11Sorry for the delay, all those people who wanted this story to continue, well, I just hope you enjoy the late Christmas present. Hopefully the errors are not too horrendous, wrote this mostly on my phone while falling asleep. Enjoy. -gate.
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Chapter Six: Foxes
The sun shone gently on the wet sandy shores of Mekkan's western coast as two figures made their way gradually to the south. One clad in a somewhat ragged skirt and white undershirt, the other clad in a blue uniform coat and dull grey pants, boots scuffed by the sand they wandered across. Markus once more looked out over the sea, the blue green waves glinting in the morning light. He turned and found Sparrow once more approaching the waves, crouching down to scrutinize a crab that scuttled through the shallow surf, claws raised menacingly towards the fox. With a yelp she threw the thing away as it pinched an outstretched finger, Markus earning himself a glare as he chuckled.
"Well, what did you expect from it, playing like that?"
The fox appeared wounded. "No, I just did not expect it to sting like a wasp…" She shook her hand, attempting to alleviate the pain through the motion. "Stupid crab."
Markus let out a laugh as Sparrow stood, raising a finger to him until she looked past him, jaw agape. He turned, and the last thing he saw was an orange blur that filled his vision.
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Markus woke with a dry mouth and splitting headache, his condition made worse by an imposed sitting position with him kneeling on the ground, hands bound behind him around some wooden pole. Overhead the sun beatdown on him and his eyes fixated themselves on the rolling waves not even a dozen feet away. He started to wonder if the sea was some sort of bad luck charm as he hadn't suffered this much, not even under fire. Not for the first time he missed his fellow soldiers, the family formed under fire.
Somewhere nearby twin voices made back in forth in rather loud voices, thick words in a language he did not speak. Was he captured by the Dominion? What the hell was going on. A distinctly feminine voice reached him, followed by what seemed to be the retort of a deeper voice, probably male. Once more their voices raised and it did not seem to a language he had ever heard. Then he saw her, Sparrow kneel down before him, one fur clad finger tracing over the part of his skull that throbbed the hardest. She looked back over his shoulder with a glare before producing a knife, his knife he noted even as she cut the bonds that held him. A waterskin was pressed to his hands next and he sipped at it carefully.
Turning his head as the other voice spoke up he found himself glaring at a cloth. His head turned up and he found the face of a rather large dog fox that had to stand at least a foot taller than Sparrow, clad in blazing orange fur. Deep green eyes bore into Markus as he looked back, doing his best not to frown. He spoke again, glancing at Sparrow who looked away, muttering something in that strange to herself.
The Dog fox simply crossed its arm and gave huffed, turning to say something in it's own language as Markus rubbed feeling back into his wrist, standing as he looked over the surrounding beach, the small gathering of foxes all watching on as Markus tried his best to put on a winning smile, only to find his jaw still ached, his face forming a grimace, he looked back at the Dog fox and shook his head as he looked back to the others who continued watching.
"Sparrow?"
"Yes Mark?"
"Why was I knocked out and bound to a pole?"
The Fox Keidran fidgeted slightly, ringing her hands. "They thought I was a slave and you-"
"Ok, ok… I get it, all Humans are bad. Can we get rolling before I am rebound for 'Trying to eat a child'?"
Sparrow frowned, looking over to the others. "They actually have invited us to stay for supper… well… um…"
Markus let his hand come up and massage his temple as he glanced up at the sky. "They invited you to dinner. Got it, have fun."
"Markus I am sure they will-"
"Sparrow, don't worry about it. I will be fine, just, enjoy yourself while you can."
Markus held out the waterskin to Sparrow, taking his knife back as he began to walk down the beach, North of the camp, the sun somewhere overhead. With his head still pounding Markus sighed quietly as a breeze gently buffered the coast, bits of dune grass swaying softly as the soldier worked gradually inched away from the camp, of course he kept glancing back on occasion to that very place, only one thought on his mind.
"It is going to be a long day."
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The sun had visibly moved in the sky, still casting it's light on the pale sand as Markus made his way along the coast, boots tied together and slung over one shoulder, socks tucked within them and his pants rolled up as he strode through the ankle deep water, cooling his feet. Ahead of him, a large stream flow into the salt water and the soldier turned to follow it inland, his eyes roaming the trees. There was a feeling hanging over him, something half noticed at the back of his mind as he turned to look back over the ocean.
