| Orion_Karath | Date: Wednesday, 29 Jun 2011, 11:50 PM | Message # 1 |
 Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 71
Status: Offline
| 12 BBY
Renatasia
Staff Sergeant Kilrain ran along the beach on a sunny and beautiful day. It was just a normal day for him and many of the Marines located as Camp Boxletnier, but one thousands would kill to experience. He thought he was alone, when a much younger Marine blurred by. "Morning, Staff Sergeant!" he yelled, followed by an entire squad of Marines just like him, all calling out the same to him. He stopped his run gradually, looking at them move along in the beach, damn near unhindered by the fact they were running in combat boots in thick sand. "Morning, ya bastards..." he said under his breath.
What he wouldn't give for that six hours later. Inside one of the buildings of Camp Boxletnier, he sat in a briefing room with several NCOs and Officers. After a moment of getting adjusted, their regimental commander, Colonel Hague, entered the room. "Attention on deck!" shouted the Sergeant Major, to which they all rose, and the fell at his "At ease," response. Images began flashing on a screen in front of him. "Over the past few days, strange events have occurred across planet. We have had reports and confirmed sightings of strange craft, which upon Air Force's response, can not be found nor traced. Then overnight, an unidentified force attacked a hospital in Columbia, destroying a nearby research facility with explosives... also unidentified. Weapons damage does not match any known weapon, even experimental, in existence. Why they would hit such a site is unknown, but we now have this," he said with an image of a large bright mass among a familiar patch of space. "At 0500, a large object appeared out of nowhere on FSA's scopes. It is not an natural object... it stood completely still. Communications efforts failed. At 1100... several more contacts of similar size or smaller appeared... which continued for several hours, totaling to four-hundred and thirty seven contacts. After better looks, they are mechanical in design, with regular appearances according to perceived size and role. This is the real shit Marines, the Celestials do not know what this force is or who they are... a half hour ago all contacts began movement towards the planet at a regular speed, slowing down as they have gotten closer, and seeming to break up in formation. The contacts have also increased in size, to well over three thousand," he said, with murmurs immediately circulating within the room.
"All forces are being immediately mobilized, with all foreign deployed units being immediately recalled and hauling ass in getting back home. We do not know intention, but FSA, and the President, are convinced we are experiencing first contact. While there is hope for a peaceful outcome, the unfortunate reality is that the past few days do not present that as a possibility. There appears to be atmospheric entry over twenty major cities across the planet. Glen Bay is the closest one to us, and we are to deploy and oversee civilian evacuation," he said. There were no spirited cries, nor fist bumping or back slapping... it was dead silence as they shuffled out of the room. None of their minds were on civilian evacuation... it was on facing this alien invader.
Outside, there were briefings, but most guys were on auto pilot. When the battalion commander approached, he snapped out of it, however. The Lieutenant Colonel spoke to the Lieutenant. "Lieutenant Ortega, most civilians have been evacuated out on their own following the orders to do so earlier this afternoon. It appears that their landing ships are coming in unescorted, but capable of limited air combat. Upon landing and disembarking however, these ships do not move. With no air support in sight, we are going to rip ET a new asshole and send them back to wherever the hell they came from in body bags. Show them what Marines can do," was the wish of luck as he walked away and they boarded their troop transport. Overheard, the streaks of the enemy transports could be seen as they ran aboard the transport. After lifting off and heading towards the city turbulence began to set in for everyone, and anti-aircraft fire began trying to shoot down incoming enemy ships, nearly taking down some of their own in the process. "What the hell? I thought they said they weren't expecting fighting yet?!" shouted one of the Marines. When they did land, they tried to obtain orders, but the radios were so full of traffic it was hard to even make sense out of one another.
* * *
"Boss!" was the hushed shout from outside the tent, in which he was finishing his report on the morning's operation. "What is it, Roxley?" he asked, bolstering out of the tent and putting on his uniform's jacket. "Dawn Sword is beginning," he said, with a finger up to the air. "They're off schedule," he responded, looking at his chrono, "By six hours... they were supposed to begin landing at 0900 local, its 1500... don't tell me fleet is messing things up again." Roxely shook his head. "Apparently, locals tried to contact the Executrix as she scouted the planet. Caused a big roadblock due to the UEA orders," he told him. He walked back into the tent to grab his gear, and ready for the combat once more. There were a lot of things with this mission that made him conflicted. It felt wrong to be invading this world when they should be nurturing them into the Empire and its glory. However, if there was anything his service had taught him, it was follow your orders and do your duty, and then you can ask yourself questions.
