrying their full gear, and that he still had another uniform set back at camp.

***

“Why are we still here? We got checked out. We’re fine!”

Rinn stopped trying to clean the tape residue out of his fur and turned to look at Riley, comb still stuck to the back of his head. “Are you seriously complaining about being told to sit on our tails and take it easy for two days?”

“Well, I mean, no, but … I want to get after those fuckers!”

“Bro’s got a point,” Kawalski half pushed himself up from the box he was lounging on. “Shut the fuck up and take what you can get. Arty already pounded ‘em to shit and piss for us, and we’ll be out after the rest of ‘em soon enough.”

“It’s because of what they gassed us with,” Edison said, running a bore snake through the barrel of his rifle. “Chlorine and phosgene gas. Mostly phosgene’s the concern. Even a little bit of exposure can kill you. You might not feel anything, or only a little irritation, then nothing for a while.” He pulled the bore snake through the barrel, looked at the cleaning pad on the end, then started feeding it through again. “Symptoms can show up as much as forty-eight hours later. Your lungs fill up with fluid, and a whole bunch of other nasty shit.”

“How the fuck do you know all this shit?” Kawalski said, turning his head to look at Edison.

“Because I actually paid attention to Doc, you cockbag.”

Kawalski seemed to consider giving him shit back, then shrugged. “Meh,” he said, lying back down before glancing at the door as Bradford walked in. “Any news, Jabs?”

“It’s a real thing,” Bradford said, dragging her pack over next to Rinn and propping it up to use as a back rest before sitting down. He waggled an ear at her. “Stanson from Second Platoon just fell out about an hour ago. He could barely breath, and started foaming at the mouth.”

“Jesus,” Kimber said, looking up from the magazines he was reloading.

“They got him on air up at Battalion medical, and there’s a flight coming in to medevac him.”

“Fuck.”

“Hm.” Kalwaksi grunted. “Too bad it couldn’t’ve been Lieutenant Meyers. Bastard fucked off in the middle of all that shit.”

“He was looking after Tambor and stayed with him when he got medevacked after his face seal broke,” Bradford said, cutting in almost immediately.

“Jabs, you know as well as we do that’s fucking bullshit.” Kawalski turned his head to glare at her. “Don’t try to feed us that crap.”

She sighed. “Yeah, well, he’s still our LT, so shut the fuck up about it.”

He rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh, turning away from her and putting an arm over his eyes. “Yes, mooom.”

Silence fell as Rinn resumed picking at the glue in his fur.

“Do you want a hand with that?” Bradford asked.

He paused for a moment, then sighed. “Yes, please.”

She chuckled, taking the comb from him as he turned his back to her. “I’m the one who put it all there, anyway. Only fair I help clean it out.”

Silence fell again as Rinn tried to think of something to distract him from Bradford’s fingers working through the sticky tangles in his fur. The terror of that afternoon flashed again in his mind, and his ears twitched back.

“So, um … How did you know to be prepared for that ‘gas’ attack? And how do you already know about what poisons they used?”

“Because we came up with the idea a hundred fuckin’ years ago,” Kawalski said with a sigh, arm still draped over his eyes. “Keeblers are late to the fuckin’ party.”

“What?” Rinn’s right ear flicked up, the tip twitching slightly in concern.

“You see,” Edison said, “Back in the First World War, the Germans realized they could pump out a bunch of poison that would be carried on the wind and kill a bunch of people over a large area.”

“It was actually the French,” Bradford said, pulling at a clump of tape that made Rinn flinch.

“What?” Edison turned to look at her.

“It was actually the French that started using chemical weapons in World War One, though it was just tear gas. The Germans werethe first to use poison gas, though.”

“Yeah. So, the Germans came up with chlorine and phosgene gas. It was just chlorine first, right?

“I dunno,” Bradford shrugged. “I’m not an expert.”

“You just said it was the French who used gas first!”

“Yeah. It was a trivia question.”

“Oh.” Edison shook his head. “Well, anyway. Chlorine, phosgene, they were just the early ones. Blister agents like mustard gas came later.”

“Blister agents?”

“Yeah, gas that makes your skin boil and blister up just by being exposed to it, gas mask or no.”

“Yeah, and then you’ve got the nerve agents.” Kimber added. “Just a tiny bit of exposure to those can completely fuck up your nervous system, even if it doesn’t kill you, and they’re usually pretty nasty ways to go.”

Rinn’s ears swept back. “That’s horrifying.”

“Industrial warfare gets brutal,” Bradford said, working her way down to the back of his neck. “All that stuff is outlawed, though, along with biological warfare.”

“Biological warfare?” What other weaponized horrors do they have?

“Manufactured diseases,” she said. “There’s still research done on them, mostly to develop counters just-in-case, but pretty much every nation on Earth agreed that they were too dangerous to continue developing, and outlawed them.”

Rinn shivered, and it had nothing to do with her fingers.

“Do you think these guys will start with that, next?” Riley asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “We weren’t the only ones they tried to gas. Reports’ve come in of multiple gas attacks across the whole front, but most of them weren’t very effective. We were about the only place where the weather conditions were actually good for it, and we were all carrying our MOPP gear.”

Kimber snorted. “Never thought I’d be glad for ol’ Khatri for insisting we always carry all our fuckin’ gear.”

“Yeah, well, don’t let him fuckin’ hear you say that,” Santelli said.

“Right?” Kimber snorted a laugh.

“You know …” Edison frowned, fiddling with his bore snake. “I think we might’ve been underestimating these guys.”

“What do you mean? We’ve been kickin’ their asses left and right.”

“Yeah, but …” he shook his head. “Chlorine? Phosgene? Those are industrial chemicals. And if they were making attacks like that across the whole front, they had to have a lot of them. That’s not something a medieval civilization could produce.”

“Even we barely know anything about them,” Rinn said, ear twitching as Bradford tugged another clump of residue from his fur. “They engaged in limited trade before the war, -ow.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He flicked an ear. “They engaged in limited trade, but they were always aloof, and few keshmin have ever been inside the elven borders, and never very far, at that.”

“Long-range recon flights have made several passes over elven territory,” Bradford said, making several passes with the comb from the back of his head to the base of his neck, clearing out the last few specks. “They identified what looked like a couple cities in the first flights, but after that they all disappeared. We have no idea what kind of industry or population they actually have.”

“Yeah. I wonder what they’ll do next,” Kimber said. “Probably gonna do something to kick the dog again.”

“Yeah.” Bradford tapped his shoulder. “Here, turn around, let me check your front.”

Flicking an ear, he turned around in time to see Elder walk into the tent in a daze, his face pale.

Kawalski lifted his arm off his eyes to glance at him, then did a double-take and pushed himself up. “What’s wrong, bro? You look like you’ve seen a fuckin’ ghost.”

Elder stared at him for a long moment as everyone in the tent fell silent. “They hit Baltimore,” he said. “It’s gone.”