Just a few meters off the coast a large rock protruded from the water, waves crashing against the thing as it shone like polished steel under the sun. Markus squinted, tilting his head down so his cap would shade his eyes, he found there was something made of steel sitting just beyond the rock. Leaning away from the thing that had dealt it a mortal wound, a Jacobs Class Destroyer rest upon the rocks, a massive gash below its waterline showing where the unfortunate vessel had been holed upon the stone. Markus rubbed his eyes, his gaze never leaving the craft as he read it's name aloud.
"MSNS Reynolds." He blinked, it was the very same ship he had fallen from during the storm nearly a week prior. Without hesitation he dropped his boots, his cap and uniform jacket joining them upon the sands as he dove headfirst into the waves, quickly propelling himself through the light green waters, fish of all kinds darting away from the man as he made for the craft. Markus circled round the craft, locating a line that once held one of the two lifeboats aboard the vessel, hand over hand he pulled himself out of the water and up the side of the craft, his shoulder finding the wooden deck as he eventually pulled himself over the side.
All around bits of debris still scattered the deck, even a life preserver sat upon the deck, abandoned during the crews haste to jump ship in the storm. Finally regaining his feet Markus walked the deck, the ship creaking and groaning with every push of the ocean, the noise raising goosebumps across Markus's forearms, the man finally making his way through the forward port hatch, making his way below deck, almost total darkness. Markus cursed but continued forwards, attempting to remember the layout of the hall as he felt along the wall for any hatches he could try.
Two wrong hatches later and the soldier finally stepped into the dimly lit armory, light flooding in from a single porthole, but it was enough light for Markus to locate what he needed. Walking along one rack the soldier plucked a M2 Carbine from the line up, the all metal weapon still in pristine condition, folding stock extended, sling neatly tucked away, a spare magazine holder empty on the side of the weapon.
Selecting a Type 1 pistol from a lower rack Markus turned to face the other side of the room, setting up seven magazines of 6.9x56mm rounds, three 5.6x37mm magazines quickly set aside as well. Looking over the munitions Markus nearly jumped when something bumped the hall, something apparently on board with him. Taking up the Type 1 he inserted one of the magazines, his other hand collecting a 12 volt lamp beside the door, the light snapping on, casting a sharp yellow glow through the door as Markus readied the weapon, stepping out into the hall.
A cough rang out once more, muffled by the hatch next to his own. Bare feet creeping across the cool metal deck Markus approached the other door, weapon ready. The hatch opened before him, a feline keidran stepping out, their eyes quickly finding Markus and freezing as the cold steel of his weapon hovered mere inches from their head. He spoke quietly, nodding to the door. "Back inside."
The keidran turned and stepped back through the door, trembling slightly as Markus followed. Within the room, a second figure lay within a cot, pushing himself up as Markus looked on with disbelief. Sweat clinging to his forehead the man managed a weak smile. "Hey there Mark."
"Sargent Calus, I would have thought that Thaum bullet would have taken you by now."
"Ha, as if just one imperial bullet could keep me down, it will be the infection that gets me first."
"But Corporal-"
"The medic did what he could, but there is still fragments of the bullet sitting in my gut, only reason I am still alive is Kade there."
Markus turned to face the keidran who gave a small nod. "Kaden Gallen, son of Jarden the healer."
Markus set his type one to safety and pocketed the weapon. "Corporal Markus Grader, thank you for looking after the Sargent."
A moment of silence passed before Calus cleared his throat. "Kade, I need to speak with Markus alone."
The feline nodded once and left the room, shutting the hatch behind him as the Sargent turned to face Markus. "Wonderful kid, Kaden, the son I wish I had, but that is not what this is about. Markus, I don't have much longer for this world, and it would be a crying shame to just leave the boy alone again."
"Calus, look, I know your condition is bad, but you are not dead yet."
"Ha, yet is the key word, been stuck on this tin can since operation typhoon."
"Then let's get you off of it. There is a small town up north from here, you get there and someone can patch you up."
"How far?"
"Day and a half, due north."
"You think I can do this Mark?"
"Sargent, you fought for two days with nothing but a bit of gauze in the hole, I know you can survive a short walk."
The Sargent laughed, waving Markus off. "Care to show me the way?"
"Actually… I should stay far away from that place for now."
"Why is that?"
"Might have knocked a lawman out with a chair for insulting a friend of mine."
"Can you go two days without getting in trouble Mark? You have been blown up, shot at, shot, stabbed, ambushed, captured, chased by a creeper, and now you are picking fights with the law?"
"I have a death wish, doesn't everyone who joins the armored infantry corps?"
"You did half those things as regular infantry Mark."
"So I may need to rethink my life choices."
"I would put that near the top of my list, but I am not you."
"True enough."