He was doing just that as he prepared to enter the city once more. By the time he exited his tent fully geared, his team was ready. "Alright, Xenco, what's the good word?" he asked. "Fleet says they need our help in this area, no pick up. Transports are being hit by triple-a on the south edge of town; they need us to take it out." he told him, to which he nodded and began moving. Hanley was the first to react, with a reaction on incredibility. "What?! We're on the north end?! That'll be a walk through a damn hornet's nest!" he exclaimed, with good reason. His response was simple, "We do all the dying, fleet does all the flying. It's our job, and no other beings in the universe can do it but us. Move out, commando!" he shouted, now running out of the camp, with his team quickly moving in tow. It would be a long day... a very long day.
* * *
Six months after the conclusion of the Battle of Renatasia...
"And what happened next, Captain?" said the voice across from as he snapped out of his recollection. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what technique was used... he couldn't remember. Nothing could recall any more of his memories of Renatasia except for a vague recollection of the final battle that eliminated the opposition. Anything short of an Inquisitor ripping it from his mind had been tried and all had failed. "To be honest doc, I still just..." he said, gesturing into the air with his hands simulating an explosion out of his head, "Don't know. I can't remember a thing." The doctor nodded, and wrote on a datapad. He had been on restricted duty for the past six months due to his memory loss, as concerns for dire effects should he be in a combat situation were present within leadership. "Hmm..." was the next expression that came from the Colonel. "You lost four men total there, with the only original team member of Bravo Squad surviving being Staff Sergeant Logan Roxley. How does that make you feel?" He hated that question, with an undying question. Answering it honestly was as risky as putting a loaded blaster to your head and pulling the trigger, hoping it didn't fire due to an energy charge failure. He answered it every time as if he were walking through a mindfield. "Angry. Sorrowful. I claim responsibility for each death under my command, in total there have been ten men. Ten good men, all exemplary Imperials, there being no better soldiers. I carry their weight with me throughout life... their names, their faces seared into my brain. Every night when I go to sleep, and every morning when I wake up, I see their faces, hear their voices; all as if they were real... sometimes I could swear I see them, in the corner of my eye. They haunt my dreams, as if they were a part of my life today..." he said. Before the doc could comment, he continued. "Thermion, Iego L. Captain. File TI-ER8364, service ID TX-066. Marshall, Keivin P. Second Lieutenant. File MK-TS3993, service ID TX-275. Vorshevsky, Sergei I. Master Sergeant. File VS-CO1945, service ID TX-1001. Macey, Justiin K. Sergeant. File MJ-TT9123, service ID TX-475. Shepard, James O. First Lieutenant. File SJ-TR7394, service ID TX-367. Arnett, Avram L. Private. File AA-BR6734, service ID TS-823. Makarov, Igor V. Sergeant. File MI-CO1918, service ID TS-9273. Sumners, Han Z. Corporal. File SH-CR7565, service ID TS-1732. Slayback, Larry A. Private First Class. File SL-DA1861, service ID TS-2534. Cullen, William T. Staff Sergeant. File CW-AZ1617, service ID TS-6374." he said, listing every man that had died under his command.
The Colonel set down his datapad. "Captain, you have yet to take any of your leave throughout your entire career. I am ordering you to take a six month leave. You will see me upon return, after passing medical and physical screening. Should you make any progress, you will be reinstated to your former position. Should you not... well, we will discuss your options should that come to pass. For now, I am ordering you on leave effective immediately. A shuttle is departing for Corellia in three days; be one it." he said. He was then motioned to leave, which he did with a swift and quick rise out of the chair to ram-rod straight point of attention, at which he gave a quick snap of his heels and crisp salute.
With a sharpness only someone of his training could accomplish, he made a right turn to fall out of the office, and proceeded to leave the building as if something were shoving him out the door. With the same haste, he jumped onto his speeder bike, and took off. He didn't know where he was going, but he had to leave that building, the medical center of SOCOFOB Borosk; he had to leave the base. He didn't understand it, but something just drove him to leave... everything in his body from his physical self, through his mental self, down to his soul, was telling him to leave the base. So, he did, on his personal BARC Speeder, he took off like a bat out of hell.
Across Borosk he went; through the country side of rolling hills and wild prairie he went. Eventually, he reached a cliff from which one could view a vast sea. It was here, he stopped, away from the bases, from civilization, from everything. It provided solace from anything that bothered him, except his mind. "Orion." he heard from his right side. He gave an acknowledging nod, and sat in silence for a moment. "James." was all he said, refusing to look right.
