Lancers

The enemy Lancers crashed through the defensive line, firing as they went. Their guns went thump-thump-thump, punching through our shielding as though it wasn't even there. Jimmy and Royce went down in moments, but the unit maintained fire discipline, focusing on their known weak spots - joints, vents, sensors - well known for years, but too essential to change. They were falling too, but there were more of them than us (isn't that always the way it goes?) and their unexpectedly lethal weapons were slicing through us like a chainsaw through butter. Thump-thump-thump go their weapons, firing tiny shards of superheated metal; and down goes Kenny with metal through his vitals, down goes Ramont with a hole in his head, and down goes Mitchell, the company commander, with metal through his reactor stabilizer.

The blast blinds some of the attackers, kills others; kills more of us. Discipline is gone; some of us are firing wildly. I grab everyone closest to me; order the retreat. Two Lancers follow - damn, damn, damn! - Lamont dies but I drive them off with a volley to the left one's shoulder. It blows sky-high; the other one goes hunting easier prey, like the squad to our right, who are running with no organization or plan. I can't help them. It's all I can do to get the men I have left out alive. We move at a steady pace through our rear lines - through series of layered defenses that were meant to hold for months - as behind us the Lancers slaughter our comrades. Our brothers.

I pray that another of the squad leaders survived. If they did, I know that they'd do what I did. But we're marked, of course. The red and gold. It's to make us visible in the field; even when communications are shot to hell (too common - their EM is better than ours), the troops can find us and follow us. Problem is, the enemy notices us, too.

I go as far as I dare. Hopefully, from here, Command will be able to recieve our signal and pick us up. Kitchener and Roper set up the equipment and supervise it while the rest of us fortify - furniture blockades, dirt trenches, tripwire mines 'purloined' from supply. I turn a blind eye. This is not the time to enforce regulations. We wait for an attack.

It's almost an anticlimax. We're unnoticed while Command responds to our signal, while it sends in a dropship to take us home; only when it's almost to us do a gang of Lancers find us. One of them hits the mines; it doesn't take him out but it makes him stumble. Heavy rifle fire takes him while he's stunned. Roper - too exposed! - falls to the deadly thump-thump-thump but they're none too aggressive and they only realize what we're doing as the shadow of the dropship falls. They flee - its guns find them. Black shadows are all that remain.

And we go home.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm honestly not quite certain what this is about. I may write more about this. I may not. Comments will influence me, as ever.