Once more silence filled the room and Calus looked over to Markus. "So, you have a friend here? Did Kyle get stranded with you or something?"
Markus chuckled quietly. "Local, some perv was carting her around so I took her off his hands."
"You know, one day a woman is gonna bite you in the ass, no wait, that already happened."
"Ha. Ha. Ha. Funny."
Calus smiled, Markus letting a small sigh escape his lips before nodding. "Should have seen that one coming."
"Should have Mark. Now, I am sure you didn't come here for me."
"Was walking down the coast and happened upon the ship, figured I should stalk up on the last Malanian goods I will be seeing for a long while."
"You gonna try and find a way back?"
"Honestly? No."
"Why not?"
"Got something to take care of here."
"Your friend?"
"Something like that."
"Then get going already Corporal, I will see ya again at some point, my luck is to bad to avoid you forever."
"Later Sarge."
"Hey Corp, you taking your Daimer?"
"And miss a chance to walk around in it without a can opener around every corner? Never."
"Have fun Corporal."
"Same to you Sarge."
Markus opened the hatch and nodded to Kaden who waited a little ways down the hall. The young keidran looked up and smiled. "Are you staying long Markus?"
"Leaving soon actually."
"A shame, humans like you and yours are rare."
"Ha, I am not that special Kaden."
"If you say so."
"Take care Kade."
"And you as well Markus."
The soldier continued on, gathering his weapons as once more Kaden appeared with a folded grey bag. He left it quietly upon one of the racks, leaving almost a quickly as he came. Markus picked up the bad and found his meager belongings already within, along with several days worth of MREs and a roll of gauze. Removing two boxes of rifle ammunition and a box of pistol ammunition Markus packed away most of his spare belongings. With the bag shouldered and his M2 in hand, Markus made his way to the ladder well, twelve volt lamp still illuminating his path until he found the last of the gear he needed.
Within metal supports on both sides of Markus, metal armor the color of polished brass stood tall, gleaming Mutely under the twelve volt light as Markus stopped three suits in, glancing to the left at his own armor. With a chest plate of nearly three centimeter thick armor plate, hydraulic supports running through the main segments of the armor and a small diesel generator attached to the back, the Daimer armor was something of a legend.
Markus set to work taking the thing apart and packing it away into his own gear locker behind it, for while it was many things, the Daimer was not water proof. Dragging a set of the stuff up two sets of stairs was no easy feat, but Markus had long ago accepted the old saying of his drill instructor and "Sucked it up like the child he was and dealt with it like a man."
Upon the deck of the destroyer Markus managed to gather several empty fuel drums, and mindful of his armor several cans still containing diesel, packing them away in a smaller sack that joined his growing pile of gear as, with some cargo netting and spare line, he lashed a small raft together, lowering the thing into the water with the lifeline from before as he settled his gear upon the thing. He looked back at the still open hatch once before leaping from the side of the destroyer.
The cold water swallowed him for several heartbeats, his head breaking the surface seconds later as he took the netting in hand, hauling the thing slowly back to the shore in one of the single most exhausting, but rewarding actions he had taken since his stranding on the strange new land. After several minutes of struggling with the raft Markus made landfall once more, and Mekkan for the second time in her history would bear witness to what a Malanian could do if they truly wished to do something, and for the first time in her history, the famed armored infantry of Mala would walk her shores, ready once more to fire with fire, and fire there would be.
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Phillip Adrian Prausk could only think of one thing to make his night better. He had taken a good many slaves, found the slave who had humiliated him, and could even rest easy knowing that other man would be broken at his loss. Nothing could have been better beside having the man's skull delivered to him on a golden platter, so he sat in the middle of the camp, surveying the fox keidran all bound together, heads hanging, all save for one. That damn vixen would not stop glaring at him. He had thrown her to the ground, kicked her, knocked a tooth from her mouth, even whipped her with the flat of his blade, but she remained defiant. Not that it mattered, he had tools at the tower for dealing with the likes of her, just as he had dealt with many others. Still, it had been a shame the woman was just an animal. He shrugged it off, turning to look north as his men stoked a fire, the flames rising before him. His victory was a grand one, a victory easily won, his favorite kind of victory.
To the north there was a flash of light and the sharp crack of thunder. Mist filled Phill's vision, and wiping at the thick liquid he brought his hand away from his face to stare down at this crimson stained palm, and just like that, his victory began to slip away.
