Arius Numitor, Bastion Eos, 2nd of february 240
The Look.
The mission 'Thunderstruck' was running into difficulties, chewing through successive waves of suicide bombers and psychic horrors - but the Legio Venatores CMXCI had strict orders: we were to hold in reserve. It made good strategic sense, and it is not that we're not useful at the Bastion - we are all cross-trained in casevac, medevac, recovery and triage procedures. This proved quite handy as shuttle after shuttle started returning with injured combatants. But as the call for reinforcements came in from the notoriously unshakable Animar Subal of the 808th...
We all got the Look.
The Look that said 'Cut us loose. Let us go. This is what we do. Cut us loose'. The Lieutenant kept a tight rein on things, but she had seen it in all of us - she is good like that. The Look even got into Admiral Galerius' eyes - retired or not, a lifetime of service to the Republic is not so easily put aside. A nervous energy started building and it was the retiree that finally broke the tension as he turned to us. "Get Dressed!" he barked, followed by a simple nod from Lt. Sevso. "Yes, Sir!" we replied, as we ran to the barracks. We crammed five minutes worth of prep in two, got into our Venatores gasmask standby kits and crammed into the shuttle with whoever was ready.
SC-01 Louisa, our reliable little Vesta, was wheezing and tired after her twenty-second sortie that day - the interior smelled like cordite and blood which only heightened our sense of urgency. Lieutenant Sevso handed me my spare ammo drums that I did not even remember giving to her, and I saw the Look in her, too. If she could she’d grab one of the spare rifles now and join us on the field. But she had her own duties and slammed closed the hatch. A quick double knock indicated that she’d secured the hangar door and Louisa roared back into the night sky. Only at that point we noticed the pooling blood under the pilot seat - Specialist Juno Valeria had flown multiple sorties with just basic triage after what looked like a through-and-through gunshot to the leg. Nothing to be done about it now, tho. All our pilots were in the fight, on the board or in the medbay - and we'd have to make due.
We came down hard and disembarked in a rapid two-by-two line - as soon as we were out the hatch closed behind us. The landing field was eerily silent as the roar of the VTOL echoed away, but our feet were crunching through shell casings and spent clips - definitely the right place. We fell into our well-trained routine with Victus leading the strike - for all my own seniority it was in this kind of environment where my brother thrived, and we could not afford any fuckups. He ordered a wide advance and moved towards the target structure, where we saw what remained of one of the 808th: young Akizuki had regained his honor by falling in combat. There was little we could do for him, and we moved on as gunfire picked up on the other side of the structure - we had been spotted.
My own group held the corner while Victus and Cass swept around - a few of the Ecoform soldiers who were pre-occupied fell seconds later - they never saw the push from the other side. The last one realized his position and rushed Caelius. We poored fire into him and he detonated just short of Caelius' position, knocking him down. We secured the flank and I got my brother back on his feet. Then the door of the target compound burst open and the team we were here to rescue poured out, being pursued. We gunned the baddies down, and a moment's confusion came over them until Cass simply remarked "Don't worry, loves. Cavalry's here". The relief on some of the faces was telling, but the mission was not over yet - we still had to get back and there was no way we could squeeze all of us into fewer than three shuttle-rides.
We herded them back to the landing field - unsurprisingly they had a lot of wounded and were carrying a salvaged generator. Adrenaline was up, and it took some shouting by Victus and Cass to get them moving into the shuttle - the wounded were casevaced first. Minutes later Louisa returned and the generator plus the rest of the Thunderstruck team followed. And then it was just us, waiting for the last shuttle. We quickly took stock of the situation. My own team had only expended a few rounds while making the push, and all reported ready to go, spreading in a reinforced half-square formation around the landing field. out.
With us were Marcus, Armond, Maati and Lazar. I was pretty sure about Marcus Wakefield, Corporal Armond Vincere and Baguhan Maati Infor Dannam - the first was a Legion trauma-specialist who had survived in this warzone as long as any of us, the second a career soldier from the Sturnus anti-terrorism taskforce and the third an veteran of the Imperial 808th 'Gubat Bantay'. The unknown factor was Lazar Varnava, nominally a merc from the Pendzal DZ-3 - but his normal loudmouth swagger was absent. He was scanning the forest’s edge with a professional detachment and a loaded weapon. It would have to do.
Then the entire landing field fell quiet as if nature herself was holding her breath - the enemy was coming. Victus quickly instructed all to fall back to the shuttle upon the ‘rally’ command, and we prepared to defend ourselves. Twice they tried to attack and flank us. Twice they were repulsed. All were calm, collected and composed - holding their quarter and carefully screening those left and right of them from enemy attempts to break into the landing field. I saw some flickers of shield generators taking hits, but otherwise we simply stale-mated the enemy and bought the time we needed. I myself took a hit to my field with some sort of fragmentation round - it broke apart on impact and shrapnel clipped the side of my head - for a moment I was worried how pissed the medical staff would be that I had taken a second headwound today.
“Rally, rally!”
The shuttle touched down almost gracefully, and we fell back in good order, laying down covering fire as we went. A quick headcount confirmed we’d all made it. Kat sat alone in the cockpit - apparently she had convinced Specialist Valeria to seek medical help at one point. But I was not worried - I was one of the few Aquila that knew of her part as one of the avenging angels of Nadz, flying bomber sorties against the enemy. Cass quickly took the co-pilot station and between the both of them had pretty much the most experienced shuttle crew we could ask for. SC-01 Louisa quickly gained altitude and got us to safety. “You okay back there...!?”, came Kat’s voice, and we confirmed we were all good to go. “Great, I got some good music for this.”
As an old pre-war protest song sounded throughout the shuttle we finally relaxed - Specialist Acilia quickly checked us on wounds but except for minor scrapes and my headwound we were all okay. Smiles were all around, including Maati and Lazar. And something one of our instructors had said during recovery training came to mind: “The Venatores do not make their hard decisions and necessary sacrifices with callous detachment, but neither do they let tears blind them to the greater purpose they pursue.”
This is what the ICC was all about. An Imperial officer had requested reinforcements, a Legion mission team had compacted with who-ever was available to exfiltrate them and they were flown being flow out by an Independant pilot. We had done the right thing, and we'd pulled it off. We all felt it, an honest pride-by-associaton. Finally the Look faded from our eyes.
This is our place. This is our mission. A mission that is shared among all factions - this proved that when push comes to shove Humanity stands together on Eos as one. I don't feel quite so lonely, anymore.