After a moment the voice spoke again, "You haven't visited the grave in awhile. I'm starting to think you don't like me." to which he looked at the voice, seeing one of his closest friends, First Lieutenant James Shepard. "I haven't visited any of the graves in a long time, don't think you suddenly got special." he responded, proceeding to reach into the cargo compartment and pulling out a bottle of Corellian whiskey. "You ain't gonna make me go away with that, buddy." responded James with a condescending look. "Yeah, well, I can make a damn good go at it," with which he took a massive swig of the whiskey, until it felt as if his throat was going to spontaneously combust, "Damn... you're still here." The man laughed, and walked up to him, putting his arm on his shoulder. He wasn't sure if he should be scared by the fact that he felt the touch, so he just sat there for a moment.
"You know, I didn't ask you to come with to the Lurmen village." said the voice, almost fatherly. "Who the hell else was supposed to babysit your ass? Besides, had I not gone, we would have buried fourteen Commandos with the hundred troopers, not one. Actually, we would have buried none, but you had to go be a hero on me!" he said, his voice raising. "You should know more than I, Rock, that that's the price we pay as Commandos. Eventually, the Reaper comes... except for you, because you're damn Reaper." the man said with a laugh, taking his arm off and stepping back. "Okay, look here you bastard, we went through the Academy together... trained for Special Mission and Special Operations together... we went through the shit together; don't fucking patronize me. I know the price, and trust me, cute jokes aside on my operator name, believe me when I say, death is hunting for my head as much as he was you, I'm just not jumping at him with open arms like you did." he said, clearly agitated. An innocent look came across the face of James as he held his hands up in defense.
"You would have done the same as me, if you were in the position to do it." to which he got off the speeder bike. "I was going to do the same as you, but you knocked me out and shoved me into the damn Sentinel." he said, pointing his finger out at him and then into his own chest with a thud. "I couldn't let you go down with me. One of us had to live from that day, and your mother would kill me if it was you making sure the living went home." the man said. After a moment, he proceeded to chug the entire bottle of whisky, then violently threw it off the cliff, waiting for the distinct crack of glass.
After another moment of a stare-down, he walked towards the edge of the cliff. "Well, old buddy, it's time I joined you." he said back at James. "Don't do it..." responded the voice. He laughed, a rather joyful, if not twisted, laugh. "What? I'm taking the easy way out? Everyone will miss me? Blah blah blah?" Without looking at him, he knew James was shaking his head. "No, you'll live, even if you do... and it's going to hurt like hell; and I don't want to listen to you bitch for a month about how sore and bruised you are." said James. He didn't say anything, at first; he closed his eyes, and took in a large breathe of the ocean breeze through his nose. It made him long for home, oddly... even though he would be there on leave in only three days. After a moment, thinking of all of those he had lost, he opened his eyes again, eying the sharp rocks.
"Just watch... this'll be the time I don't fail you." he said, and then he leaped. When it came to suicide, many postulated that most regretted their action before it was too late. Whether it be the thought of their loved ones, realizations of how they could improve their life, or just general unease at the thought of death, he had heard that nearly half of those committing suicide, if not more, appear to regret their decision. He didn't. Not for a single moment did he think that the jump off the cliff was something that he shouldn't do. He was merely enjoying the ride down
Try as hard as he could, however, he couldn't make it to the rocks. Instead, he swan dived straight into the water between the rocks and the cliff wall; it felt like he dived onto a slab of duracrete, and then he sank into the water. He probably would have let himself drown, if it weren't for his training taking over and leading to his immediate reaction to surface. When he came up, he saw that he was a meter short of the rocks, and slammed his fists in frustration out of and then back into the water. "DAMN IT!" he exclaimed in a primal yell that was sure to be heard by all, were there any around. He swam to the cliff wall, and free-climbed his way back up. Attempting the dive again didn't cross his mind, and by the time he reached the top and sat down on his bike, the pain from the impact on the water was finally registering. James was gone; and he was ready to return to base.
He was excused from duty for the time leading up to his departure back to Corellia, and when he rode back into base, by now the bruises becoming visible from his fall, no one asked questions. Having so many soldiers, especially those of special missions and special operations variety, things happened that were unexplained and best left that way. This was one of those things, as ill-thought, drunken cliff dives, for the fun of it rather than for suicidal purposes, were a common off-duty injury suffered in this region of Borosk. He did not take a shower when he returned to barracks, despite the will being there to. Instead, he walked straight into his quarters, very slowly, and stripped himself naked, and passed out on his bed, where he would lay for two days straight.
Major Orion "Reaper" Karath
Imperial Army
Special Actions Group
Hero of the Empire
Message edited by Orion_Karath - Thursday, 20 Oct 2011, 0:46 AM |
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