The flashes and crashes seemed to race each other, man after man taken even as Phill raised his hand, a barrier forming to protect his body and his servants. He smiled at the pause in the destruction of his people and began to point forwards when yet another flash burst into life, the crashing thunder punctuated by a sharp crack akin to glass breaking. One of the servants off to Phills right hit the ground then, clutching his shoulder as the the last three flashes painted the distant beach a ghastly red hue, the sun bright flare almost blinding as all sounded faded away, a pain forming in his chest as the ground seemed to grow closer.
Off to one side someone ran towards Phill, only to collapse, their body falling in the sand. The soft beach cushioned Phill's own fall, his thoughts drifting off to this strange magic. He felt nothing down the beach. There was nothing but fire. The seconds stretched into minutes, the pain in Phill's chest gradually receding as his breathing became laboured, a shadow passing over him. Phill tried to focus upon the figure, the color of bronze made a burning liquid gold in the light of the fire. Twin black eyes, soulless and uncaring turned to face him, the head turning this way and that as the figure knelt over him, and as the darkness swallowed him, a tinge of fear entered his mind.
There had been something not human, and it had taken him.
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Markus removed his helmet as he knelt over the man who had throw him through a window almost a day earlier. Had the man not wandered into that bar, he would have never left the town when he did… he would still be back within the tavern with Sparrow, no more dead on his account.
Yet he would have never found Calus… Markus wondered if what he gained was worth what he lost. He did not know the dead men around him, but that did not change the fact he had ended them. Markus swallowed the bitter taste in his throat and turned to face the eyes upon him, the keidran of the village. The Foxes all looked on, faces mixed, limbs still bound to one another. Was it worth the loss? His eyes burned and his vision blurred, but he remained steady somehow. His finger plucked his combat blade from its sheath and approaching the nearest group of bound keidran, he knelt, seizing a binding that his knife bit through cleanly. His vision continuing to blur he pressed the hilt of the knife to the partially freed keidran, taking a step back as he turned to face the dead.
Slowly he pulled the helmet back up and set it over his head, the faceplate and thick goggles hiding his face behind his steel facade, and the soldier bore with it, grabbing the first body he began dragging them away from the village. All together there had been nine men. Without proper tools he could not bury them, and with the diseases a decaying body would produce he could not just launch the bodies into the sea or leave them. So he knelt, his hands quickly removing anything that could have been of use, and collecting their weapons he set them aside, taking a fuel can in his hand as he approached the now piled bodies. He did not believe the men before him deserved cremation, but worse thing had happened in the war.
The blaze took quickly but Markus did not stay to examine his hellish work, instead gathering up the weapons as he made his way back to the village, his path lit by the lantern upon his helmet. He dropped the weapons just outside of the village as one of the keidran approached, offering to him his knife. Markus accepted the thing without a word before he turned, looking out over the dunes, contemplating his next action. A shadow filled his vision and Markus turned to find Sparrow holding one arm over her chest, the fabric of her shirt ripped, the slight stain of crimson upon her lower lip. Yet she smiled, she broke into a brief run that carried her over the sand as she practically pounced on Markus who caught her with ease, his armor rendering her feather light in his careful grip. She rest her head upon the chest piece of his Daimer, arms around his chest as she held onto the man for dear life. "You saved us."
"Wasn't going to lose you so easily." He pat her back gently shifting his grip to allow himself to fall back onto one knee and then into a sitting position as he continued holding Sparrow, stroking her fur gently as he just let the moment be. When they finally shifted Markus reluctantly let the woman go, his gaze meeting that of the Dog fox.
"Will you be staying here tonight?"
"Yes."
The Dog fox simply pointed to a small hut on the edge of the village, Markus guiding Sparrow to the dwelling as foxes gathered around, a battery of cheers sounding for him as he entered the building, setting his helmet off to one side as he leaned rifle against one wall. He stripped his armor slowly and carefully, soon only a plain white shirt and grey pants. His gaze settled upon the only bed within the room and he nodded to it. "All yours Sparrow."
The fox keidran eyed him. "And you would sleep where?"
"The floor-"
"Mark."
"Yes Sparrow?"
"Bed, no arguments tonight."
The soldier sighed and sat upon the edge of the bed, Sparrow sitting him as she figited. She turned to face him, mouth working silently before she leaned closer to him.
"Markus?"
"Yes?" He turned to face Sparrow, only for her to ram her muzzle to his lips, kissing the man deeply as the lay back in the bed, arms wrapped around one another as they lay there, the kiss lasting well after Markus lost count of the seconds and well into the sleep that overtook him, the fox keidran snuggling closer as the two finally closed their eyes, safe for the time being and ultimately together.
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Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, honestly I leave this part with mixed feelings, but what is the light if there is no darkness? Yeah... that's my justification... maybe... rate and review if you enjoyed. -Gate
