Discussion in 'Worldbuilding' started by picard131, Oct 1, 2006.
Story is too big, see bottom of page, my post.
Hehe, more NF goodness, I love it. If you like Picard you can post your stories in my story thread, I always intended for others to post there too but no one ever did.
If you do decided to post over there just know the one rule is you cant kill off someone elses charicters without talking to thier owner (right now, me) first.
Good work by the way, Im very happy to see more writing here.
Hmmm never knew that ;o I might try and do that when I get my new computer and can actually have time to read more of it, i think im on chapter two now, since like.... a couple weeks ago? XD
I always liked to post work in seperate threads. I feared it could get lost amidst the other stories. Anyway, I'll keep adding on to it in the first post, as edits.
ho-ho-ho whos copying who now
(the following was a little joke i luv you babe dont get offended)
Why? For me, this was the defining question. Why did Jekotia, the mighty empire of old, fall? Why are the Brenodi still chasing us, even into these useless badlands? Why is this war one giant bloodstained stalemate? And most importantly, why didn't the company mess have any ale left? I poked around the improvised mess rather angrily. It was little more than a tent full of holes, yet all the men gathered here. A company mess, in no matter what form, was a symbol of hope, a sign that everything wasn't so bad. Of course, nothing's so bad after a few cups of ale, anyway.
I exited the tent, deprived of my regular ale, and worked my way through the tired, dirty soldiers and the bloody walking wounded to the Company HQ (a large tent full of holes). The groggy officers nodded to show they knew I was there, and went back to their radios and tiny computer screens to try to bring back the rest of the company. There had been an ambush, with our infantry's flanks hit hard by Brenodi armored columns. We lost more than 400 men in minutes. More were still dying in and near the overcrowded medical tents, their screams of pain and last groans piercing the chilly November air.
Flashes off in the distance signaled that the Brenodi weren't far off. I, along with some of our braver Faction boys had scraped together an armored unit from a small ex-Jekotian city, about 30 miles away. It was completely devastated. Nearly three blocks still stood in a city of 80 square miles. Luckily, we were able to break into the underground army base, where the Jekotian garrison and a few civilians had rushed into when the Brenodi had launched their final, crippling missile attack. Even below the surface, the sights were horrifying. Rotting corpses in Jekotian uniform still gripped their rifles desperately. Civilians, now bodies, clung together as if the bond would save them.
I was lucky that I had no vehicle training. I got sent back to my infantry unit, while the others went off to fight a hopeless battle. They would all be dead inside of twenty minutes. Brenodi dropships, lit up breifly by the firing, hovered over the battlefield, trying to find a place to drop their troops safely. The streaks of fire across the sky told me they hadn't. Death was only a background for our lives, we all knew we were already dead. It didn't matter to us. All that mattered was what we did before the fact of our deaths were made official in bloodstained ground and broken bodies.
I turned back to the interior of the HQ tent. A middle-aged officer with dishelved hair under a ripped cap turned toward me and nodded breifly. He looked caf-deprived. "Good afternoon, Corporal." My face remained nearly expressionless. "Couldn't exactly call it good, Commander." He nodded slowly. "Mm hmm. You have the report from the...salvage operation?" I looked over the report from the Jekotian city breifly, then handed it to him. "Not a pretty sight, but we hauled back a good number of supplies. We could use the remains of the city for cover if need be." He glanced at the report. "Could be useful against that Brenodi armor, but apparantly there's not enough of the city left to cover a company."
He looked over the gruesome pictures of the bunker, then forced a smile at me. "Don't worry, Corporal. You done good." He turned away from me to an old computer screen for a second, then looked back at me and tapped the dusty screen with the broken pencil he was trying to use. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but we're going to have to advance." Everyone knew an advance into the heavily fortified Brenodi lines was suicide. Even worse, Jekotian military tactics demanded that everyone who could hold a rifle had to fight, so our lines would be packed with wounded and dying. As if there wasn't enough to go around. He continued. "As a veteran, you know what that means. I'm asking you to keep this a secret. The men's morale is shaky enough."
He slumped his shoulders a bit, sighed, and continued. "We're trapped in this depression, between two mountain ranges. Anyone who doesn't know that shouldn't be here. Our only chance of breakout is here, Old Kings Road. It's less than 10 feet across, if old records prove true, and grenades we lob past it will most likely bounce back into our lines." He paused for a bit. "We're going to have to charge through the road." He pointed to a thin green line on the screen between blue and red lines, presumably our own and the Brenodi's. You could barely call it a road, as it could barely handle a column of single-file Light Tanks. But it was totally flat ground, and thus didn't give the Brenodi any height advantage. It was our only chance to escape.
"The entire company will be going out for this. I can't order you to do this, but I want you on the front line, commanding our troops. You're a good man, Corporal. You might just lead us out of here alive." I pondered this for a moment. We were trained, even back in Jekotia, that we were already dead, that what we worried about was what we did before it was official. I accepted. He sighed at this. "Very well, then. Don't tell the company about any of this. Let them get a full night's rest." He gave a tired salute and turned back to the tiny screens. I wandered out of the HQ. Luckily for me, I found a half a bottle of ale in the mess after all the other soldiers had left. I sat down and had a drink before what I was sure was the last day of my life.
The next morning I awoke in a mess tent chair, next to the empty bottle of ale. It was still dark out. I was surprised by the flashes along the Brenodi line, then was able to make out two of our own artillery tanks firing. Maybe the charge wouldn't be such a slaughter after all. As a pondered this, Brenodi counterfire destroyed one of our arty pieces, along with two light tanks we had lined up for the assault. I shook my head slowly in the dark. The company was done for, it was just that nobody realized it. I waited in relative silence till the morning.
After roll call and a meal of bread so hard and coffee so tar-like you could barely call it food, the plan of attack was announced. The Commander was weary as ever, and made a desperate attempt to conceal it. "Each and every one of you has been trained by the mighty empire that is Jekotia. For her you will fight. You think that she is dead, destroyed when the Brenodi invaded our homelands. You're wrong. You are the living embodiment of Jekotia, the evidence of the centuries of work that built our great empire, of centuries of stregnth. I, for one, sure as hell aren't gonna let any damned arrogant Brenodi bastards stop that! We're gonna fight through that road, and we're gonna win! Because...we are Jekotia."
At this, the company fell silent for a full minute. Then all the men, even the wounded and dying, started cheering in a massive uproar. The Commander, taking quick advantage of this massive surge in morale and rallied the men behind the tanks. "Company," he called through a radio headset, "Advance!" The remaining light tanks and artillery pieces rumbled to life, trailed by the hundreds of men in the company and straggler units we had picked up in our battles. We kept as quiet as possible until we reached the road. Following the officers' silent orders, the men gathered in lines just below the crest of the hill, on our side.
I checked my watch. Approxamately 97 AM, November 26. The damned year function was broken again. I had figured that we were going to charge after an artillery bombardment, but we were instead quietly ordered to crouch and walk across the road as quietly as we could. Within a few minutes we were right on top of the Brenodi lines. They were right over the next hilltop, I reasoned. The nearest officer signaled 'heads down' with his hands rapidly. My ears were overloaded soon after, and in a fraction of a second I knew why. Our last artillery tank was firing on the Brenodi, as a distraction.
Standard Brenodi military procedure in a artillery barrage was to entrench yourself and stay alive. They figured that we would move men in after the barrage, which was normally true. But they didn't count on us being precise at all. Thirteen seconds before the last shell hit, all the officers motioned to advance. I brought my rifle to bear and quietly clambered over the hilltop. I quickly took in the view of the entire Brenodi encampment. It looked deserted, though I knew from experience they were waiting out the artillery assault. I helped a wounded man over the hill and all two hundred of us slowly crouch-walked toward the encampment.
My heart was pounding. Suddenly, the commander yelled at the top of his lungs. "Men of Jekotia, CHARGE!" The men moved as one, a massive line of red and brown streaking towards the gunmetal buildings. A few Brenodi peeked out of the buildings, terrified. They sprayed gunfire and screamed to their fellow soldiers. Anti-personnel turrets whirred into action, spraying bullets into our lines. A few of the veterans were smart enough to use their last grenades on them, sending Brenodi machinery and shrapnel in all directions. The now broken Jekotian line screamed as it charged into the encampment.
Fighting became desperate. I was sprayed with blood as a Brenodi soldier tore a comrade in two with red hot bullets. But we continued, fighting hand to hand. The two sides continued on in horrible ways as the guns fell away and the sides reached for sharp combat knives and rusty bayonets. Organs fell out of holes ripped open in men from the awesome machinery of war. Knifes slashed flesh from bone, reguardless of the will of the victim. It was more awful than anything I had ever witnessed. I emptied my rifle's clip, fanning it towards the scattered Brenodi. Then they brought out the armor.
They had two APCs remaining. Their chain guns and grenade launchers destroyed our men. The screams of those nearest were cut short by the gurgling of those already dead. The ichor of it all splattered across the base. I spotted one of our own Grenadiers fall, and snatched his RPG quickly. I aimed and fired at the nearest APC. It exploded in deadly shrapnel. As I paused to take another round from the dead soldier, I looked up at the battle. An enemy Command Vehicle watched on the next hilltop. I knew that destroying the enemy CV would end the battle. I turned the Grenadier's corpse over, pulled off his knapsack of mines, and raced to the CV.
I knew I wouldn't have enough time to escape the mines' explosions after I set them so close to an enemy vehicle. I didn't care. I quickly tried to arm all of the mines as I was shot through the stomach twice. I grimaced with pain as I set the mechanism on the last one. Finally, I sealed my fate. Collecting them into the knapsack, I threw them at the wheel of the CV. There was a tremendous explosion. With the strength left in me before death, I whispered one final phrase, inspired by the Commander's speech. "I am Jekotia."
Post-Mortem, Battle of Old Kings Road
Send to Faction mobile HQ. Company A broke out of Brenodi encirclement today.
Losses: 126 men, 3 armored units. Enemy estimated losses: 340 men, 8 armored units, 2 buildings.
Other notes: We lost a particularly brave corporal today. He threw himself at the enemy command vehicle with a full load of mines, completely destroying the CV and killing the Brenodi's CO. We owe our lives to him.
-Commander, Company B, 72nd Jekotian.
Cool story though.
what? It ended? What the deuce?
Hrm. Added some clarification, and a post-mortem. Yes Megel, it's called a short story. Am working on a longer fanfic, but don't want to post any dates you all can hold me too.
Mine is a short story...each part is kinda short...they just all tie in together
It is a very nice story... Im eager to see a longer, version with a chance for some charachter development...
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